23: Chapter 23 They thought Peach Blossom Island was their way out, but a dark shadow ambushed them halfway.

When Yang Yuan pushed open the courtyard gate, Cheng Ying was brewing medicine in front of the stove.

He didn't enter the house, but stood in the courtyard for a while, replaying Huang Yaoshi's words in his mind.

"Have the child move to the island to live. I will teach her every day at the Shen hour; it is better than being in the city."

This sounded like a suggestion, but Yang Yuan could hear that there was no room for refusal.

And there was no need to refuse.

The small courtyard had been ransacked by Li Mochou's people; it was no longer safe here. Huang Yaoshi's invitation was less of an Opportunity and more of a life-saving straw.

He walked into the kitchen.

Hearing footsteps, Cheng Ying turned her head. Seeing his expression, the cattail fan in her hand paused for a moment: "Have you decided?"

"We are going to Peach Blossom Island," Yang Yuan said. "Island Master Huang's intention is for us to move to the island so it is convenient for him to teach Xue Jian."

Cheng Ying didn't speak, only nodded.

She had long expected this. Her Master always acted directly; since she had taken Xue Jian as a disciple, she wouldn't let her remain outside, living in fear.

"I will go pack our things." Cheng Ying put down the fan and wiped her hands.

"No rush." Yang Yuan walked to her side. "Let's tell Lu Wushuang first."

Lu Wushuang heard the commotion from the side room and poked her head out: "Tell me what? Are we moving?"

"We are going to Peach Blossom Island," Yang Yuan looked at her. "You can stay behind; Jiaxing is safer than the island. Or you can come with us."

Lu Wushuang blinked: "I'll go with you."

"Have you thought it through? Peach Blossom Island is in the East Sea, hundreds of miles from Jiaxing. Li Mochou might not dare to pursue us there, but it's hard to say what will happen on the road."

"I've thought it through." Lu Wushuang stood up, her tone decisive. "If I stay here, Li Mochou will come knocking sooner or later. Following you, at least we can look out for each other."

She paused, the corners of her mouth curling up: "Besides, Xue Jian is so cute, I can't bear to leave her."

Yang Yuan glanced at her and didn't try to persuade her further.

Packing took an entire day.

There wasn't actually much to take. A few changes of clothes, golden sore medicine, a few medical books Cheng Ying had brought out from the Ancient Tomb, and the bamboo flute that Huang Yaoshi had given to little Xue Jian.

The most important items were the short sword and the map fragment.

Yang Yuan fished these two items from under his pillow, wrapped them in oilcloth, and tucked them into a satchel he carried close to his body. The dark iron fragment was in there too, hard and unyielding, pressing against his chest.

The rest were just some worthless household items.

Cheng Ying tidied up little Xue Jian's swaddling clothes and went to the kitchen to take stock of the remaining food. There was enough rice and flour for a few days, but it was inconvenient to carry on the road, so it was better to leave it for Old Zhang.

"I'll go talk to Old Zhang," Yang Yuan said.

Old Zhang was the neighbor next to the small courtyard, over sixty years old, living alone, and usually helped Yang Yuan with odd jobs at the pharmacy.

When Yang Yuan found him, he was squatting at the doorway picking over vegetables. Hearing footsteps, he looked up.

"Dr. Yang? You're back early today."

"Old Zhang, I have a favor to ask." Yang Yuan squatted down beside him. "I am going on a long journey and don't know when I will return. Could I trouble you to look after the small courtyard and the pharmacy?"

The vegetable in Old Zhang's hand paused: "A long journey? Where to?"

"To the south." Yang Yuan didn't elaborate. "You can handle the medicinal herbs in the pharmacy as you see fit; sell them if you can, otherwise just leave them be. Please lock the gate of the courtyard for me, and if anyone asks, tell them I am no longer here."

Old Zhang looked at him for a few seconds, didn't ask why, and just nodded: "Alright, you can rest assured."

He took a few taels of broken silver from his robes and pressed them into Old Zhang's hand: "Take this as payment for your trouble."

