Qingyuan Village had barely twenty households in total, sparsely scattered, and news rarely traveled quickly.
On the road, Changsheng’s mother happened to run into Qinglian as she was discarding medicine dregs, and after some prying, learned that Zhou Cuiniang was ill.
After overhearing this, Luoyan scratched the palm of Zhuyun’s hand. “Take me to see Qingcao.”
“If Liu Changsheng’s coming, I’m not going.”
“I won’t bring him.” Luoyan was puzzled. “Why does Changsheng upset you so much?”
Zhuyun fell silent, as if he’d swallowed his tongue, and quietly climbed over the wall to leave.
After a few steps, he obediently came back and, before Luoyan could get angry, grabbed her and dragged her along.
She straightened her collar and said thoughtfully, “I’m still a girl. Next time, don’t drag me around like some object.”
“…”
The night was deep.
The black dog guarding the gate was dozing, letting out soft snores.
Inside, a lamp burned dimly, casting the small, thin figure sitting motionless by the bed onto the windowpane.
Her shoulders trembled constantly, as if she were crying.
Luoyan asked softly, “Is Uncle Liu and Qingcao not home?”
“Mm.” Zhuyun could only hear the three of them breathing. Two of them inhaled more than they exhaled.
She was pondering how to call Qinglian out when the little girl took a lantern and quietly went toward the roadside, tiptoeing to peek down the slope.
“Qinglian—” Luoyan hurried after her. “I heard your mother is sick?”
At the sight of Luoyan, Qinglian cried even harder, shaking her head and then nodding, stubbornly refusing to speak.
Luoyan had no choice but to change the subject. “What about your older sister? Why isn’t she home this late?”
Qinglian still pouted and cried, which melted Luoyan’s heart.
She quickly pulled the girl into her arms and gently comforted her.
Zhuyun urged, “Answer the question.”
Startled by his sharp tone, the girl stopped crying immediately and timidly hid behind Luoyan. “Father took my sister to the town.”
Luoyan assumed it was to buy medicine and breathed a sigh of relief, then sent the calming Qinglian back.
But when her gaze swept over the carpenter’s house—with its nearly ruined roof and dilapidated furniture—she suddenly felt uncertain.
Would a man who drank so heavily really care enough to treat his wife?
Did he even have the money to hire a doctor?
Zhuyun noticed her thoughts and said casually, “He should have taken them to see the midwife.”
“Midwife?” Luoyan’s voice trembled, and her fingertips began to shake. “Is he going to sell Qingcao?”
As soon as she said this, she had her answer.
The carpenter had three daughters: the eldest was already married off; the younger ones were not very clever.
Qingcao was the most valuable.
Selling a daughter to pay for his wife’s treatment wasn’t out of deep love or righteousness, but because Zhou Cuiniang could work the fields and weave—she was more useful.
“Zhuyun, do you think Qingcao’s already been sold?”
Zhuyun couldn’t answer. Seeing her red eyes, he coaxed softly, “I remember the midwife’s face. If you’re really worried, I’ll go to town and check.”
Luoyan quickly took off her newly acquired gold bracelet and reached for the jade hairpin in her bun, intending to stuff everything into his hands.
Suddenly, drunken curses drifted up from the slope below.
Liu Mujiang grabbed Luoyan by the back collar, about to drag her away.
Remembering her earlier request, he instead lifted her by the waist.
They had just hidden when Liu Mujiang stomped into the yard, kicking over a dustpan. “Useless thing.”
Qingcao made a gesture to her peeking sister, signaling her not to come out. Then she knelt and begged, “I can read many words. I’ll go find Auntie. Please don’t sell me.”
In a flash of thought, she remembered the midwife’s casual complaint and added, “Father, if it really doesn’t work, you can sell me to the Jia family.”
Liu Mujiang emptied a jar of wine, found it empty, and angrily threw it at her. “They want a noble-born government slave girl.”
Tears dripped from Luoyan’s eyes, warm and heavy, landing on Zhuyun’s hand.
He was indifferent to the bickering below but couldn’t ignore the sobbing girl beside him.
He drew a dagger and twirled it skillfully, calling to her, “Yanyan.”
“Hmm?”
“Would killing him make you feel better?”
Luoyan was stunned by the question, thinking she’d imagined it, but Zhuyun clearly seemed eager.
“It’s new and sharper than the last one. It won’t make a sound.”
She wiped away her tears immediately and said very seriously, “Zhuyun, this isn’t funny.”
He wasn’t joking.
Zhuyun pursed his lips but persisted, “If you kill Liu Mujiang, you can keep being Qingcao’s master, wouldn’t that be good?”
“Good my foot.” Luoyan had completely stopped crying. She plucked a fruit and handed it to him. “Can you just knock him out but not hurt him badly or…”
Before she could finish, Liu Mujiang had already fainted to the ground.
Qingcao was first surprised, then smiled with relief.
Using all four limbs, she scrambled up and took her terrified sister by the hand to check on their mother.
Zhuyun clapped his hands and buried his face with a hint of irritation, blaming Luoyan in his heart for using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
But he had forgotten Luoyan wasn’t trained in martial arts, and the darkness was complete, so he couldn’t see a thing.
She reached out to his collarbone, then down his arm, slipping the jewelry into his hand quietly.
“I want to dig a shallow hole to bury the bracelet, then let the two sisters find it.”
Zhuyun’s ears flushed. “Take your hand away.”
“Oh.”
He boldly entered the yard, first kicking the black dog’s rear.
“Don’t make a sound.”
Then he used the sword sheath to dig a shallow hole, buried the items, went into the kitchen to grab some steamed buns, tore them apart and scattered them, then kicked the dog again. “Eat.”
