There was a fork in the dirt path. Right or left—I didn’t agonize over it. The land wasn’t suitable for farming, so there were many smaller trails from hunting. More or less, all the roads wound between hills, leading towards the next city or village tucked away into the forest, so as long as what I chose didn’t return me towards a certain two people, all is well.

I pressed my right leg, went up and down a hill, then straight for some time. From the sun’s position, we had gone about thirty li¹A li is an ancient measurement, equivalent to about half a mile, so ~15 miles in half a shichen.

“Old girl, is it your limit?” 

The horse was heaving, froth gathering at the corners of her mouth, so I figured it was. I gradually slowed the gallop to a walk until we found a wide stream to stop at. My horse put her head down, sucking up water without much pause.

Two other men were present, one young, the other grey and old. They washed sweat off their faces while two oxen stood behind, carrying lumber and fox pelts.

We exchanged nods. I hoped these two wouldn’t pass by Zhou Liang direction and tell him where I was.

So the horse and I continued to wander the roads a long time. I kept to the upper hills, where people were least likely to inhabit, and it wasn’t until my legs burned with exhaustion that I scanned the surroundings, looking for a place to dismount.

As expected, I had no idea where I was. This was the second largest forest in the empire and the first time I’d witnessed such an expanse of wilderness. Even Plum Blossom mountain protected by the royal family’s past decree was a rare patch of forest within eye shot of the capital. The rest of the hinterland was converted for farming and all the trees harvested. Here, there were only rolling slopes of forest, yellowing bamboo, oaks, maple, and cypress. Only the sound of woodpeckers tapping for morsels, whirring grasshoppers, dried leaves scattering, and the lazy, lethargic plod of the horse. And the air smelled earthy and clean, same as when my Grandfather would step down the cellar to dig pickled plums out of earthen jars.

It all invoked a feeling of being gone to the world.

Eventually we came to a bamboo hut. A small plot of garden was growing vegetables, including a trellis with calabash vines where large, pear-shaped gourds hung low. Around the plot was some cleared area, with stubby weeds and grass growing. I wasn’t sure if anyone was in or not, the place was to the side of the road, so whoever lives here is surely used to passerby or may not have to courage to come out to greet any stranger.

Seeing that we stopped but there was no water to drink or grass to eat, my horse turned its head over with sad, brown eyes, as though wronged. She was dripping with sweat. I took the half eaten apple from my sash and handed it over. 

“Such a good girl,” I praised as she crunched it to pieces, “Say—what’s your name?”

The apple was already gone. I patted her neck, not minding the conglomerated grime.

“You don’t have one? This is a problem seeing as we’ve been through so much together. ‘The horse’, ‘it’, or ‘mount’—I can’t keep calling you these names. It would be discourteous.”

She licked the juice on her whiskers then looked to me for more.

“I will call you Cinnamon. You are just the same color.”

There were still no signs of the hut owner coming out, so I slipped off the saddle and unfastened her tack. Once I finished, both my legs buckled from exhaustion. Cinnamon put her head down to me as though confused why I became short all of the sudden, then ate grass.

“I forgot, I forgot…horseback riding is so pleasant…especially through here, in this season…”

Today was unusual. I used to plan meticulously. I’d gather information thoroughly, spend nights working over the details, and get rid of any loose ends. This time had been haphazard, sloppy, happenstance, yet all the more exhilarating. It all started when Qin Fengge lended me his wallet, one thing led to another…

Zhou Liang kept talking to me about working at his estate.

About turning over new beginnings.

If not these things, then he’d always have a condescending lecture to give. He’s insufferable. I would lay my head to sleep, wondering if I truly did anger by heavens by pointing into the sky* on Plum Blossom Mountain, because that damned General showed up at the worst time.

“I’ve really been looked down upon,” I said to Cinnamon. “Now they fell for my gimmick…so what is Zhou Liang’s a tiger—I can be a tiger in sheep’s skin²From the idiom 'A Sheep in a Tiger’s Skin', meaning outward appearance is good, but they are cowardly inside. In this case, FS switched the phrase around..”

