Great Xia Domain, Qingyun Continent, Beiliang City.
A young boy of only six or seven curled beside a stone lion by the back gate of the Zhao manor.
In this world of ice and snow, he shivered in an ill-fitting, unlined robe.
Oddly enough, his eyes were covered by a strip of black cloth.
Above the black cloth showed a pair of sword-like brows; his nose was straight and tall, his lips somewhat thin.
From emaciation, his cheeks were particularly angular.
Creak—
The back gate of the Zhao manor swung open, followed immediately by a dull thud.
Thud!
A stiff corpse was tossed out from the gate.
The frail, small body crashed onto the ground, stamping a shallow hollow into the snow.
Wearing a thick padded coat, Zhao Qing hesitated, a flicker of pity surfacing in his eyes.
He tossed down four strings of copper coins and slipped the rest back into his sleeve.
Clatter!
Hearing the sound, the boy scrambled to his feet. Shaking the snow from his body, he forced a gentle smile onto his purplish, frostbitten face and spoke:
"Is that Brother Qing? Was that leftover food from the manor being tossed out?"
As he spoke, he crouched down, his red, frozen hands fumbling blindly in the snow.
The smile was still on his face when his hands brushed against a corpse, already frozen to the bone!
Li Guanqi's hands froze in midair. His lips trembled slightly, and his entire body shook.
A moment later, he fell to his knees, hands shaking as he reached toward the corpse's face.
His trembling fingers touched the girl's chin, then recoiled as if shocked by lightning!
He had felt a long scar—one their uncle had inflicted on his elder sister two years ago after losing money gambling while drunk.
"Sister..."
A faint, sorrowful murmur slipped from the boy's lips.
The smile was long gone. Two streams of tears welled up and spilled uncontrollably down his cheeks.
Paying no heed to the heavy goose-feather snow falling from the sky, he stripped off his only tattered hemp garment and wrapped it around the girl's body!
His gaunt, bony torso was exposed, covered in hideous scars, the bruises on his back still unhealed.
Reaching out with frostbitten hands, he gently stroked her hair.
Head lowered, the boy murmured hoarsely, "Maybe death is better... Living was just... pure suffering."
Ignoring the bone-chilling snow, the boy searched the ground for a long while, only to find four strings of coins.
Four strings of coins!
Rage instantly blazed in his chest, so fierce it seemed ready to tear him apart!
To think that even in death, his sister was denied her final shred of dignity...
Was money meant for the dead so easy to take?!
A gust of freezing wind blew past. Zhao Qing tightened his cuffs and couldn't help saying as he looked at the boy,
"Your sister had bad luck. Take the money and go home. Don't freeze to death here."
The boy tore away the black cloth, revealing a pair of pale, milky eyes.
He raised his head toward the sound of the voice, struggling with all his might to suppress the rage in his heart.
Yet his voice trembled slightly as he slowly extended his right hand and said softly, "When a servant dies unjustly, the masters pay ten strings!"
"This money... is my sister's final dignity. You shouldn't have taken it!"
Zhao Qing tucked his hands into his sleeves. The moment he heard the boy demand money, the pity vanished from his face.
With a cold face, he barked, "Little blind brat, take these four strings or leave them! Now beat it!"
With that, Zhao Qing turned to close the gate.
Only six years old and frail, Li Guanqi nevertheless showed a vicious resolve on his face!
He bounded up the stone steps of the Zhao manor, grabbed the man's hand, and shouted, "Give me what's owed!"
Zhao Qing's brow furrowed when he saw those frostbite-covered hands grab him.
A cold gleam flashed in his eyes. With one hand, he seized the boy by the hair and hurled him down the steps.
Crash!
The frail body slammed violently into the snow. Beneath the snow lay bluestone pavers;
even an ordinary slip would leave deep bruises, let alone being thrown half a zhang away.
Zhao Qing looked down at the fallen boy with a cold face and snarled, "Filthy blind brat! Take the corpse and scram!"
"If I hadn't taken pity on you, I wouldn't have even given you four strings!"
"Ptui!"
Just as Zhao Qing turned to head back inside, someone grabbed the hem of his coat from behind.
Turning around, he saw the boy, who had somehow gotten behind him and was clutching his hem with a death grip.
"Give me the money!!"
"This is the blood money for my sister's life!"
Fury rose in Zhao Qing's gut. He was about to strike when he looked down and saw those bloodshot, pale eyes!
Though those eyes were clearly blind, he felt as if they were staring right through him.
A chill crept up from the depths of Zhao Qing's heart. He glanced back at the girl who had been starved and worked to death.
In the end, Zhao Qing could not bring himself to do it. Lowering his raised fist, he pulled the remaining copper coins from his sleeve and shoved them into the boy's hands.
"Take them, take them! Fucking bad luck!"
Li Guanqi let go and numbly counted the coins in his hands.
Bang!
The manor gate slammed shut, and a somewhat childish voice drifted from within.
"Xiao Qing! What're you doing? Hurry up and go feed my birds!"
"Young Master Yuanlin, right away, right away!"
"What were you just doing?"
"..."
"Isn't it just a dead maid? It's nothing! Hurry up and tell that damn blind brat to get lost!"
Li Guanqi stared blankly toward the sky, sitting on the steps of the Zhao manor with the copper coins for a long, long time.
