Chapter 36: Staged Encounter

Amidst the biting cold, Li Po crouched behind a large boulder near the refugee camp, his face pale and lips blue from the freezing wind. He never imagined that his latest assignment would be to stage a "porcelain-smashing" scam—a setup to collide with a target.

His appearance had been carefully reverted to his usual state. He had rolled repeatedly in the dirt, smearing his face with a mixture of snow and mud until he looked wretchedly filthy. As he huddled there, he cursed the unscrupulous tax official under his breath, finding a bitter sort of amusement in the realization that the art of the scam was so ancient—even the people of the Sui Dynasty had already mastered it.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, his limbs began to grow numb. Only then did the rapid thud of horse hooves reach his ears. He peeked out, catching sight of several figures approaching on horseback through the arched tunnel of the city gate.

Staging a collision required finesse, but Li Po was confident; he knew his physical skills were more than enough to satisfy the tax official’s demands. What worried him was the identity of the target. He didn't know who could have provoked the tax official into using such a dirty tactic, but he suspected they were not to be trifled with. He wondered if the man might draw his blade in a fit of rage. It was hard to say. Having lived in the refugee camp for so long, he knew all too well that a refugee's life was worth nothing; to someone of higher status, killing a couple of refugees was likely no more serious an offense than flirting with a lady of good standing.

The hoofbeats grew clearer. Li Po squinted, watching the approaching figures. As they drew nearer, their faces became strangely familiar. Dammit, these were the same people who had passed through here a few days ago.

They arrived enveloped in wind and snow, looking quite successful. Pelts they had stripped were strapped to their horses, and birds hung from the saddles—a sight that made his mouth water. Just like last time, they rode straight into the city gate tunnel without slowing down.

Li Po felt a measure of relief; their horsemanship was clearly excellent. Had they been clumsy riders, they might have actually trampled him to death.

Li Po was well-prepared. Not far from him, a large dog lay on the ground, whimpering; like him, it was nearly frozen solid. It was the pet of a minor city gate guard, borrowed for the occasion, and was said to be docile and unlikely to bite. But even the most docile dog had a wild streak.

Judging the distance, Li Po decided the time was right. He took a snowball he had squeezed until it was hard as stone and hurled it at the dog, striking it squarely in the face. The dog let out a mournful cry and began to bark ferociously. The blow hadn't been hard enough to terrify the beast, but it had successfully ignited its aggression.

The dogs of Mayi, much like its people, were difficult to tame. As the dog barked wildly, Li Po turned and bolted. The dog pursued without hesitation. Man and beast darted out from the roadside, cutting across the path.

A dozen riders thundered past. The leader saw the man and the dog suddenly appear before him. He didn't even need to pull the reins; his mount, startled, neighed and skidded to a halt, its hooves carving deep grooves into the road as it reared up. Fortunately, the rider was skilled; he hugged the horse's neck instantly to avoid being thrown, though his backside bounced high before crashing back into the saddle with a dull thud that made him wince in pain.

When the horse reared, the rider was finally unseated. The group behind was in chaos, whistles and shouts filling the air. Yet, their superb horsemanship was on display; not another soul fell, and as they brought their horses to a stop, they had effectively encircled the area. It was a display of formidable cavalry prowess—even the steppe tribes Li Po had seen would have paled in comparison.

Li Po, who had also tumbled to the ground, felt a chill of professional apprehension at the sight. His plan shifted; he scrambled up in a disheveled panic and sprinted toward the refugee camp. The crazed dog had already been struck by a swift arrow and lay dead on the road. The familiar twang of a bowstring made Li Po run even faster.

Behind him, bursts of mocking laughter erupted—the riders were jeering at their companion’s clumsy tumble. The humiliated rider, driven by the same feral anger as the dog he had just killed, ignored his comrades' taunts. He leaped onto his horse and gave chase.

No matter how fast a man ran, he could not outpace a horse. Li Po cursed inwardly, glancing back, but felt a sudden sense of relief—the man’s face was twisted in rage, but he had not drawn the long blade at his waist. Li Po continued to run, hugging his head.

Just as he expected, once the rider caught up, he began to lash out with his horsewhip. Li Po lost count of the blows; his body burned with searing pain. A smoldering, resentful rage began to build within him. He didn't know when he might finally snap, snatch the whip, and slaughter the vicious brute.

By now, he was curled into a ball, rolling on the ground as the rider dismounted to continue the beating. The man’s companions had caught up, their boisterous, cruel laughter ringing in Li Po’s ears. He had seen this countless times—the humiliation of the lower class by the upper class never changed, only the circumstances varied. Only when death arrived would these people realize they were no different from anyone else; in the face of death, all were truly equal. To Li Po, letting such people taste death seemed like an interesting prospect.

However, the tax official’s voice cut through the murder rising in his heart.

"Stop..."

As the whip ceased its descent, Li Po scrambled up and bolted. There was nothing left for him here; he had no intention of killing anyone, nor did he care to play the hero. Like a wounded beast, he simply needed a quiet place to lick his wounds. No one cared about him; he was just a lowly refugee, no more precious than the dog shot dead on the road.

The biting wind carried their voices to him. The tax official addressed the young leader as "Fourth Brother," and the young leader called the official "Third Brother."

So, they were family...

As Li Po ran further away, he glanced back, touched the welts on his face, and winced as he turned into the refugee camp. Damn it, he’d taken that beating for nothing. He had no interest in the relationship between the tax official and those men, and even his desire for revenge was faint. He knew that no matter how the world changed, things were always much the same.

The tax official, who was currently laughing and chatting with others, would never care what a lowly refugee thought. When he suffered a grievance here, he had to swallow it himself. The power struggles of the great were far beyond his reach; for a small figure like him, short of drawing blood, there was little he could do against such people.

If that was the case, why bother holding a grudge? Perhaps one day these men would be begging and howling at his feet, but that day was certainly not today.