Like a blank paper, people you’ve just met don’t know your habits and personality, merely avoid inconsistencies and don’t be a bad liar, and I can become any person. My heart was beating extremely fast as I laid on the grass, the flutters in my stomach surged, and my hands trembled in bouts.

I almost enjoyed it. A fine experience near the end of my life. One where I didn’t sit behind the scenes, smiling and playing innocent, not allowing a soul to know the truth. A directly involved, hands-on approach. Is this the excitement that all the tax collectors felt like? Maybe a carpenter when he was making a table?

I laid back, staring at wispy clouds. Eventually, I shrugged at Cinnamon.

“I’m glad Qin Fengge didn’t kill that guy. Even though those sorts of mercenaries violate and kill for a pretty penny. Heh…”

Cinnamon paused in her devouring of grass. She took a step towards me and rifled her muzzle around my sash, sniffing for apples. Her upper lip wiggled and wiggled until she ultimately became fed up. Any time spent hoping for apples is lost time grazing, it’s a trade-off, and everything must be considered carefully. I can tell how reasonable Cinnamon is. She didn’t step on me, either; She's so good to me!

I reached over a hand and scratched her cheek.

I could easily be found on a path, but if I were lost within this vast forest, Zhou Liang might not go so far to find one lunatic. As soon as I had this thought, I knew it was silly. The truth is that I can tell Zhou Liang is as exceptional as everyone says. When it came down to helping the tiny Shi village from robbers, he did it without hesitation, so even if it was out of pride alone, he’d probably at least try to come after me one way or another.

I mustered the power to stand. Cinnamon gave a glance, then went back to her number-one priority; eating. She’s a fine horse, maybe the owner of this place would take her in, but I couldn’t bring her through the forest. The foliage is too dense, and there could be tigers or wolves.

Hmm…but, considering I’m giving this random hut owner a free horse, I better take my fees. The only interesting thing here is the gourd squash³ growing in the garden. These were late in the season and quite large, not for eating, but to dry and dig out a vessel like a plate or drinking flask. I picked one by twisting the stem off, then  situated it under my arm. It was sort of heavy, but I could drop it later.

I rolled up my sleeves and went.

The trees had grown large enough that patches of the ground were bare, so the going wasn’t too difficult.

During my travels, a few confounded sika deer bounded away and many squirrels were also gravely offended. Once the sky was reddening with the sunset, I realized I spent the past six hours on horseback or walking, and the exhaustion started to hit me. 

That being so, when I found a meandering stream, I followed it.

There once was an old granny on the street next to my house. She sold charms to ward off evil and spoke idioms willy-nilly, a well-known charlatan. ‘Follow streams to the river and the river to the sea. Little evils lead to a source of greater wickedness. Don’t be rash, buy a charm, ward it away!’, she said that a lot. I never understood it myself, streams can disappear underground and rivers and turn into lakes. Then again, I always bought charms from her, so it could be more of a case of using what she knew to be effective.

I tripped. Standing up again was hard, my surroundings tilting.

I grasped a trunk, pulling myself up. Shadows crept over the ground, shrouding the vibrant leaves into dark, indistinguishable masses. My stomach was particularly disgruntled this whole time, going on a tirade with its grievances.

“Grrrrr…”

Stomach, is that you? The growl sounded again.

It is not my stomach.

I tried to listen, and low snarls were not all I heard. Nighttime beasts—tigers, leopards, and dholes are common in this area. It could be any one of those. The longer I heard it, the more it sounded like cackling, as though they were laughing at my foolishness. Ending up the meal for one of them, abating their hunger by a week or two, is that it? Should I try to fight anything to comes off? That’s hopeless. There were already a few mosquitos and it was very bothersome to keep batting them off, so shooing away anything larger is impossible. So then...if I’m eaten at least I serve as a source of nutrition. But it would hurt.  

Would it want the gourd squash instead? I tapped the hard, woody skin of it…no, it’s unpalatable.

Gourd in my arms, I found thick trunk and gradually slipped down against it, remembering another story I heard, because there was really nothing better to do right now.

A woman got her leg gnawed off by a leopard, one that which left her still alive after its stomach was filled. In the woman’s final throes of agony, she crawled back into his village with entrails hanging out and died right away the next morning. No no no, I should stop thinking of these things...but why did I have to be so impulsive?

