Chapter 8: The Stolen Horse

The caravan had been on the road for five days. However, due to the large number of people and heavy cargo, coupled with the fact that the horses suffered from diarrhea, they made little progress each day. Young Master Pei sat in his carriage, listening to Miss Wang playing the zither in another carriage far ahead, feeling at ease.

But Pei Lu, ever untimely, said from the side, “Young Master, the jolts on the road have shattered another dozen jars of our wine. What should we do?”

“You bring such trivial matters to disturb me while I’m appreciating the music?” Young Master Pei fumed. “So the wine broke, let it break! Am I, Young Master Pei, unable to afford the loss of a few dozen jars of wine?”

Young Master Pei was the very image of a pampered scion. Pei Lu dared not protest, though inwardly he found the situation odd. Other merchants transported military goods like leather, scarce in the Southern Dynasties and sure to fetch hefty profits in Jiankang. But his young master was moving five carriages of strong liquor—fragile, difficult to transport, and even if they reached Jiankang, there was little profit to be made.

Yet Pei Lu kept silent. In truth, he had no idea that Young Master Pei’s purpose was never to sell wine. He had joined the Dachang Trading Guild and carried wine to Jiankang only to travel alongside Miss Wang.

The foreign wine burned the throat and intoxicated easily; Young Master Pei himself disliked it. But now, a thought struck him. “Better to drink it than see it smashed. Pei Fu, Pei Lu, bring a jar—we’ll find that false monk.”

The “false monk” in question was, of course, Zhang Chi. At this moment, Zhang Chi was on horseback. Since the caravan’s departure, he had been learning to ride from Santong. Though not yet skilled, he could at least stay astride without fear of falling.

Riding through the mountains, taking in the scenery, was far more pleasant than trekking on foot as before. Just then, a carriage drew up beside him. The curtain lifted, revealing a round, plump face—Young Master Pei.

“Young Master Zhang, the journey is long, the mountains endless, not even a maiden’s song to amuse us. I have a jar of good wine here—come, join me for a drink?” Young Master Pei, knowing Zhang Chi’s fondness for drink, dangled the jar temptingly outside the curtain.

“I doubt this wine comes without a price?” Zhang Chi asked.

“You’re shrewd, Young Master Zhang. It’s not for nothing. All I ask is that you teach me one poem each day in exchange. My supply of wine is endless—you shall drink your fill,” Pei said with a sly grin.

This was no challenge for Zhang Chi. The idea of trading poems for wine amused him—he’d loved poetry since childhood and had a trove of verses in memory. Now, with free wine on offer, why refuse? He swung off his horse and hopped into Pei’s carriage.

The foreign liquor was harsh yet suited Zhang Chi’s taste. Before his journey through time, he’d been used to strong spirits; the rice wine at the Dachang Guild’s banquet had left him unsatisfied.

“Young Master Pei, do you hope to learn some poems to court Miss Wang?” Zhang Chi asked as he drank.

“To court her?” The words sounded coarse, but they struck right to Pei’s intent. “Young Master Zhang, your reputation is well-deserved. You see through it all.”

“So, what’s your strategy?” Zhang Chi inquired.

“To be honest, I’ve thought it through,” Pei replied, full of self-assurance. “There are many merchants and scholars in our company, and Miss Wang’s family is prominent in Qinhuai, her father a high official. She may not pay me any heed. The pressing matter is to capture her attention. She values talent above all, so if I could recite some fine verses before her, I’m sure I’ll succeed.”

With gestures and enthusiasm, he laid out his plan.

Zhang Chi could not help but admire Pei’s resourcefulness. Yet, knowing Miss Wang’s intelligence, he doubted such a ploy would impress her.

“It might work on others, but for you, Young Master Pei, I’m afraid it won’t.” Zhang Chi spoke plainly, making Pei fume with indignation.

“How would you know if I don’t try?” Pei protested, vexed.

...

The sun had set, and the party began unloading the carriages so the horses could rest well for the night and be strong for the next day’s journey.

Miss Wang instructed her attendants to pitch the tents. She left her carriage, mounted a horse, and rode to a nearby hillside overlooking the camp.

The twilight was fading. Miss Wang always felt that dusk slipped away the fastest—one moment the sky was aglow, the next it was dark. Such fleeting beauty. She sighed, lost in thought.

She knew she was seldom truly happy; she was too calculating, always thinking several moves ahead, striving for perfection while others only saw the immediate. Yet sometimes, how can one outwit fate?

These days, however, she found herself smiling more often. She pondered this in silence: each time she saw Zhang Chi with his short hair and monk’s robe—an odd and amusing sight—she couldn’t help but laugh. His seemingly arrogant manner, and especially those eternally drowsy eyes, lingered in her mind.

