He stole from so many people every day—how could he possibly remember someone like He Lingchuan after a single fleeting encounter?
"Give me back my things!"
"Sold 'em! Traded 'em for food!" The boy patted his belly. "Right in here!"
He Lingchuan gave a sinister grin, drew his long saber, and pressed the dull spine of the blade against the boy's belly, sliding it upward. "If you ate mine, squeeze it right back out for me!"
The icy bite of the metal frightened the boy so badly he shrank back, screeching, "Panlong City has laws! You can't kill me!"
"If Panlong City has laws, how dare you steal?" Young as the brat was, he was an incorrigible habitual thief. He Lingchuan turned to the woman. "What did you lose?"
"An IOU and an expiation writ."
An expiation writ? He Lingchuan paused. How could a commoner's family possess something like that?
The woman shook the boy as if he were a little wooden puppet. "Who sent you to rob my house?"
The boy shook his head. "Nobody! I was hungry and looking for something to eat. Your place was so poor there wasn't even a single grain of rice, so I just grabbed whatever."
"You know how to read? Or did someone write out the characters for 'expiation writ' beforehand so you could recognize them?" The woman sounded amused. "Otherwise, with all the books in my room, why didn't you just grab one of those at random?"
A six- or seven-year-old thief who could read would be a marvel indeed.
The boy fell silent, clamping his mouth shut tighter than a clamshell, though his eyes said: *What can you do to me?*
"Who did you take the expiation writ to?"
The boy blinked.
He Lingchuan took out a bit of broken silver from his robes and dangled it before the boy's eyes. Before he could speak, however, the woman pushed his hand back. "No need to ask. Hand him straight over to the authorities; they have people whose job it is to question him."
"They'll get it out of him?" It was the first time He Lingchuan had seen someone express such faith in the authorities' efficiency.
"An expiation writ is no small matter. Stealing such a thing is a desecration of the heroic dead. Once the authorities take the case, they'll punish it severely." The woman patted the boy's head. "He's too young to have his hand chopped off, so they'll probably tattoo characters in ink on his face instead, a permanent reminder to everyone that he's a thief."
If words were branded onto his face, how could he ever survive in Panlong City? Terrified, the boy softened immediately. "Big sister... Young lady, please have mercy! I didn't mean to!"
He turned to plead with He Lingchuan, tears brimming in his eyes. "I have a three-year-old sister! If I'm locked up, she won't have anything to eat!"
He Lingchuan remained a cold bystander. His own loss was negligible; he would let the primary victim deal with the brat.
The woman was unmoved. "Where is my expiation writ? Who has it?"
"In the west of the city... by Cheng Lake. Liu Tailai has it! Everyone calls him Two Sticks!"
"So it's him." The woman nodded.
Just then, several patrol constables walked past. The woman waved them over, pointing at the boy and stating that the thief had burglarized seven households.
The boy was furious. "I told the truth! Why are you still turning me over to the law?"
"If I don't turn you over, how will I recover my stolen property?" she said mildly. "I'm just a weak woman—do I have the ability to snatch an expiation writ back from Liu Two-Sticks?"
Hearing "expiation writ," the two constables were visibly shocked. "This kid actually stole an expiation writ?"
"He confessed that Liu Tailai, Liu Two-Sticks from the west of the city, was behind it. That scoundrel runs usurious loans. Before my brother died, he owed him a large sum. He wanted to force me to keep paying off the debt, so he sent this brat to steal the expiation writ."
Listening from the side, He Lingchuan found the plot rather familiar.
The woman pointed at He Lingchuan again. "The little thief also robbed six other households nearby. This gentleman is a victim too; he lost a bundle of firewood and two fish."
The constables noted everything down carefully, then asked, "What is your name?"
"Sun Fuling."
"We'll take him in first. If we have any more questions, we'll come find you."
From the look on the constables' faces, He Lingchuan could tell their sole concern was the expiation writ.
With that, the two constables escorted the boy away.
He Lingchuan watched his short, skinny back. "He begged so pitifully, I thought you'd soften up."
Women were prone to softheartedness—Madam Ying, for instance.
"A city has its laws. If everyone lets soft hearts lead to personal favoritism, they display petty benevolence while abandoning true righteousness."
He Lingchuan felt a surge of respect.
The woman paused a moment before adding, "Besides, last time he was caught stealing on Maliu Street, he used the exact same excuse."
She turned back to push open a door—the door right next to He Lingchuan's.
"You live here too?" Separated by only a single wall.
Come to think of it, he had never paid attention to who lived next door, only catching a glimpse of a child in the neighbor's house to the east on the night of Emperor's Flowing Dew. This woman, however, was his western neighbor.
In any case, this was only a dream, wasn't it?
"Yes, it seems we're neighbors." The woman glanced at his wooden door. "The brat came specifically for my expiation writ, but he swiped your belongings along the way. I'm sorry."
No sooner had she spoken than He Lingchuan heard a loud rumbly gurgle.
Holding a hand over her lower abdomen, the woman took a step back. Though she wore a veil, He Lingchuan could practically see her embarrassment.
Remembering what the little thief had just said—"there wasn't even a single grain of rice in your house"—He Lingchuan's heart stirred. He casually pulled out an oiled-paper bundle and offered it over. "Here. A thank-you gift for catching the thief."
The woman intended to decline, but catching the aroma wafting from the oiled paper, she accepted it after all. "Thank you!"