Old Zhang pushed half of it back: "It won't take this much. When you were here, you often helped me get medicine and treated my illnesses without charging. Keep this silver for your journey."

Yang Yuan didn't refuse again and stood up: "I'm leaving. Thank you."

Old Zhang waved his hand and continued squatting to pick over the vegetables without looking up.

Yang Yuan turned and walked back to the small courtyard. Halfway there, he looked back; Old Zhang was still squatting at the door, his hunched silhouette stretched long by the setting sun.

Leaving like this, he didn't know when he would be able to return.

In the evening, the three adults and one child boarded the carriage.

Cheng Ying sat inside the carriage holding little Xue Jian, with Lu Wushuang squeezed beside her, curiously lifting the curtain to look outside. Yang Yuan sat on the carriage shaft; the driver was an old employee from the pharmacy, a thin, tall man with nimble hands and feet.

"Dr. Yang, where to?" the old employee asked.

"The East Gate, the pier to set sail."

The wheels rolled over the bluestone road, making a rumbling sound. The shops along the street were lit up, filled with the noisy chatter of people, as bustling as usual.

Yang Yuan didn't look back.

He was thinking about what Lu Wushuang had said that afternoon.

"Cousin-in-law, did you know that Li Mochou is also looking for Huang Yaoshi?"

"Why?"

"I don't know the specific reason, but I heard my Master mention it once. She said that Li Mochou had a grievance with Peach Blossom Island in her early years; it seems Huang Yaoshi ruined something for her. She has always wanted revenge, but couldn't find an Opportunity."

Lu Wushuang's expression was rarely serious: "If she knows we are going to Peach Blossom Island, she might follow us."

Yang Yuan hadn't spoken at the time.

Thinking back on it now, a chord of tension tightened in his heart.

Li Mochou had a grievance with Huang Yaoshi—this meant that going to Peach Blossom Island was not necessarily absolutely safe. Just because Li Mochou didn't dare to set foot on the island didn't mean she wouldn't strike on the road.

"Be careful on the road," he told himself.

The carriage left the East Gate and traveled south along the official road.

The sky had darkened, and on both sides of the official road were pitch-black farmlands, with occasional flickering lights in the distance. Cheng Ying was inside the carriage coaxing little Xue Jian to sleep, and Lu Wushuang had fallen asleep against the carriage wall at some point, her breathing steady.

Yang Yuan sat on the carriage shaft, looking at the road ahead, his thoughts drifting far away.

He had only been in Jiaxing for a few months, yet had experienced so much—saving Cheng Ying, settling down, being attacked, saving others, being hunted, moving. Each step along the way felt like dancing on the edge of a cliff; a slight misstep would mean total destruction.

But he had also gained quite a lot.

His daughter could play the flute now and had taken Huang Yaoshi as her Master. Cheng Ying was much more cheerful than when they first met. Lu Wushuang joining them had added a sense of liveliness to their home.

Life was getting better.

As long as they were alive, it would get better.

The carriage drove past the last watchtower of Jiaxing and turned onto the fork in the road leading to the pier.

Yang Yuan subconsciously looked back.

The city wall was pitch-black in the night, like a giant beast crouching on the ground. A few soldiers on patrol stood on the ramparts, the light of their torches flickering in the dark.

His gaze swept over the wall and suddenly froze.

Beside the watchtower, a person was standing.

The person was wearing a black cloak, with a hood covering their face, their entire figure blending into the night, almost invisible. But Yang Yuan saw clearly—that person was watching their carriage.

It was not a patrolling soldier, nor was it a passerby.

That person was waiting there on purpose.

Yang Yuan's hand pressed against the single-edged blade at his waist, his back tensing up.

The carriage traveled a bit further, turned a corner, and the city wall was no longer visible.

He released his hand, but his vigilance did not fade.

Who was it?

Li Mochou's people? Mongol spies? Or someone else entirely?

He didn't know.

But he knew one thing—from the moment they left Jiaxing, they were no longer under anyone's protection.

The road ahead could only be traveled by relying on themselves.