Fang Jie alighted from the carriage, smiling as he asked the garrison captain who had quickly caught up, "Sir, is there anything else?"
The captain, who appeared to be around forty years old, strode forward, looked at Fang Jie in silence for a moment, and then said, "If you can, please convey my congratulations to everyone in Xi... I was a lowly soldier under Prince Zhong. On the day the Prince opened the Hongxiuzhao restaurant, he didn't consider us lowly soldiers, but specially prepared dozens of tables to invite us, who were otherwise unworthy of such treatment, to a banquet... After the banquet, we were assigned to different armies, and I haven't seen the Prince since. Eleven years have passed, and I still often dream of that drunken night."
This man was actually one of Prince Zhong's personal guards!
Fang Jie's heart skipped a beat, and he solemnly replied, "Don't worry, I will certainly convey your message to everyone in Xi."
"Thank you."
The captain clasped his hands in a fist salute and turned to leave. The big dog let out a long sigh, then removed the steel-spiked gloves he had quietly put on and tucked them into his sleeve. Fang Jie watched the captain's departing figure, a strange sense of melancholy filling his heart. In the past few days, he had heard the name of Prince Yang Qi many times, and every story about this man stirred his emotions.
Assisting the current emperor in ascending the throne, his merit was unparalleled. If he hadn't left the court, he would forever have stood at the forefront of all civil and military officials. But he quietly descended the mountain just as he was about to reach the pinnacle of his life, cultivating his own piece of scenery at the foot of the mountain.
The more Fang Jie thought about it, the more curious he became about what had happened ten years ago that made such a wise man abandon everything he possessed and leave.
Ten years without a trace—where had he gone?
Is he still alive?
But soon, Fang Jie shook off these melancholy thoughts. He now needed to consider not whether that legendary figure of the Sui Dynasty was still alive, but how he and his ilk could survive. Shen Qingshan said that the mastermind behind it all set a fifteen-year deadline, after which the mastermind would find a way to bring Fang Jie back. The fifteen-year deadline had already passed before they even left Fan Gu, but half a year had gone by and nothing seemed to have changed.
Therefore, Fang Jie was even more worried.
Since that person had gone to such lengths to set up this seemingly inexplicable fifteen-year scheme, there was no reason for them to abandon it halfway. And what role did he play in this scheme? What identity had been forcibly imposed upon him when he first arrived in this world? These questions kept him constantly on edge.
However, no matter how he analyzed or speculated, he couldn't guess why the fifteen-year deadline had changed.
Because someone had stirred up a storm somewhere in the west. The person who had orchestrated the scheme had to deal with the immediate crisis first, temporarily neglecting to control Fang Jie.
But this didn't mean they had given up.
The carriage left Chang'an smoothly, and everyone involuntarily breathed a slight sigh of relief. Sitting in the carriage, Fang Jie looked back at the magnificent city, at its towering walls that seemed to reach the clouds, at the bustling crowds at the city gate, at the armored soldiers, and at the fluttering Sui Dynasty flag above the gate… his eyes held a complex expression.
For three years in Fan Gu, he had devoted himself to establishing a foothold in the capital, but after only half a month in the city, he had to leave. All his previous efforts had vanished like water flowing eastward, a torrent that could never return. All his plans and schemes were no match for the unstoppable force of change; his dreams had been washed away by a stream of yellow urine, disappearing without a trace.
"Fang Jie, why didn't you inform Heng Gun and Qilin?"
Da Quan couldn't help but ask.
"If we had informed the four of them, our forces wouldn't be so weak. The journey to Qing Le Mountain is thousands of miles… the four of us are ultimately not enough."
"There are four of us now; we only had three when we came from Fan Gu," Fang Jie said.
Big Dog paused, about to speak, when Fang Jie interrupted, "Everyone has the right to choose how they live their future. Those four finally escaped the dream that tormented them for fifteen years. Why force them back? Besides… even if we tried, we might not be able to."
Big Dog fell silent. He knew Fang Jie was right.
The fifteen-year period had passed. Heng Gun, Qilin, and the other two had endured so much to reach this point. They had no reason or need to risk their lives with Fang Jie again. Now they were with Mo Ningzhi, with the Taoists of the Yi Qi Temple on Qing Le Mountain, and in the capital, they were safe.
Only a fool would continue to take risks.
Fang Jie smiled and said, "Most people in this world are normal; fools are rare. It's already quite an achievement to have four fools. At least when we're bored, we have enough people to play cards. Four fools playing cards… that must be quite interesting."
Just then, Fang Jie's eyes suddenly sharpened.
Right in front of the official road, in the middle of the road, was a man squatting. He squatted there, head bowed, seemingly engrossed in something. He held a small wooden stick, about the thickness of a finger, drawing circles on the official road. He wore a black Taoist robe, embroidered with intricate patterns. The patterns were indistinct, their origins and endings unclear, flowing endlessly and gracefully.
Taoist priests' status could be discerned from their clothing. Those in gray cotton robes were the most ordinary disciples, while those in blue robes held higher status. Blue robes were reserved for elders and senior members of the sect, and crimson robes were the attire of high-ranking officials. Only one person in the Yi Qi Temple could wear a jet-black Taoist robe: Master Xiao.
But the man squatting in front was clearly not the renowned leader of the Taoist sect.
Fang Jie waved for the carriage to stop and walked over slowly.
"Xiang Qingniu, what are you doing?"
Fang Jie asked the fat man squatting on the ground. Xiang Qingniu looked up at Fang Jie, then pointed to the official road. He had drawn several concentric circles on the road, and inside each circle, several ants scurried back and forth, seemingly lost and unable to find their way home.
"I just wanted to see if a few panicked ants could escape from these circles," Xiang Qingniu replied earnestly.
