The sky was not yet completely bright. On the dirt road outside the south gate of the border market, the wind and sand wrapped up crushed stones and hit people's faces, causing sharp pain. The night watch yamen runner shrank in the gateway, wrapped tightly in a fur coat, only revealing two eyes, and his eyelids were almost frozen stiff.
A jujube-red horse emerged from the wind and sand.
A person sat on the horse, wearing a fur hat pulled down low, and a fur collar turned up to cover half of his face. However, his attire showed at a glance that he was not from within the pass. Outside his deerskin robe, he wore a cashmere short jacket with silver buckles, and a fist-sized pouch hung at his waist, embroidered with a soaring wolf riding the clouds.
Sarhan didn't wait for the horse to stop completely before dismounting, his boot soles smashing onto the crushed stone ground, staggering a step.
His eyes were bloodshot.
Last night in the tent, he tossed and turned all night, looking at that glazed wolf sculpture no less than a hundred times. The lamp oil was replenished three times. Finally, unable to hold on any longer, he lay on the felt mat fully clothed for less than two hours before being awakened by the cold wind.
The night watch yamen runner poked his head out, recognized this face, and shrank back.
Everyone in the border market recognized Sarhan, a famous big merchant of the Helian tribe, who was generous with his money and had a big temper. He had slapped the faces of the yamen runners and also stuffed large amounts of broken silver into their hands.
Such a person, one could not afford to provoke, and there was no need to provoke.
Sarhan didn't walk towards his own shop, but went around to the backyard of the superintendent's yamen.
In the backyard, the hot steam of noodle soup was floating out from the wooden window of the kitchen, mixed with the fragrance of lard.
In the northern border, this was a rare delicacy, and only in a border market with so much profit was it possible to eat some.
It turned out that Qian Fugui was squatting at the door of the kitchen, holding a bowl of hot soup cake, slurping and sweating profusely.
He had no great ambitions in his life, was timid, and had weak fists. To be able to mix to the hat of a seventh-rank superintendent in this godforsaken border market, he relied not on ability, but on his ability to read people's expressions.
When the three major merchant guilds were in power, he bowed and scraped to them. When the imperial envoy aunt came, he knelt faster than anyone else.
Now, this bowl of hot soup cake was the most reassuring time of his day.
Before the bowl bottomed out, a black shadow lay across him.
"Superintendent Qian."
Qian Fugui had half a noodle in his mouth, looked up, and almost choked to death.
Sarhan stood in front of him, looking down at him from a height.
Yesterday at the border negotiation office, this big Helian merchant walked out with his back bent, but today standing here, his back was straight again.
No, it wasn't straight again, it was forced to be straight.
Qian Fugui was an old slicker, and he saw it at a glance. Sarhan's lips were dry and cracked, and there was a deep groove between his eyebrows.
He was anxious.
"Master Sarhan? Why are you here at this hour..."
"Put the bowl down."
Sarhan's voice was very low. He took a step forward, the tip of his boot almost touching Qian Fugui's knee.
"I'll only say it once."
Qian Fugui's soup cake bowl clattered onto the ground, splashing noodle soup all over his trouser leg.
Sarhan looked around. There was no one in the backyard. The cook in the kitchen was stuffing firewood into the stove and couldn't hear the movement outside.
He took out something from his sleeve.
A piece of sheepskin.
About the size of a palm, the corners had been scorched by fire. On the leather surface, a few winding lines were drawn with a charcoal pencil, some thick and some thin. The thick lines were river channels, and the thin lines were small paths. At the bend of the thickest line at the very bottom, a small black dot was drawn.
Sarhan's fingertip poked at that black dot.
"In five days, the goods must be delivered. The location is here."
Qian Fugui leaned over and took a look.
His face changed.
He was too familiar with the location of that black dot.
The lower reaches of the White Horse River, Wild Fox Shoal.
Of the people who had done business in the border market for over a decade, there was no one who didn't know Wild Fox Shoal. That place was over thirty miles north of Zhenbei City. The White Horse River rushed out from the canyon upstream, and when it reached that section, the terrain suddenly opened up, and the river surface scattered into three or four branches. The deepest water was not even up to the knees.
There was a sandbar in the middle of the river. During the dry season, one could drive an oxcart directly from the south bank to the north bank.
