Chapter 36: The Hidden Command in the Powder, the Trap on the Needle's Point

Gu Changshan’s silhouette vanished at the end of the mountain path, sinking into the soil like a stone whose sharp edges had been smoothed away by time.

The morning mist had yet to disperse when Shen Guilan began her chores in the courtyard. She was no ordinary village woman; those hands, meant for cooking and washing, were currently pinching a small amount of medicinal powder, lifting it to her nose to sniff. This powder had been left behind by Gu Changshan the previous night as he passed through the village. The note accompanying it claimed it was a premium wound-healing balm, capable of invigorating blood and treating injuries.

However, Shen Guilan’s brow furrowed. As an embroiderer, she was far more sensitive to color and scent than others. The powder was a faint, greenish hue—unlike common wood ash—and beneath the heavy medicinal odor, there lurked a trace of something distinctly like bitter almonds.

Her heart sank. She returned to the house, closed the door, and extracted the finest white thread from her sewing box. Dipping the tip into a teacup, she touched it to the powder. A miracle occurred: the moment the white thread met the powder, it turned a deep, vibrant blue.

Shen Guilan’s breath hitched, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks. This was no healing balm. It was "Manifest Ink," a substance used by the frontier army to transmit secret messages. It changed color upon contact with water and revealed hidden characters when heated—a technique long lost, used only by elite scouts.

Gu Changshan was no mere hunter.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she stoked the stove, inverted a clean white porcelain bowl over the steam, and once the bowl was warm, sprinkled the powder inside, gently swirling it. As the powder dissolved in the heat, a line of text emerged on the bottom of the bowl: "The remnants of the Seventh Platoon are hiding in the South Ridge. The granary seed grain has been intercepted. Black-clad agents will arrive to search the village within three days."

The short message struck her like a thunderbolt. The remnants of the Seventh Platoon? Were they Gu Changshan’s men? The granary grain was the entire village’s food supply for the coming months; it had been intercepted? And worse—enemies would be searching the village within three days!

Her hands trembled slightly, but her gaze remained sharp and terrifyingly clear. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. She needed to destroy the evidence while preserving the intelligence. She scraped the powder from the bowl and divided it into three portions.

The first, she buried deep within the rice jar—the grain was the safest place, yet the most dangerous. The second, she pried up a loose brick beneath the stove, tucked the powder inside, and resealed it with fresh mud—the hearth was a place of life, but also a place for hiding deadly secrets. The third, she mixed into her basket of multicolored silk threads, winding it deep among the skeins. In the most conspicuous place, no one would think to look.

Having finished, she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, her expression as calm as ever.

"Xiuwei," she called out, "gather all the apprentices in the embroidery workshop. Tell them we have an urgent order!"

Soon, a dozen young embroiderers chattered as they gathered. Seeing the seriousness on Shen Guilan’s face, they quieted down. Shen Guilan picked up a piece of plain cloth, her voice clear and firm: "We have accepted a major commission. A noble in town needs twenty 'Peace Amulet' embroidery pieces within three days. The pay is generous!"

Upon hearing of the money to be made, the girls grew excited.

"There is a rule for these amulets," Shen Guilan said, picking up her needle to demonstrate. "You must use indigo silk for the border, employing the 'backstitch' technique. The stitches must be dense; do not break the thread." As she spoke, her fingers danced, and a complex blue border quickly took shape.

The apprentices only admired her skill; none could see that every stitch of that "backstitch" was actually encoding military intelligence: *Enemy, three riders, disguised as merchants, searching for grain.*

"Finally," she said, pulling a small cloth bag from her bodice and pouring out a few dark red granules. "Once each piece is finished, hide one grain of red sand inside the amulet's center on the back. The noble says this is 'Cinnabar to ward off evil,' for good luck."

The girls nodded, assuming it was just another quirk of the wealthy, and did not suspect a thing.

Three hours later, the twenty pieces were complete. Each bore the indigo border, concealed the red sand from the South Ridge, and carried the intelligence woven in the backstitch. Shen Guilan wrapped them up and handed them to Liu the Blacksmith, the most honest man in the village.

"Brother Liu, could you trouble yourself to make a trip to town and deliver this to the 'Chen Cloth Shop'?" She handed him the parcel and pressed a few copper coins into his hand. "Tell Shopkeeper Chen this is our advance payment, and ask him to save the best cloud-brocade for us."

Liu the Blacksmith scratched his head. "Sister Shen, we don't have the money to buy cloud-brocade. What is this about using embroidery as a deposit?"

Shen Guilan looked at him, her gaze calm but brooking no argument. "Brother Liu, do you trust me?"

Remembering how she had held the family and village together all these years, he nodded firmly. "I do! I trust your judgment."

"Then don't ask questions. Go and return quickly. This concerns the survival of the entire village."

"Understood!" Liu took the parcel and strode out.

Watching him leave, Shen Guilan’s taut nerves finally eased. The Chen Cloth Shop was a contact point for the frontier army; the indigo thread was the alarm, the red sand was the location, and the "advance payment" was the highest-level code. The intelligence was sent. Now, she could only wait.

She turned and went back into the courtyard, acting as if nothing had happened, picking up her needle and thread to continue embroidering under the veranda. As the sun set, shadows stretched long. Smoke rose from the village chimneys, dogs barked, and all was peaceful. No one knew that an invisible net had already been cast.