Fang Jie looked at the ants crawling back and forth within the circles, unable to find their way back, and after a moment of silence said, "No matter how big the circle is, the ants will eventually be able to crawl out."
"That's not right."
Xiang Qingniu said, word by word, "The ants can crawl out of the first circle I draw, but I can draw a second circle, a third circle, many more circles. No matter how hard the weak ants struggle, they will never escape. Because I have a small stick in my hand, I can easily draw hundreds of circles. How could the ants possibly escape? One circle can't hold them, but what about a hundred circles?"
Fang Jie didn't answer, because he knew Xiang Qingniu was right. The ants are too weak, while the person drawing circles is far too powerful. If the person drawing circles wants, he can keep playing like this until he loses interest. If he gets annoyed, tired, or bored, he can easily crush the ants with that little stick.
"How about that? Wasn't what I said just now profound? Me, squatting here drawing circles to enlighten you—doesn't that sound like the demeanor of a reclusive master?"
Xiang Qingniu, squatting on the ground, asked.
Fang Jie nodded and said, "The logic seems flawless, but your act of squatting here drawing circles and playing with ants… it's really stupid."
…
…
"What are you doing here?"
Fang Jie asked. "You're not just pretending to be some profound, enlightened master, stealing a dark Taoist robe and squatting here playing with ants, waiting for me to arrive so you can show off and impress me, are you?"
Before Xiang Qingniu, speechless with anger, could answer, Fang Jie suddenly became serious and asked earnestly, "If you really were waiting for me, then... how did you know I would come?"
Xiang Qingniu snorted coldly, "I've been talking for so long and you still haven't grasped anything. All that boasting to my senior brother that you're the smartest person in the world was for nothing. Tell me, what was I doing just now?"
"Drawing circles and playing with ants."
Fang Jie replied.
Xiang Qingniu asked again, "Who is the ant?"
Fang Jie was silent for a moment, then pointed to his nose and asked, "You mean me?"
"Congratulations, you're not completely hopeless after all."
Xiang Qingniu snorted and said, "You think you can leave the capital unnoticed, as if you've never been here? Bullshit! Do you see this stick in my hand? It's powerful enough to easily crush a few ants like you. For example, the Imperial Guard, the Court of Judicial Review, the Ministry of Justice—these government offices are all like this stick. One light poke and you're a pile of mangled flesh, and..." "It's just insignificant rotten flesh."
"The reason this stick is only circling around you and not crushing you is because someone at a higher level, unknown to you, has spoken up for you, so the stick hasn't been pressed down yet, but that doesn't mean it won't."
Fang Jie frowned, then asked, "It seems the only thing that can stop the stick from stabbing you down is the hand holding it."
Xiang Qingniu couldn't help but clap and laugh, "I told you you were smart enough! So guess who made that hand holding the stick stop temporarily, instead of stabbing you to death with the little stick?"
"Could it be you?"
Fang Jie asked in surprise.
Xiang Qingniu took a breath, puffed out his chest—enough to make even young girls jealous—and proudly said, "Of course it's me!"
"Let's go."
He said.
"Where to?"
Fang Jie asked. Xiang Qingniu chuckled smugly and said, "There's a teahouse not far ahead by the roadside. Although it sells only the cheapest brick tea, travelers heading towards Chang'an are bound to be thirsty after walking for so long. So the teahouse's popularity is outrageous. They say it sells at least several hundred bowls of tea a day, and at one copper coin per bowl, it's a considerable income… Of course, that's not the key point. The key point is… there's a stick waiting for you ahead, a very hard stick. If you don't want to get stabbed, you'd better hurry."
Xiang Qingniu said seriously, "If he doesn't like you, or if you don't show enough strength to make him decide to spare you, then he'll still stab you to death."
"Then why should I go?"
Fang Jie rolled his eyes at him and said. "Because you can't run away."
Xiang Qingniu turned and walked ahead, saying as he went, "You can try if you don't believe me."
…
…
A few wooden sheds erected by the roadside, a dozen or so clean tables, and dozens of wooden stools constituted this teahouse, which served at least several hundred people daily. Of course, there was also a large pot of water already boiling.
Fang Jie left Mu Xiaoyao, Daquan, and Shen Qingshan at the place where he had met Xiang Qingniu, while he followed Xiang Qingniu here.
From a distance, Fang Jie keenly sensed that there were several people in this teahouse who warranted special attention. At the table on the right, four men dressed in brocade robes sat. Large teacups sat before them, but the water in the cups remained untouched.
At the central table sat only one man, whose age was indeterminate. He appeared to be only thirty, but upon closer inspection, he seemed to be fifty. His face had few wrinkles, but the vicissitudes in his eyes could not have been so profound without experiencing much joy, sorrow, and even death. At the far left table sat another person.
A handsome young man, dressed in white, with flawless features, sat quietly, like a white lotus standing apart from the bustling world. He was drinking tea, his eyes fixed on the teacup in his hand. But for some reason, Fang Jie felt that this man's eyes were constantly fixed on him.
At the innermost part of the teahouse, surrounded by curtains, was clearly the owner's resting area. Inside, one could vaguely see someone sitting, sitting very upright.
"Go on."
Xiang Qingniu pointed to the man sitting at the central table and said, "Life and death are just a thought away. I can only help you get him to listen to your explanation; as for whether he'll listen… do your best."
After saying this, Xiang Qingniu turned and left. Fang Jie asked in a low voice, "Where are you going?"
Xiang Qingniu replied without turning his head, "Three things. First, I can't hold it in anymore and need to take a dump. Second, I'll use that time to recall how to recite the incantation for blessings from the *Daozu Shuo*. Third… I'll go buy the cheapest willow coffin to prepare. That's all I can do for you."