Night 34: A Midnight Visit to Moon City

A clear, melodious warbler broke the deadlock. Guan Canghai and Pan Yueyang withdrew their attacks simultaneously, both spears falling straight to the ground before Pan Yueyang drew a breath and reclaimed his weapon.

By contrast, the man in purple looked utterly astonished.

"Yueyang!" Yan’er, held back by Baili Mubai, could only call out from afar.

A mocking smirk curled at Pan Yueyang’s lips. He turned and strode back to camp.

"Yueyang!" Yan’er, seeing him safe and approaching, anxiously glanced at the man in purple behind, wary of a sudden attack.

A large hand swept her up. In an instant, Yan’er, who had been standing on the ground, found herself seated behind Pan Yueyang on horseback.

Frightened, she clung tightly to him, her large eyes searching his face. "Are you alright?"

"Who told you to come? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?" Pan Yueyang gave her waist a firm squeeze.

"I know it’s dangerous. But I know you’re even more dangerous!" Yan’er, now sure of his safety, nestled fiercely in his arms. This man...

Guan Canghai soon recovered his composure, replying with a sneer, his voice carrying over dozens of miles by force of inner energy. "So General Pan has such a beautiful companion. I must invite this beauty to a banquet someday."

Shameless!

Yan’er cursed him soundly in her heart.

Face dark, Pan Yueyang returned to his tent and immediately summoned Gu Yinhe, Xueqing, and Baili Mubai. The four sequestered themselves inside, not emerging again. Yan’er, naturally excluded from their council, wandered the camp aimlessly, bored and restless.

Her wandering, however, brought about an unforeseen commotion. Had anyone ever heard of a beauty disturbing the morale of an army?

A beauty? An unrivaled beauty? An immortal, surely! Truly a fairy from the heavens!

As she passed, a small stir behind her grew ever more lively. It seemed the general’s luck with women was extraordinary, and this young lady was breathtakingly lovely. Alas, only a man of the general’s rank could ever hope to win such a prize.

Suddenly, someone remarked, wasn’t the general supposed to marry the Third Princess? What a waste, what a shame.

Yan’er, finding her stroll tedious, turned back toward the tent, longing simply for a nap. Pregnancy was no trivial matter.

Within the tent, after some discussion, the four decided that Baili Mubai would scout the way ahead that night.

When business concluded, Pan Yueyang suddenly thought of Yan’er. Where had that little thing gone?

"Yan’er’s been out for a long time and hasn’t returned. I’ll go look for her," he said, concern evident, and stepped outside.

"Even heroes are undone by beauties," Gu Yinhe chuckled, sharing a knowing glance with Xueqing and Baili Mubai.

Pan Yueyang surveyed the camp. Smoke rose from countless cooking fires; a crowd of men seemed unusually jovial, as if there were some spectacle. Squinting, he nearly choked with rage. His woman was mingling among the soldiers, laughing and skipping about like a rabbit! Out of his sight for a moment, and she’d already bewitched his entire army.

The other three emerged from the tent and followed Pan Yueyang’s gaze. With such commotion, who could look elsewhere? With a mischievous grin, Gu Yinhe raised his brows at the others: "Let’s go. It’d be a crime to miss out on the fun!"

"Here, this one—flip it over, or it’ll burn! Brother Li, is that one ready for some salt?" Yan’er pointed and gestured, watching the men roast sparrows with laughter that bent her double.

"What in the world is my woman doing? I’ve come at the wrong time," Pan Yueyang muttered sourly, pulling her into his arms.

"General," the soldiers greeted, uneasy at his dark expression. It wasn’t as if they’d initiated this—she’d asked them to catch sparrows, roast sparrows, and finally insisted on eating them...

"I suddenly remembered how much you like Mubai’s roasted sparrow," Yan’er said excitedly. "So I gathered some, and thought we could all eat together. You were busy for so long—I had to do something!"

Hearing she’d roasted sparrows for him, Pan Yueyang’s jealousy eased a little. He eyed the men, all with sleeves rolled up, looking more like kitchen hands than soldiers. "Continue roasting for my lady," he instructed.

"So, what did you decide?" Yan’er asked.

"We’ll talk later," he replied, unwilling to let her in on their plans. Glancing at the roasting birds, he asked, "Mubai roasted sparrows for you?"

"Yes," Yan’er replied enthusiastically.

"When?"

"…"

"You’re my woman. You’re not allowed to get so close to other men!"

"Yueyang…"

"Not even Mubai!"

"…You love me too much—I accept!" She was speechless.

Night fell. The camp was pitched a hundred li from Moon City, out on the barren steppe. Rocky hills rose ahead; sentries patrolled ceaselessly. The soldiers had begun to rest, for perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the next day, or some day soon, they would face battle. Preserving their strength was paramount.

Dressed all in black, Baili Mubai slipped silently from the tent. Not even the sentries noticed his passing—his movement was simply that fast.

