Chapter 34: Blood Stains the Southern Ridge Road, A Needle Falls to a Startled Heart

At the first glimmer of dawn, Shen Guilan had already spread the "Map of the Nanling Grain Route" across the table in the main hall.

Her fingertips held a cold embroidery needle; like a general deploying troops, she precisely pricked seven red dots along the rugged mountain paths—the supply depots she had spent the entire night strategizing. Once this route was established, the local produce of Qinghe County could be exchanged for the millet and mountain salt of Nanling, and the name of her "Guilan Embroidery Workshop" would spread throughout the prefecture along with the merchant caravans.

She had just used a charcoal pencil to write the words "Yi Fu" beside the "Three-Forked Intersection" when a boisterous commotion erupted outside the courtyard.

Blacksmith Liu led three sturdy men, unloading half a cart of firewood into the yard. "Uncle Shan asked me to look after things before he left," he said in a muffled, gravelly voice. "This wood is enough for you and your daughter to burn until early spring." Shen Guilan did not even lift her eyes; she simply took a small bag of multicolored embroidery thread from the room and handed it over. "Take this to your wife. The wind on the mountain is harsh; tell her to embroider a pair of thick knee pads." Blacksmith Liu chuckled, about to say something more, but saw Shen Guilan turn to retrieve an account book. Her clear, resonant voice carried across half the courtyard: "Today, I establish the 'Shen Family Mutual Aid Pact'! Anyone who assists the Shen family in transporting materials or guarding the courtyard during this period shall be granted priority for apprenticeship at the embroidery workshop, or enjoy the right to purchase cloth at half price!"

Before the words had even faded, the villagers, who had been merely watching the spectacle, erupted in excitement. Li Laoer, who had been hiding in the back, rushed forward first, scrambling to be the one to repair the collapsed corner of the courtyard wall.

By the base of the wall, Madam Zhang spat on the ground and cursed under her breath, "Fox spirit, all she knows is how to buy people's hearts!"

Blacksmith Liu, sharp-eared, turned and roared, "Buying hearts? When your grandson was stealing money to pay off gambling debts, who gave you the money to cover it up? Now you resent someone for protecting her own threshold?"

Madam Zhang turned bright red, choked by the retort, and sullenly shrank back.

Afternoon snow melted, and Shen Yongzhi slunk into the main hall like a thief. His eyes fell immediately upon his mother's open account book, where a startling line of text glared back at him: "Gu Changshan, advanced payment: one tael and two mace—for the purchase of a donkey, medicine, and travel expenses."

His heart skipped a beat. That hunter was nothing but a destitute bachelor who hunted wild game; how dared he advance such a massive sum?

He ran back to his own room, his spirit shattered, and with trembling hands, dug out the "Embroidery Workshop Regulations" his mother had hidden beneath the rice jar. When he shakily read the final clause—"Anyone who receives an advance of a significant sum must use their life to settle the debt"—a chill surged from the soles of his feet straight to his crown.

That night, Madam Zhang would not let the matter rest. She incited several gossiping women from the clan to block the entrance to the Shen courtyard, wailing and making a scene: "The Shen family has let an outsider, a wild man, control their finances! What kind of disgrace is this?"

Shen Guilan did not argue with them. She simply had Xiuwei bring out the copper whistle and the broken bronze medallion that Gu Changshan had left behind. Standing atop a stone platform, she spoke in a ringing voice: "This military medallion of the 'Seventh Night Patrol Squad' was stationed at the border for three years with its owner! If he is truly the 'wild man' you claim, where would he have acquired such an item from the military? Where would he have obtained that secret map of the Nanling route?"

She finished by throwing the cold bronze medallion into the brazier. "He trusts me, which is why he dared to stake his life to walk that road of life and death! You do not trust me, but that is only because you fear me—you fear that I, a woman, will no longer let you gnaw away at the Shen family!"

The firelight reflected off her resolute face. Stunned by her intensity, the crowd dispersed in silence.

A hundred miles away, beneath a jagged cliff, the freezing wind bit like a blade, and fine snow swirled with withered branches in the abyss.

Gu Changshan hung halfway down a rock crevice. A deep, bone-exposed saber wound on his left shoulder gushed blood, staining his tattered cotton coat a dark, rust-like red. His right hand clutched a protruding rock so tightly his knuckles turned white, while his left hand remained pressed firmly against his chest—a corner of the soaked grain route map peeked out from beneath his blood-stained lapel.

In the distance, three armored riders in black reined in their horses at the cliff's edge. Their torches illuminated the black iron tokens at their waists—the Imperial Guard of the Nanling Official Road.

The leader sneered, "Bring me the man alive, or the map if he is dead."

At that moment, a faint glimmer flashed at the bottom of the cliff. A loose stone rolled down, startling the riders into raising their blades in defense. Yet, the next instant, a very faint whistle drifted through the wind—short, low, and hoarse, yet unmistakably the "Return to Camp at Night" signal known only to the border patrol guards.

The three men exchanged glances. The whistling seemed to come from beneath the earth, or perhaps from a vengeful spirit in the wind.

"Wasn't... he supposed to be dead?"

The snowstorm intensified, drowning out any reply.

Days or nights passed—it was impossible to tell.

Deep within the snow, a slender white figure slid down the cliff along the withered vines. It was A'ruo, the healer who had lived in seclusion at the bottom of the cliff for years.

She brushed aside the snow-covered rocks and found that one man still held a faint breath. His chest rose and fell weakly with each breath, frost had gathered on his lips, yet his hand still gripped the blood-stained, torn map.

She dragged him into a cave, warmed him with fire, and applied herbal medicine to his wounds, staying awake for three days and three nights.

On the fifth evening, the snowlight outside cast a crimson glow upon the hearth fire, and Gu Changshan finally opened his eyes.

In his blurred vision, he saw a woman with her back to him, grinding herbs. Her hair fell loosely, catching the evening light like liquid gold. His throat moved as he tried to call out "Guilan," but no sound emerged.

Suddenly, memories surged like a tide—the cliff, the men in black, the fall... He struggled violently to rise, and in his disoriented panic, he grabbed the slender figure, pulling her tightly against his chest. His voice was hoarse and cracking: "Don't... don't let them take the map... Guilan... you must not..."

A'ruo stiffened, the pestle falling from her hand. When she looked back, the surprise had not yet faded from her eyes, but a quiet ripple of emotion had begun to stir.