Chapter 80: Lessons from Distant Shores (Part Two)

Chapter Eighty: The Stone from Another Mountain (Part Two)

The night was crystal clear, serene and translucent, a moon missing a piece languidly hung in the sky, the Milky Way stretched like a ribbon. Looking up through the gaps in the forest, the night sky appeared as a blue sea.

“…And so, the tale of the Eight Dragons comes to an end…”

On the woodland before the dilapidated temple, the bonfire crackled and popped. Ning Yi slowly finished the last part of the story, then shrugged and smiled, “I timed that perfectly.”

Lu Hongti sat nearby, poking at the fire with a branch. She was silent for a long time. “What happened next in the Song dynasty?”

Ning Yi thought about it, then rolled his eyes. “How should I know…”

“…Such a boring story.”

Time fell into silence. It was the night of June 23rd, almost midnight, soon to be June 24th. Nearly twenty days had passed in each other’s company, and most things that needed to be said had already been said. Lu Hongti had taught him some internal martial arts he could use; with steady practice, he would see results. Ning Yi, meanwhile, had drawn up a series of development plans for her little bandit den on Luliang Mountain, a task he was well versed in, and the problems should not be difficult.

Of course, these plans and teachings covered everything from organizational division, to combat allocation, to alliances and intrigues—but they weren’t purely modeled after a corporation, nor strictly military rules. Most people in Luliang operated as village clans; it was impossible to impose rigid regulations. Only subtle, imperceptible adjustments could be made.

A relatively healthy and stable structure can possess tremendous vitality and potential for growth. The most skillful manipulators can foresee how a small action might trigger a chain reaction. Ning Yi couldn’t go personally to Luliang Mountain, so he could only design a few key nodes for her. If certain goals were achieved, it would be easy to alter the social structure under her command and then roll out the next steps naturally. With barely a hundred people under Lu Hongti, most changes after a simple division of labor were still within Ning Yi’s ability to predict. As long as she established a few basic rules, she could lead the group in a healthier and more logical direction, and situations like the recent noisy quarrel over Song Xian’s execution would no longer force her to intervene personally.

It was nearly impossible to teach a crash course in practical management in a fortnight. This field has no fixed rules; Ning Yi could only impart key principles and hope Lu Hongti’s own wisdom would allow her to adapt. She was no fool, and her martial skills lent her a great charisma in such places. The prospects were promising.

Half the time was spent on organizational foundations; the rest concerned dealing with passing merchants and the other local Luliang leaders, expanding their survival space, strengthening unity and cohesion, and some thoughts on dealing with the Liao people, and so forth.

This part of the plan and advice was quite varied; Ning Yi had pondered it for a long time. For instance, offering protection to merchants passing through their territory to earn steady resources; and, as their influence grew, negotiating with neighboring mountain leaders. But how to collect, distribute, and supervise resources, how to ensure fairness—these were critical. Ning Yi provided some fundamental clauses and supervision methods, copying them into a little booklet for Lu Hongti to take back. If she could propose and implement these ideas, her influence would naturally increase.

Another example was forming three or four elite five-man squads, trained in a purpose-driven, special-forces style. Hunters or bandits in the mountains often excelled individually, but purposeful, targeted teamwork was rare. Lu Hongti could train them with iron-handed discipline, offering good benefits and creating a privileged class within the group. Of course, positive principles must restrain this privilege, or it would simply breed negative effects; but if properly guided, it could inspire the rest.

He also suggested that elders who could tell stories should recount tales of the Liao’s brutality—heroic figures, resistance, loyalty to the nation—while minimizing tales of mountain spirits and seductive foxes. It would even be worthwhile to find a talented storyteller; Lu Hongti only needed to drop a hint, and the individual would naturally start such tales by night. Simple opinion control and agitation may appear trivial, but with thoughtful management, it could greatly foster cohesion and unity over time.

Everything he could think of for the future was copied into a little notebook. For reasons of secrecy, Ning Yi hadn’t wanted to do this, but Lu Hongti wasn’t highly literate. She said that the village had an elderly man of wisdom whom she often consulted; now she intended to show it to him before acting. That was only part of the reason; Ning Yi realized she regarded this notebook as a custom-made military manual for Luliang, to be taken back with care. He had seen her treat it as a precious treasure several times.

Let it be, then. With her abilities, she should not lose the thing that had gotten him involved. In these ten-odd days, it was hard to absorb everything; having a textbook and a trustworthy advisor would prevent failure. He set two rules with her.

“First, this book has nothing to do with me. You were never a guest of the Butcher of Bloodied Hands. Second, only someone truly selfless and trustworthy can see it and advise you. If your Grandpa Liang really is old, childless, and without ambition or influence, it should be fine. Of course, if you pick the wrong person, I must say, it’s not my problem. But soon your position may be lost; you might be betrayed. At that time, I just hope… you survive. Don’t force things—keep your life and run.”

“You know a lot for a scholar…” When the story ended, Lu Hongti reflected and lingered in sadness. “Honestly, I never thought this way at first, but now I suddenly wonder… should I abduct you to Luliang after all?”

Ning Yi laughed, “I only know a few tricks, you overestimate me. Frankly, I don’t know if any of this will actually work.”

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“It’s not trickery—I know the difference.” This time Lu Hongti shook her head. After a while, she asked, “Will you become an official one day?”

