Chapter 13: Encounter with the Outlaws

But now, without the internet, Luo Gan had little knowledge of poetry and could not immediately confirm whether the poem on the Peach Blossom Fan was from the late Tang dynasty, nor if it held any clues related to his own predicament. His head throbbed with frustration; these clueless game designers didn’t even bother to provide a hint that might help an illiterate player advance. The image of the game designer, aloof and perhaps drowning his sorrows alone at night, only made Luo Gan more irritated the longer he dwelled on it.

Earlier, Erhu’s snoring had sounded like a grand military drill; now it was as if two armies were clashing in battle, with rhythm, layers, and even skill—enough to dispel any trace of sleepiness in Luo Gan. The more he wished for sleep, the less he could find it, and soon his mind began to wander wildly. The desire to know the answer grew more urgent. Though Erhu always grumbled, he was ultimately carefree, unburdened by obligations or pressure, and could fall asleep at will. Luo Gan found himself envious of such a simple, desireless life.

Recalling the day he fought the Dragon Man, Luo Gan suddenly felt that perhaps this era wasn’t so bad; at least here, someone cared about him, and he had ideals and drive—not like his struggles in the modern world.

Wait—Dragon Man? That wordless celestial book was nothing other than “Three Hundred Tang Poems,” wasn’t it? Regardless of which period the poem on the Peach Blossom Fan hailed from, as long as he had the “Three Hundred Tang Poems,” he could easily identify the author and find the necessary clues.

The regret was that the book had been confiscated by Wang Ge, the county magistrate. How had that scoundrel learned of its importance? Most crucially, the key book was still at the magistrate’s office; how could he recover this vital clue?

Well, as the saying goes, “When the boat reaches the bridgehead, it will go straight.” Having endured such humiliation before, surely this game, no matter how malicious, wouldn’t truly drive someone to their doom?

Thinking this way, Luo Gan felt much better. Thankfully, he too was a game designer and could talk himself through such moments.

His mind cleared; the phrase “clouds part, fog disperses” perfectly described Luo Gan’s mood. In the eyes of a man full of purpose, sparks seemed to fly—he clenched his fists and gripped his blanket.

Before long, he finally exhaled and drifted into sleep. Night was deep.

When sunlight flooded the room, Erhu sprang out of bed and saw Luo Gan still sleeping heavily. He frowned in disdain; this pig-headed fellow had slept all night and still wasn’t satisfied. No wonder his body looked so frail, his work ethic so poor, and his thoughts so questionable.

Erhu shook Luo Gan’s shoulder, but Luo Gan only mumbled, his words unclear.

Erhu said, “Wake up! What are you, a bear’s mouth? It’s this late and you’re still lazing around?”

Luo Gan didn’t even open his eyes. Erhu grew more displeased; sleeping late meant another day’s lodging fee, and he hadn’t brought much money. If this brat kept delaying things, Erhu’s reputation would be ruined in the county.

Impossible—he wouldn’t tolerate it. Erhu, like a wandering doctor, pried open Luo Gan’s eyelids; the whites rolled upward, making him look paralyzed.

Erhu’s body tensed—this was illness, not laziness. Without thinking, he slapped Luo Gan’s face, rhythmically and with layers, just as he snored.

Luo Gan was jolted awake, utterly flustered.

He blurted, “What’s going on? Is it a snow disaster?”

Erhu shook his head.

Luo Gan asked, “An earthquake?”

Erhu still shook his head.

“Has that damned Dragon Man appeared again?”

Erhu shook his head yet again.

Luo Gan grumbled, “Are you brainless?”

With that, he flopped back down to sleep.

Erhu whispered in his ear, “If you keep sleeping, we’ll be out of money and have to wait at Magistrate Wang’s place.”

Luo Gan reacted mechanically, springing upright and dressing with lightning speed.

Once everything was ready, Luo Gan said, “What are we waiting for? Want to learn how to grunt like a pig?”

Erhu was amazed. “What? Grunt like a pig?”

Luo Gan didn’t want to recall that humiliating memory and quickly changed the subject. “I’m talking about you—who could stand your pig-like noises in the middle of the night?”

