Yesterday, they still had two thousand individuals; now they are left with a little over one hundred, thirty of which were wounded. With so few people, they had to be more vigilant on the trip. Wang Hong dispatched several pathfinders so that they could change their route if anything abnormal were to happen.
Finally, Nan’yang appeared to them on the third day.
They gave cries of joy at its familiar sight.
“Wang Hong,” a clear voice suddenly called.
Everyone turned around. From the carriage, Chen Rong was calling out to call Wang Hong, but she had put on men’s robe in order to not attract attention, her face was even painted with dirt.
While the crowd looked on in curiosity, Chen Rong urged her horse to Wang Hong and said to him in all seriousness: “Qilang, we’ll be in Nan’yang soon, I have something to ask of you.”
Wang Hong narrowed his eyes. He studied her, slowly smiled, and then very gently remarked, “Darling, have you dressed like this to tell the world that Ah Rong of the Chen house has never been to Mo’yang? And never mind the fact that you’ve followed my family’s retainers to accompany me?”
His smile had seemed cold, and it made Chen Rong shudder.
She was asking for something she thought was quite reasonable, but Chen Rong was suddenly made to feel guilty. She bowed her head, biting her lips to murmur: “I, I’m still unwed.”
And then she seemed to gain strength, looking up at Wang Hong and softly pleading to him: “We are separated by far more than what’s measured in miles. I will not be a concubine, sir.”
With these words, she snapped her whip, turned and ran back to her carriage.
Wang Hong looked after her and lazily said at length, “Did everyone hear what Ah Rong of the Chen house said?”
“Aye.”
“Then do as she says.”
“Aye.”
The middle-aged scholar gazed at Chen Rong’s pleased expression. He couldn’t help shaking his head as he said to Wang Hong: “But who is she trying to fool?”
Wang Hong merely smiled.