“An in-law, not fit for office. And the things I study—practical investigations—are probably what others call tricks.”

“Right, tell me about the tale of the Ghostly Beauty. That day… I never heard the ending.”

“No.” By the bonfire, Ning Yi refused firmly. Lu Hongti stared in bafflement, “Why not?”

“Don’t die. If we meet again, I’ll tell you.”

Lu Hongti thought for a while, smiled, then turned and snorted, “Sleep.” She dropped onto the grass.

Ning Yi waved some smoking leaves to repel mosquitoes, then lay down too. Above him, the stars wheeled in the sky. Lu Hongti stared upward for a while. “Hey, what are you thinking?”

“Mosquito coils,” Ning Yi replied. “These nights, I’ve been nearly smoked to death. Even at the Su household, the coils weren’t pleasant. Modern coils contain a bit of arsenic—probably harmful. I wonder if there’s a better formula; it should be easy, but I never explored it before. It’s painful not to have good mosquito coils. Even monosodium glutamate is hard to make…”

He rambled on as usual about practical investigations, some things comprehensible, others not. Lu Hongti lay there, smiling, listening, and after some time, she drifted into sleep.

One way or another, tomorrow she would leave.

The next morning, they greeted each other, washed, cooked porridge. When fetching water, Lu Hongti felt a bit numb-faced, so she adjusted herself by the stream, returned, and practiced a simple form with Ning Yi. After breakfast, they sat on the temple steps, silent. Morning passed; finally, Lu Hongti stood, took up her bundle in the temple, and stepped out.

“I’m heading back to Luliang.” She smiled. “There’s something I must tell you.”

“Hm?”

She smiled with mischievous pride, “Though you love martial arts so much, you’ll never be a first-class master. At most, you’re second-class.”

She’d said this before; Ning Yi scoffed, “I already told you—I like being second-class, satisfied with it. Never aimed for first-class, never wanted it.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t tell me the Ghostly Beauty last night, so now I’m telling you.” Lu Hongti laughed and walked ahead, stopping beneath a large tree. The trunk was as thick as a barrel; sunlight streamed through. She turned and said, “Do you know what a first-class master can do?”

No sooner had she spoken than Ning Yi saw her gaze sharpen. Her clothes billowed, her figure taut as a drawn bow, and she launched forward—

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three thunderous impacts, then she spun and turned, her skirt swirling a circle in the air. In that instant, she seemed to glide weightlessly, like walking on water. Behind her, with a cracking sound, the entire tree trunk snapped, the crown tilted and fell, branches and leaves whirled in chaos, wind pressure swept outward, sunlight bathing her in brilliance.

“You’re not playing fair…”

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Staring at the spectacle, Ning Yi was stunned for a moment, then muttered and shook his head. Lu Hongti seemed to laugh joyously amid the sunlight. “I’m going now.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

She paused. Ning Yi exhaled. “I consider you a friend.”

Lu Hongti looked at him, waiting for more.

“So… I won’t go with you to Luliang Mountain. But if you run into trouble, you can come find me… so if anything happens, remember—don’t die.”

She was silent for a long time, then nodded. “I’ll wait for the day I can eat that roast chicken in Luliang Mountain. Remember, get your friend to open the shop here. Take care.”

“Take care.”

He watched her figure descend the mountain, disappearing into the light. Only after she was gone did he stretch, look back at the ruined temple. The mountain breeze swept through. After a while, he took a booklet from his chest and flipped through it—the internal martial arts manual Lu Hongti had left him.

“In the end, I still got it…”

He wasn’t particularly proud as he said it. He patted the booklet, sighed, tucked it away, and walked down the mountain.

His left hand was still bandaged, but after twenty days of rest and internal training, his spirit was refreshed. Soon he left the path and joined the main road. As Jiangning came into view, he noticed something: there were more ragged, displaced families from other regions. He recalled Old Qin and Old Kang mentioning a wave of refugees approaching.

It wasn’t too severe yet; entering the city, the effect was less pronounced. He headed toward the Su residence, wondering how to explain his bandaged left hand to Chan’er and the others. As he passed a street corner, a carriage rolled by. Suddenly, Su Tan’er’s head popped out, looking back at him and calling, “Stop, stop, stop…”

The carriage rolled another dozen meters and halted. Su Tan’er saw his bandaged hand, bit her lip, then ducked inside, presumably saying, “Liheng’s back.” She jumped off, followed by Chan’er, Juan’er, and Xing’er.

Su Tan’er ran a few steps, slowed, evidently waiting for the maids to catch up. She eyed Ning Yi’s left hand, frowning slightly. Soon, the three maids clustered around him, anxiously discussing his injury. Ning Yi looked at Su Tan’er approaching, smiled helplessly. Su Tan’er breathed out, her feelings complex. “You’re back?”

“It’s nothing.” On Jiangning’s sunlit street, Ning Yi replied.

Tonight, as I typed, my left thumb throbbed as if blood rushed too quickly. Perhaps it’s related to blood pressure. My schedule has been chaotic lately, so I won’t stay up late to finish tomorrow’s chapter. The next chapter will likely come around noon or afternoon. I’ll try to adjust my routine from now on.

For such a desperate writing state, I continue to ask for your monthly votes—please keep supporting me.