EHW Ch46

At dawn, the two finally arrived before Wucheng’s city gate.

The gates had not yet opened, but a dozen people were already lined up quietly outside, refugees hoping to be admitted into the city.

Each face was written with exhaustion; when others approached, they only glanced up briefly before bowing their heads again.

Patrolling guards walked along the top of the wall, long spears in hand, occasionally glancing down at the crowd below.

After meeting two fellow travelers on the road, Pei Xin absolutely refused to share the same coat with Gu Fangzhi any longer.

Gu Fangzhi tried reloading several times, but no matter how many timelines he reset, Pei Xin would not budge.

Gu Fangzhi had studied this before, it was called “social embarrassment”:
when children, especially around their peers or in public, feel that the mere presence of their parents makes them uncool.

A condition, typically, of ten-year-olds.

Once the sun rose, the temperature warmed slightly, and after walking so long their body heat returned.

Gu Fangzhi decided not to press the issue further, he simply made a new save file, flicked Pei Xin’s forehead lightly, and reloaded as if nothing had happened.

By now, the number of refugees had grown.

Pei Xin stood beside him again, subtly angling his body, as if shielding Gu Fangzhi behind him.

“Don’t stand so straight,” Gu Fangzhi whispered.

“Your character’s supposed to be a merchant’s son who got robbed and hasn’t eaten for days.”

Pei Xin relaxed his posture a bit.

“Still too straight.”

He relaxed a little more.

Gu Fangzhi sighed. “Forget it. That’s fine. You’re just… straight.”

Pei Xin: “……?”

Straight? What does that even mean?

After a while, the heavy city gates finally groaned and began to open.

The refugees surged forward.

Though Wucheng had decent resources, it didn’t welcome just anyone.

Young, strong men capable of labor were prioritized.

Two guards approached Pei Xin and Gu Fangzhi at once.

“Where are you from?”

Gu Fangzhi answered eagerly, pulling out two documents from his sleeve.

“Good sirs, these are our identity papers. Please take a look.”

The guard looked him over, eyes flashing with approval.

This bookkeeper had a gentle, scholarly demeanor, polite and well-spoken.

With the papers, he had also slipped over a small, dirty piece of silver, clearly something hoarded for a long time.

Tiny, yes, but enough to make a point.

Still, formality was formality; the questioning continued.

The guard unfolded the first paper.

“…Li… something… Duo?”

“Li Ang Nado,” Gu Fangzhi replied smoothly. “But you can just call me Old Li.”

The guard muttered, “Weird name,” then turned to read Pei Xin’s papers.

He squinted for a long time before asking,
“What’s this… Ba?”

Gu Fangzhi answered for him: “Xin Ba.”

The guard frowned. “Which ‘Xin’?”

Before Gu Fangzhi could speak, Pei Xin said proudly,

“The ‘Xin’ of tireless service, as in ‘toil and hardship for one’s duty.’”

Guard: “…Huh?”

Gu Fangzhi hurried to clarify, “‘Xin’ as in hard work, diligence, labor, and suffering.”

Pei Xin: “…………”

Why did that sound like his entire post–meeting-Gu-Fangzhi life summed up in one phrase?

So accurate.

So piercingly on point.

He suddenly understood the phrase “eyes stinging with tears.”

Pei Xin closed his eyes, internally stroking his own ego like a cat to calm himself down.

When he opened them again, the guard was studying him more closely.

“You ever been a soldier?”

Before Pei Xin could reply, Gu Fangzhi jumped in,

“Of course not! My young master’s been pampered since birth. If he’d really served, we wouldn’t have cried that day when bandits attacked!”

Pei Xin: “……”

The blatant defamation of his dignity was almost unbearable, but he endured it.

However, the guard’s suspicion only deepened.

Could such a “pampered young master” really have eyes that sharp?

Seeing the doubt, Gu Fangzhi decided not to waste any more time, his fingers twitched, and the world rewound.

The scene reset to when the guards were just approaching.

This time, as the two guards came over, Gu Fangzhi handed over the papers and the bribe again, introducing himself cheerfully:
“Good sirs, you can call me Old Li. This here is my young master. He’s… uh, not very bright.”

Pei Xin: “……?”

Excuse me?!

Gu Fangzhi’s logic was simple:

If the “young master” was an idiot, then anything strange he did would make sense.

He could call himself a soldier, a tree, a mushroom, even “Snowball”, or a disgraced idol caught brawling in a nightclub before debut.

All would be consistent with the character.

Unfortunately, Pei Xin didn’t understand this act of self-sacrifice.

The proud young emperor held his head high, refusing to admit to being an idiot.

The guard’s suspicion began to rise again.

Gu Fangzhi’s eye twitched. “You stubborn fool!”

Pei Xin: “……”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the world suddenly darkened, Gu Fangzhi had reloaded again.

The timeline reset.

The guards walked up once more.

