Chapter Fifty-Seven: Following

To deceive someone is hardly a difficult matter, especially when one is determined to do so; in fact, it becomes all the easier. The standing of Han Tan Yi and Xia Wu Ya at the foot of the Qilian Mountains is beyond question. Whatever comes from their lips, even if riddled with inconsistencies, rarely invites suspicion. Those who have lived long in these woods inevitably develop a certain weariness, finding nothing in tranquility worth disturbing. Not even Qiu Wan’er harbored the slightest doubt, which somewhat surprised Han Tan Yi. Observing her half-understood expression, the young man could not help but smile inwardly; she was clever indeed, but still a little too young.

There remained some days before the Martial Gathering, so there was no need to hasten preparations. Though Han Tan Yi was reluctant to go, matters involving the Blue Lotus Sect were best left untouched by him. If his identity destined him to be regarded as an enemy, meeting face-to-face would only heighten his sense of guilt—something he wished fervently to avoid. Yet as the chief disciple of the Qilian lineage, no amount of reasoning could exempt him from such occasions. Han Tan Yi had attempted to petition the old master, but some words simply could not be spoken in front of the enigmatic Daoist. He needed a plausible excuse, one that would not lead to questions about the disappearance in Jinjiang City.

That proved rather difficult. Even with different explanations for different people, Qiu Wan’er was often in the company of the Daoist, making it likely that one or both would let something slip. So whenever possible, Han Tan Yi kept Qiu Wan’er close at hand. This brought some embarrassment to his heart, but the girl had no objections, always smiling, following his lead as if she found endless amusement in it. For Han Tan Yi, perhaps such scenes offered a kind of solace.

Time sped by, and soon the fifth lunar month arrived; in four or five days, the Dragon Boat Festival would be upon them. The festival on the Qilian Mountain was always lively, the disciples gathering like a family. Though they spent long stretches together, they would seize the holiday as an excuse for merriment. In previous years, Han Tan Yi had been the ringleader; though he lacked certain skills, he excelled in the pleasures of feasting and revelry. This year, however, he had no such inclination.

The mountain’s familiar scene persisted. With Lao Er present, the festival never lacked for good food, nor did it feel impoverished. As for the Daoist, he had already departed one moonlit night, taking Han Tan Yi and Xia Wu Ya with him, leaving Qilian Mountain behind. It was almost comical—his status was such that whenever he left, he preferred to slip away quietly, as if guilty of some misdeed. Of course, he feared little from others; but Qiu Wan’er, that clever girl, was best avoided.

He left barely a word, only a note for Lao Er: “Master has business, gone out with your two senior brothers.” Thus, none could guess their destination. Lao Er merely smiled, seeming to understand, though it meant he would have to face Qiu Wan’er alone—likely enduring her coquettish pestering, which was never easy to manage. Yet he was disappointed; Qiu Wan’er seemed to have changed, saying nothing, showing no temper, even playfully mingling with the other disciples as usual. This comforted Lao Er, who supposed the festival had put her in good spirits, sparing him trouble. With this, he could focus on preparations; after all, with Qilian Mountain’s current resources, preparing a feast for fifty was no small feat.

Yet appearances deceived. Early the next morning, Lao Er found Qiu Wan’er’s absence—she seemed to have vanished into thin air. Only then did he realize her earlier demeanor was a disguise, meant to lull him into complacency. It was unnecessary, since the old master’s instructions never suggested he should stop her, and even if they had, he lacked the means. Qiu Wan’er had worried too much.

Descending the mountain was always pleasant, especially for someone like Qiu Wan’er. It was less about searching for Han Tan Yi and the others than seizing the opportunity to enjoy herself. Of course, for the Daoist, Han Tan Yi, and Xia Wu Ya to leave together, it could not be a trivial matter; she had sensed something amiss since that scene before the main hall. So she pretended ignorance, waiting for this chance. The days passed slowly, but she endured without revealing herself. Whether for fun or to uncover the trio’s intentions, her first step was to head to Jinjiang City. In such a bustling crossroads, it was easy enough to learn the latest happenings in the martial world.

Jinjiang City was no grand town—lesser even than Xingyang, let alone the distant northwest of Chang’an. But for Qiu Wan’er, any place was fine so long as there was fun to be had. She carried a fair amount of silver, not much, but not little either, thanks to Shen Wansan. This so-called martial world’s number one was generous; at his daughter’s wedding, she received, besides two pieces of jewelry, at least a hundred taels of silver—a considerable sum. If one could earn ten taels a year, one was already half a prosperous household, making marriage prospects much easier. On reflection, she owed this to the Daoist—if not for her renowned master, Shen Wansan would not have been so lavish. Though wealthy, his money was not easily made.

But none of this concerned Qiu Wan’er. The money came easily and was spent just as freely, mostly on useless items. She filled two or three large bags, cumbersome to carry, and now she regretted her extravagance. Buying was a woman’s nature, and she embodied it perfectly. Had she returned to Qilian Mountain, it would have ended there, but her journey had another purpose. In the end, these items would be given away to the poor, earning only a few words of thanks.

Her purpose was clear. Despite the Daoist’s efforts to keep things secret, the Martial Gathering was no longer a mystery. Many martial artists were traveling up the river toward Xingyang, and even ordinary folk talked of it constantly. Of course, they were not martial people and would not seek to ride the wave themselves; watching the excitement was better left to storytellers. More importantly, they lacked the money and leisure, preferring to set up small stalls by the riverbank to earn a few coins.

Qiu Wan’er was different. After a day or two in Jinjiang City, she grew bored and decided to head southwest. The river route was best; with increased traffic, so long as she paid for wine, no boatman would refuse her. Qiu Wan’er was indeed extravagant—she paid three taels for passage and rented a private cabin, which took a sizeable chunk out of her hundred taels. Yet the privacy suited a young woman.

The May scenery was quite unlike her last journey on the river. Spring’s lushness was a delightful experience, the breeze carrying the scent of water and freshness. Now, however, the air was thick with the impending summer’s heat, especially in the afternoon, making it almost unbearable. Even so, a boat journey of a hundred miles brought its own peculiar atmosphere by night.

As darkness fell, visibility faded, but at least the coolness settled in. Moonlight scattered across the deck, lending the scene a hazy charm. Gazing at the riverbanks, one could imagine all sorts of otherworldly beauty. Standing at the prow in the gentle breeze, one felt refreshed. The boatmen could never rest; downstream, they must mind the rocks, and upstream, exert themselves all the more, lest the day’s work be wasted overnight. Of course, such worries were not Qiu Wan’er’s. She stood quietly atop the cabin, her gaze fixed ahead, slightly dazed, as if lost in thought.