Chapter 797: I Don’t Like This Trend (1)

Yunnan Province, Qujing County.

Qujing County was, so to speak, a gateway city.

Qing had arrived by switching carriages the whole way from Changsha County in Hunan Province, which meant there was a solid imperial highway laid straight through—good enough for carriages to run on.

A road that carriages used was also good for walking, which meant, in other words, this was the easiest and safest route into Yunnan.

So whether you were on the official northbound road into Yunnan, or a sightseer flooding in to look at that famous Yunnan scenery, this was the first city you hit once you set foot on Yunnan soil.

They’d left the martial academy around mid-September.

And they’d reached Qujing a few days before the end of October, so it had been a journey of about a month and ten days.

But... it was still far!

To the Diancang Sect, it was still fifteen hundred li....

Not that they had some urgent business, so it wasn’t like it mattered that much.

Still, along the way, they’d seen people on the imperial highway often enough that Qing had thought, Huh, there really are a lot of travelers headed into Yunnan.

But the moment she tried to grab an inn in Qujing, wouldn’t you know it—this one was full, that one was full, everywhere she went was telling her they were fully booked.

Of course, “fully booked” meant only their best rooms were full. It was a declaration of intent: rather than stay in a cheap room, she would lower the tier of the inn and still take the best room.

Because she had money.

Because her belly was full.

Qing had now completely become part of the Central Plains martial world’s entrenched class—one of those well-fed pigs!

So after they unpacked at a high-end inn instead of the topmost luxury tier and came down to eat, the entire first and second floors of this wide inn were packed wall-to-wall with guests.

“Wow, there are a lot of people. Is there really that much to see in Yunnan? Maybe we should stop by the Diancang Sect, then do a loop around and sightsee before we leave. Who knows when we’ll ever come back to Yunnan again.”

“It’s true that people say if you just walk wherever your feet take you once you reach Yunnan, breathtaking scenery will unfold. But, Sister... this doesn’t seem like a good sign.”

“Hm? What? That there are a lot of people?”

“No matter how much it’s called a gateway city for the province, without any special event, a crowd like this is absolutely not normal.”

“Hm. That bad?”

“Just look at the food right now. Is it any different from Guizhou Province?”

“Ah. What is this? Is the cook from Guizhou?”

“I heard Yunnan is kind of like this. That it resembles the land nearby.”

Yunnan was bordered by Guizhou to the east, Burma and Tibet to the west, Lan Chang and Đại Việt to the south, and Sichuan to the north.

Cultures from all those different regions gathered and... rather than blending into one, they were just split apart east, west, south, and north, each side resembling whatever neighbor was closest.

That was why Qujing—the first city you encountered in Yunnan—didn’t feel that different from Guizhou’s customs either.

The food had strong sourness—put nicely, “tang,” but put badly, it was just sharp and vinegary. Qing honestly couldn’t understand why Guizhou people dumped vinegar into everything like that.

Thanks to that, Seol Iri looked gloomy.

Even Seol Iri, a devoted soup-lover, seemed to find Guizhou food way outside her taste, because they poured vinegar into even thin soup until it turned sour.

In Guiyang, the provincial capital of Guizhou, there was a full-on spicy craze, but what came out of it was a broth that was both spicy and sour.

And aside from that, Guizhou’s broths were, by default, sour to begin with.

“There aren’t even any famous attractions around here. It’s not a city that should be this crowded, Sister.”

“Well, maybe there’s some event. Like a big regional festival coming up. Whatever—let’s ask. Excuse me, server!”

Even as Qing called, she could hear “Server!” being shouted all over the place, and at the sound of “let’s ask something,” the server’s ever-smiling face stiffened just slightly.

But only for a moment.

When the server saw the thin sliver of silver in Qing’s hand, he became extremely polite.

When it was quiet, you could just ask. But in a time this busy, if you were going to grab and hold him, it was Central Plains etiquette to generously include a few coins.

“Hehe. What would you like to ask, miss?”

“It’s nothing big—there are just a lot of people. Is there some kind of festival coming?”

“Oh, miss. It’s not that—don’t you know there’s a strange plague going around in Spring City right now?”

“Ah. A strange plague.”

A strange plague. A strange disease.

“Strange” meant an illness with an unknown identity—something you couldn’t pin down. And if it was “going around,” that meant it was contagious.