The night wind turned chilly, rustling the banana leaves. Shen Guilan packed her things to go inside. As she rose, the corner of her eye caught a flicker of movement in the shadow of the neighbor's garden wall. Her heart tightened; she whirled around—but there was nothing, only the wind shaking the tree shadows.

Was it an illusion? She stood still, listening carefully. The wind, the insects, the distant barking of dogs... all was normal. But the nerves she had stretched to deliver the intelligence sensed something wrong. It wasn't an external danger, but a closer, colder gaze. A pair of eyes filled with hatred and jealousy was lurking in the night, watching her like a venomous snake, waiting to strike.

In the middle of the night, a dark figure, guided by the moonlight, quietly pried open the gate to the Shen courtyard. It was Zhao the Third, the village scoundrel. Pressured by the Zhang woman, he had to find proof that Shen Guilan was "carrying on with a man." He crept into the house like a thief. The room was dark, filled with the scent of medicine and embroidery silk.

Zhao the Third rummaged through chests and cabinets, tossing fabrics everywhere, but found no sign of any man. Frustrated, his fingers brushed against a bundle of particularly smooth embroidery silk. It was a deep color, shimmering with a dark red luster in the moonlight, brighter than satin. "Good stuff!" Zhao’s eyes lit up. If he couldn't find evidence, he could take something valuable to win back his losses at the gambling den. He shoved it into his jacket, and finding nothing else, quickly slipped away.

The next day, the gambling den was thick with smoke. Having lost all his money, Zhao the Third slammed the bundle onto the table. "I'm out of cash! But this thread was stolen from the Widow Shen's house—it's worth at least two taels of silver!"

The crowd laughed, thinking he was bragging.

However, a burly man known as "Big-Tooth Zhao" rushed over, snatched the thread, and took a deep sniff. His face instantly shifted from red to white, then to a sickly green, and the veins on his forehead bulged. He gripped the thread tightly, his voice squeezed through his teeth: "Fool! This is military-grade 'Dragon Tendon Thread'! It’s soaked in medicinal balm, used specifically for stitching wounds to stop bleeding! Where did you steal this? Do you want to be beheaded as a deserter?"

"Boom"—Zhao the Third’s mind went blank. Military grade? Beheading? His legs turned to jelly, and he wet himself on the spot, terrified.

That night, Zhao the Third knelt before Shen Guilan’s door, banging his head against the ground, confessing everything—how the Zhang woman had instigated him—begging only to live. Shen Guilan stood inside the door, the moonlight casting a sharp silhouette over her face. She was expressionless, but her eyes were filled with cold mockery.

After listening, she said softly, "You want to live?"

"Yes! Yes! Sister Shen, I'll be your servant, your beast of burden!"

"Good." Her voice was calm, yet hard as iron. "From now on, watch the village entrance. If three strangers in black arrive, go to the village square and strike the copper bell immediately."

Zhao the Third thanked her profusely and scrambled away.

On the third day at noon, the copper bell rang. Three horses galloped into the village, ridden by three men in black, their faces cold, their sabers drawn, their gazes like blades. They claimed to be salt merchants passing through, here to settle an old debt. The villagers were afraid, and no one dared to approach.

Shen Guilan, however, was already sitting in the main hall, her tea freshly brewed and steaming. She stood up and smiled. "Three distinguished guests, you have traveled far. I have nothing special to offer, but yesterday I embroidered a few 'Peace Amulets.' Please, take them for good luck."

She personally handed over a silk sachet, her fingers lightly brushing the other man's sleeve—a tiny amount of powder, finer than dust, adhered to it without a sound. The three men took the items, offered a few perfunctory words, and rode away.

The moment they left the village, Shen Guilan’s expression changed; the gentleness was gone. She snapped at Xiuwei, "Pass the word immediately: seal the village entrance, no one in or out! Then take the flint and go to the back mountain to light the wolf dung!"

"Yes!" Xiuwei bolted away.

Soon, a plume of black smoke rose like a serpent from the back mountain, piercing the sky.

At night, the wind roared and snow flew. In the forest outside the village, three flashes of fire appeared, followed by three short, sharp bird whistles that cut through the night. It was the answering signal!

Shen Guilan pushed open her door and stepped into the snow. Under the plum tree in the courtyard stood a tall figure. It was Gu Changshan. Behind him, in the shadows of the snowy ground, lurked several other figures radiating murderous intent.

Gu Changshan looked at her, his eyes full of shock and complexity. He whispered, "The powder I left at the village entrance was triggered, the carrier pigeon brought back your embroidery pieces... using embroidery thread to transmit military ciphers... Shen Guilan, who are you?"

She did not answer. She stepped forward and reached out to gently brush the snow from his shoulders. The movement was light, yet steady.

"Before my husband died," she said, looking up at the sky hidden by wind and snow, her voice sounding as if she were speaking of someone else, "he was a standard-bearer for the Black Armor Army."

Gu Changshan shuddered, his throat moving as he struggled to speak. His voice was rasping and unrecognizable. "Then... did you know from the very beginning that I was no ordinary hunter?"

Shen Guilan slowly withdrew her hand into her sleeve, her fingertips touching the embroidery needle hidden within; it was trembling slightly. Yet her voice remained as steady as stone.

"I knew you would surely come back."