Lin Jing quietly hid her tiny frame behind Lin Wu, looking as though she was absolutely terrified of the soldiers.
Lin Wu was just mulling over whether to answer the soldier when she looked up and caught sight of Xiao Zhao striding over briskly. Her heart steadied a little. She patted Lin Jing reassuringly, then lowered her head and timidly averted her gaze, not daring to meet the officer's eyes.
Xiao Zhao sidled up with a grin, his tone all warmth and charm: "You must be joking, sir. This is just the cook our caravan hired—the numbers on the official permit all check out. She's bringing her child along to visit family in Lingzhou. A widow and an orphan, travelling alone—it's no easy road. Our boss is a kind-hearted man, as you well know. A little leeway here and there goes a long way."
They'd taken on two temporary cooks here in Wucang County partly to make up the numbers on the permit. The count had been filed with the authorities beforehand, but because the two original cooks had fallen ill along the way and stayed behind in Wucang to recover, the team needed to fill those two vacancies in order to match the paperwork.
The soldier didn't press the matter. He just waved a hand and said, "Alright, go on through."
The guards' attention soon shifted away from Jincheng Caravan to the smaller merchant trains trailing behind them.
Over there, things were clearly not going as smoothly. The sounds of luggage being rifled through, punctuated by harsh barked orders, drifted over.
Lin Wu turned back from the cart and saw that it was indeed Auntie Pockmark's small caravan right behind them.
Then came the soldier's impatient voice.
"What's the deal with your caravan? Your permit says ten people in black and white, but between old folks and little ones, I can count more than that at a glance! What, you think we're blind?!"
"Sir, please, take a closer look! We're honest traders, we'd never dare deceive you! The extra few are just villagers we're giving a lift to along the road—they're not headed to Lingzhou, they'll get off at the next county town. We saw they were struggling on foot and felt sorry for them, so we let them ride along. They're not on the official roster," said a stocky man in a dark brown linen short jacket, who appeared to be the caravan's leader. He kept bowing and clasping his hands at the soldier, explaining himself hurriedly.
"Do you take me for a fool?" The soldier let out a sarcastic laugh. "I've heard that spiel so many times it's coming out of my ears!"
"Sir, please—have mercy!" At that very moment, Auntie Pockmark popped out from who-knows-where and began wailing at the top of her lungs. "Look at us—just a bunch of old bones and little sprouts. Which of us looks like a criminal? This old woman's got one foot in the grave, I'm hanging on to my last breath!"
She slapped her thighs, her voice shrill and loud, not letting anyone get a word in: "I'm just a country crone, what do I know about permits and official papers and court rules? All I know is I need to get to the next county town to see my brother I haven't laid eyes on in decades! I've walked dozens of li on these old legs, and I was lucky enough to catch a kind caravan to carry me partway, or I'd have dropped dead on the road. Sir, please, just do a good deed, pile up some merit, lift that hand of yours—like letting out a little fart, pfft—and let us through!"
She rattled off the whole speech without pausing for breath, fast and smooth. She knew full well that when an old woman like her really kicked up a fuss, the gate guards usually couldn't be bothered to argue—it was too much hassle and wasted time. After she made a scene, she'd slip them a few coppers for tea money, and they'd grumble and wave her through.
"Cut the nonsense!" But this soldier didn't even twitch an eyebrow. He turned to the caravan leader instead. "The permit?"
Team Leader Sun hastily pulled out the permit he'd just put away and offered it with a fawning smile: "Sir, our caravan's permit was already checked a moment ago—everything's in order, not a single discrepancy..."
"Don't play dumb!" The soldier cut him off irritably. "I'm asking for this old woman's personal permit! Don't you know the law of the land?!"
"Heavens above!" Auntie Pockmark saw the tide turning fully against her, so she plopped herself down on the ground, slapping the yellow earth and wailing at the top of her lungs, her voice piercing like she'd suffered some terrible injustice. "I'm an old woman—I don't steal, I don't rob! Am I some river pirate? A fugitive slave? Is there no law or justice in this world?!"
"I don't care if you're ninety or a hundred. Rules are rules. No permit, and you don't pass!" The soldier stood firm.
Seeing that her dramatics were getting her nowhere, Auntie Pockmark switched tactics and jabbed a finger at the Jincheng Caravan up ahead: "No justice! That big train up front—you're not checking them! Who knows how many unregistered folks are mixed in with them? But you're squeezing every last drop out of us poor folks! It's just because we're easy to bully—"
She didn't get to finish. Team Leader Sun's face went white with fright. He lunged forward, grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her toward his men. Then he spun around and bowed deeply to the soldier, scraping and scraping: "Sir, calm down, please! This old fool's lost her marbles. She's talking out of her backside—utter nonsense! Please don't take it to heart, I'm begging you."
As he spoke, he fished a few bits of loose silver out of his pocket and pressed them into the soldier's hand. "A little something for tea, just a token of respect. Please, cool your anger, and do us the kindness..."
The soldier weighed the silver in his hand, his expression easing slightly. He gave a cold snort and shot Auntie Pockmark a glance. "Jincheng Caravan is a registered big-name outfit. Every person and every crate is spelled out clearly on their permit, and they've settled all the formalities in advance. Naturally, they pass through smooth as silk. But the likes of you, always trying to slip through gaps—if we don't check you, who are we supposed to check?"
