“Second Boss, nothing!”

“Nothing?”

Qiao Laoer searched Chen Changsheng himself, but the result was the same.

Not even one copper coin could be found on Zhong Zhengyuan.

Qiao Laoer cursed: “Damn it, two poor wretches!”

Chen Changsheng asked: “You’ve searched us. Could you gentlemen please step aside now?”

Qiao Laoer stared coldly at Chen Changsheng and said: “I’ve been waiting here for days. Finally saw business coming my way, and you two? Not a single coin on you between you.”

He was fuming, but killing someone over such a trifle wasn’t worth it.

Reluctantly, he had to let the two go, cursing them all the way as they left.

After Chen Changsheng and Zhong Zhengyuan crossed that mountain path, the road ahead widened into a broader trail.

When they were further away, Zhong Zhengyuan couldn’t help but ask. “Mr. Chen really treasures his wine, huh? Hiding nothing else but that Wine Gourd.”

Chen Changsheng smiled. “I only had one copper coin on me. They were welcome to that. But the wine? That was out of the question.”

Zhong Zhengyuan chuckled. “Still, you lost that coin, Mr. Chen. Are you just going to let it go?”

Zhong Zhengyuan was curious about how Chen Changsheng might… deal with these bandits.

Chen Changsheng looked at him and grinned. “My money isn’t that easy to take.”

Zhong Zhengyuan nodded. Given Mr. Chen’s temperament, he definitely wouldn’t let those bandits off so easily.

After walking another dozen miles or so, a wide river appeared before them.

According to Zhong Zhengyuan, this was the Xun River, a tributary of the Tongtian River. Following this river north would eventually lead them to Shangjing.

Boats were moored on the opposite bank, and on the water, people were boating and laughing.

Zhong Zhengyuan said, “Changchun Prefecture is across the Xun River. We still need to cross.”

Chen Changsheng pointed towards the boats on the far bank. “There are boats over there. Perhaps we can call one over for a ride.”

Chen Changsheng stood by the riverbank and called out. Among the boats dotting the river, someone in a black-canopied boat looked their way.

“Young Master, Young Master!”

His maid called out. “Someone seems to be calling from across the river!”

Wen Yi, who had been painting inside the canopy, stepped out onto the deck. He glanced towards the distant bank. “There really are people.”

Seeing this, Wen Yi instructed the boatman to head towards the shore. “Steer closer to check.”

As the boat neared the bank and Wen Yi got a clearer look at the figures waiting there – their clothing, their faces – he felt reassured enough for the boatman to dock properly.

The maid on board announced, “My Young Master offers passage across the river for you two sirs. Please board.”

Chen Changsheng cupped his hands politely. “Thank you.”

Once aboard, Chen Changsheng met the Young Master Wen mentioned by the maid.

This Young Master Wen looked frail and sickly, his face unnaturally pale. Yet, it wasn’t a present sickness, more like a fundamental bodily weakness.

Wen Yi asked, “Did you two gentlemen come over the Tengyun Mountain pass?”

Chen Changsheng answered, “We did.”

Wen Yi coughed lightly before inquiring, “I trust you encountered the bandits dwelling there?”

“They waylaid us, yes.”

Chen Changsheng noted, “You seem well-informed about those mountain bandits.”

Wen Yi then explained further.

This route was practically abandoned now. The reason? Precisely those bandits on Tengyun Mountain. Their ferocity was well-known. Most travelers, he said, now took longer detours to avoid the pass altogether.

Boatmen on the Xun River also rarely crossed to ferry people away from Changchun Prefecture anymore, usually sticking to this side.

“They weren’t such a problem in earlier years,” Wen Yi said. “It was only in the last couple they’ve become this bold.”

“You really shouldn’t take that path again. Losing some money this time was fortunate. If those brigands prove more vicious, demanding lives, it would be terrible.”

As he spoke, Wen Yi was overcome by another coughing fit.

Chen Changsheng cupped his hands again. “Thank you for the warning.”

Wen Yi waved dismissively. “Think nothing of it. Cough… cough…”

Seeing Wen Yi cough so persistently, Chen Changsheng studied him more closely. “How long has this cough troubled you?”

“Oh, it’s not really a cough illness,” Wen Yi explained, catching his breath. “I suffered a severe childhood illness. It left me weak. That’s the root of it. Even now, speaking too loudly sets me off. You must find it quite pitiable.” Getting all this out left him breathless before he finally calmed.

“So, an infirmity left from childhood?” Chen Changsheng clarified.

“Indeed,” Wen Yi nodded.

“But with such weakness,” Chen Changsheng continued, “wouldn’t rest at home be more prudent?”

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“You’re right,” Wen Yi admitted. “But staying indoors felt stifling. I needed air. Besides,” a faint smile touched his lips, “I paint in my spare time. Hit a block lately. Thought the riverscape might inspire me. Didn’t expect to find two sirs waiting.”

Chen Changsheng laughed lightly. “Seems fate brought us together.”

Wen Yi paused, then smiled as well. “Yes, fate it must be.”

Zhong Zhengyuan had been quietly observing Wen Yi. A look passed between him and Chen Changsheng, Zhong raising a silent question with his eyes. He clearly sensed something else beneath Wen Yi’s explanation.

This Young Master Wen’s condition likely wasn’t solely due to old illness – something else happened.

Catching Zhong Zhengyuan’s look, Chen Changsheng gave a subtle nod. He had discerned it too.

Chen Changsheng offered, “I possess some small understanding of medicine. If you don’t mind, I could examine you.”

“You know medicine, sir?” Wen Yi expressed surprise. To him, Chen Changsheng’s bearing suggested a scholar, not a healer.

“I learned a little from a village doctor years back.”

“Oh, I see! Well, I’d appreciate your trouble.”

Wen Yi extended his arm. Chen Changsheng lifted two fingers and pressed them to his wrist. After a moment, he withdrew his hand.

“Any major concerns?” Wen Yi inquired.

“Your pulse is calm and steady,” Chen Changsheng remarked. “It feels nothing like that of someone gripped by a serious illness.”

Wen Yi nodded. This seemed expected. “Many doctors in recent years told me the same after checking my pulse.”

Chen Changsheng considered this. “Brother Wen, what you suffer from… might not be an illness.”

Wen Yi blinked. “Not an illness? Then… what could it be…?”

Chen Changsheng lowered his voice slightly. “It seems more like… invasion by Evil Qi.”

“Surely not a chill or common pathogenic qi,” Wen Yi murmured, clearly familiar with the term but skeptical.

Chen Changsheng met his gaze steadily. “What kind of Evil Qi do you suppose I refer to?”

Wen Yi suddenly froze.

He raised his head, his eyes shifting thoughtfully between the two gentlemen seated opposite him.

Chen Changsheng continued, speaking deliberately. “I recall reading accounts of such cases. Evil Qi requires extraordinary remedies. If you find the time, Brother Wen, you might consider visiting a place dedicated to the Ghost Deities.”

Wen Yi managed a wry smile. He didn’t lend much credence to such things personally. Still, out of courtesy, he asked, “And where might these Ghost Deity places be?”

“The shrines,” Chen Changsheng replied plainly. “To the City God, the Mountain God, the Earth God. They are places for the Ghost Deities.”

Wen Yi nodded politely. “I shall remember that, Mr. Chen. I’ll give it a try soon. Thank you for your advice.”