The two shouldered their empty baskets, one leading and one following on the road back. Erhu trailed behind, muttering curses.

“Who’s grunting like a pig? You’d better explain yourself!”

Passing porters and fishermen glanced back at the pair, their noisy banter truly spirited.

Luo Gan, walking ahead, grew exasperated by Erhu’s street-level complaints.

“I didn’t mean you.”

Erhu retorted, “You’re still denying it? My snoring is only a bit loud. Isn’t that how men are—hardworking and snoring soundly?”

“I said one thing, and you’ve been ranting all the way. Dealing with you, a roughneck who won’t listen to reason, is really tiresome.”

Erhu protested, “Roughneck? Me, Erhu, fears neither heaven nor earth. Those unreasonable ruffians can’t compare to me!”

Just then, three shadowy figures emerged from the woods. Aside from one scrawny man, the others were burly, matching Erhu’s build.

The leader, Han Chong, had wolf-like eyes and a cross-shaped scar on his face, wielding a spiked club with impressive presence. The others carried broadswords and fish spears, all dressed in coarse red garments—distinctive, not something ordinary folk would wear.

The gang eyed Luo Gan and Erhu, scrutinizing them, especially Erhu.

Erhu grew uneasy. Luo Gan sensed trouble, but sought to handle matters with courtesy first. He approached the leader.

“Gentlemen, is there anything we can—”

Han Chong shoved Luo Gan’s face aside. “Anything, anything—my foot! Didn’t you see everyone brandishing weapons? Are you blind? Can’t you tell it’s a robbery?”

The skinny man, Han Xiaozhi, tugged at the leader’s elbow. “Brother, brother… I don’t think this is right. It’s against the law.”

Han Chong didn’t even glance at Han Xiaozhi, glaring fiercely at Erhu, sizing up the strong one first—once he was subdued, the weak one would be easy prey.

Erhu said, “You lot—why not do honest work? Must’ve hit rock bottom to hide in the woods. None of you act like real men.”

Han Xiaozhi quickly corrected, “We’re not hiding; we’ve been at this for generations. A legitimate family business.”

The tall Bamboo Zhang chimed in solemnly, “We cheat young and old alike. Anping Red Devils, living in luxury, riches come at our word.”

The ruffians nodded in unison, their manner comical.

Luo Gan covered his face—arguing with such foolish brigands was pointless; nothing he said would be appropriate.

Erhu couldn’t understand their words, but felt he couldn’t lose face.

“My family has ten or so brothers, all seasoned fighters.”

Bamboo Zhang countered, “We have thirty brothers hidden in the woods, fierce as wolves and tigers.”

Erhu boasted, “I’ve relatives in the county’s army—a single squad could defeat a thousand.”

Bamboo Zhang wouldn’t be outdone. “These hills are full of our brothers, armies beyond counting. Why fear your little squad?”

Erhu pressed on, “No problem! I’ve connections to summon the Imperial Guards from the capital, flatten the mountain bandits!”

Han Chong replied coldly, “Oh? Then call them.”

Erhu hesitated. The woods shook violently, as if ambushes lurked everywhere. Bamboo Zhang smirked triumphantly.

Sensing things were going awry, Luo Gan forced himself to speak further.

“The Protector of the Nation serves the people; you gentlemen are true heroes, as are those in the woods. Might you spare us this once?”

Han Chong declared, “This place is mine. This—whatever it is, anyway, hand over your road toll!”

Luo Gan and Erhu feigned searching their pockets, but found nothing. Han Chong glared, feeling mocked.

Bamboo Zhang instantly understood, advancing with his imposing frame—danger drew ever closer to Luo Gan and Erhu.

“Let my countless brothers teach you a lesson! Brothers, attack!”

Luo Gan kept his eyes on the rustling woods. Just then, a wild boar burst from the bamboo, startling Erhu.

Han Xiaozhi grew anxious, tugging Han Chong’s elbow. “Brother… it’s against the law! Let’s retreat.”

Han Chong ignored him, unable to back down. “So be it. Today’s your unlucky day—don’t blame us for being ruthless!”

Luo Gan and Erhu, seeing no way out, braced themselves for battle.