Chapter 177: The Little New Year

Qi Biao and Lin Fang chatted softly, while their attendants found the situation quite peculiar.

Their master usually wore a stern expression all year round, his tone either icy or utterly flat, making it nearly impossible to discern his emotions. But ever since learning of the disappearance of the Lin family’s sixth young lady, their master seemed like a different person—frequently agitated, emotionally volatile. The way he now spoke in such a gentle tone was something none of them had ever witnessed before. And to embrace a woman in front of everyone? Utterly unimaginable. Yet they had seen it with their own eyes. Stunned, they could only quickly retreat.

When Qi Biao saw the flying needles and heard the rumors from the physician at the hidden workshop, he immediately knew who the physician was. He hurried back to the vicinity of the workshop and sent someone to contact him. As expected, when the physician appeared before Qi Biao, he recognized him—it was the same Dr. Gao who had accompanied Eunuch Zheng to Lin Town four years ago to deliver the imperial decree.

At the time, Dr. Gao hadn’t recognized Qi Biao. It was only later, after Eunuch Zheng woke up and he inquired, that he learned of Qi Biao’s identity. Now, unluckily coerced by Marquis Zhenwu, he had followed Shi Binhua to this hidden workshop, serving as a military physician—for an army that couldn’t see the light of day.

That day, the leader of Shi Binhua’s guards had ordered Dr. Gao to examine the cause of death of the four men in the cave. Dr. Gao hadn’t told the truth. In reality, he had spotted needle marks on their bodies—almost imperceptible, but not entirely escaping his notice. Later, when he followed the guards to investigate the deaths of those who had pursued Lin Fang, he secretly memorized the path. Taking advantage of the guards’ inattention, he dug a needle out of one of the corpses and noted their burial site.

Based on Dr. Gao’s description, Qi Biao located the burial site and discovered that every corpse had at least one flying needle embedded in them. It seemed all of them had been killed by Lin Fang’s hand.

Even following the trail of the pursuers, Qi Biao still faced considerable difficulty in finding Lin Fang.

Qi Biao deduced that Lin Fang’s hiding place was nearby, yet no matter how he searched, he found no trace. It wasn’t until two nights later, as he paced restlessly near the burial site of the pursuers, that he noticed something odd about the scenery in one direction. Though he could see in the dark, nighttime vision differed from daylight. He walked toward that direction, moving farther and farther into the darkness, and by dawn, he had entered the great trench. After wandering and searching within the trench, he finally arrived at the spot where Lin Fang stood.

From a distance, he saw the back of a woman—her dry, yellowish curls loosely tied behind her head. Her ill-fitting homespun clothes hung loosely on her thin frame, and beneath the cloth-bound cuffs of her trousers were feet disproportionately small for her height. Qi Biao was certain: this woman was Lin Fang, the one he had been searching for nearly two months.

He had intended to call out to her, but seeing her standing motionless, he realized she must be deep in thought. Not wanting to startle her, he deliberately let his presence be known, slowly approaching her. He knew that with Lin Fang’s sharp senses, she would detect his arrival.

Lin Fang had indeed been lost in thought. Seeing the rat fruit, she recalled her childhood—traveling with her mother and Li Yinwei, following her aunt back home, listening to her aunt share amusing stories about her mother’s childhood gluttony. The conversation had turned to rat fruit. Now, trapped in this trench for nearly two months, she wondered when she would escape, when she would see her mother again.

As they talked, Qi Biao reached out from beneath his cloak to take Lin Fang’s small hand. The touch was cold and rough, even scabbed in places. Startled, he gently turned her to face him, cupping her face in his hands to examine her closely.

Her narrow face was dry and rough, streaked with blood. Her eyes, occupying nearly half her face, were surrounded by red veins. Her once delicate nose was cracked at the nostrils, revealing raw flesh beneath. Her lips were chapped and split, blood dried into scabs. Qi Biao’s heart ached.

After a moment, he pressed Lin Fang’s head against his chest, unable to express his sorrow in words.

That night, in the main room where Lin Fang slept, Qi Biao sat on the edge of the kang, gently stroking her dry hair, his gaze fixed on her sleeping face. Lin Fang’s eyes were closed, but her mind was fully awake. The room was unlit, yet it didn’t hinder them from seeing each other clearly.

“Yi-ge?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s late. You should rest.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’ve been searching for me for so long without proper rest. Now that I’m here, I won’t run away.”

“If you’re tired, just sleep.”

After a moment of silence, Lin Fang suddenly chuckled.

Qi Biao asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Heh, if Auntie Liu were awake, she’d be scolding us about propriety and chasing you out of the room.” Auntie Liu lay beside Lin Fang, snoring softly.

Qi Biao responded with prolonged silence. His hand, which had been stroking her hair, paused briefly before shifting to a massage, though his movements were less steady, his breathing uneven.

