Feudal Dregs - Chapter 67

During those days trapped on the mountain, at the mercy of the bandits, Li Ming'an didn't know how he survived. Severely injured, Lei Tian, fearing he might die, summoned a barefoot doctor to tend to his wounds. Drifting in and out of consciousness in a dilapidated hut, Zhao Shi was beside herself with worry, clutching Li Ming'an's right hand as she kept vigil by his bedside.

His left hand was twisted unnaturally, the bones broken. The slightest touch from Zhao Shi made him tremble in pain. Her heart ached unbearably, tears streaming down her face. She loathed the bandits with every fiber of her being, despised the Li family for their delayed rescue, and even resented Li Ming'an for recklessly standing up for two maidservants and ending up in such a state. But gradually, her anger turned inward—she had failed. She shouldn't have raised him to be so stubborn.

Yet, in the end, Zhao Shi didn't know whom to blame anymore. She simply wept silently.

"Ming'an..." she sobbed his name, but he remained unresponsive, eyes shut, his face still contorted in pain. In the dead of night, Li Ming'an began deliriously muttering—sometimes pleading, sometimes calling for his mother. Zhao Shi wiped the cold sweat from his forehead when suddenly, she caught a muffled whisper. Leaning closer, she barely made out the words: "Lan Yu." Stunned, she instinctively covered his mouth.

Her gaze darted to the servants huddled in the corner of the room. Assured they hadn't heard, she shakily withdrew her hand.

Zhao Shi stared at Li Ming'an, tears falling silently once more.

***

The next day, Li Ming'an woke in a daze. The moment he regained consciousness, he struggled to his feet and began pounding on the wooden door.

Terrified, Zhao Shi rushed to steady him. "Ming'an, Ming'an! You're still hurt—stop this, please!"

His fists hammered against the door with heavy thuds. Outside, a bandit growled impatiently, "What the hell are you banging for? Didn't get enough last night?"

Li Ming'an rasped, "Where are they?!"

The bandit kicked the door. "Dead."

Both Li Ming'an and Zhao Shi froze. The bandit cursed under his breath. "Fucking bad luck."

Li Ming'an whispered, "How... how could they die? Did you kill them?!"

The bandit sneered at Li Ming'an's trembling, hoarse voice and said, "Want to know? Just last night, one ran into a wall, the other tried to kill herself—our second-in-command stopped them..." He gave a strange laugh, filled with chilling malice, then added with a hint of regret, "Pity though, by dawn this morning, she'd still bitten through her tongue."

Li Ming'an's entire body turned cold. Suddenly, like a madman, he began slamming against the door with all his might, his eyes bloodshot. "I'll kill you... I swear I'll kill you all! Ah! I'll kill you!"

Madame Zhao was terrified by her son's frenzied state, but she couldn't restrain him. She shouted at the servants, "Stop the young master, quickly!"

The servants had been paralyzed with horror at the maids' tragic fate, but at her command, they rushed forward, half-dragging, half- carrying Li Ming'an back to his bed. Even there, he struggled violently, reopening his wounds until blood seeped through. Madame Zhao's heart trembled at the sight. Staring at Li Ming'an, she suddenly raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

The sound was sharp and forceful.

Li Ming'an froze as if someone had seized his vitals. His reddened eyes lifted to meet Madame Zhao's. The despair and helpless fury in his gaze wrenched her heart. She pulled him into her arms, gently stroking his hair, and whispered, "Ming'an..."

Her voice choked with sobs, unable to continue.

Finally, Li Ming'an stilled. Madame Zhao held her son's trembling form, feeling the warmth of his tears slowly soak through her shoulder. "It's alright," she murmured. "It's alright. Your mother is here."

Those days became the nightmare of Li Ming'an's life.

He kept remembering the day the two maids had been carried away, recalling his days in Beijing when he'd boldly debated freedom and equality with his classmates. He thought of Lan Yu too—Lan Yu had asked, "If you knew that beyond these walls awaited storms and starvation, would you still yearn to fly free?" "Perhaps it's better to remain a caged bird, a bird of fortune."

A caged bird, a bird of fortune.