Sitting in the cargo cart, Lin Wu took in the whole scene. The soldier's words weren't polite, but there was truth in them. A small caravan with few people and little goods stuck out like a sore thumb—any extra person was impossible to hide.
A big caravan like Jincheng, on the other hand, was vast, with a complicated mix of personnel. All the paperwork was already handled by professionals, so they didn't have to deal with the soldiers themselves—which was safer in the end.
Lin Jing, meanwhile, watched the soldiers without blinking. Every now and then, someone would slip them copper coins or silver bits, and the soldiers took them with practiced ease. That money didn't go into a purse—it seemed to slide right down their throats. It worked better than any plea or tear. The moment the coin changed hands, the soldiers' harsh shouting softened to a mutter.
The squabble between the rear small caravans and the soldiers had nothing to do with Jincheng. The cart gave a slight lurch, then rolled forward again, swaying as it passed through the checkpoint.
The sun sank low in the west. As darkness fell, the caravan picked another open stretch of ground and halted to set up camp.
Everyone fell into their roles, and before long, the familiar sounds of the cook's area filled the air again.
Several people worked together to haul out the braised mutton that Li Sanniang had prepared the day before, pouring it into a large pot to heat up. Before long, the rich, meaty aroma spread all around, drawing sidelong glances from the hired hands passing by.
Li Sanniang and her kitchen helpers were kneading dough for flatbread noodles off to one side, while Lin Wu took out dried fungi that had been soaking in water since midday while on the road. She tore them into small pieces, planning to cook up a savory soup with cabbage and strips of salted pork.
On the road, apart from the first day when fresh meat was available, they mainly relied on salted pork that kept well and a handful of few vegetables. A cook's improvisation room was limited.
Fortunately, the mutton that required the most stove-time was already stewed to melting tenderness; everything else came together quickly.
As dusk fully settled, a steaming hot evening meal was served.
This evening meal had been prepared by Li Sanniang the day before, at which point no one had yet considered what the honored guest of their employer might prefer. Earlier, the steward and the honored guest’s old servant had come by to say that the sweet soup served at noon had been quite to the guest’s liking, so Lin Wu had boiled an extra pot of sweet soup just for their employer and the honored guest.
Li Sanniang’s cooking carried a distinct local flavor. The mutton and flatbread noodles were rich and savory, and they suited everyone’s appetite well, each person eating until sweat beaded on their foreheads, thoroughly satisfied.
Lin Wu also felt the meal was very filling—generous with the meat.
Beside her, Lin Jing quietly nibbled at his noodles, his little face scrunching slightly from the saltiness. He lowered his head to sip the soup, only to find it even saltier, so he hastily gulped down several mouthfuls of plain water.
Children’s taste buds are naturally sensitive, so this flavor was indeed too strong for him. Seeing this, Lin Wu fetched a small bowl, rinsed the meat in warm water, and then placed it back into his bowl.
“Th—” Lin Jing instinctively began to say thanks, but swallowed the words mid-syllable, remembering that their current identities should not feel so distant. Instead, he looked up at Lin Wu, squinted into a smile, happily shook his head, and then burrowed back into his meal.
Over at Jincheng Escort, the meal was in full swing, the rich aroma of meat drifting on the wind and making the small merchant caravan trailing behind seem all the more forlorn. Though they had also lit a fire, they were scraping by with what little they had.
That Auntie Pockmark was roasting a few rock-hard dry cakes over the stove, and boiling a pot of pickled vegetable soup with warm water. The pickles had been stewed who knows how long, and perhaps being light on salt, once boiled up they gave off only a stale, bland vegetable odor, the broth murky and yellowish.
They gnawed on their dry cakes with the meaty aroma drifting over from the Jincheng Escort side, chewing as if eating wax.
“Pah! Out on the road, making such a spectacle—the smell of meat carries for miles, telling every bandit in the hills that there’s fat prey here! When she brings down trouble on herself, we’ll see how smug she still is!” Auntie Pockmark was simmering with resentment, chewing her dry cake with venom, her narrow triangular eyes fixed on Lin Wu in the distance, who was eating her mutton noodles.
“Keep your mouth shut! That tongue of yours only stirs up trouble! She’s hitched herself to the Jincheng Escort’s high branch now, how could you old crow compare? Times have changed, and not in your favor.” Team Leader Sun said with a sarcastic sneer, still smarting from the slight loss of silver at the checkpoint and increasingly annoyed by the troublemaking old woman.
“Now you’re blaming me?!” Auntie Pockmark immediately shrieked, spit nearly flying into the fire. “For this whole caravan, who’s been handling the meals? Without me, you wouldn’t even get a warm biscuit! You wish you could cozy up to her to help out, but she’s got her nose in the air—does she even deign to look at the likes of us?” Having been with the small caravan for a long time, she relied on her age to make scenes and throw tantrums, and had long been accustomed to taking petty advantages for the group, her arrogance running high.
“You ungrateful old crone! If it weren’t for me, Sun, you’d not even have that pickled soup to drink—you’d be out in the wilderness sucking down the north wind!” Team Leader Sun, his face turning livid at her retort, spat out a few harsh parting words and stomped off.
Auntie Pockmark wanted to argue further, but seeing he had already gone far, she found the breath stuck in her chest with no release. In a fury, she grabbed her ladle and slammed it hard against the rim of the pot.
“Bah! Their consciences are dog food!” She sat back down by the stove, still steaming with anger, muttering curses under her breath, when she looked up and saw a young woman holding a child by the hand approaching.
