Linyue sat in front with Shen Zhenyu behind her, the horse carrying them forward at a steady trot. Every few steps, it snorted loudly, like it had very strong opinions about the entire situation but no way to share them.
"Linyue," Shen Zhenyu said quietly from behind, his voice almost lost under the clop of hooves. "What do you think?"
Linyue didn't need to ask what he meant. "It's suspicious," she said, voice calm but sharp. "People stayed indoors on Weeping Moon. All of them. Locked inside their homes. This is only the second day since it passed."
Shen Zhenyu nodded once, thoughtful.
She kept her gaze ahead, sharp and focused. "How did the disease spread so fast? The vendor said many already died. Too fast. Too sudden."
Behind them, the second horse snorted louder, almost as if on cue. Then—
"AH-CHOO!" He Yuying sneezed so hard it made the horse flinch sideways. Song Meiyu let out a yelp, nearly falling off.
"It's just dust!" He Yuying shouted before anyone could accuse him of anything. "DUST, not death! Don't look at me like that!"
Song Meiyu squinted at him. "If you start coughing blood, I'm pushing you off this horse."
Linyue didn't bother turning around. Her voice was calm. "Let's hope it's dust."
The horses kept moving, their hooves tapping the dirt road in a slow, steady rhythm. It was the only sound left in the world. The silence around them felt thick and heavy. The buildings on both sides stood frozen and lifeless. Doors were shut tight, windows covered. Not a single chicken clucked, no stray dog barked, and not even a nosy auntie peeked out from behind a cabbage cart.
Linyue stared straight ahead, her eyes narrowing with quiet hope. Maybe someone wise and mysterious would suddenly appear in front of them, offer helpful information, then vanish in a puff of smoke.
She waited.
Nothing happened. The road remained empty, except for a very bored pigeon waddling across their path.
They passed another empty fruit stall. A sign creaked weakly in the breeze, flapping back and forth. The breeze, for the record, was doing its best to be dramatic, sending a single leaf flying lazily through the air.
Shen Zhenyu's sharp eyes swept left and right. Then he spotted a small, slightly run-down inn on the left. Its wooden door hung open just enough to look suspiciously inviting. He pulled the reins, stopping their horse in one smooth, quiet motion.
"Wait here," he said as he swung down effortlessly from the saddle.
The others waited. The wind kept showing off, sending another lone leaf tumbling dramatically across the road. A nearby sign groaned loudly on rusty hinges like it was complaining about the whole situation.
He Yuying sneezed again. Loudly.
Song Meiyu immediately elbowed him in the ribs. "You'd better not be next," she whispered fiercely.
"It's just dust!" He Yuying hissed back.
Minutes stretched. Then finally Shen Zhenyu came back, his face as calm and unreadable as ever. He climbed back on his horse without saying a word.
"Brother Zhenyu," Song Meiyu said eagerly, leaning forward. "How is it?"
"Just like the vendor said." His voice stayed steady. "It started on the Weeping Moon. At first, just light coughing. Then it got worse. People started coughing blood. Some died after two days, some after five."
Song Meiyu frowned deeply. "So… the disease progresses at different speeds?"
Shen Zhenyu nodded. "It seems that way. But the innkeeper doesn't know much more."
Song Meiyu tilted her head, squinting at him suspiciously. "Then what took you so long?"
Shen Zhenyu cleared his throat. His calm facade cracked as he looked away. "…The innkeeper tried to match me with her twelve-year-old daughter."
Linyue blinked, then blinked again, as if she wasn't sure she had heard right.
"Pfft—" He Yuying slapped a hand over his mouth, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter. His shoulders shook. "T-Twelve? Brother Zhenyu… you're irresistible."
Song Meiyu's mouth dropped open. "Then what did you do? Run? Fight? Bribe?"
Shen Zhenyu sighed, sounding tired. "I politely declined."
Song Meiyu gasped loudly and clutched her chest. "Oh no… Did she cry when you rejected her?"
"She did," Shen Zhenyu said flatly.
Song Meiyu leaned forward, eyes sparkling with gossip. "And then? What happened next?"
Shen Zhenyu let out a slow, tired sigh again. "I told her I was already married. She wept harder. Then I escaped from the kitchen."
"Married? To who?" Linyue asked, raising an eyebrow.
"…You," he replied without hesitation.
He Yuying made a strangled noise and promptly slid off the horse.
Song Meiyu clapped both hands over her mouth and gasped so loud it echoed down the empty street. "Wha—WHAT?!"
Linyue gave a small, approving nod. "Smart move. I'm beautiful. She wouldn't stand a chance."
Shen Zhenyu let out a soft, amused sigh.
He Yuying was still lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. "I feel like I'm dreaming. And it's garlic-flavored."
