The Notorious Outlaw

Liu Chengzong waded anxiously into the shallow, meandering river, lifting the hem of his fur-lined red armor skirt and crouching down to plunge the water skin into the icy flow with trembling hands.

In the second month of the year, the river was rimmed with ice flowers; the water was bone-chilling, so cold it made his teeth ache, and as it slid down his throat, it felt as if an invisible hand clutched his windpipe.

Rising, he stepped back a few paces, squinting as his gaze drifted past the dry riverbed and withered grass on the opposite bank, reaching toward the distant, undulating ridges of barren mountains.

The drought had changed the face of northern Shaanxi.

Only after a while, when the faintness from hunger in his belly subsided a little, did he press a hand to the hilt of his wild-goose-feather saber and trudge across the cracked sandbanks of the riverbed, heading for the official road.

Beside the road, a dried-up tree was tethered to a Mongolian piebald horse.

The horse was docile, though a little too thin, making its head look oversized. A few months ago, its long forelock had been pure white, and it was called Three-Fats.

But later, its owner had a fit of madness and dyed its forelock bright red with cinnabar, and its name was changed accordingly—to Red Banner.

Red Banner carried quite a load: bridle and saddle, of course, but also a bow and arrows slung on its left haunch, and two wild geese tied to the right.

Beneath the geese lay a lean, black-haired Shaanxi greyhound. Like Red Banner, its fate had also ch