Chapter Nineteen: Foes Cross Paths

The two of them walked slowly toward the city gate. As they drew nearer, the images on the wall became clearer. Indeed, these were their wanted posters, but the likenesses rendered there left Yang Xiaolin astonished—the person in his own portrait looked nothing like him at all!

Though Yang was by no means handsome, he was at least presentable. The man in the drawing, however, was a caricature of villainy: shifty-eyed, with the look of a petty thief—one glance was enough to brand him a criminal. The same was true for the portrait of Jin Dadao; the face was long and gaunt, bearing no resemblance to Jin’s own, which was fleshy and full.

Yang Xiaolin quickly realized what had happened. No doubt, the authorities had summoned those women who’d encountered them and forced them to describe their faces. Not daring to defy the officials, yet unwilling to betray their benefactors, the women must have spun a tale, resulting in these unrecognizable images.

Relief washed over him. He exchanged a glance and a smile with Jin Dadao, both feeling a surge of confidence about slipping into the city unnoticed.

At the gate, each entrant was subject to inspection. After a long wait in line, it was finally their turn. Yang Xiaolin, emboldened, removed his wide-brimmed hat and bowed to the Qing soldier guarding the gate. “Good day, sir. Thank you for your hard work.”

“Where are you coming from?”

“From the east, Shanhaiguan.”

“What brings you so far?”

“You may not know this, sir, but we’re traders, dealing in mountain goods. Things haven’t been safe recently, so we dared not come until now.”

The soldier cast Yang Xiaolin a scrutinizing glance, then looked at Liu Xian, who was deeply unconscious. “What happened to him?”

“We ran into bandits on the road. He was shot a few times. Please, sir, grant us passage—he must see a doctor at once or he may not survive.”

The soldier lifted Liu Xian’s eyelid and stared at Jin Dadao for a moment. Suddenly, he declared, “You’re bandits from Gulu Mountain!”

At this, the other soldiers immediately raised their rifles, their barrels trained on the two men. Yang Xiaolin was taken aback—he couldn’t imagine what had given them away. Jin Dadao’s hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden at his back.

The soldier’s face was fierce. “Did you really think you could fool me? My eyes miss nothing!”

He jabbed a finger at Yang Xiaolin. “You’re Jin Dadao!”

Then, he pointed at Jin Dadao. “You’re the bandit chief, Yang Xiaolin! Seize them both!”

Yang Xiaolin understood now—the man hadn’t seen through any disguise; he’d simply heard they were traders and wanted to extort money from them.

Jin Dadao, whose hand was still on his dagger, slowly let go and shot Yang Xiaolin a glare that clearly said: Of all the things to impersonate, you chose a merchant? Now look—this is just a ruse to squeeze money out of us. Figure it out yourself!

Yang Xiaolin felt a wave of regret. He’d only spoken offhand, never expecting such consequences. But there was no way out now—they were at the city gate, several black muzzles pointed at them. If the soldiers meant to extort money, there was nothing for it but to comply.

Their bundles were confiscated by the Qing soldiers. Once inside the city, Jin Dadao couldn’t help but complain, “What a fine mess you’ve made! We got in, but now we don’t have a single coin left. How will we pay for Liu Xian’s medicine?”

Yang Xiaolin glared back. “I admit my mistake, all right? I never imagined these officers would be even greedier than you!”

Jin Dadao chuckled, not truly bothered by their penniless state. “Chief Yang, don’t tell me you’ve never done the same yourself?”

Yang Xiaolin had no retort. He’d done this before, and compared to him, these soldiers were mere apprentices at robbery. He couldn’t help cursing under his breath.

Jin Dadao stopped complaining. “Let’s find a pharmacy and settle Liu Xian first. We’ll worry about money later. Worst comes to worst, I’ll put my dagger to the doctor’s throat and see if he dares refuse treatment!”

Yang Xiaolin knew he was right—this time, they’d likely have to impose on a physician. Such was the fate of outlaws. Not far away, they saw a pharmacy with a small banner fluttering from the window, inscribed: “Specializing in bruises and sprains.” The shop looked clean and well-kept, so Yang Xiaolin said, “This is the place.”

Inside, a young assistant was grinding medicine, while the shopkeeper dozed lazily at the counter. At the sight of customers, the shopkeeper quickly straightened. “Welcome, gentlemen! Are you here for a consultation or to fill a prescription?”

Jin Dadao shifted Liu Xian’s weight and replied, “Doctor, my friend’s been wounded. Please, could you see to him at once?”

The physician hurried over with a reclining chair. “Here, lay him down.”

Jin Dadao set Liu Xian down, and the physician carefully unwrapped the bandage from his wound. At the sight of the injury, the doctor was visibly shocked. “A gunshot?”

Jin Dadao answered quickly, “Yes, he was shot. We ran into bandits a few days back, and my friend here is hot-tempered. A few words led to blows, and they shot him. Doctor, please, do what you can.”

The physician’s eyes flickered with suspicion, but in these chaotic times, gunshot wounds were not unheard of. He had his assistant bring a basin of fresh water to wash the wound, then said to Yang Xiaolin and Jin Dadao, “You brought him late. I can’t promise he’ll recover, but I’ll do my best.”

Jin Dadao grew anxious at this, but Yang Xiaolin held him back and stepped forward. “We know we’ve delayed, and we only ask that you do everything possible. Whatever happens, we won’t hold you responsible.”

The physician nodded and added, “There’s another matter: the consultation and medicine will cost quite a bit. Can you pay something in advance?”

Yang Xiaolin felt awkward but replied, “Doctor, please tend to him first. We’ve been robbed of all our money.”

At the mention of no payment, the physician’s expression changed at once. “You can’t be serious—this is a life-threatening injury. You don’t have a coin between you?”

Yang Xiaolin reassured him, “Don’t worry, doctor. We have friends in the city—I'll borrow money from them, and I’m sure they won’t refuse. Just please see to him now; there’s no time to lose.”

The doctor glanced at them, then turned back to the counter. “Come back when you’ve got the money.”

His meaning was clear: no money, no treatment. Jin Dadao, furious, reached for his dagger, about to threaten him, when suddenly a voice spoke from behind, “Old Hu, a life is at stake. I’ll guarantee their payment. If they can’t pay, put it on my account.”

Yang Xiaolin turned hurriedly and saw a young man of twenty-five or six entering the shop. He was refined in appearance, more like a southern gentleman than a northern roughneck.

His gesture was truly generous—helping strangers without a second thought. Yang Xiaolin was moved and quickly bowed. “Thank you, sir. Rest assured, we’ll repay the money soon and not cause you any trouble.”

Old Hu, the doctor, treated the young man with great respect. At his word, without further protest, he began tending to Liu Xian.

The young man smiled. “No need to thank me. When you’re far from home, you rely on friends from all corners. Where are you two from?”

Yang Xiaolin replied, “Shanhaiguan. We’d hoped to trade in mountain goods, but at this rate, it’s uncertain whether we’ll make it home.”

The young man sighed. “These are troubled times—it’s hard to make a living. Since I’ve helped this far, let me go further. If you need anything else, come find me. I live in Haicheng, forty li west of Fengtian City. My name is Zhang Zuolin.”