PFC Chapter 316 The Strange Tale of the Blade's Throat
Chapter 316 The Strange Tale of the Blade's Throat
At dusk, the city of Lhasa resembled a ghee cake sprinkled with fine salt, with the cold wind carrying snowflakes that pelted the ochre-red palace walls with a "pitter-patter" sound.
The wolf king, a knife tip clenched in his mouth, lifted the felt curtain of the yurt, the wolf-headed scimitar gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Like a hungry wolf eyeing a herd of yaks, he had long suspected something was amiss with this young lady, Du. Who knew where she might be hiding the missing "Heavenly Eye Agate" from Shengxiang Temple!
He yanked open the yak-hide refrigerator—good heavens, the agate beads inside glowed with a faint blue light, like grapes that had been poisoned!
Then, rummaging through Du Xiaobing's wardrobe, lo and behold! They found a golden-embroidered robe for the Zanpu (Tibetan king), with dragon patterns intertwined with auspicious clouds, even more magnificent than the costumes of the opera troupes in Chang'an!
The wolf king's eyes widened: So this girl is having shady dealings with the mysterious man! She thinks I'm a fool.
Niwanzi crouched low, following behind Song Xiaobai. The crowds at the Tea Horse Road Market were bustling like dumplings being boiled.
A Tibetan merchant with a high nose and dark skin deliberately rubbed against Song Xiaobai, it was unclear whether he was being a scoundrel or trying to scam her.
"Clatter!" The ivory merchant's plaque fell to the ground in Song Xiaobai's shop. When the merchant bent down to pick it up, part of a wolf's head tattoo was visible on his sleeve—well, he's just like the petty thief who stole the dzi beads and agates from Shengxiang Temple!
Niwan Zi licked his back teeth: These guys are cunning enough, trying to figure out the trade route's secret code by "bumping into people and dropping cards." He had just returned to his residence when he received a secret letter wrapped in yak hair. The thieves were making outrageous demands, wanting a hundred bolts of Shu brocade Thangka paintings in exchange for dzi beads and agate!
Niwanzi pulled out a wooden plaque with a sealing wax stamp engraved with the secret code of the Tang-Tibet Post Road and shoved it into Cong Xiaoye's hand: "Go, hang it on that guy. It'll definitely be useful as a messenger in a critical moment!"
Song Xiaobai arrived at Barkhor Street with a brocade thangka bag in her arms. Good heavens! A sheepskin drum ensemble! The drumming was as loud as thunder. The thief made her beat the drums to the rhythm, like a shamanistic dance in Northeast China!
The drumsticks made Song Xiaobai's mouth go numb, and in anger, he slammed the drum down: "I'm not playing anymore!" Just as he was cursing, the Wolf King's carrier pigeon fluttered in, a note tied to its claw: "Make sure you throw the bag into the silver cauldron at Maggie Ami's Tea House!"
Song Xiaobai secretly tied a red string to the bag and then skillfully flung it into the silver cauldron. Unexpectedly, the brocade turned into shredded sheepskin!
The wolf king saw everything clearly through the carved silver telescope, and smashed the teacup with a loud crash: "...You dare to play me!"
At this moment, Niwanzi and Cong Xiaoye ran panting to the side of the silver cauldron and saw a dark figure riding a yak, galloping away with a "putt-putt-putt" sound. The snow mist kicked up by its tail was like smoke from a deserted area.
Niwan Zi slapped her forehead and came up with another plan, making Song Xiaobai shout all over the world: "I have luminous glass from Chang'an!"
As Song Xiaobai climbed the pilgrimage route around the Potala Palace, the wooden ladder snapped in two with a "crack," wobbling like a grasshopper with a broken leg. The Wolf King's falcon, its talons clutching a note, swooped down: "Dare to collude with the Tang envoy? Watch your head!"
Song Xiaobai held up the glass cup with an apologetic smile: "Misunderstanding! Misunderstanding! Let's talk about the price first..." But inwardly she was cursing: This ladder, has it been tampered with?
On the other side, Song Erjiu, looking like a frost-bitten barley, huddled in a corner of the barley winery, sighing and groaning.
It turns out that his lover was sent to Tibet for a political marriage, and he cried every day while hugging a wine jar, refusing to wipe away butter tea spilled on his face.
Military Governor Cui dragged Niwanzi to his side and slammed his fist on the table: "If we don't find the dzi bead and agate in three days, we'll all be targets for the Zanpu to shoot at! And what about the missing Du Xiaobing? If the thieves get the trade route map, we'll all lose our heads!"
Niwanzi, his legs worn out, mouth and eyes dry, finally collapsed with a thud in the Jokhang Temple square. Song Xiaobai, carrying her medicine box, rushed over, smeared saffron on his wrist, and then swiftly inserted snow lotus needles into his acupoints. Niwanzi, still groggy, saw her face and grabbed her sleeve, shouting, "Did I fall and go crazy? Du Xiaobing? Why are you wearing a Tibetan robe?"
Last night, the rain at the foot of the Potala Palace was like spilled barley wine, drenching Sizi. Even more eerie, red, blue, and green lights floated outside the window, like neon lights. She swallowed two Tang Dynasty jujube seed pills before finally drifting off to sleep.
When I opened my eyes this morning, my throat hurt so much it could be used as sandpaper to grind barley, and my voice sounded like a broken bellows: "Hiss—this voice must have been struck by lightning and cracked eight times!"
The room next door wasn't soundproof, and voices could be heard: "Xiao Bing, listen! Back when I was in the Dunhuang Mogao Caves, I was carrying that book and its binding board, and I was stuffing it into my clothes—" Du Xiaobing, however, was cracking sunflower seeds and laughing like a goose.
Si Zi pinned the listening device to the wall and suddenly heard someone say, "Song Xiaobai, do you know her? That woman who looks just like the Black-faced God of Wealth..."
After a long silence, Du Xiaobing suddenly jumped up with a loud bang, and the medicine pot clattered loudly: "Blue Lotus Buddha, your nonsense is more intoxicating than butter tea! I'll go brew a bowl of Tibetan medicine to cure your Tibetan aftereffects!" Before he finished speaking, he had already rushed out the door like a whirlwind.
At the post station, a Tang Dynasty female merchant in a traditional Chinese dress was alighting from her carriage, her flowing sleeves billowing, her hair swaying like dancing fireflies. Song Daqin and Song Erjiu immediately transformed into human shadows, one pretending to tie her shoelaces, the other using a tattered fan to cover her face, sneaking towards the post station. Sizi, her voice sharp and piercing, coughed and squinted, "Wow, this is quite a show! I have to get a front-row seat no matter what!"