On the fourth day, things seemed to begin spiraling out of control.
Liangzhou Prefecture’s city gates were closed once again, and a new curfew was imposed.
The official reason was that those wishing to leave had already departed, so the curfew was implemented to prevent unrest within the city. From this day onward, citizens were forbidden from being on the streets after the third watch, under penalty of law.
However, to the keen-eyed, this move only reinforced the belief that the Northern Qiang forces were drawing nearer.
Night had fallen. Ye Beizhi sat by the window, quietly gazing outside. On the street below, a squad of armored soldiers carrying weapons marched past with torches in hand, their firelight casting flickering shadows on Ye Beizhi’s face.
"Dummy, are you... worried?" Chi Nanwei asked while folding the clothes she had washed earlier that day.
Ye Beizhi thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Worried about what?" Chi Nanwei continued. "Are you afraid that the Northern Qiang army will get here before we can escape? Didn’t they say there’s still Songqing City ahead?"
"I’m worried Songqing won’t hold," Ye Beizhi replied gloomily.
Chi Nanwei glanced at Ye Beizhi in surprise. "Didn’t you say Songqing has its back to the mountains and can rely on its terrain to defend itself?"
Ye Beizhi was silent for a moment before replying, "The Northern Qiang have too many men."
Chi Nanwei considered his words. "You mean... you’re afraid the Northern Qiang will spare no cost and use sheer numbers to force their way through Songqing?"
Chi Nanwei walked over, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and said, "Even if that happens, Songqing is still seven days’ march from here. Unless they grow wings and fly over, you don’t need to worry.
"If the sky falls, there will be someone there to hold it up. Liangzhou Prefecture still has tens of thousands of soldiers. Even if they really get here, we’ll still have time to escape, right?"
Ye Beizhi didn’t respond. He turned his gaze back to the window. In the darkness, Liangzhou Prefecture resembled a giant injured beast, slumbering deeply.
The following morning, Ye Beizhi left early. He planned to head to the city gates to see if he could gather any information. The guards there were bound to have a better grasp of the situation than ordinary citizens.
By then, the turmoil had somewhat subsided. There were a few scattered figures on the streets. Though it was nowhere near as bustling as before, it at least showed some signs of life.
After walking through several streets, Ye Beizhi suddenly felt a gaze fall upon him from behind. The sensation was clear, as if someone intended for him to notice.
Ye Beizhi turned around and saw a man dressed as a farmer quietly watching him from the corner of the street. When the man noticed Ye Beizhi looking back, he made a hand gesture toward him before disappearing around the corner.
Ye Beizhi glanced around and followed in the man’s direction. He recognized that hand gesture that marked the man as an agent from the Storm Listening Pavilion.
Ye Beizhi wouldn’t say he knew nothing about the Storm Listening Pavilion, but his knowledge was limited. He only knew that the organization had existed since the day he met Ye Fan. The depths of the organization and just how long it had been around was unclear to him.
At first, he thought this organization was similar to the Ghostbane Association, but upon closer consideration, he realized there were distinct differences. While it shared some similarities with the Ghostbane Association, there were obvious distinctions.
For example, both organizations engaged in assassinations and intelligence gathering. However, the key difference lay in their primary operations.
The Storm Listening Pavilion specialized in gathering and selling intelligence, with assassinations as an activity on the side. In contrast, the Ghostbane Association relied on assassinations as its main source of income.
Thus, in Ye Beizhi’s eyes, Yefan was merely an information broker, even if he was the greatest one in the world.
At times, Ye Beizhi found himself admiring Ye Fan. He had to admit that Storm Listening Pavilion’s success under Ye Fan’s leadership was impressive, making him a person worthy of respect.
In terms of intelligence operations, Ye Fan seemed to have a more rigorous system compared to the Ghostbane Association.
Ye Beizhi didn’t know exactly how many people were in the Storm Listening Pavilion, but they always seemed to be everywhere and could appear unexpectedly, just like today.
As Ye Beizhi rounded the corner, he saw the man’s figure ahead, sauntering leisurely, apparently waiting for him.
Ye Beizhi followed from a distance, curious to see where the man would lead him.
Not long after, on that very street, the man suddenly stopped, glanced back at Ye Beizhi, then slipped into a residential house, leaving the door open.
Ye Beizhi glanced around briefly before following him inside, closing the door behind him.
The first thing Ye Beizhi saw upon entering was the man bustling around the stove, seemingly preparing a meal. When he noticed Ye Beizhi had entered, he said nothing and merely gestured with his eyes.
Following the man’s gaze, Ye Beizhi looked at the table beside him. On it lay a strip of paper, no wider than a thumb, rolled into a small bundle that appeared unopened.
Ye Beizhi picked up the letter without a word, unrolled it, and rows of tiny script came into view.
It was indeed Ye Fan’s handwriting. The letter read:
Brother Ye, I greet you in writing. Though the spring chill lingers, may you take care of yourself. I’ve heard that you’ve found the lifesaving artifact, which greatly gladdens me. However, I must entrust you with urgent news.
The war in the north is dire. The Qiang barbarian army is advancing eastward, directly targeting Liangzhou. As of this letter, both Ze’an and Dengchang have fallen, and Songqing is on the brink of collapse.
Liangzhou Prefecture now lies as if beside a rising tiger, disaster is mere moments away. Even though imperial reinforcements are rushing eastward, they are several hundred miles away, I fear they may arrive too late. I urge you to act quickly and withdraw at once.
Ye Beizhi set down the letter, sat on a chair, and stared blankly ahead, considering the situation carefully.
The man turned and asked, "Do you need me to deliver a message?"
Ye Beizhi tilted his head in thought for a moment, then shook his head.
The man nodded, walked into the backyard, and pulled out a strange-looking whistle from his pocket. He blew into it, but no sound was heard.
It was a hawk whistle. Inaudible to humans.
Sure enough, a black dot soon appeared in the sky, growing clearer until a majestic hawk spiraled down and perched on a nearby stand.
The hawk had a white string tied around its neck. The man carefully removed it, then pulled out a red string and gently tied it on.
Ye Beizhi recalled that Ye Fan had once explained the Storm Listening Pavilion’s system for tying strings to messenger hawks.
As the hawk disappeared into the sky, Ye Beizhi suddenly asked, "Are you a local?"
The man hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Yes."
"You’re not leaving?" Ye Beizhi asked again.
"Not yet," the man replied. "I’m the only agent left in Liangzhou Prefecture. If I leave, we’ll lose all intelligence from this area."
Ye Beizhi fell silent for a moment, then clasped his hands in a gesture of respect. "Take care."
The man returned the gesture, watching as Ye Beizhi left.