“Sir, you are too polite.” Old Mr. Brown gestured with his hand and smiled, “Three hundred coins.”

“So expensive?” Ethan Green had just taken out her purse, but quickly covered it again.

“How can you call it expensive? This old man has to spend a whole day going back and forth. Even if the cart is fully loaded with luggage, it’s the same price.”

Charles Reed asked, “Is this the price for hiring the whole cart? Are there any cheaper options?”

Old Mr. Brown laughed, “There are! Sir can wait for other merchants to share the fare and ride the big carriage—sixty coins per person.”

“Thank you, fellow villager, but we’ll walk instead.” Charles Reed said, “May I ask where we can buy shoes?”

“You’re too polite, sir. Just call me Old Mr. Brown.” Old Mr. Brown remained cheerful, pointing as he spoke, “To buy shoes, you’ll have to go to the big market up ahead, about three or five li away…”

“Old Mr. Brown!”

An old woman came running from the south side of the main road, shouting, “A big customer is traveling from Lantian County to Chang’an. A cart broke a wheel on the way and needs to split half the books onto another cart. Can your stubborn donkey pull it?!”

“Of course it can! It’s well fed every day! Is the price settled?”

“Hurry, there’s even a tip.”

Old Mr. Brown was overjoyed. He didn’t bother turning the donkey around and drove off at once.

Charles Reed and Ethan Green went to buy flatbread.

In Chang’an, a flatbread costs two coins each, but here it was three coins apiece.

The two hoped to buy six for sixteen coins, so they’d have some money left for shoes. The old woman selling the flatbread was kind-hearted and gave them one extra.

From being buried alive to finally holding this warm flatbread, Charles Reed took a deep breath before taking a big bite.

He walked along the snow-covered main road, looking back several times, until he could no longer see the old woman…

……

“Young sir, we meet again!”

Old Mr. Brown spotted Charles Reed and Ethan Green waiting by the roadside, quickly stopped the donkey cart, and greeted them with a smile.

“Hello, fellow villager.”

“Young sir, please wait a moment.” Old Mr. Brown hurriedly got off the cart and respectfully saluted a rider behind him, saying, “Honored sir, may I give them a ride?”

The man was a middle-aged gentleman in his forties, with three elegant strands of beard, a lean face, a calm and indifferent expression, eyes as still as a deep well. He wore a plain robe and a headscarf, held the reins in one hand and a string of prayer beads in the other. Though his attire was not luxurious, his bearing was exceptional—clearly a man of noble birth.

Charles Reed met his gaze, but before he could speak, a young servant rode up and said, “The donkey cart is filled with my master’s precious books…”

“Wuchen.” The middle-aged man stopped the boy and nodded to Charles Reed, saying, “If you don’t mind, young sir, shall we travel together?”

“Thank you, sir.” Charles Reed imitated the hand salute and said, “I am Charles Reed. May I ask your esteemed name, so I may repay your kindness in the future?”

He had thought it through: though the Eastern Palace wanted him buried alive, he was not a fugitive and did not fear others knowing his name. In fact, he intended for more people to know it.

“No need to talk of repayment.” The middle-aged man refused to give his name, saying, “Traveling brings many inconveniences. Helping each other is only right.”

“Sir, you are absolutely right.”

Only today did Charles Reed truly feel the many inconveniences of living in this era, and he understood the meaning of “helping each other,” as well as why people and clans stuck together.

The middle-aged man smiled slightly and urged his horse forward.

His eyes remained calm; the smile was not one of joy, but rather seemed tinged with compassion.

Seeing that this important guest was not talkative, even Old Mr. Brown dared not speak much on the way to Chang’an.

Fortunately, the road was smooth and easy, and by midday they reached Chang’an.

……

To the east of Chang’an were three city gates: Tonghua Gate, Chunming Gate, and Yanxing Gate, collectively known as the “Green Gates.”

The Green Gate area was filled with taverns, a great place for drinking and merrymaking. Thus, there was a poem: “Before drinking at the Green Gate, one is already drunk as in a dream.”

The caravan entered through Chunming Gate.

Charles Reed looked around and saw restaurants everywhere, flags waving, banners hanging high, and red curtains fluttering. Every restaurant had performances: singing girls playing flutes, musicians striking cups, acrobatics and wrestling, and patrons playing pitch-pot or drinking games, enjoying all sorts of amusements.

Even more eye-catching were the Hu girls soliciting customers at the doors. Most had deep blue eyes, slightly curled hair, rouge on their lips, draped in thin gauze, revealing snowy white skin, swaying their waists and frequently waving their delicate hands to invite people inside.

Half the city’s wealthy guests were drunk and singing loudly.

“Mo Jie!”

Suddenly, a shout rang out. Several people rushed out from the Kang family tavern, heading toward the middle-aged man in the plain robe who had given Charles Reed a ride.

“Mo Jie! Hahaha, I said Mo Jie would be transferred to the Ministry of Revenue as Assistant Director, so he should be back in Chang’an these days.”

“Yuan Er, brother?! It’s been years!”

“Is your Wangchuan villa all tidied up?”

“I started tidying it at the beginning of the year, even wrote a few poems for it.”

“Mo Jie has new poems again?! Haha, recite them for us!”

“Not a year on Dongshan, just in time to plant spring fields upon return. In the rain, the grass is green enough to dye, on the water, peach blossoms are red as if burning.”

“Excellent! What a line—‘on the water, peach blossoms are red as if burning.’”

“……”

Charles Reed looked again at the middle-aged man in the plain robe. For a moment, he was first surprised, then couldn’t help but show a smile of sudden realization.