Coughing lightly, I closed my eyes, nestling into my clothes to keep warmer. Hah…it’s too dark, I’m hearing things, and both my stomach and muscles have formed a coalition to make me suffer.

“I’ve mistreated you both,” I said to my stomach and muscles, “and have learned well that undue cruelty breeds vengeance."

What am I saying? …I should try to sleep.

But it was impossible with the eerie sounds. I twitched when I thought I saw two gleaming eyes. The noises intensified as the night progressed, they seemed to echo and get closer. After all, I wanted to die without much pain, not torturously, if it could be helped. 

I hugged my gourd squash, breaths turning shallower. I hadn’t drank water since morning yet wandered so far. Only now did my tongue feel swollen and lips crack, blood flowing into my mouth.  

Then I saw a thing in the distance, under a tree.

It had a human-like figure, with long crooked limbs twitching in the pitch black.

I-it must be another vision, a fantasy. Is it? Go away, I can’t stand it.

Go away go away go away!

It vanished, and a low growl sounded directly beside me.

“Ugh…!”

My entire body convulsed, and for a long time, I did not breathe.

I’m blind in the dark, so that thing I'm seeing must be the shape of a root or plant. I have to keep it together. Or else, am I going to die a trembling, pathetic wreck? There was a light gust of wind, and the growl sounded again.

“Who?” I whispered.

There was no response.

“Don’t try and look at something you can’t discern…don’t listen to it…ignore…ignore…” I put my hands over my ears.

“Grrr—”

I threw my squash right at the sound.

It quickly rolled through the leaves and out of sight. No footsteps, no squeal from an animal that was hit. I’m imagining it. I know that people lose their sanity without food and water, without light, without…but I really couldn’t tell. Still, the growl didn't sound again after that, so I couldn't help but think it was the gourd squash that fended it off. 

Then I looked up.

A long, long way off, there is a crack in the tree line, where stars shined alongside white mist pouring from the moon. Sitting and staring at that emollient bit of light, time passed more easily. I didn’t think of anything much and didn’t move. No sleep is no dreams, and it’s not so bad, looking up at the otherworldly sliver of sky.

…

Next I knew, the sun had poked through the canopy, warming the top of my head and allowing the blood in my cold, clammy skin blood to flow. I must have fainted at some point. Whenever I blinked, I had doubt that I could open my eyes again. My eyelids were extremely heavy. Although I had been very thirsty and hungry at first, it all faded during the night, now there is only a deep and peaceable lethargy. I rubbed several flakes of blood off my split lips and thought that it doesn’t hurt too much.

It’s only that Plum Blossom mountain is far out of my grasp, and I wished I could see it again. But that’s impossible.

Something moved in the corner of my eyes. I gasped, and glancing down, saw that it had been my own fingers that twitched involuntarily. That thing I saw in the night had been was a warped red pine with a large burr on the trunk.

When I first stood, there were white spots in my vision and I fell back over.

Nevertheless, I still planned to wander the forest a while longer. The next time, I stood and did not fall. I felt quite proud of that, and picked up my gourd squash and went along my way, humming a coarse little tune through my dry throat.

I found a tree that lost out to the forces of nature.

It was somehow spectacular. It leaned against another tree, roots white from sticking up from the soil, and the trunk covered in holes from woodpeckers. The living tree was a cork oak with coarse bark and leaves turning yellow-orange. So, I should use the dead tree to climb the living one, and if I got up there, I'd be able to avoid predators and could rest a while.

And so I was climbing it with a great amount of stumbling. My gourd squash had to be balanced on each branch before I climbed it, then moved to the next up. When I decided I’d climbed enough, I situated myself in the nook of a branch.

The pin holding my hair up was a nuisance. With one firm tug, it bounced onto the ground below. Strands of hair loosely spilled down my shoulders and back.

Just right. I sighed comfortably. Time for a nap.

Amarathia

When I was younger, I often thought I saw something in the basement when the lights were off and I'd always imagine that it was chasing me up the stairs. That was sort of how I felt when writing the scene with Fang Shuren 'seeing' something in the woods.