Gu Fangzhi handed over the same bribe and papers, spoke the same greeting, and this time, when the guards looked at Pei Xin, one asked, “He been in the army?”

“Almost,” Gu Fangzhi said, changing tactics.

“The master once planned to send the young lord to join the military. Even hired a teacher to train him. But he learned too slowly, and the army didn’t want him.”

The guard frowned. “Didn’t want him? Why?”

Gu Fangzhi sighed heavily, his tone full of grief. “Because he’s deaf and mute.”

Pei Xin: “……?”

That damned Gu Fangzhi, apparently fearing he might speak again, had just turned him into a deaf-mute.

The guard blinked. “He can’t hear?”

Gu Fangzhi replied smoothly, “He can hear a little. Not clearly. Mostly communicates with hand signs.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand and began gesturing rapidly to Pei Xin.

Except… he was completely making it up.

In fact, it was choreography he’d once practiced for a sign language song during a school open class, and what he was “signing” to Pei Xin right now was:

“How much I love, how much I weep.
Let heaven know, I will not surrender.”
(Note 1)

Pei Xin: “……”

This time, Pei Xin finally played along.

He silently signed back a reply.

His hands moved fast, his fingers agile and deliberate.

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

He couldn’t tell, was Pei Xin actually fluent, or just pretending?
And was he secretly insulting him through sign language?

One of the guards suddenly shouted sharply right behind Pei Xin’s ear.

It was loud enough to make anyone else jump, but Pei Xin only turned around slowly, calm as ever.

The guard asked, “What were you two just talking about?”

Gu Fangzhi quickly said, “My young master asked me to tell you, sirs, that he’s strong and obedient. We’ll take any kind of work.”

The guard hesitated.

Gu Fangzhi was ready to reload again if needed, but luckily, this time the guard didn’t question further.

He handed back their identity papers and waved them through.
“All right, go on in, go on.”

Gu Fangzhi beamed, bowing repeatedly as he tugged Pei Xin along, thanking them profusely.

The guards, watching the pair’s retreating backs, the frail scholar and the mute youth, thought to themselves: Neither looked capable of causing trouble, both seemed sturdy enough to work.

Exactly the kind of refugees they needed.

Nothing should go wrong… probably.

Inside Wucheng, a temporary camp had been built for refugees.

“Camp” was generous, they were little more than shacks of straw and mud, thrown together haphazardly along the outer wall.

A few women sat resting on the ground while older children ran about nearby.

“Hurry it up,” barked the soldier leading them. “Plenty of work waiting.”

Gu Fangzhi jogged up to him, and the soldier frowned. “What?”

Gu Fangzhi deftly slipped him another small piece of silver.

“Sir, which kind of work’s a little easier?”

The guard glanced down, bit the silver piece, rubbed it between his fingers, then his tone softened.

“Hauling goods, then. That’s better than wall repairs or digging the moat, just yesterday someone fell to their death doing that.”

He began counting on his fingers, listing places:

“South and North warehouses, Iron Horse Hall, Fourth Kiln Depot, Riverside Storage, Treasure Reserve…”

He rattled off a dozen names before asking, “So where you two headed?”

Gu Fangzhi: “……”

That many warehouses?

Surely among them were the grain and weapon depots they were looking for.

If this were a game interface, Gu Fangzhi could almost see the list of warehouse names appearing before him as selectable quest options.

He turned to Pei Xin. “Which one first?”

Pei Xin: “？”

Gu Fangzhi asked again, “You’re the protagonist, right? I’ve got decision paralysis.”

Pei Xin: “……？”

Was he… talking to him?

“I’m deaf and mute,” Pei Xin reminded him gently, staying in character.

The soldier jumped in alarm.

Gu Fangzhi calmly said, “It’s fine. I’ll just save.”

Pei Xin raised an eyebrow.

From that moment, Pei Xin understood —

Gu Fangzhi was planning to use his time-reversal magic again, which was why he dared to speak so openly even under enemy eyes.

So that’s what he called it… ‘saving.’

Strange name.

But on second thought, oddly fitting.

For now, though, Pei Xin pretended not to know.
Feigning curiosity, he asked, “What’s ‘saving’?”

The guard looked between them, suspicious.

Then, as if realizing something, he suddenly turned and began to run, likely to report them or call for reinforcements.

“That’s not important,” Gu Fangzhi said. “What matters is which warehouse we start with.”

Pei Xin replied evenly, “Go in order. Check each one. That’ll be fastest.”

Then, realizing his calm might seem suspicious, he added, pretending to be angry,

“Teacher, how dare you speak to me so casually! You forget your place! Guards! Arrest—”

Before he could finish, everything went dark.

That damned Gu Fangzhi hadn’t even let him finish his line before reloading again.

Pei Xin: “……”

His imperial aura roared with barely contained fury.

Moments later, the same guard who had fled now smiled pleasantly and asked,
“So, where are you two headed?”

Gu Fangzhi grinned. “The South Warehouse sounds nice. Let’s start there.”