Chapter Twenty-Two: The Surprise Attack

Just as Li Qiuling was about to lunge forward and start a fight, Lu Yalan seized the moment, her smiling demeanor forming a stark contrast to Li Qiuling’s frantic anger. “Oh, you really don’t know? That’s truly unfortunate for you. The news I received actually came from the Zhao family. You visit their house often—haven’t your maidservants ever tried to find out anything?”

Li Qiuling’s maidservants shrank back at these words, and Li Qiuling, having turned around, caught sight of their reactions. Understanding immediately, she lashed out with a slap.

Lu Yalan took advantage of Li Qiuling’s distraction as she disciplined her servants, quickly pulling Hongxing along as she jogged away. Behind them, the sharp sound of slapping and a maid’s cry reached their ears; Lu Yalan smiled faintly.

She had replayed the events of that day’s quarrel countless times in her mind, recalling every gesture and expression from those present. Naturally, she hadn’t forgotten the maidservant who had incited Li Qiuling to act ruthlessly. If she couldn’t deal with her directly, she’d let her mistress do it. If they dared to conspire together, they had to be prepared for retribution!

Hongxing was stunned by her mistress’s boldness, still in a daze as she was pulled along. After a while, she came to her senses and reversed their roles, grabbing Lu Yalan and taking the lead.

They kept running, finally stopping at the front hall. Beyond this point lay the mountain gate, where Li San waited with the family servants.

Lu Yalan, breathless and clutching her wildly beating heart, paused to catch her breath. Hongxing fared slightly better, her hair simply tousled by the run. They exchanged glances and burst into laughter.

Pilgrims passed through the front hall, occasionally glancing curiously at the two girls giggling to themselves. Lu Yalan paid no mind, smiling freely as if she and Hongxing existed in their own little world.

From nearby, the sound of Buddhist chanting drifted over, mingling with the scent of incense that permeated the air. The Buddha in the Grand Hall gazed down with compassionate eyes, clad in golden robes, smiling serenely at the world.

All was peaceful and harmonious, and Lu Yalan’s mood brightened in response.

“Bang—”

A muffled sound seemed to come from the mountain gate. It was faint by the time it reached them, but in the quiet, solemn atmosphere, it reverberated painfully in their ears.

The people in the front hall fell silent; someone, startled, broke the incense intended for the Buddha with a sudden squeeze. Lu Yalan herself jumped in fright.

“Miss?”

Hongxing, unsettled, moved closer to Lu Yalan, seeking comfort as neither girl knew what was happening. They leaned on each other for reassurance.

The silence deepened; everyone looked toward the door. After a while, there was no further sound.

Someone whispered, “Maybe something heavy just fell.”

The pilgrims returned their attention to their own affairs, and the hall regained its lively atmosphere.

Lu Yalan relaxed slightly, but then—

“Bang—bang bang—”

A series of sharp noises sounded again, drawing ever closer. Finally, someone cried out, their voice hoarse with terror: “Gun! That’s gunfire!”

The crowd froze for a moment, then surged toward the exit.

“Ah—”

“Run—”

“Bandits! The bandits are here!”

Panic spread like wildfire. In an instant, everyone in the hall was swept up in fear, instinctively following those ahead in a mad rush toward the door. The crowd scattered like sheep fleeing a predator, each person driven by terror to escape as far as possible.

Lu Yalan clutched Hongxing’s hand tightly, desperately trying not to be separated in the chaos, one thought echoing in her mind: Hongxing’s unlucky tongue! She always predicts the worst!

Helpless against the tide of bodies, Lu Yalan was pushed toward the exit, feeling as though the place where she and Hongxing’s hands met weighed a thousand pounds—as if everyone around them was trying to tear them apart.

Sweat broke out in Lu Yalan’s palm as her grip began to slip. Just as she was about to lose hold of Hongxing, the pressure suddenly eased, and they were pushed through the door.

Lu Yalan took a deep breath, looked around in bewilderment. She had no idea what was happening or where to go. Hesitating for a moment, she let Hongxing pull her along.

She couldn’t help but look back.

