The argument outside grew sharper, the rough male voice cutting through the air with dominance while A Jin's protest sounded thin and anxious. Lin Yan's heart was pounding in his throat; sweat soaked his palm around the dagger's hilt. His eyes swept the cramped hut—there was nowhere to hide.
Just as he braced himself to fight to the death, the door creaked open.
It wasn't a mob of thugs—but A Jin herself, face tight and pale. Behind her stood an old man with white hair and a cane, and a burly, bearded man whose hawk-like eyes locked instantly onto Lin Yan in the corner.
"Is this the one?" the bearded man growled.
A Jin moved protectively in front of Lin Yan. "Uncle Lei, Elder—he's badly hurt. I pulled him out of the river. He's no threat!"
The elder tapped his cane once against the floor. His frail appearance did not soften the authority in his voice.
"A Jin, peace. Lei Bao only worries for our safety."
His clouded yet piercing gaze slid past her and fixed on Lin Yan.
"Boy, where do you come from? Where are you going? And how did you come by those wounds?"
Lin Yan's mind raced. In a place like this, a lie needed just enough truth to be believed. He coughed hard, forcing weakness into his voice.
"Elder… my name's Lin Yan. I was a stable hand at the relay inn in Sishui Town. I offended one of the town bullies—they hunted me down. I fled into the mountains and fell into a ravine… barely survived."
He kept out all mention of the capital, of House Ling, and of Gao Wenchang. Let them think it was a small-town feud—something common and easily dismissed.
"Sishui Town?" Lei Bao frowned. "Who did you offend?"
"The steward's men… I stumbled upon something I shouldn't have." Lin Yan gave a weary, ambiguous smile.
The elder nodded slightly, neither agreeing nor denying, then asked,
"And where do you plan to go?"
"I don't know," Lin Yan said softly. "Anywhere far from them. I heard there are mountain strongholds to the west that take in drifters. I thought I might try my luck."
"Strongholds?" Lei Bao snorted. "Those places eat men alive. You wouldn't last a day."
"Enough," the elder said, silencing him. His gaze sharpened.
"You claim to be a laborer, but you don't look it. The calluses on your hands—some from work, yes—but the ones on your thumb and fingers come from holding a brush. Your words are too measured for a commoner. And those wounds…" his eyes flicked to Lin Yan's shoulder, "no fall could cut that deep. That's a crossbow graze."
Cold sweat slid down Lin Yan's spine. The old man's eyes saw far too much.
He drew a steady breath and forced a bitter smile.
"It's true, Elder—I studied once, before my family fell apart. Took work at the inn to survive. As for the wounds… those mountain bandits robbed me on the road. I was lucky to escape alive."
The elder studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"A fallen scholar… pitiful indeed." He paused, then his tone hardened. "But this settlement has its own laws. We live hidden to avoid the world's trouble. You are a stranger with unknown enemies—we cannot keep you."
"Elder!" A Jin blurted. "He's still wounded—"
"A Jin!" The elder's tone cut her short. "Rules are rules. If not for your late grandfather's name, you'd be punished for bringing an outsider here."
A Jin bit her lip, silent but defiant.
Lin Yan bowed weakly. "I understand, Elder. Once I can walk, I'll leave. I won't bring harm to your people."
His humility eased their suspicion a little.
"You have three days," the elder said finally. "Then you must go. Lei Bao, keep watch."
"Yes, Elder." Lei Bao's glare was cold and warning.
When they were gone, silence filled the hut. A Jin slammed her pestle into the mortar, crushing herbs with needless force.
"Sorry," Lin Yan murmured. "I've caused you trouble."
She stopped and stared at him. "How much of what you said was true?"
Lin Yan met her gaze for a long moment. "My name is false, my fall is real. My destination is false, but westward is true. And the men hunting me… are far worse than bullies. That's true."
A Jin exhaled. "Fine. You'll be gone in three days anyway. Rest. I'll help you prepare when you go."
"Thank you," he said quietly.
But relief never came. Three days would not heal his wounds—and Lei Bao's eyes had not lost their suspicion.
That night, as he drifted between wake and sleep, faint footsteps circled outside the hut. Too light for beasts. Too deliberate for chance.
He opened his eyes in the dark and tightened his grip on the dagger.
Was it Lei Bao's men keeping watch… or had the real hunters—those ghosts from the mountains—finally found him again?
Sweat chilled his forehead. The fragile peace of Wuming Village was nothing but a soap bubble—ready to burst at any moment.