Chapter 46 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Familiar Handwriting

That whole day, Diệp Sương and Thanh Việt were busy preparing for the upcoming trip - checking the entire observation station system with Vệ Chinh, meticulously instructing each alarm procedure for the youth group of Diêm Cốc village, and arranging their luggage as compactly as possible so as not to slow down the journey. Diệp Sương also took the opportunity to visit the small animal in the rock hole one last time before leaving, seeing that the wound had begun to heal, its eyes were no longer panicked like the first days but had gradually become accustomed to its presence, making Diệp Sương's heart both happy and heavy with an unnamed worry about having to separate from it sooner than expected.

It was not until it was completely dark that the two of them had time to sit together, review every detail in the pile of documents they had collected over the past few days, and mentally prepare for the upcoming important meeting with Elder Tạ Vân Khê.

The oil lamp in Thanh Việt's room burned until past midnight, the yellow light casting flickering shadows on the stone wall of two people bowing their heads at the table, surrounded by a bunch of papers spread out - old copies of pile symbols, a piece of ledger torn in the corner left by Chúc Nghi Lam, and Diệp Sương's own notes over the past four months.

"Look closely here," Diệp Sương said, pointing to the faint round seal printed below each symbol on the tablet. "Chúc Nghi Lam said this could be the confirmation stamp of the person in charge of the project. But the engraving is so faint, I can't read the words inside."

Thanh Việt picked up the paper, tilted it under the light from many different angles, his eyes squinted trying to distinguish each line that had been mostly eroded by time. "It looks like a single word, not a full name," he said after a moment. "This type of abbreviation... I have seen something similar in some official documents of the sect, especially documents stamped by the office of the council of elders."

Diệp Sương looked up. "What do you mean, this seal is not Khâm Vân Ti's?"

*

"I don't dare say for sure," Thanh Việt said, putting down the paper and gently rubbing his temples as if trying to remember something more specific. "But the style of abbreviations in the royal seal and the sect seal is quite different. Khâm Vân Ti often uses full letters or simple geometric symbols. As for this type of abbreviation in a circle, we have only seen it in high-level internal documents of the Tông Vân Các."

A long silence covered the room. Diệp Sương looked down at the piece of paper, feeling as if those faint lines were gradually closing into a tight ring around what she once believed.

"If that's true," he said, his voice quiet as if he was afraid he would hear what he was about to say, "then the Special Coordination Line is not just Khâm Vân Ti's private matter. Someone in the sect, high enough in rank to have internal documents stamped, was also involved."

"That doesn't mean the entire sect knows," Thanh Việt said quickly, as if a reflex wanting to reassure it, even though his own voice was not completely steady. "It could be just one or a few individuals, taking advantage of their position."

"Elder Húc," Diệp Sương muttered, recalling what Âu Bội Nhi had written in her letter—the discreet private meetings with Khâm Vân Ti's people and the push for stricter standards for unorthodox methods, as if trying to pave the way for something bigger.

*

"We have no direct evidence against him," Thanh Việt said, his voice cautious. "There's only a vague seal, a few rumors, a hunch from old stakes. If we rush to make accusations without enough grounds, we will only make things more confusing and even put ourselves in danger."

"But we can't rule out the possibility that it was someone else," Diệp Sương added, trying to keep her mind alert despite so many conjectures already rising in her heart. "Elder Húc is in charge of regulations and assessments, yes, but the high-level internal seal does not have to be used only by him. It can be anyone in the council, even..." He hesitated, not daring to finish his sentence.

"Even the Grand Master," Thanh Việt finished, his voice lowered because of how heavy that possibility was. "I know. That's why we need to be extremely careful, not letting any speculation turn into an accusation before we have enough solid evidence." Diệp Sương nodded, trying to stay calm. “So I think, we need to present everything as we see it — no inferences, no blaming anyone in particular — just the facts and let the council of elders investigate further.”

"But who on the council is worth presenting to?" Thanh Việt asked. "If Elder Húc is really involved, and he knows in advance that we are about to report, he can completely find a way to stifle everything before it reaches the others," Diệp Sương was silent for a moment, then replied with a firm voice. "Elder Tạ Vân Khê. You are the first person to believe in me, right from that night in Tùng Lĩnh Village. If there is one person in the sect I dare to bet my life on, it can only be you."

*

Thanh Việt nodded in agreement, but his eyes still held a trace of unresolved anxiety. "So we need a way to meet her privately, without going through an official channel, without anyone else on the council knowing in advance," he said. "I will write a short letter, sent in advance through General Sam's trusted messenger, asking her to arrange a private meeting as soon as we reach the foot of Vân Tiêu mountain."

"I'll write too," Diệp Sương said, already reaching for pen and paper. "But just a brief mention, no details, just a private meeting for important reasons related to the mission at Tiêu Sa Pass."

The two diligently wrote in silence for a long time, with only the sound of brushes rustling on paper and the light whistling of the night wind outside the window. When finished, Diệp Sương folded the letter, looked at Thanh Việt, a question suddenly appeared in her mind.

"Are you scared?" he asked softly. "If everything we suspect is true, then this is not just a small case of corruption. This could be a network large enough to swallow even people like us without leaving a trace."

*

Thanh Việt looked at her for a long time as the oil lamp cast a long shadow on the cliff. "I'm scared," he admitted, his voice unusually sincere. "But I'm more afraid that if we know this truth and still choose silence, another village will one day suffer the fate of Tùng Lĩnh or Diêm Cốc simply because we were too afraid to speak up." Diệp Sương nodded, a deep sympathy spreading between the two, with no need for more words to confirm it. She looked out the window toward the darkness of Hạn Thủy ravine and thought of the little creature recuperating in the rock hole, the old inkstone Mr. Tám Mực had given her lying in the wooden box, and everything she had gone through to reach this place.

"We'll go," he said, his voice regaining its familiar firmness. "The sooner the better. And this time, we won't let any documents fall into the wrong hands."

Outside, a shooting star streaked across the desert night sky, extinguishing before it could reach the horizon, like a vague omen that neither of them had the courage to name.

Diệp Sương packed all the documents into a layer of moisture-proof oilcloth, carefully sewed every seam, then hid it at the bottom of her luggage bag among old, worn clothes so no one would notice it. She thought of the little creature's notebook, still lying in the same place, and a moment of hesitation passed over her—not sure whether to take it with her or leave it behind. In the end, she decided to bring it along, telling herself that they were just private pages, had nothing to do with the big story ahead, and were not worth worrying about anymore.

She could not have imagined that small decision, made on a tiring night amid dozens of other worries, would become one of the things she regretted the most later.

Thanh Việt walked him to the door, gently touching his shoulder reassuringly. "Go to sleep," he said. "Tomorrow has a long way to go."

"Yes," Diệp Sương replied, but when she returned to her private room, she still lay awake for a long time, listening to the night wind whistling through the cracks in the stone wall, thinking of Tạ Vân Khê's face, of Húc Bá Nguyên's eyes during the exam last year, of all the faces of trust and doubt mixed together in her mind, until a fitful sleep came, bringing with it broken dreams of wooden stakes standing still in the barren land.