Chapter 156: Horse Whinny Creek (Part 1)

In the third year of the Yuanfu era under the reign of Emperor Zhao Xu of the Song dynasty, who had ascended the throne at the age of nine and had now ruled for fifteen years, the fifth day of the first lunar month found the Mamingxi Ferry on the western bank of the Bian River in a state of utter commotion. The braying of donkeys and neighing of horses, mingled with the din of human voices and the rumble of carriages, created an exceptionally bustling and lively scene.

With the New Year's celebrations just past, traveling merchants and wayfarers were growing increasingly numerous, alongside various imperial scholars heading to the capital for the examinations. Most of these scholars had already entered Bianjing to prepare for the Ministry of Rites examinations of the third year of Yuanfu, but a few still lingered at the Zhifu Inn near the Mamingxi Ferry, which stood a mere twenty-odd miles from the capital prefecture.

The imperial provincial examinations were scheduled for the ninth day of the first lunar month, leaving a mere four days until the preliminary registration.

On the fifth day of the first month, Bianjing was still shrouded in swirling snow and battered by a fierce northern wind, painting the entire imperial capital in a pure, silvery white that possessed an extraordinary and enchanting beauty.

Yet, as picturesque as the snowscape was, it brought with it a severe problem: the Bian River had frozen over. It could no longer accommodate boats, nor was the ice thick enough to bear the weight of carriages. Consequently, numerous merchants, travelers, and scholars journeying to the capital were stranded at the Mamingxi Ferry. While the merchants and travelers fared somewhat better, the scholars were consumed with burning anxiety, praying for an early thaw of the Bian River; otherwise, they would miss the imperial examinations held once every three years.

According to Song regulations, scholars traveling for the examinations were required to submit formal petitions, guarantor bonds, and other identity-verifying documents to the Ministry of Rites through a bookstore at least three days in advance, failing which they would forfeit their eligibility for the examinations.

Business at the Zhifu Inn on the western bank of the Bian River was, naturally, exceptionally brisk. Within half a day, it was packed to capacity, and every guest room was fully occupied. Later arrivals, finding no lodging available, were forced to crowd into the main hall, building fires for warmth, mulling wine, and chatting idly as they waited for the river ice to melt so they could resume their journey.

At that moment, the sound of hoofbeats rang out outside the inn. A robust steed galloped up, and a traveler wearing a wide-brimmed bamboo hat and a coir rain cape leaped from the saddle. After tethering the horse to the hitching post outside, the traveler pushed open the wooden door of the inn and stepped inside.

The northern cold was biting, and as the door swung open, a gust of frigid wind poured into the inn, causing the occupants to knit their brows in irritation. They had half a mind to scold the newcomer, but upon catching sight of the traveler's appearance, they swallowed the words that had just reached their lips.

The newcomer wore a wide-brimmed bamboo hat and a coir rain cape, beneath which was tightly wrapped a padded cotton coat, belted closely at the waist and wrists. On their feet were a pair of hemp shoes with the toes exposed. The attire was ordinary enough, but the traveler possessed a towering stature and a fierce, heroic countenance covered in stubble, the beard heavily frosted with white snow. Most striking of all was the long sword wrapped in tattered cloth hanging at the traveler's waist. This tall frame, paired with the sword at the side, gave the newcomer an exceptionally martial and formidable air.

It was well known that the imperial court maintained extremely strict regulations regarding weaponry, prohibiting private citizens from possessing or manufacturing arms of their own accord. However, ordinary weapons such as bows, swords, sabers, spears, and short lances were not explicitly forbidden; the court merely regulated their manufacture and sale with strict oversight.

The prohibitions were primarily targeted at heavy weaponry of mass lethality, such as long spears, sharp blades, sturdy armor, and crossbows.

Even so, the person who had just entered the inn stood out starkly from the crowd. After all, who in their right mind would wander about with a long sword strapped to their waist for no reason?

*Perhaps this person is some sort of chivalrous swordsman from parts unknown...?* the guests speculated inwardly.

Yet, upon entering the main hall, the traveler behaved quite amiably, choosing an unoccupied wooden table in a secluded corner and sitting down. Because the long sword was too cumbersome, the traveler unbuckled it and laid it across the tabletop before speaking to the innkeeper: "Innkeeper, prepare a guest room for me, any size will do."

"Esteemed guest, I am truly sorry, but we are completely full and have no rooms left," the innkeeper said, cupping his fists apologetically. "Would you be so kind as to make do here for the night? There is a small shed beside the stable—perhaps you might rest there temporarily?"

Hearing this, the "swordsman" frowned slightly and replied, "Since that is the case, I must trouble the innkeeper to make the arrangement. Many thanks."

The small shed by the stable was bound to be extremely crude, and anyone resting there for the night would inevitably catch the stench of the stable and the rustle of the horses. But what had this "swordsman" not seen or experienced during the recent journey to Lingnan? Having weathered far greater hardships than this, the traveler had long since grown accustomed to taking such inconveniences in stride.

"Hurry and move the guest's luggage over," the innkeeper said, instantly developing a favorable impression of the polite traveler and repeatedly urging the young attendants.

"There is no need, I will fetch it myself in a moment. Do bring some food and wine up; having traveled this far, I am quite famished. And please feed some fodder to my horse as well," the swordsman instructed the innkeeper.

"Rest assured, esteemed guest. Please wait a moment, the food and wine will be served directly," the innkeeper replied.

The swordsman nodded, took a few sips of the hot water handed over by an attendant, and then produced a book from a bundle, spreading it flat on the wooden table. By the dim lamplight, the traveler began to read, entirely absorbed as if no one else were around.

