Chapter 147
“Now that they know we’re alive they’ll never give up.” Ning Yi replied as he dressed, “Leaving this Ji Yang Mountain will not be easy.”
Feng Zhiwei murmured an affirmative, hugging her knees as Ning Yi got dressed.
10 minutes later...
Feng Zhiwei hugged her knees, watching Ning Yi dress.
A quart of an hour later...
Feng Zhiwei hugged her knees, and she could no longer hold back her words. Blinking to herself, she asked: “Your Highness, do you not know how to dress yourself?”
Ning Yi stopped his fight with the bands of his clothes, taking an unashamed moment before nodding; he even began to complain: “If you knew, why didn’t you help?”
Feng Zhiwei pouted: nobody alive was more shameless than His Highness Prince Chu.
She slowly dragged her feet over and began helping His Highness dress, and all the while Ning Yi nitpicked: “Your hands aren’t even that much better than mine!”
“Are you sure you’re tying that band correctly?”
“Are you buttoning or trying to strangle me?”
Feng Zhiwei smiled as she helped him, occasionally tightening a band here or there as she said: “At least I didn’t take a quarter of an hour and still fail.”
“How is this wrong? If you’re so brilliant, do it yourself!”
“If I truly wanted to strangle you, how could this be enough?”
Both of them were pale faced, and Feng Zhiwei had to pause her buttoning to cough, but neither of them spoke about such matters, both smiling as if everything was normal.
The crisis had not passed and danger was still upon them; one of them was blind; the other suffered internal injuries; and powerful enemies were around them, scheming and waiting. In this time of uncertainty, the two were even more calm than usual.
Both of them held powerful positions and knew nerves would only slow them down; the night had been long and they had suffered many injuries; now was the time to relax their minds.
Such words are easy to say but hard to follow, yet both of them were just this type of person, and they both trusted each other to understand.
With Ning Yi finally dressed, Feng Zhiwei ripped a strip off his sleeve and bandaged Ning Yi’s wound. Only then did she turn to her own injuries, and with that finished she helped Ning Yi to his feet.
The two shared a glance and the smiles on their faces disappeared. Finally, Ning Yi calmly announced: “Let’s go.”
Feng Zhiwei cleaned the stains from her sword and wrapped it around her waist.
“This water is flowing; if we follow it, we should find a road.” Ning Yi continued saying, “They will send people to check on the two assassins soon.”
“Let’s go.” Feng Zhiwei agreed, grabbing Ning Yi’s sleeve and leading the way. Her internal injuries had healed a little, and she guessed that Ning Yi had fed her medicine or circulated Qi for her while she slept.
She did not fully understand Ning Yi’s condition, and she did not understand the power of the Poison Eye Insect, but Ning Yi’s color was poor. Of course, he had drunk too much liquor, but that had been days ago; his weakness now must be because of his wounds.
After a while, Ning Yi spoke, asking: “Can you take my hand? The sleeve is too easily ripped.”
While Feng Zhiwei was hesitating, Ning Yi grabbed her hand; both of them quivered as cold met warmth. Ning Yi smiled: “Our hands match.”
Feng Zhiwei ignored him, but he continued speaking: “When we are together in the Imperial Mausoleum, your hand will not be hot and mine will not be cold, and it’ll be even better.
Feng Zhiwei froze. For a moment, her mind could not wrap itself around what he was suggesting. His Highness was talking about marriage? And he had even planned their burial... She wanted to reply: “Who would want to be buried with you?” But as she thought the words, a dark gloom came over her heart; in her mind’s eye she could see the lofty chambers and the great dragon coffins; but under the flicker of the eternal lamps, beside the dead stares of the white jade eyes, what would his face look like as he rested there?
And when she grew old, where would she be buried? Who would remember all the deeds of her life?
She thought back to her deal with her mother, and she could not stop herself from asking: “If I left Dijing and never returned, what would you think?”
Ning Yi paused silently before tightly grabbing her hand, his voice straightforward as he replied: “I’ll look for you.”
“What if you cannot find me?” Feng Zhiwei asked, wondering at her strange words today — when had she ever asked such meaningless questions?
“You cannot escape me.” Ning Yi turned his blind gaze towards her, his voice calm. “All the lands under the heavens, all the wind, earth, water, and rain will be mine; even if you turn to ash, with nothing left but bone, you will still be mine.”
Feng Zhiwei had no reply. She silently rubbed her arms before forcing a smile: “Your Highness, don’t say such scary words.”
Ning Yi smile in reply, but there was no amusement in his eyes.
Feng Zhiwei returned his blind gaze; she knew that if she tried to smile, the smile would not reach her eyes either. Chunyu’s last defiant cry still echoed in her ears, the clashes of his last stand aching in her heart; though neither of them brought up the matter, no one had forgotten.
They walked, following the water, gradually passing into the mountain proper. As they moved, Feng Zhiwei relaxed; Mount Ji Yang was huge and the enemies restrained by the amount of attention they could attract, so entering the mountain was much safer than the alternative.
After walking for a while both of their bellies began to rumble; the two exchanged forced smiles as Feng Zhiwei examined her surroundings. She did not dare go off hunting and leave Ning Yi alone, so she said: “Let’s talk to the neighbor above us and ask for something to eat.”
“What neighbor?”
Feng Zhiwei pointed up at a pine tree’s branches where a squirrel scurried by; Ning Yi listened carefully to the creature’s movements before saying: “I think the neighbor’s meat might be better.”
“Then you go and barter with it; convince it to offer its meat to the Prince.” Feng Zhiwei replied, a half-smile on her face. “This Minor Minister has a clumsy tongue and cannot convince it.”
“You are such a strange woman.” Ning Yi teased, “Killing men like chopping vegetables, but unwilling to kill a squirrel.”
“The evil of people is greater than that of animals.” Feng Zhiwei calmly replied, “Beasts will rarely attack you unprovoked, or betray you, or humiliate you, or mock you, but people will.”
Ning Yi eyed her through the corner of his gaze, his dark irises smooth like mercury; He gently pushed her, smiling as he spoke: “Eunuch Feng, are you not going to pick the pine cones? If I wait until you finish teaching, this Prince will be ready for the Imperial Mausoleum.”
Feng Zhiwei rolled her eyes as she stepped forward and clambered up the pine tree; Ning Yi leaned against the tree’s trunk as he waited, small, fine pine needles raining down sporadically, tickling his face. Ning Yi turns his head and “looked” around; though he could make nothing out, he could imagine the beauty of the autumn mountain: the rolling green hills and green and yellow of the woods; fallen leaves a thick auburn brown carpet, and the afternoon sun gilding the tree tops.