Lan Yu was the caged bird; he was the bird of fortune, born into silken luxury, spouting grand ideals without ever tasting life's bitterness, foolishly believing he could single-handedly right the world's wrongs and turn this era into one of justice—what a deluded fool.

It was sickening.

Never had Li Ming'an despised himself more.

Seven days later, under clear skies, Li Ming'an and Madame Zhao were blindfolded and thrown onto an oxcart.

Li Ming'an didn't resist as they covered his eyes with black cloth, the bandits tying it tightly with a knot at the back of his head. Lei Tian said, "Third Young Master, this is farewell."

Li Ming'an sat on the wooden plank of the oxcart, turning his head toward Lei Tian's direction at the sound of his voice. He said calmly, "Blood debts must be paid in blood, Chief Lei. You still owe me two lives."

"We'll meet again someday."

His tone was eerily composed. Lei Tian was taken aback, staring at the gaunt young man before him. It was as if, in just a few days, he had shed his youth and hardened into a man. The thick black cloth covering his eyes revealed only the lower half of his pale face, but even seated, he exuded a chilling gloom.

Madam Zhao gripped Li Ming'an's hand nervously.

Lei Tian smirked. "Fine. I'll be waiting."

The oxcart jolted along the rugged mountain path, swaying unsteadily, yet Li Ming'an felt an inexplicable calm in his heart—no trace of joy at having escaped death. Madam Zhao clutched his sleeve and whispered, "Ming'an, what if your words just now angered them—"

Li Ming'an replied softly, "He wouldn't dare."

"This is the road down the mountain. He's sending us back, which means the Li family has delivered the ransom," Li Ming'an said. "He wants the money. He won't risk causing trouble by keeping us now."

Madam Zhao murmured, "Do you really intend to seek him out again? A man like that—it's best never to see him again in this lifetime." Li Ming'an said, "I won't let this go."

His voice was cold, detached, as though he were discussing something trivial rather than life, death, and vengeance. "Yuezhi and Liuchun didn't die for nothing."

Madam Zhao, blindfolded, couldn't see his face, but his tone left her speechless for a long moment. She had been married into the Li family for twenty years, yet in that instant, she glimpsed the ruthless determination ingrained in the Li bloodline—now etched into Li Ming'an's very bones.

Li Ming'an didn't know where they were taking him, only that they had traveled a long way. The late autumn sunlight was warm, but the wind was sharp, cutting across his face like a blade, carrying the bleakness of the dying season. Suddenly, the oxcart stopped. Someone pushed him off and bound him with several loops of rope.

He heard the Third Chief's voice. "Third Young Master, wait here a while. The Li family will come for you within the hour."

Li Ming'an remained silent.

The sound of the oxcart and footsteps gradually faded, leaving only stillness.

The next noise he heard was hurried footsteps, accompanied by exclamations—"We've found the Third Young Master and the concubine!"

The black cloth was yanked from his face. Blinding light stabbed into his eyes, forcing him to shut them and turn away. When he finally adjusted, he found himself in a dilapidated village shrine. The place was ancient, the statue of the local deity cracked at the head, draped in thick cobwebs.

Li Ming'an swept his gaze over the people around him, then glanced at the deity. A middle-aged man beside him said, "Third Young Master, the Eldest Young Master is waiting for you."

Li Ming'an asked, "My eldest brother?"

The man nodded. "Yes."

Li Ming'an helped Madam Zhao up. "Mother, let's go."

Li Mingzheng sat inside the carriage. Li Ming'an assisted Madam Zhao in first, then stepped in himself, locking eyes with his brother the moment he entered.

"Eldest Brother," Li Ming'an greeted.

Li Mingzheng gave a slight nod. "Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine," Li Ming'an replied.

Neither spoke further. Li Mingzheng's gaze fell on Li Ming'an's unnaturally limp left hand. "What happened to your left hand?"

Li Ming'an lowered his eyes. "The bone's broken."

Li Mingzheng insisted, "Let the doctor examine you when we get back."

Li Ming'an replied, "Mm."

Li Mingzheng observed the young man before him, so different from his usual self. In the past, Li Ming'an would have already started shouting, calling him "big brother" repeatedly, cursing the bandits, and pouring out his grievances from these past days.

Li Mingzheng's gaze darkened slightly, but he didn't press further.

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