Sure enough, Qinglian appeared, drawn by the noise.
Seeing the little dog dig out the shining object from the dirt, she hurried to call her sister.
Luoyan was actually quite afraid they would turn the items over to Liu Mujiang.
She clung to Zhuyun’s arm and wouldn’t let go. “Let me watch a little longer. Just a little.”
Fortunately, Qingcao did not disappoint.
She carefully collected the bracelet and warned her sister, “If you want to still have a mother, never let Father know.”
The heavy stone in Luoyan’s heart finally lifted. She wiped her face and looked up. “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”
Zhuyun lowered his eyes and saw a faint pink tint on her eyelids, oddly like the peach blossom pastry they had bought earlier.
On impulse, he reached out and rubbed it.
Luoyan blinked. “?”
He licked his lips and looked away. “Let’s go home.”
Near the end of the Hour of the Ox, Zhuyun was awakened by a sharp whistle.
He listened carefully for a moment.
It wasn’t close by, so it was likely the Lan Yue Tower people, unable to find him, using this method to lure him out.
He had been “secluded” in Qingyuan Village for months, eager to test his skills.
Now the target had come knocking, there was no reason not to respond.
Zhuyun got up and dressed, tying his long whip around his waist and taking up his sword. Before leaving, he went into the next room as usual.
The girl’s breathing was steady, her hands wrapped around a crescent-shaped bolster, cheek resting on it, clearly sleeping soundly.
Zhuyun flicked her slightly puckered lips with his finger and said softly, “I’m going out for a while. Maybe I’ll be back soon. Maybe… a bit later.”
After a brief hesitation, he pressed on Luoyan’s sleeping acupoint so she wouldn’t wake and find him gone, avoiding any tantrums.
He followed the first whistle sound southward but then heard another whistle from the north, realizing the Lan Yue Tower was playing “needle in a haystack.”
Not bothering to look back, he continued south.
His figure blended perfectly into the darkness.
When he stopped atop a treetop, thirteen men stood below, none sensing his presence.
The leader was Jialiu.
The whistle pierced his ears painfully, causing him to frown.
Yisi, adept at reading situations, waved his men to back off and asked with a smile, “Is the young master really still alive?”
“Of course.” Jialiu was annoyed but couldn’t keep quiet. “The divine doctor said the young master stole a lot of good stuff from the pharmacy. He won’t die that easily.”
“But that was Yuan Yang Nuan.”
“I told you the divine doctor said so. Why are you arguing with me?”
Yisi quickly bowed in apology. Once Jialiu went to patrol elsewhere, he spat at his back.
Above in the tree, Zhuyun took in their reactions.
He guessed the divine doctor must have revealed publicly that Yuan Yang Nuan could be refined, and was certain he wasn’t dead.
After killing several “elders,” Jialiu’s rank as a disciple had fallen from grace. Outwardly, they remained respectful, but inwardly, they were unconvinced.
People like Yisi often whispered, “Is the thirteen-year-old just too strong, or are some of us just too weak?”
But the most intriguing was still the divine doctor.
Zhuyun crushed a special pill made in the tower, scattering it as he walked.
Once certain he was far from Hanmei Town, he sat cross-legged on a boulder.
After about half an hour, rustling noises came from the forest.
Jialiu spotted the calm, collected boy from afar and knew he was deliberately luring them here.
His scalp tightened.
But the Tower Lord’s orders must be obeyed, so Jialiu stealthily moved two steps and called out, “Xiao Qi—”
Before he finished, a bamboo leaf shot straight at his face.
Jialiu was ready and pulled a disciple to stand in front of him.
The leaf sliced a long wound across the disciple’s throat, killing him instantly.
Seeing this, the others appeared, attempting to negotiate. “The Tower Lord didn’t issue a kill order.”
“Don’t bother telling him.” Jialiu quietly retreated, sighing. “For the sake of knowing each other over ten years, show mercy.”
Zhuyun smiled faintly. “One by one, or all at once?”
Jialiu closed his eyes in despair as the sounds of clashing swords rang out, then fell silent again.
He dared not move rashly.
Soon, a soft, icy whip wrapped around his neck.
As the pressure tightened, his face turned blue.
Just as he planned to curse Zhuyun on his deathbed, the grip loosened.
Was today’s worship to the Bodhisattva really effective?
“Cough cough cough.” Jialiu collapsed weakly. From this angle, the boy’s expression was grave. Could he be planning some half-deadly trick?
Jialiu’s alarm bells rang loudly, forcing his eyes open. Instead, he found Zhuyun—cleaning his shoes.
“?”
Zhuyun felt a bit annoyed. He should have worn an old pair out.
Jialiu, realizing it was a chance to live, spoke up. “If you wash it several times with wood ash, the bloodstains come out. Hmm, I just happen to have some.”
Knowing Jialiu was fastidious, Zhuyun didn’t doubt it, holding out his hands to receive the porcelain bottle and pouring it over the soiled embroidery.
“Xiao Qi.” Jialiu lowered his tone. “The Tower Lord sent me only to deliver a message.”
“Speak.”
“When you’re done playing, come back.”
Zhuyun stood and smiled indifferently. “Tell him for me that the divine doctor must come see me within ten days.”
With that, he tossed the bottle down and left.
Back in the room, Zhuyun heard the faintest breath.
Still steeped in killing intent, he instinctively drew his sword.
When he met Luoyan’s bewildered gaze, he quickly sheathed it, but still left a half-finger-long cut on her delicate neck.
His pupils narrowed sharply. “You… why are you awake?”