Chapter 299: Fairness

The blue-robed man’s voice was filled with delight, as if the boy’s words had struck a chord deep within him. He couldn’t help but laugh loudly and clap his hands in approval.

At this moment, the purple-robed young man, who had always worn an expression of compassion for the world, suddenly tensed. With a cold snort, he said, “Fifth Brother!”

The blue-robed man paid him no mind. He walked straight toward a middle-aged man who still had a faint breath of life left in him and picked up the dry rations and water beside him.

Lifting the water pouch first, he pulled out the stopper and supported the man’s upper body with one hand, chuckling softly. “Here, at least die with a full belly.”

Before the middle-aged man could refuse, the blue-robed man tilted the pouch and poured the water over his face, half-feeding, half-drenching him.

Even though he didn’t want to waste this precious water in his final moments, the long days of dehydration had left his body craving it desperately.

Unable to resist, he gulped down mouthfuls of the water with loud glug-glug sounds.

Before long, the water pouch was emptied. The blue-robed man casually tossed it aside, then single-handedly tore open the oil-paper package containing the dry rations.

Inside were neatly shaped red date cakes. Picking one up, he brought it to the middle-aged man’s lips and smiled lightly. “You’ve already drunk. Now, eat.”

Hearing this, the middle-aged man looked at the blue-robed man with teary eyes, then swallowed the cake whole without hesitation.

The feeding continued—one after another, he ate greedily.

By the time the package was empty, the man’s mouth was stuffed full of red date cakes. He struggled to swallow them, wanting to express his gratitude to the young noble who had fed him.

However, as if reading his thoughts, the blue-robed man leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You want to thank me, don’t you?”

The middle-aged man nodded vigorously, letting out a muffled “Mm!” In doing so, bits of cake sprayed from his mouth, some landing on the blue-robed man’s robes.

Feeling guilty, he instinctively reached out to brush them off. But before he could, a faint, mocking voice reached his ears once more.

“The one who gave you food and water is the current Third Prince. And I am the Fifth Prince. One of us will become emperor…”

“For someone on the verge of death, you’ve had quite the royal treatment, haven’t you?”

The middle-aged man’s pupils contracted sharply. His throat bobbed as if he wanted to speak, but he had forgotten—his mouth was still full of cake.

Choking in his panic, his body convulsed—and then, he simply collapsed, lifeless.

The blue-robed man let him fall to the ground, patted the dust off his robes, and sighed with mock sympathy. “Tragic… these refugees really are pitiful…”

“Kind people! Kind people!”

“Our fellow villagers… They went no more than eighty miles from here… searching for an immortal!

“If you happen to pass by, please… give them some food!”

“In these troubled times of Great Wu, only finding the immortals can save us!”

“Our village… originally had more than a hundred people. By the time we reached here, less than half remained. Who knows how much further the ones ahead can go… You’ve given us food and water.”

“You’re different from those rich folks. Please, have mercy. If you meet them, lend a hand—help them!”

“If Great Wu prospers again, it’ll be better for you, too!”

The voice was stifled, as if something was pressing against the speaker’s chest, neither rising nor sinking completely.

The blue-robed man followed the voice to a patch of overgrown weeds, about ten steps to his left. Pulling aside the vegetation, he glanced down and chuckled.

“Dead.”

The purple-robed young man pondered for a moment, then turned away. “Let’s go.”

The three distinguished figures moved swiftly, not pausing for even a moment. But as they neared their carriages, their peripheral vision caught something—Mr. Gu, who was supposed to board the ordinary carriage, had yet to catch up.

All three instinctively turned their heads—only to see Gu Ning’an crouching in the withered grass. Slowly, he rose, tucking a black, grimy cloth doll into his sleeve.

…

After traveling another thirty miles, night had fallen.

The group stopped at a secluded spot to rest.

Though the Black Gold Carriage had ample space—enough for a person to stand and move about inside—sitting all day without touching the ground left even the three nobles feeling uncomfortable.

As soon as they disembarked, they each stretched their bodies, easing their stiffened limbs.

The guards who had served as coachmen during the day swiftly resumed their roles as attendants the moment they stopped. They scattered—some tending to the fire, some keeping watch, and others disappearing into the dense forest.

Before long, one of the guards who had ventured into the woods returned, carrying two pagoda-shaped rosewood boxes.

When he began unstacking the layers, a rich aroma of food spread through the air.

Each pagoda box had nine tiers, and each tier contained a delicacy—eighteen exquisite dishes in total from the two boxes.

The food was carefully arranged on a gold-threaded nanmu wood table, which another guard had unloaded from the carriage in advance.

The table wasn’t large, just enough to hold the dishes. Around it, four matching nanmu wood chairs were neatly placed.

They were in the middle of the wilderness, yet before them was a banquet that even an upscale restaurant would struggle to match!

Staring at this scene of opulence, Gu Ning’an couldn’t help but recall the dying wail of the old woman from earlier that day—

“Behind the vermilion gates, wine and meat rot; out on the roads, the bones of the frozen poor lie.”

Refugees were starving, stripping the land bare of bark and grass roots, while these three “distinguished figures” feasted in a desolate area where not a single soul could be found within ten miles.

The blue-robed man was the first to take a seat. Picking up his chopsticks, he gestured toward Gu Ning’an with a smile.

“Mr. Gu, come eat—no need to be reserved!”

Beside him, the purple-robed man and the middle-aged scholar also took their seats in turn.

The former remained silent, while the latter politely extended the same invitation to Gu Ning’an.

Gu Ning’an, however, simply smiled, politely declined, and then sat on the ground. From his pack, he took out a thin flatbread and began eating.

At this, the expressions of the three “distinguished figures” varied—one indifferent, one amused, and one calm.

Before long, the blue-robed man set down his chopsticks, took a sip of tea, then cupped his hands toward Gu Ning’an and said:

“Mr. Gu, there is something I’d like to ask your insight on.”

Gu Ning’an replied, “Feel free to speak.”

The blue-robed man stood up, pointed toward the sky, and smirked.

“Tell me, why is the heavens so unfair?”

“The fortunate—living in the wild, yet indulging in the finest delicacies.”

“The unfortunate—giving their all, only to die as corpses abandoned in the wasteland?”

Hearing this, Gu Ning’an replied calmly:

“Fate is without mercy. From birth, people are divided into ranks.”

“The powerful rule above; the poor and lowly suffer below.”

“Yet, poverty lasts but a lifetime, and so does prosperity.”

“If one born in hardship can find peace and stability, they can still live a carefree life.”

“If one born into wealth and power is never satisfied, they will drown in their desires—until the day they die, when all turns to nothing. Looking back then, which of the two truly lived a more fulfilling life? That is a matter of perspective.”

“Furthermore, in my view, ‘fairness’ has never existed among noble families.”

“All standards of judgment lie in the hearts of people. When the heart is content, fairness exists. When the heart is never satisfied, injustice is found everywhere…”