Chapter 16: The Desolate City

Di Jiang, accompanied by Wen Yao, and Zhong Xu with Changsheng, left Qingyun Mountain. After several months of travel southeastward, they had traversed fourteen prefectures and finally arrived at Liangcheng, the capital of Yuezhou.

It was early autumn, and along their journey, fiery red maple forests lined both sides of the road. Piles of dry leaves accumulated beneath the trees, almost obscuring the path to the city.

“Why hasn’t anyone cleared the fallen leaves in front of the state’s city gate?” Changsheng wondered.

“Perhaps it’s because this city has long been abandoned,” Di Jiang sighed.

Liangcheng was an ancient town with a hundred-year history but had become a dead city due to a plague thirty years ago, living up to its name as one of the most desolate prefectures in Xuanwu. In recent years, it had no redeeming qualities, and even the Ministry of Revenue had abandoned taxing this prefecture.

As Di Jiang, Zhong Xu, Wen Yao, and Changsheng walked through the streets, they could see traces of the city’s former glory. Streets crisscrossed north-south, with a square every hundred steps. On both sides were dilapidated shops and stalls, indicating the city’s past prosperity before its desolation.

“It’s fortunate Wu Rui’an isn’t here; if he saw such a scene in the Emperor’s domain, he would surely be upset,” Di Jiang muttered, shaking her head as she walked.

“Boss, you’ve been talking about Lord Wu all along; aren’t you tired? I’m getting sick of hearing it,” Wen Yao grumbled, immediately earning a smack from Di Jiang.

“You talk too much,” Di Jiang said impatiently.

“You always bully me!” Wen Yao hopped on one foot, wincing in pain. “Don’t believe me? Ask Zhong Xu and Changsheng if they’re annoyed too.”

Di Jiang glared at her, then turned to Zhong Xu, asking, “Master Zhong, have I mentioned Wu Rui’an many times?”

“Not much,” Zhong Xu shook his head, “Only three to five times a day.”

Di Jiang looked blankly, saying, “That many?”

“How about three or four times?” Wen Yao rolled her eyes, “Zhong Xu is talking about the average! At peak times, it was thirty to forty times a day!”

“...” Di Jiang was speechless, not knowing how to respond.

She hadn’t realized she had become so nagging unintentionally.

“Boss, let me tell you, when Lord Wu was here, you ignored him. Now that he’s gone, you keep mentioning him. Aren’t you just being masochistic?” Wen Yao sighed after speaking, realizing her words were too harsh, and added, “What I mean is, you don’t need to be like this. The dead are gone; after such a long time, I’ve already accepted it—you should too...”

“Accept what?” Di Jiang glanced at her, continuing, “Wu Rui’an isn’t dead.”

“Alas... you still haven’t accepted reality.” Wen Yao sighed, shaking her head ceaselessly.

Di Jiang rolled her eyes, feeling as if she were talking to someone mentally impaired. Wen Yao also felt that Di Jiang’s intelligence seemed to have regressed significantly in this aspect. Both decided to close their mouths and stop arguing.

Zhong Xu and Changsheng followed behind them, seeing what they saw, thinking only of where they could find food and lodging, without any other thoughts.

After touring the city, the four roughly understood the layout of Liangcheng.

Liangcheng had four gates—east, south, west, and north—all interconnected. At the center of the main roads was a well, about three zhang wide and octagonal in shape. The entire city depended on this well for survival. However, thirty years ago, someone drowned in this well, contaminating the water and causing a plague that wiped out the entire city.

This was a city full of stories, but those who could tell them were all dead.

Di Jiang and the others looked at the weathered notice boards under the city gate. Though the marks were crude, the events that occurred in this city were still faintly discernible.

“What a pity, one person caused the death of an entire city,” Wen Yao sighed, her tone filled with boundless sorrow.

The other three felt similarly, though they restrained their emotions, unlike Wen Yao, who wore her feelings on her face. For events that had happened and were beyond their control, they didn’t dwell on them too much.

“Stepping out, there’s nothing to see… bones… covering the plains… hungry women on the road… abandoning children in the grass…” Suddenly, a waft of alcohol floated from an alleyway, accompanied by a man’s singing.

The song depicted the scenes during the plague, and with his hoarse, aged voice, it sounded even more terrifying and haunting in the empty city.