“So, Miss Wang is in such high spirits, admiring the scenery?”

She turned to find a plump face—Young Master Pei, who was mimicking Zhang Chi’s mannerisms from the banquet, though with little success. He had ridden up to her.

“It seems Young Master Pei is in high spirits as well,” she replied, her gaze drifting back to the distance, her tone perfunctory.

“Your playing today was truly beautiful.”

Pei waited for her response, but when she remained silent, he grew awkward. Clearing his throat, he recited: “The lady’s zither sings each day, half enters the breeze, half to the clouds. Such music belongs only in heaven—how rarely is it heard on earth.”

Miss Wang, preoccupied, was genuinely surprised by these words and looked at Pei with new attention. Yet, seeing his manner, she doubted he could compose such lines.

“Impressive, isn’t it? I have even more impressive verses,” Pei said to himself, encouraged by her glance.

He coughed and continued, “In this life, I wish to be a zither, touched by a fair hand, singing sweet notes upon her silk skirt—even death would be an honor.”

He grinned broadly as he finished.

Naturally, Zhang Chi had taught him these lines, instructing him to use them subtly in his courtship. But now, emboldened by Miss Wang’s attention, Pei recited all he’d learned, heedless of timing.

Miss Wang seemed to suspect the poems were not his, but did not expose him. Instead, she smiled mysteriously, “Would you truly find honor, even in death?”

“Of course!” Pei, sensing her interest, replied earnestly.

“But when the moment comes, would you dare say the same?” she asked.

“Miss Wang, do not doubt me! I would brave fire and sword for you,” Pei declared, knowing this was the crucial moment.

She looked at his large-eared, round face and suppressed a laugh, saying, “Listen.”

Pei, puzzled, pricked up his ears, “Listen to what?”

He was still wondering when suddenly, the sound of neighing horses and shouts reached his ears.

He looked up and nearly fell from his horse in fright—a dense mass of armed men and horses surged from the horizon, weapons gleaming as they charged. Though they were still several miles away, their murderous intent was palpable. Judging by their numbers, there must be at least a thousand.

“What are they doing?” Pei stammered, trembling.

“They’re here to steal our horses,” Miss Wang replied calmly.

The bandits, a dark cloud on the horizon, swept forward. Pei’s face turned ashen with fear, his wits scattered. Miss Wang said, “Why are you still standing there? Come, follow me back to the group.”

With that, she spurred her horse down the slope.

Manager Li was sweating with anxiety. As soon as Miss Wang returned, he rushed to her, asking, “The bandits are coming for the horses, at least a thousand strong. We have only five hundred guards—can we withstand them?”

In truth, he was grasping at straws, having lost all composure. Perhaps just hearing Miss Wang say “do your best” would have steadied his heart.

“We cannot,” Miss Wang replied calmly.

Manager Li was stunned by her blunt answer, left speechless.

“With only five hundred guards, it’s impossible,” she continued evenly.

Her words hinted at something more, and Manager Li seized on it, “Does Miss Wang perhaps have an ambush prepared?”

“These warhorses are my ambush,” she said, gesturing to the three thousand horses in the distance.

Manager Li was utterly baffled, “But without enough riders, of what use are the horses?”

Miss Wang did not answer. She turned to Du Ximing, “Arrange the carriages and horses on the perimeter to prevent chaos from endangering our people. Split the guards into two groups—one to resist the enemy, the other to shield the caravan from flanking attacks.”

“Yes!” Du Ximing bellowed and went to organize the defense.

Even before departure, Miss Wang had divided the guards and stationed the merchant and horse convoys separately but nearby. Now, with everyone moving at her command, Zhang Chi realized she truly anticipated every contingency. It was as though she had foreseen this very battle; the men and horses were already in place, needing only minor adjustments to form a defensive formation.

Facing what appeared to be thousands of bandits, the five hundred guards showed no fear. All mounted up, weapons at the ready, their discipline far beyond that of ordinary household guards.

Though the enemy seemed countless, sweeping over the land, most were on foot. As they drew nearer, the defenders realized with alarm that the enemy’s numbers far exceeded a thousand—streams of reinforcements continued to arrive, perhaps several thousand in all.

Everyone had mounted their horses. Manager Li was so frightened his legs shook, barely able to remain seated.

Dao Xuan, seeing the overwhelming enemy, said to Zhang Chi, “If things become desperate, do not run off—stay by my side.”

“Alright,” Zhang Chi replied. Though it was his first time witnessing such a scene, he felt no fear; it was as though he were watching a grand historical epic. Instead, he felt a thrill, muttering to himself, “So many enemy soldiers—at last, a real battle is upon us.”