The other guests in the establishment watched this with secret amazement. Since when did swordsmen take an interest in poring over books, and with such intense concentration at that?

Still, the world was full of strange and wondrous people. If this person chose to hold a sword in one hand and a book in the other, much like Guan Yunchang, what did it have to do with them? With that thought, the company resumed their idle chatter.

As the sky gradually darkened, the northern wind grew ever fiercer, rattling the tightly shuttered wooden windows with sharp cracks. Everyone harbored a secret dread; in such atrocious weather, traveling tomorrow seemed completely out of the question.

A short while later, another flurry of urgent hoofbeats sounded outside the door, growing closer and closer until they halted right at the entrance.

"Another traveler has arrived," an elderly man in the room remarked.

Sure enough, a moment later, the door swung open, and two women and a man burst in. The northern wind, carrying a mixture of rain and snow, swept directly into the room, causing the indoor fire to flicker erratically and plunging the room's temperature as if by several degrees, sending a bone-chilling cold through everyone present.

A wave of annoyance washed over the guests. The warmth they had gathered with such difficulty was instantly swept away by that single opening of the door. If this happened a few more times, what was the use of trying to stay warm? They might as well just go back to bed and sleep—provided, of course, that there was a place to sleep.

Several people in the shop were about to vent their anger, but upon seeing the three newcomers, they choked back the words that had been hovering on their lips.

Among the three, the man was slender and short in stature, dark and lean, with a hooked nose that made him look somewhat unlike a native of the Central Plains, wearing a rather gloomy expression.

As for the two women, the moment the crowd laid eyes on them, their visions seemed to brighten. One of the women appeared to be around twenty years of age, with almond-shaped eyes and peach-blossom cheeks, possessing an astonishingly captivating charm that compelled anyone who glanced at her to lower their gaze, not daring to look directly while their hearts hammered against their ribs. Her eyes seemed almost capable of casting a spell; wherever her gaze swept, a stir broke out among the onlookers—save for the "swordsman," who remained entirely engrossed in his book...

The woman wore an apricot-yellow brocade jacket lined with fur, paired with black padded trousers and black short boots. Generally speaking, padded trousers tended to be rather baggy, making the wearer look quite bloated, yet the trousers on this yellow-clad woman were an immaculate fit, accentuating her tall, slender figure and leaving one to wonder whether such a garment could offer any real warmth at all.

The other female appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen years old and was similarly blessed with delicate, picturesque features. However, unlike the seductive charm of the woman in yellow, her youthful face featured bright, clear eyes, curved willow-leaf eyebrows, and long, gently fluttering eyelashes. Her flawless white skin possessed a faint rosy tint, and her thin lips looked somewhat pale, presumably due to the cold...

This pure young maiden wore a dark blue, short-collared crossover tunic, the neckline, cuffs, and hem embroidered with colorful, exquisite patterns. Around her waist was an apron embroidered with several peacocks in five-colored silk, and she wore long, straight-legged blue trousers.

She did not appear to be a native of the Central Plains; her attire and appearance strongly suggested the ethnic minorities of the southwest region, the onlookers surmised inwardly.

Sure enough, as the pure maiden walked by, apart from a gentle fragrance of youth, the crowd caught a tinkling sound, only to discover a pair of ankle rings around her ankles that chimed melodiously with every step she took.

The company stared blankly at these two women in silence for a long time, until the thin, dark man finally broke the silence: "Innkeeper, prepare two superior rooms."

"I am truly sorry, but forget superior rooms, even the stable is fully occupied..." the innkeeper replied, nodding and bowing. "Why don't the esteemed guests simply make do here for the night? Our little establishment will surely serve you good food and drink, and by tomorrow the ice may have frozen solid, allowing you to cross the river easily."

"Old innkeeper, you can't just brush us off like that, can you?" the dark, thin man said with a darkening expression. "I can make do, but as you can see, my two mistresses are ladies as fair as flowers and jade—how are they supposed to make do? Are you expecting them to stay here with these boorish men?"

"What you say is true, but... the inn has been fully booked for ages, and there simply are not any spare rooms. This old man is truly helpless," the innkeeper answered, looking deeply troubled.

"Nonsense! If you aren't going to prepare rooms, what kind of inn are you running? Go and ask around to see if anyone is willing to give up two guest rooms," the dark man said, casting a glance around the room.

"This..." The innkeeper looked about him, his face contorted in distress.

In such bitter winter weather, who would be willing to give up their guest room? With a warm bed waiting, who would choose to freeze in the main hall?

"What's all this hesitation? Why aren't you going?" the dark man demanded with extreme impatience.

The innkeeper was in an agonizing dilemma. By this time, the dark man's voice had grown louder and fiercer, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. If anyone had been willing to yield a room, they would have spoken up long ago.

Finding no response, the dark man grew even more irate. He stepped forward, grabbed the innkeeper by the collar, hoisted him straight into the air as if he were a baby, and raised a fist, ready to strike the innkeeper across the face.

Although the innkeeper was elderly, he was taller than the dark man by a full half-head; yet the dark man lifted him without the slightest exertion.

Anyone with discerning eyes could tell at a glance that this dark, thin man possessed martial arts skills.

A cry of alarm rose from the surrounding crowd, and while the young attendants of the inn wished to intervene, they were too intimidated by the dark man's menacing aura to step forward.

"Brother Huang, stop!" At that moment, the woman in yellow spoke.

Her voice was exceptionally sweet and honeyed. Even though she was reprimanding the dark man, it caused the hearts of all the listeners to race and their faces to flush.