The day of the Divine Lady’s journey south was set for three days later.
After the Goddess vanished, the officials of the prefecture immediately convened to make arrangements and posted a public notice.
A clerk read the notice aloud. “The Divine Lady will personally travel south three days from now to execute the State Preceptor Guo Rong. Anyone willing to follow the Divine Lady south may come here to register…”
Before he could finish, the surging crowd had already surrounded him several layers deep, leaving not the slightest gap.
Nearly every soldier stationed in the city had come out, jostling in front of the long registration table and shouting over one another as they rushed to sign up.
“I’m going!”
“Count me in! I’m going south with the Divine Lady too!”
“Put my name down!”
From military officers to sons of noble families and ordinary citizens, their names were recorded one after another.
The roster on the table was turned page after page at lightning speed. Even when the ink on the paper had yet to dry, no one had time to wait.
Gradually, the clerk’s hand began to tremble from holding the brush. Sweat trickled from his temples into his collar, but he did not even have time to wipe it away.
He looked up and saw that the densely packed crowd stretched all the way to the bend at the end of the street, as though it would never come to an end.
In the past, no one would have wanted to leave their home and travel far away.
But the power of faith could overcome everything. To the faithful, the Divine Lady was the light illuminating their bleak lives. How could they tolerate anyone offending her?
If the rules had not required everyone who registered to know martial arts, the line would likely have been several times longer.
The registration continued from early morning until the sun began to sink in the west.
And yet, the people waiting to sign up continued to arrive in an endless stream.
By the time it was General Li’s turn, only the final place remained. Everyone behind him wore a look of disappointment.
The man standing directly behind General Li clearly knew him. He hurriedly called out, “General Li, you haven’t been home in half a year. A while ago, Sister-in-law even sent you a letter asking you to return and see the children. You already promised her you would. Why don’t you let me go south in your place? I’m the only one in my family, and I have no one to worry about. I’m more suited for this.”
Li Chong ignored him. He simply gave the clerk his name and silently pressed his thumb onto the page.
Seeing this, the others could only disperse in disappointment.
Only Li Chong remained where he stood. He lowered his head and stared at the red mark on his fingertip for a long while before slowly clenching his fist.
For the past two years, he had led troops in quelling rebellions far from home. His wife had been raising their two children alone. He had originally planned to ask for leave once the north had settled down, so he could spend some proper time with them at home.
But now, he would have to break his promise again.
He instinctively touched the object tucked against his chest, then mounted his horse and returned to the home he had not seen in half a year.
The moment he dismounted, he saw his wife, Zhao Chunniang, squatting in the courtyard and washing a basketful of clothes. Two rows of coarse-cloth shirts and trousers hung nearby, water dripping from them with a steady patter.
“Chunniang, I’m home.”
At the familiar voice, Zhao Chunniang froze. Then she lifted her head, her eyes filled with delight.
“Why have you come back at this hour? Have you eaten dinner? There’s still food in the kitchen. I’ll heat it up for you.”
As she spoke, she began to rise and head for the kitchen.
Li Chong quickly reached out and caught her by the hand. “Chunniang, don’t trouble yourself. I can’t stay long. I have to return to the barracks.”
The happiness on Zhao Chunniang’s face stiffened.
“Weren’t you supposed to have a month of leave this time? An'an has been talking about it nonstop, saying that when you came home, you’d take her to fly a kite.”
Li Chong’s throat felt painfully dry.
“Chunniang, I’m going south with the Divine Lady. I may not be able to return for a year or even longer…” He turned his face slightly away, unable to look at her reddened eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m not a good husband, nor a good father. I’ve made life hard for you.”
Zhao Chunniang did not answer right away. She merely pressed the wet clothes back into the basin, scrubbed them twice, then lifted them out and wrung them dry.
The sound of splashing water rang out clearly in the quiet courtyard.
After a long while, she finally asked, “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
With her back to Li Chong, Zhao Chunniang shook out the garment she had wrung dry and draped it over the bamboo pole. Her movements were slow, as though she were buying herself a little time to think.
Li Chong took two steps forward, wanting to say something, but Zhao Chunniang suddenly turned around. Her eyes were red, yet she forced a smile onto her lips.
“Then I’ll pack your things.”
She turned and hurried inside.
Li Chong followed her in and saw that she had already opened a camphorwood chest. She took out the thickest cotton-padded clothes and folded them neatly, then stuffed several pairs of new shoe soles into the bundle. She had sewn every one of them by hand at night, sitting beneath the light of an oil lamp.
“I heard the south is terribly chaotic. You’ll need medicine for your wounds.”
She packed all the medicinal supplies in the house into his bundle.
She tried to hold it in, but in the end, she could not stop herself from saying what had been weighing on her heart.
“When you’re on the battlefield, don’t be reckless. The children and I will wait for you at home. You must come back safely.”
Li Chong answered hoarsely, “I will.”
“Papa!”
A clear, childish voice came from the doorway.
Li Chong had only just turned his head when a tiny bundle of pink came stumbling toward him. Two little arms, plump as lotus roots, wrapped tightly around his legs as the child tipped up her face.
“Did An'an miss Papa?”
His heart softened. He bent down, scooped up his younger daughter, and lifted her high into the air.
“An'an missed Papa!”
The little girl giggled brightly as she dangled overhead, her neatly braided pigtails swinging from side to side.
After playing with his daughter for a while, Li Chong suddenly remembered that he had another child.
“Chunniang, where’s that little rascal Li Le? Where has he run off to this time?”
Before Zhao Chunniang could answer, the little girl in his arms spoke first.
“Papa, Brother is very good at boxing. He went somewhere very far away to learn martial arts from someone.”
Li Chong frowned. “That boy is always up to mischief.”
“You’re wronging A Le,” Zhao Chunniang said. “He isn’t fooling around. He really took General Feng as his master. He’s staying by General Feng’s side and seriously learning martial arts.”
Li Chong was slightly stunned.
He never would have imagined that his son could become a disciple of Feng Chunya, who was now renowned throughout the army.
That evening, Li Chong ate dinner with his wife and children. He even painted Zhao Chunniang’s eyebrows for her once more. They did not retire until the candle had burned down completely.
Before dawn the next day, Zhao Chunniang heard her husband getting up. But she kept her eyes closed, pretending not to know.
Only after Li Chong had left did she slowly sit up and turn her gaze toward the table.
There, she saw a box of new rouge, a cloth tiger, and a small wooden sword.
“Mother, where’s Papa?”
The little girl climbed off the heated brick bed and rubbed her eyes with her chubby hands.
Zhao Chunniang remained silent for a long time before saying, “An'an, how about Mother takes you to fly a kite today?”
“Papa isn’t coming?”
The little girl’s eyes filled with disappointment.
“Your papa is too busy,” Zhao Chunniang replied.
The little girl was remarkably sensible. She neither cried nor made a fuss. She only asked in a small, wounded voice,
“When will Papa stop being busy?”
Zhao Chunniang pulled her younger daughter tightly into her arms.
“An'an, Mother doesn’t know either…”