Anyone who smuggled, whether salt, iron, tea, fur, or medicinal materials, passed through there.
Because it was easy to pass.
And also because, once caught by the patrol camp, they would be executed on the spot. There was no need to report, no need to try. They would be dragged to the riverbank, their heads chopped off and a wooden stake inserted, and the case would be closed.
Qian Fugui's Adam's apple bobbed up and down several times.
"Master Sarhan, you... you want to take Wild Fox Shoal?"
Sarhan didn't answer his question.
"The goods will be pushed over from the south bank, and my people will receive them on the north bank. We will act at dawn. At that hour, there will be fog on the river surface, and neither side will be able to see."
"Wait, wait..." Qian Fugui shuddered. "I know this smuggling route well, but the amount you want to pass is not a few packhorses or a few carts of salt! Over a thousand cattle and sheep... that noise... those hooves stepping into the river..."
"So it can only be done in batches," Sarhan interrupted him. "The first batch will pass three hundred live sheep, fifty cattle, plus six hundred stones of millet. The rest will take a second trip three days later."
He shoved the sheepskin map into Qian Fugui's hands.
"You deliver this map to your Imperial Envoy adult today. The deposit—"
Sarhan untied the pouch at his waist and threw it on the ground. The pouch landed heavily on the crushed stones. The opening was not tied tightly, and a few gold beans rolled out, shining in the morning light.
"A hundred taels of pure gold. After inspecting the goods, the final payment will be offset with horses within five days."
After saying that, he turned and left, pulling his fur hat even lower, and quickly disappeared into the wind and sand.
The jujube-red horse neighed, the sound of hooves shattered, and faded away.
Qian Fugui squatted in place, clutching the sheepskin map in his hand, feeling it burning hot.
He looked down at the gold beans that had rolled on the ground, then looked up at the direction Sarhan had disappeared, and finally looked at his bowl of soup cake that had gone completely cold.
He couldn't care less.
He kicked the soup cake bowl to the base of the wall, bent down to pick up the gold beans one by one, stuffed them into his sleeve, then lifted the hem of his long gown, plunged headlong into the wind and sand, and headed straight for the stables.
Zhenbei City, Relay Station.
Xu Qinghuan scooped a handful of cold water onto her face, the water dripping down her chin into the copper basin.
She really hadn't slept well last night.
That sudden chill on the back of her neck was definitely not an illusion.
Li Sheng stood outside the threshold and said:
"Subordinate checked all night. On the locust tree outside the east wall of the relay station, a newly carved mark the size of a thumb was found, three horizontal bars."
Xu Qinghuan wiped her face with a towel and draped it back over the edge of the basin.
"What else?"
"The stall at the entrance of Sweet Water Alley in the south of the city changed to a new helper yesterday evening. There are calluses on his hands, not ground out from chopping vegetables, but from gripping a knife handle. When he walks, his left foot lands half a beat heavier than his right foot. He must have practiced infantry combat."
Xu Qinghuan's movements paused for a moment.
"Keep an eye on him. Don't alert the snake by beating the grass."
"Yes. Also, in the latter half of the night, a gray pigeon took off from the deputy general's mansion and headed south."
"South?" Xu Qinghuan turned her head to look at him.
"Not towards the capital," Li Sheng said. "It should be towards Xuanfu."
Xu Qinghuan's eyebrows twitched.
Xuanfu.
Marquis Muyang.
The grain route.
Strung together, these few words implied too much. She did not reply, but instead picked up the cold tea on the desk and took a sip, her gaze falling upon the grayish-yellow sky outside the window.
A sudden commotion erupted outside the courtyard gate.
Someone was shouting, their voice urgent and shrill, mingled with the scolding of the personal guards.
Li Sheng's hand dropped to the hilt of his blade at his waist.
"Lord... Lord Xu! Lord Xu! This humble one has an urgent matter to report! It is of the utmost urgency—"
It was Qian Fugui's voice.
Xu Qinghuan set down her teacup and gave Li Sheng a nod.
A moment later, Qian Fugui stumbled and crawled through the door.