At the entrance to the Grand Hall, people continued to pour out. Lu Yalan noticed a stylish young woman in a cheongsam stumble as she stepped over the threshold—whether from the height of her heels or the tightness of her skirt, she lost her balance. Before she could recover, she was shoved by the crowd behind her, and, without even a chance to cry for help, was swallowed up by the surging mass.

Everyone was fighting for their lives; no one noticed a life vanishing in silence.

Lu Yalan dared not look again, turning away and running forward with all her strength.

“Yalan!”

When someone grabbed her, Lu Yalan instinctively prepared to resist, but then realized it was Mrs. Mu and quickly stopped herself.

Mrs. Mu pulled Lu Yalan and Hongxing into a corner, anxiously inspecting them as she asked, “Are you alright? Any injuries?”

After such a harrowing ordeal, Lu Yalan’s nose tingled and her eyes grew red at the sight of this unreserved concern from an elder.

Knowing it wasn’t the time to cry, she forced back her tears and hurriedly asked, “Aunt Mu, why are you here? Are you alright? Where are your servants? Why aren’t they protecting you?”

Mrs. Mu patted Lu Yalan’s hand, soothing her nerves. “I came to see you off and didn’t ask them to accompany me. Who could have guessed bandits would dare to storm the mountain?”

She glanced at the panicked crowd around them and sighed. “In this chaos, it’ll be hard for them to find us. What about your servants?”

“I had them wait at the mountain gate. If the bandits rushed in, they probably either fled or were killed.”

Mrs. Mu’s calm demeanor steadied Lu Yalan, who anxiously asked, “Aunt Mu, what should we do now?”

Mrs. Mu sometimes seemed childish, but in a crisis, Lu Yalan instinctively found her reliable and wanted to lean on her.

“The bandits have guns; the martial monks of Qianyun Temple won’t hold out long. There’s only one gate in and out—if the bandits guard it, nobody can leave. We’re far from Salt City, and who knows when news will reach Commander Mu.”

Mrs. Mu had considered the situation as soon as the chaos began, and now, answering Lu Yalan, she analyzed calmly.

“If the bandits are here to ransom hostages, we’ll be relatively safe. But if they’re here for murder and looting, by the time the army comes to suppress them, it’ll be too late. It’s a difficult situation!”

This plump, wealthy lady now displayed wisdom and resolve beyond most men. Who knows what experiences had shaped her into a woman capable of enjoying riches yet making crucial decisions?

Lu Yalan’s thoughts flashed by, forcing herself to think clearly.

She analyzed aloud, “The bandits must be after money. To maximize their haul, they’ll avoid killing those who can pay ransom, so the rich are safer than the common folk.

But if they dare attack Qianyun Temple, they must be numerous, greedy, and ruthless, unafraid of government retaliation. Such people fear neither heaven nor earth—they’re dangerous... So, once they achieve their goal, they might kill everyone here.”

The temple was in turmoil—men, women, old, young—all screaming and running. Children searched for parents, women fell and were trampled, cries and shouts blended into a hellish cacophony.

Yet Lu Yalan, who just half a month ago had been speechless when her engagement was broken off, now displayed extraordinary composure, deducing so much from scant evidence.

In her daze, Mrs. Mu seemed to glimpse a woman from twenty years ago, calm and wise amid panic and screams, who had led everyone to safety.

She sighed inwardly—how the Lu family had wasted their talents! If only Lu Yalan had been properly nurtured, how could she have been cast aside by a mere scholar who knew only empty words?

Mrs. Mu quickly regained her composure, looking at Lu Yalan with worry. “All we can do now is hope the army arrives quickly. There’s nothing else to be done. Hongxing and I are temporarily safe, but you must find a way to hide your face.”

Lu Yalan’s face was usually concealed by thick bangs, so few noticed the beauty beneath. But now, with their lives at risk, if the bandits saw her face, she’d suffer greatly before dying.

Lu Yalan fell silent. No one had ever praised her looks, so she herself had forgotten that, in times like these, her face was a liability.

