Chapter Seventy-Five: Struggle (IX)

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Night gradually deepened, and this dilapidated temple, which had once housed an entire squad of Eagle-Yang soldiers—over forty men—now contained only Xu Le and eight or nine others. Outside, beneath the temple’s eaves, a few fire soldiers slept soundly on straw mats, their presence perhaps intended as a watch, though whether they still served that purpose was uncertain.

Beyond the courtyard wall, temporary sentry posts had been set up. The squad of personal guards led by Yuchi Gong was stationed outside, taking turns on watch, and patrolmen circled the temple’s exterior, making rounds. The temple itself was not large; even without entering its main hall, the close surveillance and layered defense made it as impenetrable as a fortress—hardly even a bird could slip through.

Though everyone knew full well this was but a genteel form of house arrest, such arrangements could be considered as Liu Wuzhou having shown them considerable respect. After supper, all—including Xu Le—returned to their straw mats to rest. Even the little wolf-girl, Bu Li, curled up obediently in a corner of the temple and uttered not a sound.

Traveling with Xu Le had its moments of glory, but peril seemed to follow on its heels without pause. Even Song Bao and the others believed that, with such arrangements in place, there was little more Xu Le could attempt. Content, they soon fell into deep, sonorous slumber.

Amid the rising and falling chorus of snores, Xu Le’s eyes snapped open.

Firelight from outside crept in, dimly illuminating the temple’s interior. Xu Le rose quietly and peered outside.

When choosing his sleeping spot, Xu Le had deliberately picked a place beyond the fire soldiers’ line of sight from the corridor. He glanced around in silence, his gaze settling on a window at the back of the temple, which had been boarded up.

Suddenly, a faint noise sounded within the temple. Xu Le turned to see Han Yue flipping over and sitting up, silently watching him.

Xu Le pressed his hand down in a gesture of caution. Han Yue, a man of few words, had grown up with Xu Le and shared an unspoken understanding; he knew at once what Xu Le meant and lay back down. Normally, Han Yue slept quietly, but now he began to snore thunderously, rattling the very rafters. Xu Le nearly covered his face in embarrassment—this performance was a touch too much...

Under the cover of Han Yue’s boisterous snoring, Xu Le rose noiselessly, grabbed a robe one of the laborers had left aside, and approached the window, using the robe to cover it before removing the wooden slats nailed across it.

The robe served two purposes: muffling any sound and masking changes in the light that might rouse suspicion.

The slats had been hastily nailed with iron spikes. With a gentle tug, they came away easily from the rotting frame. The nails he pulled out he used to pin the robe to the window frame, restoring the appearance of solidity.

Xu Le worked swiftly, and in moments he had removed enough slats to slip through.

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Just then, Han Yue, still snoring, sat up again. Xu Le glanced back at him and signaled firmly for him to stay put.

This time, there would be no headlong charge with spear and lance into a thousand-strong Yue formation, but a stealthy infiltration into the enemy camp, hoping to rescue Luo Dun. Han Yue, tall and burly, was ill-suited for subtlety; if he came along, they’d likely be discovered before even leaving the temple.

Han Yue’s virtue was his unwavering obedience to any arrangement Xu Le made. For this childhood companion, Han Yue’s trust was absolute. At Xu Le’s gesture, he hesitated only a moment before lying down again. Normally a silent sleeper, he now kept up his thundering snoring.

Xu Le glanced around once more. On Bu Li’s mat, the little wolf-girl was still curled up, breathing softly in sleep. Nodding to himself, Xu Le quietly lifted the robe and slipped through the gap like a cat, landing soundlessly outside.

The skills his grandfather, Xu Gan, had honed in him over a decade and more were not limited to the arts of horse, spear, and bow; such finer arts of stealth had also been carefully taught. From his grandfather’s hints, it seemed that in his youth—when the Central Plains were a land of chaos and bloodshed—he had dabbled in ventures of dubious legality. Once, his grandfather had even lamented that Xu Le’s father had never mastered these skills.

Once in the courtyard, Xu Le glanced around, then darted to the back wall and crouched in a corner, watching the flickering torchlight of the patrolling soldiers and counting their intervals. After two passes, he had gauged their timing. Xu Le sprang up, grabbed the top of the wall, and with a surge of strength, swung himself astride it, peering left and right to check for sentries and to survey the scene.

Suddenly, a sound behind him—before Xu Le could react, a small figure leapt up and perched beside him on the wall!

There, atop the wall, Xu Le and the little wolf-girl Bu Li stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise.

The wolf-girl had never slept at all; she had been watching him throughout, and when he made his move, she followed in silence.

Bu Li’s tiny face was puffed with determination.

The sound of approaching patrols left no time for explanations. Xu Le grabbed Bu Li’s arm, and together they slipped down the far side of the wall, hunching low in the darkness and darting away.

Her arm was thin and delicate, but she let Xu Le lead her without protest. Xu Le couldn’t help but marvel—this little wolf-girl could eat so much! That evening, she had devoured two portions of the millet and meat soup Liu Wuzhou’s men had provided. Where did it all go?

Lost in such musings, Xu Le led Bu Li into the silent, deserted alleyways. Both moved in silence, keeping to the shadows cast by the buildings, winding their way toward the city wall.

The autumn moon shone cold and clear over the quiet city of Yunzhong, its light pooling like water. Bu Li’s long black hair rippled faintly, reflecting a ghostly sheen.

From the shadows, one could see the tall watchtower at the city’s center, its torches burning and casting a ring of golden light.

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At last, Xu Le spoke: “Stay close. We’re going to rescue Grandpa Luo Dun.”

Bu Li, who had been walking with her head lowered, looked up just in time to see Xu Le glance back at her with a gentle smile, his eight white teeth gleaming warmly.

She said nothing, but nodded firmly.

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Yuchi Gong jolted awake.

He had slept poorly that night in the sentry post, getting up several times to make his rounds. Even when he finally lay down, his mind churned restlessly.

Liu Wuzhou and the others were plotting something; Yuchi Gong could plainly see that. He did not care to ask what it was or whether it was right, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at him all evening.

He finally sat up, cursing under his breath, “To hell with sleep!”

He left the sentry post and, after some thought, found nowhere else to go. He considered asking the fire soldiers for wine, but decided against troubling anyone at such an hour. Instead, he strode quietly into the ruined temple, tiptoeing to the doorway and peeking inside.

Xu Le’s straw mat was empty.

Yuchi Gong’s face darkened, his fists clenching as if he might roar in fury at any moment and order a citywide search.

But in the end, he turned and walked away. Not until he returned to the sentry post and flung himself onto his straw mat did he curse again, bitterly.

“Damn you, Xu Le!”