Chapter 14 – Recuperating in the Mountain Village
Bai Rongjiu sat up and slowly finished the bowl of porridge.
He was only seventeen or eighteen years old—his hair had come loose and half-covered his eyes. They were half-squinted, hazy with the daze of just waking up, making him look far less imposing than usual.
Xie Jing sat on a small stool by the bed and said, “Master, I went out to ask around. This place is called Shilipu—‘Ten Mile Fort.’ If we go west, there’s a town nearby. We can rent a carriage there. Let’s stay for a day or two, and once you’ve recovered a bit, we’ll head back.”
Bai Rongjiu asked, “What do the locals do here?”
Xie Jing scratched his head. “Mostly farming and hunting, I think. I saw piles of sorghum stalks outside every house. And at the entrance of the village, two courtyards had rabbit hides hanging to dry. They must be hunters.”
Bai Rongjiu thought for a moment and said, “This place is only a day’s journey from the distillery—not too far. Pick one or two households with plenty of sorghum and ask if they sell grain to the distillery. Be careful how you ask. Find an honest, reliable family and have them send a message to the Bai family in Qinghe.”
He took out a long gold pocket watch from his coat and handed it to Xie Jing. “Give this to them. When the message is delivered, reward them with a few silver dollars.”
Xie Jing accepted it with a nod and went out.
Left alone, Bai Rongjiu leaned against the bed to rest, one hand hovering over the wound at his waist, his brows faintly furrowed.
The wound wasn’t serious—just a flesh injury, from when they had fled the bandits. Those men had meant to kill. They would rather see him dead than let him keep his wealth. If not for the thick leather vest he’d been wearing, he might have lost his life. But the wound still made it difficult to move—riding was painful. No wonder Xie Jing wanted to find a carriage instead.
Bai Rongjiu was never talkative. He sat there thinking over what still needed to be done and how the guards were faring. He didn’t know what had become of the Heihe branch of the Bai Trading House.
After some time, Xie Jing came back, running all the way, sweat beading on his forehead and nose. He wiped it off and said excitedly, “Master! They really do sell grain to the distillery! I found someone who knows the middlemen in the village. Everything he said matched what I know about the distillery, so I sent him to deliver the message. He agreed right away! I did everything just like you told me!”
Then he hesitated, pulling the gold pocket watch from his pocket and placing it on the table. “I gave him two silver dollars instead. This watch is too valuable, so I didn’t give it away.”
Bai Rongjiu said, “Come here.”
Xie Jing picked up the pocket watch again and handed it over carefully.
Bai Rongjiu reached out and plucked a dry straw from his hair. “You’ve got something stuck,” he said with a small smile.
Xie Jing blushed and took two steps back, patting his head awkwardly. “Must’ve been from the hay pile earlier. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“It’s fine,” Bai Rongjiu said.
“What about this watch, then?”
“Keep it,” Bai Rongjiu said calmly. “It’s yours.”
He expected the boy to refuse modestly—as most educated youths did—but to his surprise, Xie Jing accepted it without hesitation. He tucked it into his chest pocket, patted it once for good measure, and said cheerfully, “Then I’ll keep it safe for you, Master. Whenever you want to know the time, just ask me—I’ll report it to you.”
Bai Rongjiu didn’t know why, but the image made him think of the mechanical cuckoo clock back home in the provincial mansion. Every hour, a jeweled golden bird would pop out, chirping “cuckoo, cuckoo!” in its mechanical voice before retreating again.
Right now, this boy looked just like that little bird—round, lively, and utterly pleased with himself.
Both foolish and clever.
Bai Rongjiu watched him a few moments longer, unable to understand how someone could blend those two opposite traits so perfectly.
Then he thought: Not quite. He’s also fierce.
Yesterday, when Xie Jing fired at the bandits, he hadn’t hesitated for a second.
With the message sent to Qinghe, both Bai Rongjiu and Xie Jing relaxed a little. They stayed in the small village for two days to recover.
The more time they spent together, the more they realized how different the other was from what they had imagined.
