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墨書 Inktalez
I have never seen such bright colors; each vehicle looks like a fluttering butterfly, dazzling and eye-catching. The people in the vehicles are also dressed in vibrant clothing, and at first glance, it is quite a sight to behold. The most striking feature is a rectangular flag, which is surprisingly pink.
As the convoy approaches, the noise becomes increasingly deafening. Among the sounds are the rumbling of carriages, the laughter and shouts of people, and the long whinnies of horses and cattle, creating a lively atmosphere.
San Chun gazes in awe and walks straight into the middle of the road, cupping her hands in greeting.
Qing wants to stop her but it's too late; she can only let her continue. Deep down, she can't help but think that this is something he would never do; it’s impressive how thick-skinned she is. It saves him the trouble.
San Chun believes she is smiling brightly enough and being courteous enough; she had seen Qing greet a woodcutter in this manner before. But when the convoy suddenly comes to a halt, someone shouts, "Robbers are here! Everyone grab your weapons!"
A dozen swordsmen draw their swords to protect the carriages, and one knight rides out, shouting, "Who dares to curse us?"
In terms of etiquette, the left hand should be above the right hand; a gentleman bows with his left hand raised high while his right hand holds a weapon. The left hand pressing down on the right symbolizes peace and should not be reversed. If reversed, it signifies a funeral procession to honor the deceased—this is the rule. San Chun's posture is exactly that of the right hand pressing down on the left hand; if they were indeed a funeral procession, it would be appropriate. As for anything else, others might very well want to kill her.
A man around forty years old, resembling a steward, steps forward and looks at her with a shake of his head and a sigh. "You look so refined yet weak; why don't you learn properly?"
Seeing everyone’s gaze fixed on her hands, San Chun realizes she has made a mistake. They must think she is deliberately mocking them and that she is a robber come to kill and loot.
She quickly lowers her arms, her face turning an unusual shade of pale. Spotting Qing beside her with a smile in his eyes makes her feel even more embarrassed. She coughs lightly and says loudly, "Brother, we are just passing through. We are looking for family and have run out of money. In our moment of panic upon seeing your convoy, we stepped into the road in our excitement. Please do not take offense."
Qing can't help but cover his face; it's rare to see someone so straightforward.
For someone who is forty years old to be called "brother" by her makes the steward unsure whether to laugh or cry. He waves his hand, and the dozen swordsmen sheath their swords together. They do not leave but stand by watching her with disdain written all over their faces.
This is a world where strength speaks volumes; those who dare to rob are considered heroes, while those who come seeking food receive no kindness at all.
Steward's face fell. "We are Dance Troupe, and we don't allow freeloaders."
San Chun hurriedly said, "I can read and write, keep accounts, have martial arts skills, come from a respectable background, can sew and cook, chop wood and fetch water—there's nothing I can't do. Now I only seek a place to stay, so I won't fall into the jaws of wild beasts. I beg for your mercy, big brother."
She was not herself; she was Qing. Qing was versatile, while she was utterly incapable.
Upon hearing this, Steward pondered for a moment before turning around and riding away. Shortly after, a carriage approached, and a delicate hand lifted the curtain. In a group surrounded by men, the appearance of such a hand was exceedingly pleasing. That slender hand was as white as a baby's skin, as if it could squeeze out water at any moment; its pale complexion resembled fresh snow but showed no hint of pallor. The nails were as fragile as shells and as thin as flower petals, appearing even more transparent and clear.
Just by looking at that hand, one could tell it belonged to an extraordinary woman. She glanced outside for just a moment before lowering the curtain again and said in a clear voice, "Bring him along too."
San Chun was delighted and quickly pulled Qing over. "And there's him; his name is Qing. He can read, keep accounts, has martial arts skills, comes from a respectable background..."
Before she could finish her sentence, the woman in the carriage interrupted, "He looks quite good; bring him along too."
San Chun then realized that all her efforts to speak were no match for their appearances. Among this group of men and women, there probably weren't many as outstanding as her and Qing. Qing was full of vigor; she was handsome and elegant. No wonder they agreed to take them along.
The first person to call her over was the knight named Zhong Yi, who later became a good friend of San Chun. For many days, he treated her with great respect and deference.
San Chun was puzzled and asked him why. He said she had an innate noble aura that made it hard for others to look directly at her.
Having never heard such praise before, she eagerly sought out a waterhole to check her reflection but only saw a face that looked "hungry." After missing two meals, how could her face not show signs of hunger? Plus, due to sleeping outdoors in the wind and rain, she was covered in dirt. As for that noble aura—what did Genius even know about it?
The Shang Family's caravan had clear divisions in rank. At the front were the horse-drawn carriages with only a few people allowed to ride in them. Behind them was a long line of ox carts filled mostly with young boys and girls gathered from various places; they had already been trained and were all good-looking, especially the girls who laughed and played together. Upon seeing them, each one cast curious glances.
Further back were the donkey carts and swordsmen riding donkeys. Sitting in the donkey carts were all young girls with delicate features. Each girl wore luxurious silk clothing; some had expressionless faces while others bore slight frowns.
Zhong Yi introduction, these are the gains from this trip. The Shang Family spent money to buy them from their parents or human traffickers. They stayed with the caravan for a short time, either for months or just a few days, and once they arrived at Chu Capital, they were sold off, then a new batch would be purchased.
After the young girls, there were some people who walked on foot. These individuals were dressed in tattered hemp clothing, their faces filled with sorrow, and their eyes vacant. Some even wore chains; it was clear without introduction that these were slave laborers.
Due to the master's favor, the Steward prepared a decent carriage for them, along with two slaves to serve.
In the caravan, most traveled three or four people per carriage; only the most popular Kabuki performers could have a carriage to themselves. The fact that these two shared one was already a significant honor. San Chun felt indifferent about this, while Qing found it hard to accept.
In this era, there was no concept of men and women keeping their distance; interactions between genders were more casual. There were many who admired each other and would compose love songs in the grass, indulging in romantic encounters. However, Qing was different; he was the kind of person who would never allow any impropriety. He was well-read, adhered strictly to etiquette, and had a dignified appearance… well, at least that was how he presented himself at this moment.
He wore a stern expression and strongly requested that the Steward arrange another carriage for him.
The Steward shot him a sidelong glance; though he didn't speak harshly, his expression clearly conveyed that he might as well have told him to leave. This carriage was already allocated by someone else; who would care if he found it inconvenient?
With no other choice, Qing could only restrain San Chun, advising her to behave while sleeping and not to get too close, or else he would be unkind.
San Chun nearly laughed in anger. She had some affection for him but wasn't desperate enough to pounce like a hungry tiger on its prey. If possible, she would indeed like to leap at him and see how he would turn pale with fright. However, she also knew that Qing could sometimes be unpredictable; although he appeared solemn on the surface, there were aspects of his character that were quite intriguing. If he couldn't refuse her advances and went along with it, that would be disastrous.
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