Cross the river, cross the river!

Not yet dusk.

At the end of spring, the plum blossoms are in full bloom.

This is the strange sight of Meilan County: plum blossoms bloom in April, not March.

The distant mountains and slanting sunlight ripple across a sea of clouds, spilling fiery haze that dyes the sky red.

Such beautiful weather!

A thousand miles of clear skies.

Zhao Jia, returning, rarely finds them not gambling.

The clang of metal rings out in quick succession.

Whetstones, wetted with clear water, polish their waist knives to a gleaming sharpness.

Being a constable not only grants a salary, but also a long blade—an object of livelihood, and a foundation of imperial rule.

In these times, with salt and iron strictly controlled, ordinary families cannot even forge weapons, let alone armor for protection.

Zhao Jia goes to the barracks to fetch his own broadsword.

Four feet three inches long, slender and narrow—a leaner, weaker version of the great Guan blade.

Shi Zhuzhi, a fellow constable, brings over a basin of water.

There are eight constables in Meilan prison; he intends to bring only four.

All four have solid backgrounds. Lao Cheng is a veteran, reliable and battle-hardened, a potential asset.

Zhuangzi is tall and strong, worth two men in strength.

Big Mouth is honest and simple-minded, always doing as he’s told, and robust in build.

The Small One has trained before, fiercer than the average constable.

Within the county office, metal clatters and overlaps.

Seeing the preparations complete, Zhao Jia cannot delay further. He waves his hand broadly: "Leave early today. Tomorrow at the fifth hour, come to the county office. This job is dangerous—go rest and enjoy yourselves tonight."

The four show different reactions.

Zhuangzi, carrying his heavy-backed blade, is quiet. Big Mouth stands with hands behind his back, eyes on the cat. The Small One’s face is pale. Lao Cheng squints his dry, yellow eyes, his voice raspy from smoking as he asks, "Chief, just two taels for such a risky job?"

"Three taels."

"If we die, there’ll be compensation. As long as I live, I’ll ensure your families receive it."

"If I die, someone else will deliver the silver."

Zhao Jia promises.

Big Mouth jokes, "Will it be Brother Cat delivering the money?"

"Yes," the Small One interrupts, displeased. He grips his weapon and turns to leave: "Don’t speak such ominous words. Even if he’s the Water Dragon of the Waves, I’ll cut off his head!"

With that, he leaves the office, heading straight for the Leaning Drunken Tower in the east—a notorious den of vice.

They are no fools.

Zhao Jia’s seriousness is clear; their guesses are not wrong.

The planned route avoids many mountain bandits and river pirates, but Xunyang River cannot be avoided. The Water Dragon gathers his men, arrogant and idle, sure to rob for money and grain.

Officials and bandits must inevitably collide.

Lao Cheng sends word home and stays to prepare armor.

The burly Zhuangzi heads to the gambling den.

Big Mouth returns home.

Lu Xun also rests and recuperates alone.

...

The next day.

Fifth hour.

Before dawn, torchlight bathes their faces in a red glow.

---

Lord Lü rises early, surveying the thirty selected men, eight ox carts, and nearly a thousand government troops, and once again gives a rousing speech: "Regardless of success or failure, this county will heavily recommend you all. If you succeed..."

He clasps his hands and bows to the right, "I will petition the Emperor for your rewards!"

With that, he drains a cup.

Before departure, the county captain confides in Zhao Jia: "Yesterday was clear; these few days will be misty. Half a day after you leave, we’ll board the ships, five hours apart."

"Two evenings from now, we’ll meet at the Narrow Dragon Passage on Xunyang River. If our calculations are correct, by then the Water Dragon will have already made his move."

"The margin of error won’t exceed an hour."

"Hang in there!"

The captain pats Zhao Jia’s arm.

Zhao Jia nods.

"Set out!"

Mist shrouds the mountains as they tread the fragrant path of plum blossoms.

The mighty procession leaves the city.

Inside the city.

Jin Sheng ties his finished letter to the leg of a carrier pigeon, watching the convoy depart Meilan County before releasing it.

The gray pigeon soars into the sky, instantly outpacing the tax silver convoy.

Its swift flight startles birds in the forest.

"Caw, caw!"

The crow's harsh cry makes Lu Xun, the black cat on the ox cart, perk his ears and glance over.

The black-winged crow vanishes into the clouds, flickering out of sight.

"I hate crows," Lu Xun meows, always feeling mocked by them—the last time he guarded a corpse, his mood was ruined.

...

"What smells so good?"

The Small One stretches his neck to sniff.

Big Mouth replies, "Five dried things."

"What are five dried things?"

Zhuangzi, puzzled, reaches for a taste. "Let me try some too."

The Small One hesitates; Zhuangzi is from out of town, said to be Miao from the southeast, so it’s not surprising he doesn’t know their local dried foods. Truth be told, they rarely eat them except during festivals.

Zhuangzi is already chewing, nodding repeatedly, asking, "What are these?"

"Dried silverfish, dried tofu, dried wood ear, dried black tea..." The Small One pauses, then adds, "Dried field mouse."

"Delicious!"

"Let Three Legs try some."

A whole dried, plump field mouse is placed before Lu Xun.

Lu Xun sniffs—pickled, no resistance, he eats directly.

His fangs flash, saliva bubbling.

Anything that fills the belly is good; hunger is unbearable, and without food, the body weakens, unable to exert full strength.

Last time, he suffered from an empty stomach while fighting the Toad.

Fragrant, crispy.

More chew than ham sausages.

Industrial products cannot compare to this pure taste.

Dried mouse—like duck neck, crisp and crunchy.

---

...

They travel by night and day.

Two days later, they reach the narrow river dock.

The government’s large ship, arranged in advance, waits for them.

Dawn breaks, mist thick.

The deck extends to the dock, the interior revealed; drivers and soldiers board in succession.

They are both anxious and uneasy; if they cross the river and reach land, the road ahead will be smooth.

That is the plan.

Zhao Jia speaks calmly, "Cross the river!"

The big ship leaves the dock, beginning the crossing.

Xunyang River is wide, the far bank invisible, necessitating such a ferry to transport them.

Moreover, the ferry cannot cross directly—it must follow the current, traveling a long stretch before finding a small dock to land.

After two or three quarters of an hour.

The river dock appears.

It is small, serving only the ferry.

The mast ship slowly approaches the shore.

Suddenly, the lookout on the mast shouts, "River bandits!"

The ship’s steward turns pale, glaring at Zhao Jia, asking sharply, "What are you transporting? It can’t be tax silver, can it!"

Zhao Jia says, "Head to the river’s center."

The steward pleads, "No, heading to the center will invite disaster! Haven’t you heard about the two counties’ tax silver being robbed?"

If they dock now, the bandits might spare them for handing over the cargo. But if they set sail, the bandits will surely pursue.

Blades are blind; then, words will be useless.

"You are an official, he is a bandit—why fear him?"

"Set sail."

"Armor up!"

They open wooden crates, don armor and ready their weapons.

...

The Water Dragon’s banner tears through the dense mist.

A burly man with a single-lens telescope grins broadly: "Sir truly is a sage—effortlessly helping me seize three counties’ tax silver."

"The chieftain flatters," says Xu Hong, in Daoist robes, calmly. "I wonder what the chieftain has decided?"

The great chieftain laughs: "Good, honored to have your army look favorably on Chen Sheng. Whatever orders you give, I will obey without hesitation!"

"Men!"

"Bring the big ship over. Let’s have some fun with these officials."

"Woohoo!"

The river bandits, ragged in arms and attire, shout and howl in response.