Miss, it wasn’t a festival. It was a funeral procession.

Qing, who’d instantly turned into a childish tourist, awkwardly scratched the back of her head.

“They say it’s fine because they sealed off the area in Spring City and herded the sick inside, but since the plague is scary, some guests are waiting to see how things go. And then people raised hell about ‘screening out the sick,’ so now, if you want to enter Spring City, you have to stand in line for two days—can you believe it? Unless you’re a merchant who has to go on the Tea-Horse Road, no one’s going to pull an all-nighter just to get in, no matter how warm Spring City is supposed to be.”

“Spring City” used the character for “spring.”

It was a nickname for Kunming, the provincial capital of Yunnan—because Kunming’s weather wasn’t spring, summer, autumn, winter, but spring, spring, spring, spring.

They said it stayed warm like spring all year—three hundred and fifty-four days a year, according to the Central Plains calendar.

But it wasn’t literally true.

When Central Plains people bragged about their hometowns, it was always half pride and half bullshit. It meant it felt springlike, and since the place had huge day–night temperature swings, even “Spring City” had cold autumn nights.

“Hm. A strange plague. What do we do? If there’s a plague going around... should we avoid Kunming and go around it?”

“No. If there are sick people to the point the provincial capital is dealing with it, what do you think the backwater countryside looks like? Most of the countryside won’t even have a Therapist.”

Tang Nanna said something smart for once.

Well, of course she did. Tang Nanna was a physician—part of the Central Plains’ top expert class when it came to illness.

Mm. Then... there wasn’t much choice.

Qing wasn’t afraid of some strange plague or whatever.

She had a bizarre constitution where even if she swallowed poison, all it did was feel spicy and hot, making her stomach tingle.

But her friends weren’t like that.

And there was also Jayeo, still young.

Mm... then what—was she going to have to send them back and go alone?

Qing let the outer corners of her eyebrows droop.

“Guys, listen—”

In that instant, everyone except Qing and Jayeo urgently exchanged looks.

It was obvious what she was about to say: You guys go back and live well, I’m going to push through the plague and go to the Diancang Sect.

And even if they told her to come back with them, she was the kind of bitch who would absolutely never listen.

So Tang Nanna cut her off fast.

“But look—there are a lot of people here, right? If a real epidemic was properly breaking out, people wouldn’t even come near this area.”

“Hm? Then...?”

“If you ask me, it’s either the kind that doesn’t spread unless you’re openly rubbing the infected area, or the claim that Kunming herded the sick in and sealed them off is actually true. In that case, instead of taking a detour for no reason, the right move is to pass through Kunming and hurry to Dali.”

“Mm.”

“Lady Tang is right, Sister.”

Peng Daesan agreed in a low voice, and Zhuge Hyun echoed him.

Qing fell into serious thought.

What is this? To Zhuge Hyun, is Nanna “Lady” now?

Either way, they had to go to Kunming first.

If it were truly chaos, they’d have sealed the gates and stopped anyone from entering at all—but if the line was just long because of inspections, it didn’t sound that severe.

And if they got there and it felt wrong, she could send the others back and go alone.

“Qing, then. Eat, and let’s go together.”

“Hm? It’ll be night soon. We’re not sleeping?”

“No, I’m not saying we leave right this second. But if there’s a strange plague going around, we should avoid staying overnight in villages. We should buy supplies, and we have carriages, so we should be careful on the road too. I’ll pack some basic medicinal ingredients, at least—”

Tang Nanna like this felt bizarre.

She was usually trembling with rage like a chihuahua, baring her teeth and snarling, and then suddenly she acted like a seasoned Therapist who’d seen every kind of misery.

“I’m taking Qing to look at medicinal ingredients, so you guys buy plenty of supplies for sleeping outdoors. Qing, you said you’ve read some medical texts, right? I’ll teach you how to judge medicinal ingredients while we’re at it. Those drug-peddling bastards test people like it’s a game. If you don’t know, you just get scammed.”

Of course, Tang Nanna didn’t forget to satisfy her own selfish agenda while she had the chance.

Truly—exactly what you’d expect from the Tang Clan’s villainess.

*****

Kunming, the city of flowers.

Kunming boasted a mild climate year-round to the point it was called Spring City, and with gentle mountain slopes on three sides and a large lake on the remaining side, it had abundant water.