“Boss, could it be a ghost?” Wen Yao whispered fearfully, though her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Without making a move, Zhong Xu tightened his grip on his sword, while Changsheng had already drawn his ghost-hunting tools, appearing ready for battle.

As the singing grew closer, a stooped figure emerged from the alley. The ragged, bent-over old man appeared to be seventy or eighty years old.

Upon seeing Di Jiang and the others, he looked equally startled, exclaiming, “Are you humans or ghosts?”

“...”

Di Jiang and Zhong Xu exchanged glances, remaining silent.

Wen Yao, however, grew excited, saying, “Of course we’re human! But you, neither human nor ghost, sneaking around in the alley, what’s your purpose?”

“Ho ho... what purpose could I possibly have?” The old man chuckled, his wrinkles trembling along with his laughter.

“Who are you?” Changsheng asked.

“Who am I?” The old man paused, replying, “I don’t know who I am. I only know that I’m the gatekeeper here, having lived here for decades.”

“Decades?” Di Jiang furrowed her brows, puzzled, “The plague back then... you...”

“Ho ho ho... I wish I had died in that plague,” the gatekeeper laughed to himself, then continued, “This is a cursed city. You should leave quickly; otherwise, you won’t be able to leave.” As he spoke, he sighed deeply, his aged face unable to conceal the desolation beneath layers of wrinkles—a complete sense of death.

After finishing, the old man took his wine flask and disappeared into the vast alley, nowhere to be found.

“How could he just leave!” Wen Yao exclaimed, preparing to chase after him.

But Di Jiang stopped her, saying, “There’s something off about this person; don’t go.”

Beside her, Zhong Xu also looked solemn, saying, “His aura of death is stronger than the combined death auras of the entire city.”

“That terrible? Who exactly is he?” Wen Yao looked puzzled, extremely curious.

“Don’t bother with him. Anyone who can survive in this dead city must have their own story. We have important matters to attend to; don’t waste time here,” Di Jiang said, leading the way out of the city. She harbored doubts in her heart. Over these months, they had traveled eastward, circling nearly a fifth of Xuanwu, yet until now, they had not found the person she sought.

The artisan, Gong Lingyue.

“Let’s go to the next city,” Di Jiang sighed, walking ahead. Although unwilling, Wen Yao quickly followed.

Unexpectedly, not far down the road, the four encountered a couple in distress on the official highway.

“Is anyone there? Help us!”

“Save my wife—”

A series of cries from a man echoed from the mountains. Zhong Xu was the first to hear it, and upon identifying the source, he rushed to their side in a few swift strides.

Outside the desolate wilderness of Liangcheng, near where Di Jiang and the others stood, a carriage was parked, driven by a servant. Inside the carriage sat a richly dressed man, cradling an unconscious, sweat-drenched pregnant woman. Judging by her swollen abdomen and the puddle beneath her, it seemed she was about to give birth. Beside the couple stood a maid in green attire, looking anxiously at the pregnant woman.

“Daoist! Please save us!” The man pleaded desperately, visibly panicked.

Seeing this, Zhong Xu immediately returned, bringing Di Jiang forward swiftly.

Zhong Xu lifted the curtain, pointing to Di Jiang, telling the man, “She’s a doctor; she can help you.”

Di Jiang nodded, “Yes, I’m a doctor, but...”

“Doctor! You must save my wife! It seems her water broke!” The man’s face was tear-streaked, his hands stained with blood.

Upon seeing this, Di Jiang knew things were dire. After a moment of silence, she said, “Ahead lies Liangcheng. Though the city is deserted, at least we can find a quiet place. I’ll deliver the baby.”

“Thank you, Doctor, for saving my wife’s life! I, Liu Zicheng, will forever remember your kindness!” Hearing that Di Jiang could deliver babies, Liu Zicheng immediately relaxed, expressing his gratitude repeatedly.

Soon, Zhong Xu and Changsheng helped drive the carriage into the city, while Wen Yao stayed inside, assisting the pregnant woman.

Throughout the journey, her expression was peculiar, looking at the pregnant woman as if she were a corpse. Several times, the man wanted to say something, but seeing she was Di Jiang’s maid, he held back.

Upon returning to Liangcheng, they randomly chose a residence, arranged bedding on the floor neatly, and laid the pregnant woman down to rest.

“Doctor, may I stay in the room?” Liu Zicheng asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Di Jiang nodded.

Di Jiang knew that in the mortal world, it was considered unlucky for a man to be present during childbirth, and generally, no one would be allowed to stay nearby. However, there was no such rule with Di Jiang.

