Chen Ji looked back.
Warhorses thundered beneath him; a sea of fire already lay in their wake.
He felt for a moment like he’d slipped back into the nights of Luo City, climbing over courtyard walls by stepping on a ladder made of Cloud-Sheep’s joined hands, fleeing with a band of secret spies as the Lius gave chase.
From then on he had become a wanderer who could not return to a normal life in the jianghu.
Chen Ji urged his horse on, still holding the reins of another mount.
Liao Zhong was bound fast to the second horse’s back, the ropes cutting into him; he was unconscious.
Madam Lu lay low on her horse, the wind lifting the black veil of her hood now and then to reveal a scar that ran across the bridge of her nose.
Chen Ji glanced behind again.
Seeing no Weifan guards closing in, he could not help but say to Madam Lu, “Sorry for dragging you into this and getting you hunted.”
Madam Lu did not turn her head. “Never mind. It’s been years since anyone tried to kill me. This is almost novel.”
Chen Ji was silent for a moment. “Why help me?”
He had already handed over the lead about the long whale to this Aunt Ping— they had only known one another a day at most.
She could have ridden off and left him to his fate.
But she hadn’t.