He did not take a horse, but used his lightness skill to reach the walls of Moon City.

Looking up at the city walls, he realized he would have to spring up using borrowed force. Light as a dragonfly on water, he crossed the battlements and landed soundlessly atop the wall, lying flat on the tiles, waiting for the patrol to pass. Then, with a flip, he dropped down. His master had sent him to investigate, so he couldn’t attract attention. Skirting the checkpoints, he soon found himself on the streets of Moon City. Unsure of the layout, he leapt onto a rooftop to survey the scene. At this hour, only inns and brothels would be open for business.

An inn was out of the question—Moon City had fallen, the gates were closed, and no one would be staying at an inn now. His only option was to search for a brothel.

"Damn it—where’s the brothel?" he muttered, darting about.

Just then, he heard footsteps ahead, uneven and staggering.

"Damn those women for despising me just because I’m broke! Back in the day, I was Lord Song, the richest man in Moon City! When I visited the Waterpipe Pavilion, how did they treat me? Damn them all!"

Following the curses, Baili Mubai peered out to see a drunken man in fine clothes stumbling along. Waterpipe Pavilion? That must be a brothel.

Watching the drunk’s direction, Baili Mubai leapt forward.

"Ah! What the hell was that?" The drunk rubbed his eyes, seeing nothing, though he could have sworn a dark shape had flown by. Must have been seeing things.

Pacing over the rooftops, Baili Mubai finally spotted a brightly lit building ahead—the brothel, surely. He landed by the back door.

He neither gambled nor frequented brothels—why enter by the front?

Hidden by the fake rockery in the darkness, he was just wondering how to find someone to question when he heard footsteps.

"You wretched girl! If you don’t go out to serve customers, I’ll have you sent to the Grand Chancellor for use as a camp prostitute!" the madam cursed, striding ahead. Two burly men dragged a nearly unconscious woman behind her, her slender form barely visible.

A door slammed, bolts shot home, and the madam and her men disappeared into the courtyard. Baili Mubai emerged from hiding and eyed a wooden shack in the corner—likely a woodshed or storeroom. He might as well check it out; he wasn’t going to find anyone else at this hour anyway.

There was a hole in the roof—someone was coming through—closer, closer!

"Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!" The woman shook her head desperately, crying for help.

Baili Mubai squatted before her. "Ah!" he said with feigned malice, trying to scare her.

…

After a long silence, the woman made not a sound. Baili Mubai rubbed his nose and patted her face. Damn—she’d fainted.

He was just about to leave when a hand gripped his trouser leg.

Hell—could it really be a ghost…?

"Please… let me go…" a feeble voice croaked from the woman’s lips.

"I’m a flower thief, you’d still come with me?" Baili Mubai replied with a wicked grin, dropping his voice to fit his nocturnal persona.

"Please… you…" the woman fainted again.

Baili Mubai stroked his chin. He really was starting to look the part of a flower thief. She was so thin it hardly mattered—he hefted her over his shoulder. Might as well rescue her from this hellhole.

He retraced his route out of the city. It was much harder than getting in—he’d entered alone, but now he carried a bundle. He’d made things difficult for himself.

Dodging patrols, Baili Mubai counted himself lucky the woman wasn’t heavier, or he’d have been crushed to death before the enemy could kill him.

Xueqing and Pan Yueyang waited for him just within sight of the city gate, eager to hear what he’d discovered—this fellow was hardly reliable.

They soon spotted a black shadow moving slowly—was he injured? As the figure drew close, they saw it was indeed Baili Mubai.

Had he captured a soldier?

Didn’t look like it.

The captive seemed malnourished.

And rather like a woman.

Xueqing and Pan Yueyang exchanged glances, coming to the same conclusion: this kid really was unreliable.

"Senior brother! Senior sister!" Baili Mubai called, dumping his burden on the ground as if it were a sack of feed.

"Who’s this?" Xueqing knelt to look—definitely a woman.

"Rescued her from the brothel," Baili Mubai blurted, immediately regretting it.

…

"Let’s get back," Pan Yueyang said, expressionless.

Naturally, Baili Mubai was left to shoulder the "feed sack" once more, grumbling inwardly. It was all this little wretch’s fault—he’d been too soft-hearted. He’d have to reflect on this later!

After they returned, Xueqing stepped forward and brushed the woman’s hair aside, revealing a delicate, pale face.

"Let’s revive her before anything else, Yueyang." Xueqing scrutinized her features and checked her body. "This woman is no ordinary person."

"What do you mean?" Baili Mubai spat at the sack in annoyance.

"Her skin is soft and fair, her fingers slender, her body unusually flexible—she’s clearly trained in dance since childhood," Xueqing said, shaking her head.

"Wake her."

Obeying the order, Xueqing delivered a palm strike to the woman’s face, sharp enough to jolt her from unconsciousness.

"I am… a pri…ncess, your highness… you must… not… be rude to me!"