Stepping down from the stairs, he struggled to hoist the stiff corpse onto his back, then turned and walked away.
Crunch... crunch...
That was the sound of Li Guanqi's feet treading upon the snow—slow and swaying.
All of this was witnessed by an old man in a restaurant more than a dozen zhang away.
The old man wore a plain grey robe; his hair and beard were completely white.
His nose was tall and straight, his lips thin without looking the least bit severe, and his brow bore not a trace of decrepitude; instead, his eyes were extraordinarily clear.
On the table sat a few small dishes and a pot of warm wine.
Watching the boy feel his way along the wall as he moved forward, the old man's hand holding the wine cup froze in midair.
A faint, barely perceptible gleam flashed in his eyes as he looked at the boy, and he murmured softly, "To think that the raw seed I've searched for over hundreds of years would turn out to be a little blind boy..."
"Ah well, perhaps this is the will of Heaven."
Then, rising slowly, he called out in a mellow, resonant voice, "Waiter, the bill!"
In the dead of winter, the northern wind cut to the bone.
To young Li Guanqi, each gust of freezing wind felt like daggers stabbing into him.
He rested several times along the way. By the time night fell, he set the stiff corpse down before the entrance of a clinic.
The grey-robed old man was also lightly dressed, yet the swirling wind and snow parted on their own as they neared him.
"She is already dead, her three souls and seven spirits having entered the cycle of reincarnation. Why come to a clinic?"
"I'm getting medicine for my mother... not for her..."
Before long, the boy had a few packets of medicinal herbs in hand. He hoisted the corpse onto his shoulders with great effort and continued on his way.
Next, he arrived at a small shop with white silk hanging over the door.
After a while, the boy emerged carrying an earthen jar.
Pasted upon it was a slip of paper:
'Li Cuiwei.'
He wrapped it in the girl's pink clothes. From start to finish, not much emotion showed on his face.
On the way, he also picked up two steamed buns, hard as bricks, outside a bun shop.
At that moment, a faint smile actually appeared on his face.
This left the old man following behind completely puzzled. Why did the death of his own sister elicit so little emotional disturbance,
save for his stubborn insistence that the Zhao manor servant had skimped on the compensation?
Holding his sister's ashes, the boy had shown no expression, yet he smiled just because he found two discarded steamed buns.
The old man's curiosity was thoroughly piqued, and he continued trailing behind him.
Suddenly!
In the midst of the wind and snow, the old man paused, looking up toward the sky.
With a calm expression, he murmured softly, "Tsk, tsk. I only tore down a sect a while back, yet the State Preceptor of the Beiliang Kingdom comes in person?"
"A mere Nascent Soul... Might as well meet him, saving us both the trouble."
Whoosh!
The old man took a single step, crossing tens of li in an instant to appear inside a wilderness pavilion.
There, an elder in a brocade robe had already warmed wine and brewed tea, seemingly having waited for a long time.
Seeing him appear, the State Preceptor of the Beiliang Kingdom hurriedly rose and bowed, saying respectfully, "Greetings, Senior..."
In the south of Beiliang City, inside a dilapidated little courtyard where even the front gate could not shut properly,
the boy stood at the door and hesitated for a long time before finally taking a deep breath, pushing open the door, and stepping inside.
Creak—
Not a single lamp was lit inside the pitch-black room. The house was bare to the walls, and the window paper was riddled with tears, left unmended for lack of money.
On the cold earthen kang bed, a dark shadow stirred slightly, followed by a faint, weak voice:
"Guanqi... is that you?"
The woman's voice was very gentle, yet extraordinarily frail.
The speaker was none other than Li Guanqi's mother, Song Wanrong.
As she sat up, her face was haggard and her cheeks sunken, yet her eyes were filled with tender warmth when she looked at the boy.
Glancing around by the moonlight, she asked softly, "Where is Cuiwei?"
Rummaging through a drawer for a candle, Li Guanqi's body stiffened. He lit the wick, and the candlelight illuminated the solitary earthen jar beside him.
Turning his head away, not daring to look, he spoke in a dry, cracked voice: "Sister Cuiwei... is dead. The Zhao manor paid ten strings of copper coins in compensation."
"I got all the money back. I hid it away to treat Mother's illness."
With that, the boy pulled the steamed buns—partially thawed by his body heat—from his breast and offered them to Song Wanrong.
Fumbling for the medicinal herbs, he headed toward the kitchen, his voice raspy. "I'll go brew Mother's medicine."
Song Wanrong gently took Li Guanqi's hand and placed the buns back into his palm.
Holding back her tears, she said, "Mother... Mother isn't hungry. You eat."
Her withered hair concealed most of her face, but Li Guanqi heard the patter of tears falling upon the matting.
Just as the two were immersed in sorrow—
Bang!!
The door was kicked open. A biting gust of freezing wind rushed into the room, making the boy shiver—whether from the cold or from fear.
The intruder was Li Guanqi's distant uncle, Li Dashan.
Short in stature, Li Dashan wore a dark navy padded coat. With prominent jowls, triangular eyes, and an aquiline nose,
his entire countenance looked vicious. Before even stepping across the threshold, his sinister voice carried in from afar:
"Motherfucker! Where's the money?!"