So flowers bloomed all four seasons and the place was beautiful—so aside from Spring City, it was also called Flower City.

Now then: if you asked a Central Plains person what the most beautiful city under heaven was...

It was Guilin! Guilin was the most beautiful.

Kunming was, in truth, only ranked third.

But third was still an impressive achievement.

How many cities in the Central Plains were famous for being beautiful in the first place?

And more than that, you needed to understand how Central Plains people ranked cities.

If they lined up cities in some category, first place was a “proven” city that anyone would have to nod at, second place was their hometown city.

For example, if you asked for the most cutting-edge cultural city, first place would be Hangzhou, second place would be the provincial capital of each person’s home province, and third place would be Luoyang or Beijing.

So being picked as the unshakable third-place city for beauty meant that if you peeled off the foam of hometown bias, Kunming wasn’t really third—it was effectively second.

Anyway, so—Kunming!

But... it was still, still far!

To the Diancang Sect, it was still nine hundred li....

Just how deep in the backwoods was that place, exactly?

Even though they’d slept outdoors along the way, if you rented the most expensive carriage and slept under a roof, it was far better than most cheap inns.

At least there were no bedbugs or fleas, and you didn’t have to lie on some uneven bed where one spot sank too much and another was too hard, with dry straw poking out and stabbing your skin over and over.

Of course, Peng Daesan and Zhuge Hyun—who slept outside due to the crime of being men—might have a different opinion.

Anyway, this was how the entrenched class of the Central Plains traveled!

Whether it was the Central Plains or Qing’s homeland, this was how the world worked: spend enough gold, and your body suffered that much less.

Just as the server had said, from the point where the city gate looked tiny in the distance, there was already a huge line of people waiting to enter Kunming.

Because Kunming was also an important strategic stronghold defending the Central Plains from foreign powers to the west of Yunnan.

With mountains behind and a lake in front, it completely sealed off the terrain and doubled as a natural barrier, so even if you waited in line for three days, passing through Kunming was still much faster.

So even with a strange plague going around, why were there so many people—especially merchant caravans with loaded wagons—craning their necks, waiting to enter?

Because beyond that was the Tea-Horse Road, where the Central Plains’ best tea leaves came from—the production region of Yunnan tea.

As a joke, people said if you had enough time, all you needed to tour Yunnan was time. Buy Yunnan tea and sell it back home, and you’d earn back all your travel money.

So if you were a merchant caravan distributing Yunnan tea, whether a plague was going around or a war broke out, your wagons had to run.

Because that was what it meant to be a merchant.

So the only ones who bled for it were Qing’s group, stuck in line.

When the server said you had to spend two days to get into Kunming, Qing had thought it was the Central Plains’ usual exaggeration.

But it was a plain, unembellished fact.

Because the processing was... terrible.

Physicians and women physicians examined bodies to see if anyone had symptoms, and that alone took forever.

And the guards were just as exhausted by nonstop busy work, edgy all day, and so picky it made your teeth grind: Did you buy anything nearby? Where did you come from? Why are you here?

And on top of that, they closed the city gates around sunset!

So what—if you didn’t make it in time, you just had to wait until morning.

“Are you tourists? Tourists at this time of year—suspicious. The Diancang Sect? You’re going to Dali. Why. Personal business. Is there anyone who can vouch for that purpose? Hm. Suspicious. We’ll search your luggage, so put down everything you have. Same for the luggage loaded onto the carriage.”

The gate guard was being a prick.

For a second Qing wondered if he was doing this on purpose to demand a bribe, but if that were the case, would Zhuge Hyun be this quiet?

Zhuge Hyun was slick and good at social maneuvering—if it were that kind of situation, he would’ve stepped forward first, laughing, “Haha, you brave men work so hard,” buttering them up while subtly slipping them silver.

But he stayed silent, which meant this wasn’t the time for that kind of “greasing the wheels” bullshit.

Mm. No wonder people waited in line for two days....

But the guard’s high-handed, unfriendly attitude didn’t last long.

The guard kneaded the silk pouch Qing handed over, frowning.

“What is this? An ID plaque? Why is there another ID plaque here? Then what was the ID plaque you submitted first? Why do you have two ID plaques—”

“Ah, that’s—”

“Hk.”

The moment the gate guard irritably yanked the silk pouch open and looked inside, he froze solid.

Inside this—

a censor seal.

It was there.