Song Meiyu snorted as she bent down and yanked him back to his feet. "Get up, you dramatic rice sack."
And so, the four cultivators continued their "noble" journey—two on horseback, two trailing behind, still reeling from secondhand embarrassment—trotting steadily toward the border and whatever mystery (or accidental engagement) awaited them.
Unfortunately, their progress was anything but heroic.
They stopped at every open door they saw. Every. Single. One. By the sixth stop, Shen Zhenyu's usual calm had slipped into quiet despair. By the ninth, Linyue had officially given up on climbing up and down the horse and decided to just walk beside it. For some unknown reason, the horse kept snorting right in her face, as if joining the silent rebellion.
Along the way, Shen Zhenyu somehow collected three more marriage proposals—two from worried mothers and one from a rather bold grandfather who said Shen Zhenyu would make a fine husband for his granddaughter "or grandson, he's not picky."
Linyue, not to be outdone, racked up six proposals of her own. One overly enthusiastic merchant promised to carve her a tofu statue if she stayed. Another swore to dedicate his entire year's supply of steamed buns to her eternal happiness.
"Am I wearing a sign that says marry me instantly?" Linyue muttered.
"Maybe," He Yuying replied with a straight face. "Or maybe they can sense your dowry includes Shen Zhenyu."
Shen Zhenyu suddenly choked on air and started coughing.
Song Meiyu grinned. "Of course they proposed. Have you seen her? If I weren't her friend, I'd propose too. Actually, maybe I still will."
Linyue's lips twitched into a small, amused smile. "Then I suppose I should start preparing a rejection speech."
Song Meiyu gasped dramatically. "Rejection? How heartless. And after all those steamed buns I've eaten in your honor!"
Linyue shook her head, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and laughter. Traveling with this group always seemed to attract chaos wherever they went. But if she was being honest, it was never boring.
Despite surviving the dramatic matchmaking attempts, most of the information they gathered stayed the same. The sickness had begun during Weeping Moon. Victims started with light coughing. Some got worse and coughed up blood.
As they prepared to move on, a tired-looking shopkeeper leaned out of his window and waved them over. His eyes darted nervously up and down the street before he spoke. "My family lives next door to a sick household," he said quietly. "They're still healthy. Haven't even sneezed once."
That made all four cultivators pause and exchanged looks.
"So… it's probably not contagious?" Song Meiyu whispered.
"At least, not in the usual way," Shen Zhenyu said, frowning thoughtfully.
With that clue in mind, the group carried on at their "heroic" pace toward the border.
He Yuying grumbled under his breath, "If anyone proposes to me next, I'm saying yes. At least I'll get a free meal."
"Do it," Song Meiyu said sweetly. "I'll serve garlic dumpling noodles at your wedding."
He Yuying nodded seriously. "Great. Then I don't have to consider divorce anymore. We'd all die."
The horses trotted on, sighing like they had heard too much. The four cultivators scanned every open door they passed. They still hadn't cracked the mystery of the sickness, but at least they were now official experts at politely rejecting strangers.
Linyue, who had been quietly thinking (and also pretending not to be annoyed by the endless parade of marriage offers), turned her head toward Song Meiyu. "Sister Meiyu, why don't you ask Master Yin Xue for some enlightenment?"
Song Meiyu blinked once. Then twice. Then she gasped so loud it startled one of the horses into a snort. "You're right! Why didn't I think of that earlier?!"
He Yuying whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. "Because your brain is still recovering from the garlic incident."
Song Meiyu chose to ignore him and pulled out a spirit transmission jade from her sleeve. She infused it with spiritual energy, and not long after, a calm, elegant voice echoed from the jade.
The moment the connection came alive, Song Meiyu's posture straightened. "Master!" she chirped sweetly.
And then, the conversation derailed almost instantly. New robes. Rare tea leaves. Whether or not Prince Lu had gained weight since leaving Shulin. Song Meiyu's voice turned dramatic at every turn. Meanwhile, the other three stared off into the middle distance, sighing in unison.
Linyue leaned closer to Shen Zhenyu and whispered. "Should we take a nap?"
"We'll wake up, and they'll still be chatting," Shen Zhenyu replied flatly.
He Yuying muttered, "Wake me when they get to the part about actual medical advice."
Then, just as he was about to tune them out completely, Master Yin Xue's calm voice shifted. "By the way," she said lightly, "I received that vial from Prince Lu."
Linyue's eyes sharpened instantly.
The suspicious vial the emperor had handed her back in the imperial palace. She had almost forgotten about it. She had asked Prince Lu to deliver it to Master Yin Xue before leaving Shulin. So, Prince Lu must have arrived in Luyan already.