Soon, however, he regained his composure, massaging her head with measured pressure.

Lulled by his touch, Lin Fang grew drowsy and fell silent. When Qi Biao thought she had finally fallen asleep, he gazed at her a moment longer before reluctantly rising to retire to the opposite room. Just then, Lin Fang murmured, as if in a dream:

“Yi-ge?”

“Hmm?” Unsure if she was awake, he answered softly.

“Do you really see me as just a younger sister?” Her voice was faint, as if speaking to herself or in a dream.

His heart jolted. Qi Biao bent down to study her face, trying to discern whether she was truly dreaming or awake. But Lin Fang’s breathing had already steadied into the rhythm of deep sleep.

Slowly, he moved to the opposite room and lay down on the bedding Lin Fang had prepared for him. Though exhausted, her question lingered in his mind, keeping him awake all night. Afraid of disturbing her, he didn’t dare toss and turn, enduring the torment until dawn.

Over the next few days, Qi Biao and his men searched everywhere for an exit.

Like Lin Fang’s earlier efforts, they exhausted every method but found no way out. Even the markings they had left on their way in had vanished. Qi Biao tried signaling the outside world using Lin Fang’s needles and needle case, but there was no response. They, too, were now trapped in the circular trench.

With Qi Biao and his men around, Lin Fang no longer had to labor daily for food. Even Auntie Liu’s medicine no longer required her to feed it mouth-to-mouth—Qi Biao had his own method of ensuring Auntie Liu drank the medicine while asleep. Moreover, with these skilled hunters present, Lin Fang’s meals improved significantly. Her complexion gradually regained its color, and her hair began to shine.

One afternoon, after waking from a nap, Lin Fang saw everyone in the courtyard bustling about. Auntie Liu, now much more lucid, had the attendants running in circles—several chickens had already been slaughtered.

With so many debts, one more hardly mattered. Living in someone else’s home, eating their chickens—Lin Fang could only resign herself to it. If the owners ever returned and found their flock diminished, she would compensate them all at once.

Qi Biao had somehow unearthed ink, brushes, and red paper, which he had cut into long strips and laid out on the table. Holding a brush, he frowned in thought, hesitating to write.

Curious, Lin Fang asked, “Yi-ge, what are you doing?”

Setting the brush down, Qi Biao walked over to feel her hands, ensuring they weren’t cold and that her clothing was adequate. Only then did he answer, “Writing couplets. Today is Minor New Year. But given our current situation, I’m not sure what to write.” He returned to the table, still pondering.

“New Year couplets?”

Yes, they had been counting the days. The New Year was approaching, and Minor New Year had arrived so quickly. Yet Lin Fang felt no joy. Her sudden disappearance must have caused her family immense distress—how were her parents coping? And her doting older brother, her protective second grandparents? Even her eccentric maternal grandparents, for all their quirks, were fiercely protective of her.

“Fang’er, don’t cry. No matter what, Yi-ge will find a way to get you out. Then you can reunite with your parents.”

Large hands gently wiped her tears, and only then did Lin Fang realize she was crying. She buried her face in Qi Biao’s chest, releasing months of pent-up longing and sorrow, letting her tears flow unchecked, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

The more he wiped, the more tears fell. With a sigh, Qi Biao pulled her tightly into his arms, softly patting her back.

Auntie Liu, witnessing their embrace, moved to intervene but was forcibly held back by the attendants, left to fret helplessly.

By the time Lin Fang’s tears subsided, Qi Biao’s chest was soaked. Ignoring his damp clothes, he led her into the kitchen. Under the astonished gazes of the others, he used a warm towel to clean her face, then carefully applied a homemade ointment to her skin. Finally, he wrapped her in his cloak and half-carried, half-guided her out of the courtyard.

Only after they had disappeared did the attendants snap out of their daze, exchanging bewildered looks. Who knew their master could be so tender? He even carried skincare ointment, ready to use it on the Lin family’s sixth young lady at any moment.

“Ah! Ah!”

Though Auntie Liu’s mind had cleared somewhat, her speech remained muddled, especially when agitated. Beyond simple exclamations, she couldn’t form coherent words. Watching her young mistress being led away by Qi Biao in such an intimate manner, she grew frantic. Blocked by the burly attendants, she could only shout helplessly.

Her shouts were futile. Her movements, clumsier than before her coma, combined with the attendants’ deliberate distractions, left her pacing circles in the kitchen.

Outside the courtyard, Qi Biao took Lin Fang to a sheltered spot. They stood in silence. Occasionally, Lin Fang’s nose would twitch, her shoulders shuddering from her earlier crying. As she calmed, Qi Biao rested his chin atop her head, gently rubbing it, still wordless.