Chapter 4

The Question of Life and Death

Xie Queshan allowed the blood that splattered onto his face to run from his forehead into his eyes, then drip down his cheekbones.

He looked like a merciless Asura, showing no sign of compassion. He glanced around at the chaotic scene, his eyes sweeping over the area before finally landing on Nan Yi.

Nan Yi covered her mouth in shock as she watched the scene unfold. Tears streamed down her face without her even realizing it.

It was unclear whether it was fear, shock, or regret that overwhelmed her.

He Sha nervously gripped the knife in his hand, sensing that Xie Queshan’s emotions were strange at the moment. He worried that Xie Queshan might suddenly act out of character.

“Throw the bodies to the mass grave. The others, take them back for interrogation.”

Despite this, Xie Queshan remained calm, as if unaffected by the carnage.

He Sha wanted to say more, but Xie Queshan’s words were final, without room for dispute.

Though He Sha had the authority to command the troops, he was still a subordinate to Xie Queshan in terms of rank. After just killing Pang Yu, an important figure beside Prince Ling’an, He Sha considered it a great achievement. He decided to say nothing more and left with his men.

The Qi soldiers dragged the bodies away, and He Sha, along with the inn’s workers, left as well. Only Xie Queshan’s trusted aide, He Ping, and a few guarding Qi soldiers remained at the scene.

Xie Queshan sat on the broken log as if staring at the bloodstains on the ground, lost in thought.

The surroundings grew quiet again, with only the sound of falling snow. After a while, Xie Queshan raised his hand and motioned for Nan Yi to come closer.

Nan Yi fought to control her fear of Xie Queshan and slowly made her way to him.

“What did Pang Yu say to you?”

“He told me he would take me to a place after seeing the silk paper. I didn’t believe him, so he said he worked at the Hall of the Imperial Guards and was escorting Prince Ling’an to Yingtianfu. But he didn’t tell me where Prince Ling’an was, nor what was written on the silk paper. He only said that knowing too much would lead to a quick death.”

“He wanted to keep you out of it from the beginning. He was protecting you. Do you regret betraying him?”

“I only regret stealing your purse. Everyone in this world lives for their own life and death. I don’t owe him anything.”

Xie Queshan’s expression was cold, but a slight smile appeared on his lips. “You’ve seen the letter. I cannot let you go.”

Nan Yi, desperate, knelt down. “Sir, I can’t read. I’ve seen the letter, but I don’t know what it said.”

Xie Queshan didn’t answer. Nan Yi shuffled forward on her knees, grabbing at his clothes, her face streaked with tears as she pleaded with the utmost sincerity.

“Please, my lord, spare my life. I am willing to serve you as an ox or a horse, as a slave or a servant.”

“You are willing to become my slave?” Xie Queshan pinched her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. His smile faded, and his face became expressionless. “You already know what kind of person I am. Do you have no backbone?”

“How heavy is backbone? It can’t compare to a life.”

Tears welled up in Nan Yi’s eyes as she was forced to meet his deep gaze. She was terrified and answered instinctively.

Xie Queshan couldn’t hide the disgust in his eyes—such a detestable answer.

A woman without backbone was like floating waterweed, forced to raise her head and beg desperately, placing her life in someone else’s hands. But what can you expect from a petty thief?

Her instincts were all about survival—forget about righteousness or honor, she knew nothing of such things.

For a person like her, there was no need to kill with a blade. Yet, he needed to confirm it one last time.

Xie Queshan released her, pushing her aside.

“Since you say you can’t read, you can leave it to fate. Choose your life or death.”

Xie Queshan wrote a few characters in the snow—死 (death), 薨 (death of nobility), 卒 (death), 夭 (premature death), 灭 (untimely death).

“Choose one of these characters. If you choose life, I’ll let you go.”

“Really? If I choose the right one, will you really let me go?” A glimmer of hope appeared in Nan Yi’s eyes, but the memory of the incense still left her with lingering fear.

“He Sha is from Qi. Qi people do things as they wish and don’t value trust. But I’ve read the classics since I was young, and some principles are ingrained in me. Most of the time, I do what I say.”

“Most of the time... when is that?”

“When I control the life and death of others.”

“And when is it that you can’t follow through?”

“When I can’t control my own life and death.”

His reasoning was sound, and Nan Yi was persuaded. She had no choice but to go along with him. She calmed her mind and began to carefully choose one of the characters.

Xie Queshan watched her intently. If she could read, she would know that there was no “life” here, only “death”—no matter which one she picked, it would mean death. Yet, she showed no hesitation and earnestly entered this gamble.

“This character is life,” Nan Yi pointed to the word “薨.”

“Are you sure?”

Nan Yi nodded firmly.

“Why?”

“This character is the most complex. I thought life must be much more difficult than death, so it should be this one.”

Life is harder than death—Xie Queshan paused, momentarily lost in thought.

薨 refers to the death of nobility, a much more complicated matter than the death of common people, a battle of interests and power. That’s why it’s written with such complexity.

“Did I choose correctly?” Nan Yi looked up anxiously, her eyes searching his face.

Xie Queshan gazed into her clear eyes. He felt she was like a fragile leaf in this world, her life and death devoid of any deeper meaning—no notions of good or evil.

She simply wished to live, so humbly.

At that moment, he believed her—she truly knew nothing.

But then, a malicious thought flashed through his mind. He wanted to extinguish that purity, to make the world forever murky. Yet, there was also a fleeting moment where he thought, perhaps a bit of naive purity was not such a bad thing after all.

Xie Queshan picked up the incense that had been extinguished on the ground and lit it again with a firestarter, sticking it into the snow.

“You chose correctly, but not entirely. So—”

The faint smoke rose, symbolizing the beginning of some sort of hunting game. Nan Yi didn’t know what he had in mind, but she clearly understood that her life was in his hands with a single thought.

“I’ll give you one incense stick’s time to run. Don’t let me find you. Otherwise—” Xie Queshan stood up, looking down at Nan Yi. “You’ll be beyond redemption.”

Nan Yi ran desperately, the biting wind forcing its way into her throat, leaving a taste of rust with every breath. The snow grew heavier, and the mountain path became even more treacherous.

Her conversation with Pang Yu still echoed loudly in her mind.

“What if the Qi soldiers find us? The silk letter will surely be lost.”

“Then you’ll betray me.”

“What?”

“Betray me. Only then can you earn the trust of the Qi people and survive. Even if the worst happens, one of us must survive to send the message. I’m a dead man already, so I die, you live.”

“But even if I live, what can I do?”

“All you need to do is go to Yidu Prefecture’s Guoyu Building, and tell the innkeeper, ‘Buy a portion of Chengsha rice dumplings, make them in the shape of peach blossoms. Peach blossoms traditionally have five petals, but I want them to have six.’“

Nan Yi was a little confused. “Then what?”

Pang Yu stopped and looked at Nan Yi with great seriousness.

“Then, find somewhere to hide, and never, ever let Xie Queshan find you.”