At first, Bai Rongjiu thought the boy was loyal to Bai Mingyu, the Bai family’s second young master. Later, he realized that wasn’t true—they hadn’t even known each other before this. But after sharing life and death together, Xie Jing had started treating him differently.
When they talked, the only person Xie Jing ever mentioned was Bai Mingyu.
Bai Rongjiu had little interest in his younger relatives, and business ledgers were hardly a topic for casual talk. So, whenever Xie Jing brought up Bai Mingyu’s studies, Bai Rongjiu would listen quietly—until Xie Jing started showing off.
“Second Young Master never did his own homework,” Xie Jing said proudly. “I did it for him! My handwriting’s way better than his. But he told me not to write too neatly—afraid the teacher would notice.”
He dipped his finger in water and wrote his name and a couplet on the table. The characters weren’t elegant, but far better than Bai Mingyu’s messy scrawl.
Bai Rongjiu: “…”
After a pause, he asked, “I thought you were quite protective of Second Young Master?”
Xie Jing said earnestly, “That depends on what kind of thing it is.”
It was the first time Bai Rongjiu felt truly amused. When they’d been trapped in the snow, this boy only asked for a bowl of sweet dumplings. But now that they were safe, he’d accepted the gold watch without blinking. He liked to earn credit, but not through flattery—especially not at Bai Mingyu’s expense. When it came to work or study, he refused to let Bai Mingyu take advantage of him even a little.
Xie Jing, on the other hand, found this version of Bai Rongjiu quite different from the one in his memory.
Whenever he had a free moment, he couldn’t help but steal glances at him from the corner of his eye. The young master now was so different—softer, calmer. The sharpness he remembered from years later wasn’t there yet. Under that gaze, he didn’t feel nervous anymore. He even dared to speak a little more.
In his memory, Bai Rongjiu never liked talking to people. Sometimes just a small frown from him would make everyone nearby hold their breath and act cautiously. But in private, when no one else was around, the master would tease him, make him massage his shoulders, or rub his head. And sometimes—before Xie Jing could even react—Bai Rongjiu would lift his chin and feed him a peeled lychee.
He used to smile back then too—but differently from now.
Xie Jing sneaked another glance, curiosity flickering in his eyes. When their gazes met, he froze, ears twitching, and quickly turned away to pretend he was busy.
To keep Bai Rongjiu from getting bored, he went around the village asking if anyone had books to lend.
The book he found was old—something a scholar had brought from out of town years ago. Bai Rongjiu had already read it before, knew it almost by heart. But since it was Xie Jing’s thoughtful gesture, he accepted it and occasionally flipped through a few pages.
That night, Bai Rongjiu even taught Xie Jing a few Chinese characters.
There was no brush or rice paper, so Xie Jing found some rough straw paper and a piece of charcoal. One of them taught, the other listened intently. Both were absorbed.
Xie Jing already had a foundation, and perhaps because he was back in his youth, his mind seemed sharper than ever. Whatever Bai Rongjiu said, he remembered after hearing it once—then quietly repeated it twice more in his head until it stuck.
Bai Rongjiu hadn’t expected that teaching someone to read and write could feel so satisfying.
Everything he taught, Xie Jing learned immediately—completely focused, watching Bai Rongjiu’s hand move the charcoal across the paper, hungry for knowledge like a sapling soaking up rain.
After a while, Bai Rongjiu said, “Don’t bite off more than you can chew. Learn these for today. I’ll teach you the rest tomorrow.”
“Okay!” Xie Jing said brightly.
Bai Rongjiu watched as the boy carefully folded the sheets of straw paper and tucked them into his coat pocket—right next to the gold watch.
His gaze lingered for a moment on the spot over the boy’s heart, then shifted back to the book in his hand.
Author’s Note:
?
Bai Rongjiu: “You and Xie Jing get along well?”
Bai Mingyu: “Of course!”
Xie Jing: “Not really.”
?
When Bai Rongjiu announced he wanted to take on a student to teach writing—
Bai Mingyu: “What? I’m the chosen one?!”
Xie Jing: “…”
Xie Jing decided not to be his friend anymore.
He also decided to replace him.