His head and face were covered in yellow sand, his official hat knocked askew with one of its wings snapped. The mandarin square on his chest was splattered with horse sweat and mud. He slipped as he entered, nearly face-planting on the floor, managing to steady himself only by grabbing the doorframe.
"L-Lord!"
Qian Fugui was panting so hard his throat felt on fire, unable to form a complete sentence. Bending over with his hands on his knees, he took several ragged breaths before pulling a parchment map from his sleeve with trembling hands, offering it up above his head with both hands.
"Sarhan... Sarhan sought me out before dawn..."
Xu Qinghuan took the parchment map and smoothed it out.
Her gaze swept over the winding waterways. She was in no rush to speak; instead, she traced the thick lines slowly with her fingertip, stopping when she reached a black dot.
"What place is this dot?"
Qian Fugui wiped the dirt and sweat from his face, his voice still trembling.
"Wild Fox Shoal, downstream of the White Horse River."
Xu Qinghuan looked up at him.
Qian Fugui swallowed hard, trying his best to speak more clearly.
"Th-that place has a wide river surface but shallow waters. The deepest part would reach your... your waist, my Lord. In the middle of the river is a sandbar, about thirty zhang in circumference. During the dry season, carts and horses can cross it."
"Shallow water is convenient for moving goods," Xu Qinghuan said evenly. "What else?"
"Fog rolls in every day at dawn," Qian Fugui's voice lowered. "The heavy fog lasts for at least half an hour. It gets so thick you cannot see a person's face five steps away. Smugglers over the years have always chosen that time to cross the river."
"What about the patrols?"
Qian Fugui hesitated for a moment.
"On paper, Wild Fox Shoal falls under the jurisdiction of the Northern Route Patrol Camp of Zhenbei City, inspected once every ten days. But in reality... when He Minghu was doing smuggling business with the three major merchant guilds, the patrol camp had long been tipped off. They turned a blind eye and a deaf ear as needed."
He gritted his teeth and added another sentence.
"However, now that you have driven the three major merchant guilds out of the Superintendent's Office, my Lord, whether He Minghu will send people to keep an eye on Wild Fox Shoal again... this humble one is not sure."
Xu Qinghuan did not reply immediately.
She spread the parchment map out on the desk, stood up, and walked over to the window.
The morning light filtered in, tracing the slender contour of her profile.
She was thinking.
Sarhan was getting anxious. This urgency was within her expectations; his uncle's death was imminent, and the glazed wolf sculpture and strong liquor had completely whetted his appetite. Now he was riding a tiger and could not get off; he needed this transaction completed quickly more than anyone else.
But Wild Fox Shoal...
Xu Qinghuan tapped her fingernails twice against the window frame.
"Superintendent Qian."
"Present!"
"Sarhan said the first batch will consist of three hundred sheep, fifty cows, and six hundred shi of millet, moved in two trips."
"Yes, yes."
"Are his men familiar with that river?"
Qian Fugui paused for a moment, then quickly understood.
"Sarhan has been doing business on the northern bank of the White Horse River for six or seven years. He has a group of porters under him who specialize in driving livestock across the river. They know the depths, where the undercurrents are, and where the riverbed is solid. They could cross it with their eyes closed."
Xu Qinghuan nodded and returned to her desk.
She picked up the parchment map again, her gaze sweeping over the terrain around the black dot three times—the bends of the river, the position of the sandbar, the elevation of both banks.
These features were just a few rough charcoal lines on the map, but Qian Fugui's description had filled in the details.
"Superintendent Qian, you just said that fog rises at dawn, making it impossible to see a face five steps away."
"Right, right."
"Then if men are stationed on both the southern and northern banks, separated by the sandbar in the middle of the river, would they bump into each other?"
Qian Fugui shook his head vigorously.
"When the fog is at its thickest, you cannot even see the sandbar from the southern bank, let alone the northern bank."
A sharp gleam flashed in Xu Qinghuan's eyes.
"I have it."
"Separated by the river and out of sight, we will use red and blue lanterns as signals. When the red lantern is lit, the southern bank will deliver the goods to the sandbar; when the blue lantern shines, the northern bank will receive them. The goods will be pushed to the center of the sandbar, and both sides will retreat a hundred paces. The inspectors will go onto the sandbar alone to tally the items, and no personnel shall ever cross the boundary."