For the entire night, the screams of the pregnant woman echoed throughout Liangcheng. Wen Yao and Zhong Xu handled boiling water, while Changsheng prepared meals. They worked tirelessly for seven to eight hours before finally welcoming a new life at sunrise the next day.

It was a beautiful boy.

Liu Zicheng took the child from Di Jiang, his face beaming with excitement, exclaiming, “This is my child... my child with Zhirong! We finally have a child!” Saying this, he brought the boy to the pillow of the laboring woman, saying, “Rong’er, look quickly, this is our child, born after so much hardship.”

But there was no response.

Due to exhaustion, the mother fell into a coma shortly after the child’s birth.

“What’s wrong with Rong’er?”

Di Jiang remained silent for a moment, then said, “Perhaps she’s just sleeping from the exertion of childbirth.”

“Is that so? Sleep is good; rest is important!” Liu Zicheng finished speaking, then went to play with the child.

The child bore a striking resemblance to him, and Liu Zicheng couldn’t get enough of him, his smile never fading.

However, this joy was short-lived.

Soon, his smile froze on his face.

He stammered, “Why... why isn’t my child crying?”

“Because...” Di Jiang lowered her gaze, sighing after a while, “...because he was a stillborn.”

“What!” Liu Zicheng was shocked, nearly dropping the child.

“How could he be a stillborn!” Liu Zicheng grieved, crying out, “My child is so beautiful, how could he be a stillborn?!”

“Look at this shape; perhaps he had already died in the womb,” Di Jiang said truthfully, though reluctantly.

“What...” Liu Zicheng was dazed, unable to recover for a while.

“Bury him,” Di Jiang said, pulling him outside.

Liu Zicheng showed no reaction, allowing Di Jiang to drag him outward. Unexpectedly, after only a few steps, a series of crashing sounds came from the room.

“Something’s wrong, Boss! The mother is bleeding heavily!” Soon, Wen Yao came out, shouting to the two.

Hearing this, Liu Zicheng’s complexion changed dramatically. He had been holding his son, grief-stricken, but Wen Yao’s shout completely overwhelmed his senses.

“Zhirong! Rong’er!” Liu Zicheng dashed into the delivery room, disregarding the supposed bad luck of blood, directly reaching her bedside and calling her name.

Wen Yao and Di Jiang carried basin after basin of bloody water out, but eventually, the bleeding stopped—not because of medicine but because she had bled dry.

In her final moments, Qian Zhirong might have heard his call, awakening from her coma. Her eyes were hazy but conveyed some determination.

“Where’s the child?” Qian Zhirong asked.

“The child is fine, very healthy, a boy,” Liu Zicheng held back tears, unwilling to cry in front of his wife, and certainly dared not tell her the truth.

“Where is he? I want to hold him.”

“You’re weak after childbirth; you should rest,” Liu Zicheng reassured her, concerned, “Doctor Di is holding him in the sun.”

“What’s wrong with the child?”

“He had some jaundice at birth; more sun exposure will help. Don’t worry.”

“Is that so? Then... is he chubby?”

“He’s chubby, even stronger than me. Miss Wen Yao found a recently delivered ewe and is feeding the child goat milk.”

“That’s wonderful...” A tear trickled down Qian Zhirong’s eye, and she closed her eyes contentedly.

“What’s wrong with my wife?” Liu Zicheng’s eyes brimmed with tears.

Everyone present was moved by his appearance. They all knew that Qian Zhirong likely didn’t have much time left, but none wanted to voice this fact.

Finally, Di Jiang spoke first, “She’s too tired and needs rest. Let’s go outside first.”

“I won’t leave!” Liu Zicheng’s expression was agitated, pleading, “Aren’t you a doctor? Quickly save my wife! She’s lost so much blood; how can you leave!”

“I’ll do everything I can, but whether she lives or dies depends on her fate.” By the time Di Jiang finished speaking, she had practically announced her death.

Wen Yao knew that Di Jiang had seen the aura of death on the pregnant woman from the start. Di Jiang must have known early on as well. Besides, either Di Jiang doesn’t save people, or if she does, most are already dead. Knowing this outcome beforehand, she no longer exhibited the same compassion as before.

In the end, Wen Yao even helped Di Jiang console Liu Zicheng, saying, “Life and death are fated. We’ve done all we can. From now on, it depends on your wife’s destiny.”