She felt lost, her eyes drifting uncertainly, when suddenly she spotted a rouge case lying nearby.

“Miss, what are you doing?” Hongxing wanted to follow, but Lu Yalan stopped her.

Moments later, she returned with the rouge, even Mrs. Mu curious about its purpose.

Lu Yalan waved the rouge, smiling mysteriously. “We can’t pretend to be poor, but we can pretend to be sick.”

She began to draw with the rouge on her hand, soon covering it in dense red welts. From a distance, it looked swollen and frightening.

Hongxing understood instantly.

In the main Lu household, the third concubine had once given birth to a son, but the child died of rubella at seven or eight years old.

He was one of the few younger members of the family willing to play with Lu Yalan. After he fell ill, Lu Yalan and Hongxing had sneaked into his room to visit him.

His face and body were covered in dense red bumps, so grotesque and terrifying that the two girls screamed and were driven out by the third concubine.

For a long time afterward, every time Lu Yalan closed her eyes, she saw that child covered in rashes.

Rubella, also called urticaria, isn’t contagious, but the sight of such intense, frightening rashes makes people keep their distance.

Pretending to be afflicted with rashes would both conceal her face and deter others from approaching. This was the best plan Lu Yalan could devise at that moment.

...

The gunfire grew weaker and finally ceased altogether.

Everyone in the temple knew then that the bandits had entered.

“Dong dong dong.”

The large bell hanging in the courtyard was struck, as if echoing in everyone’s heart.

Then, the voice of a bandit rang out: “Master Liao Yuan is merciful and pleaded for you all. Today, we’re here only for money, not lives. If you come out obediently and hand over your valuables, our leader will guarantee your safety.”

“Of course, you can also choose to keep hiding. But if we catch you, don’t expect to leave Qianyun Temple alive.”

The bell tower at Qianyun Temple must have a special structure, carrying the voice far. The bandit shouted from the tower, and everyone could hear him clearly.

But people weren’t fools—the bandits’ words were not to be trusted. Hiding might offer a slim chance of survival; to go out would be to become prey.

The bandits repeated their offer several times. When no one came out, they turned to Liu Huzi.

He waved his hand, and the bandits accompanying him rushed out to search for people.

Beneath the altar in the front hall, a fat, gold-bedecked merchant was dragged out.

Perhaps he was too large to squeeze through the door, or his legs couldn’t support his weight and he couldn’t run fast; before he could escape, the bandits had entered, and he dove under the altar, hoping it would shield him.

Now, with a gun pointed at him, the merchant let out a pig-like howl: “Don’t kill me! I have money! I’ll give you everything—just don’t kill me!”

Liu Huzi frowned impatiently and waved his hand; the merchant was dragged to the open space before the hall. Then, with a single “bang—,”

Blood sprayed, the merchant’s cries abruptly silenced. His massive body crashed in front of the Buddha Hall, raising a cloud of dust, echoing almost as loudly as the earlier gunfire. Blood seeped out, soaking his silk vest and the floor in front of the Grand Hall.

The merchant could no longer speak, and the bandits said nothing. The only sound was the wind whistling across the courtyard, the temple eerily silent except for the blood dripping, which thundered in the ears of those secretly watching.

Not until Master Liao Yuan’s mournful cry broke the silence did the hidden people stir as if waking from a dream.

“You broke your promise.”

Master Liao Yuan’s robes were stained deep red, whether from his own blood or others’. Standing amidst the corpses of fallen martial monks, he glared at Liu Huzi. “You said if we gave up resistance, you wouldn’t harm the pilgrims!”

Liu Huzi laughed wildly. “Ha! Monk, you must be addled by scripture to believe a bandit’s word.”

Seeing Master Liao Yuan’s face turn ashen, the infamous bandit leader changed his tone. “I, Liu Huzi, respect heroes. Monk, you risked your life to protect strangers—I respect that and will keep my promise.

“But if these people don’t cooperate, I can’t be blamed!”

Liu Huzi deliberately raised his voice, the threat unmistakable. He swept his gaze over the seemingly empty temple, signaling the man on the bell tower to repeat his announcement.