Chapter 8

Chapter 7: Night Drink, Dreaming of a Sea

Looking at the tent ceiling, Ning Que’s mind was filled with the traces of his journey since leaving Weicheng. The luxurious carriage’s curtains were always tightly closed, and apart from the occasional playtime of the little boy with obvious barbarian blood, there was no chance to see the princess. Only the elegant and proud maid would occasionally give orders.

For some reason, the maid liked to call Sang Sang over for a chat. For some reason, the maid made no effort to hide her disgust for him. Ning Que thought she was a good actress. Whether in Weicheng or on the journey, whether it was the attitude of the grassland men or her own demeanor, it was hard to tell... she wasn’t a maid.

This made him feel a bit strange. He always thought that the true nobles of the Tang Empire shouldn’t have the leisure to sympathize with Sang Sang. However, these weren’t the things he truly cared about. For several days, he had been paying attention to the old man in the carriage wearing an old robe. If his guess was correct, the old man with a gentle expression should be the high-ranking figure of the Houtian Sect mentioned by General Ma.

Since he was very young, Ning Que had been determined to enter that mysterious world, but he had never found the door. He was willing to return to the capital with this group precisely because there was a true cultivator in the group.

Unfortunately, throughout the journey, he never found an opportunity to speak with the old man, who was under strict protection. Only during meals, when the camp was set up, could he occasionally meet the old man’s gaze. In that moment, he seemed to see a gentle and encouraging look in the old man’s eyes, which left him puzzled.

Unable to solve the puzzle through thought and analysis, Ning Que refocused his attention and realized that the small feet in his arms were still cold, like ice lumps, making his chest and abdomen feel icy. He couldn’t help but frown with worry.

Sang Sang, the little maid, had suffered a lot as a child. She had been found in a pile of corpses by the roadside, wrapped in rain and decay for several days. After he rescued her, she fell ill and remained sick for months.

The military doctors in Weicheng and the doctors in Kaiping Prefecture all gave the same diagnosis: congenital insufficiency, a cold constitution. Due to her extremely cold constitution, Sang Sang rarely sweated, and the toxins produced daily couldn’t be cleared, gradually making her body worse. Therefore, Ning Que, following the doctors’ advice, made her exercise vigorously every day to slightly improve her cold constitution. This was the real reason why, in the eyes of others, he treated the black and thin little maid like a donkey or a horse.

Even with such hard work every day, it wasn’t always possible to warm up Sang Sang’s constitution, just like now, when her feet felt like they were in an ice cellar. Ning Que got up, rubbed his nearly frozen belly, and found the leather wine bag in the corner. He woke Sang Sang up and handed the wine bag to her lips.

Sang Sang opened her eyes groggily, naturally took the wine bag, and skillfully unscrewed the stopper, tilting it to pour the wine into her mouth. Not a drop of wine spilled, but the tent was still filled with the spicy aroma of the strong liquor, which seemed to be the throat-cutting liquor from the grasslands.

The small, thin maid held the large wine bag and drank deeply. The strong liquor that could knock out a big man with just two bowls was drunk by her in half a bag, making her abdomen slightly bulge. This scene was hard to describe as heroic, but rather seemed a bit strange.

She wiped her lips, her willow-leaf eyes becoming even brighter in the dark, showing no signs of having drunk. She smiled at Ning Que and then fell back to sleep.

The tent was filled with the aroma of strong liquor, and the cold feet in his arms gradually warmed up. Ning Que, seeing the sweat on her nose, finally felt relieved and wiped the sweat from his own forehead.

Wrapping himself in the woolen blanket, Ning Que slowly closed his eyes. Not far from his face was the well-worn *Taishang Ganying Pian* (The Scripture of the Highest Induction). He read a few pages before sleeping every night, and even if he didn’t read it, he would silently recite it in his mind. This was a habit he had formed over the years.

“May all beings be endowed with the practice of leaving old age and death, and may all calamities and poisons not harm their lives.”

“May all beings be free from old age and illness, and may their life roots be firmly established, bravely and diligently entering the path of wisdom.”

In a light sleep, his spirit followed the words on the scroll, moving slowly with the seemingly simple but actually profound methods of perception. Gradually, the woolen blanket covering him and Sang Sang, the simple tent, the green grass outside, and the stream all disappeared, turning into a world where you are in me and I am in you. In this world, he could faintly feel a mysterious rhythm of breathing, and as the world breathed, the air gradually filled with warmth, like a sea.

Ning Que was not unfamiliar with this magical feeling. Many years ago, after he first read the *Taishang Ganying Pian*, he often felt this before falling asleep. However, he was very clear about a sad fact: this was not a real perception after meditation, but just a dream.

The warm sea was probably just an illusion in the dream, because the feet in his arms, wrapped in thick cotton socks, gradually warmed up. But this was a very beautiful illusion.

Comforting himself, Ning Que entered a deep sleep, a sweet and dreamless night.

The next morning, Ning Que slept very well, but his expression was as if he desperately wanted to sleep for three more days and nights, full of shock and dissatisfaction.

“Why did you suddenly change the route?”

He looked at the cold-faced maid in front of him, suppressing his emotions, and said as gently as possible, “Crossing Mount Min and heading straight to Huaxi Road, the route I chose will have no problems.”

None of the people in the tent, including the maid, answered his question.

“I am the guide, and you are not familiar with Mount Min,” Ning Que said, looking at the maid and pausing for a moment, “I know you are worried about ambushes, but I can assure you that as long as you listen to me, no one can stop you.”

The maid glanced at him, as if looking at a stone, clearly expressing that he had no right to demand an explanation from her.

Back in his tent, Ning Que looked at Sang Sang, who was packing their belongings, and said, “Once we send them into this straight road, we will immediately withdraw.”

He took out a simple map he had drawn years ago and pointed to a place, “We can only follow them to this point. If we go further, the other side only needs to send a few cavalry units to completely wipe out this group.”

“You should persuade them,” Sang Sang said, looking up.

“I think there are troops waiting to escort the princess, so they won’t listen to me,” Ning Que replied, “I’m not good at persuading a group of pigs.”

Sang Sang didn’t speak, but her eyes asked, since there are troops waiting, why are you so worried and even preparing to leave halfway?

“I have a bad feeling,” Ning Que answered, “Because I believe that the fierce characters who dared to assassinate the Fourth Princess of the Tang Empire wouldn’t be as stupid as that woman, without a few contingency plans.”

Sang Sang hesitated, then reminded him, “You... should be more polite when speaking to her.”

“I know her true identity,” Ning Que’s eyebrows twitched slightly, and he said sarcastically, “So what if she’s a princess? I said in Weicheng, she’s just a stupid princess.”