After eating and drinking his fill, He Lingchuan had packed up a portion of lotus leaf chicken from Yixiang Restaurant, intending to treat himself to a late-night snack. It was the restaurant's signature dish, prepared with seven spices, including sand ginger powder brought into the city by traveling merchants; it was savory, umami-rich, and succulent. He Lingchuan had devoured a whole chicken himself without having his fill.
The woman must have smiled, for He Lingchuan saw her almond-shaped eyes crinkle into crescents. Then the two bid each other farewell and pushed open their respective doors.
Throughout the afternoon, He Lingchuan focused on practicing martial arts in his yard, while next door remained quiet, not a sound to be heard, just as it had always been.
He didn't think much of it either. The Panlong Wasteland had fierce wind, driving sand, and blistering sunlight. Though Panlong City was situated on the Chipa Plateau, it was not exempt. Many people here had the habit of wearing a face veil whenever they went outside, leaving only their eyes exposed to ward off wind, sand, and harsh glare; he saw people dressed like that on the streets all the time.
As the sun neared the horizon, he heard a knock on the woman's door, followed by voices speaking.
He Lingchuan had keen hearing; standing in his own yard, he could catch the dialogue.
It was the constables paying a visit, once again inquiring into details from the victim and assuring her that the case would be investigated to the very end to give the martyr's family justice.
Then they departed.
He Lingchuan finished his cultivation session, took a cold rinse, and had just pulled on his trousers when his courtyard gate suddenly sounded.
The people he knew should all be lying drunk at home at this hour.
He opened the gate and looked out. Standing outside was a young woman of seventeen or eighteen. Though clad in plain, unadorned robes, she was pretty enough to have stepped out of a painting.
An unfamiliar face? He Lingchuan blinked in surprise. "May I ask who you're looking for?"
The girl smiled at him, a tiny dimple surfacing on her left cheek.
"I'm Sun Fuling." She lifted her chin, perfectly poised and at ease. "Your neighbor."
"Oh!" He Lingchuan looked closer, and indeed, those almond-shaped eyes were familiar.
She was carrying a bundle of firewood in her left hand, and upon seeing He Lingchuan, promptly thrust it forward. "I heard water splashing. You probably don't have firewood or charcoal to heat water and warm yourself, right? Courtesy demands reciprocity."
Since she called it a return gift, He Lingchuan accepted the bundle.
It was a large bundle, quite heavy.
"The lotus leaf chicken was delicious." The female neighbor nodded to him. "It's Yixiang Restaurant's specialty, must've been expensive, right?"
He Lingchuan blurted out, "How did you know it was from Yixiang Restaurant?"
"...There was a mark printed inside the oiled paper."
"Oh." He didn't know where his real-world glib tongue had vanished to. In reality, "He Lingchuan" could tease unmarried maidens and young wives without batting an eye, bantering effortlessly.
The two lapsed into an awkward silence.
The female neighbor shifted her feet first. "Well then, see you around..."
By some strange impulse, He Lingchuan inexplicably spoke up: "Do you want to come in and sit for a bit?"
Every time he entered the dream, he was either cultivating or fighting; he had hardly ever had a proper conversation with an ordinary resident of Panlong City.
Her almond-shaped eyes crinkled again.
"Sure."
The woman followed He Lingchuan into the small courtyard and looked around.
The weather was cold, but the room was simply too cramped; with a bed inside, there was no room to sit down unless both sat on the bed. That was obviously too improper, so He Lingchuan brought out the only wooden stool and said casually, "Please, have a seat. I'll get you a cup of water."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he froze. No fire had been lit in the courtyard all day—where would boiled drinking water come from?
Offer a guest unboiled water?
There was wine in the room—good wine. But if he brought out wine, wouldn't it look like he had ulterior motives?
The female neighbor waved her hand considerately. "No need, really. I'm not thirsty."
Still, He Lingchuan went into the kitchen to carry out a small stove, starting a fire to boil water and warm them both up in the process. "Your brother was Sun Jiayuan?"
"Yes, the pension has already been delivered." Sun Fuling cast her gaze over him. "That you survived shows you're more capable than he was."
"Just good luck." *Just relying on the fact that I can't die in this dream.*
He thought to himself that Sun Jiayuan's sister was remarkably pretty, bearing no resemblance to him whatsoever. In particular, when she looked up, her eyes shone with an alert brightness that seemed capable of peering straight into a person's soul.
"When your brother fell, I was right there. In fact, I nearly shared his fate." He Lingchuan poked at the ashes in the stove hearth. "Before he died a martyr, he specifically asked us whether becoming a hero would wipe out his old debts."
To his surprise, Sun Fuling's gaze and tone were equally unruffled. "He was truly hopeless, to come up with an idea like that."
There was quite a bit of ash, and He Lingchuan almost sneezed. "At least he got the remaining debts wiped clean so they wouldn't fall on you. By the way, did Sun Jiayuan live here too? I don't recall ever seeing him around."
"No, he lived in an earth-grade house," Sun Fuling said indifferently. "What right does someone drowning in rotten debt have to live in a wood-grade house?"
An earth-grade house was the lowest tier of housing in Panlong City, only a cut above a slave's hovel. The entire place measured about six square meters, barely fitting a bed, with remaining space hardly enough for a grown adult to stretch their legs.
If He Lingchuan's wood-grade house was a residence for commoners, an earth-grade house was the standard for the destitute.
"Still, he would occasionally come over to scrounge a meal." Curiosity sparked in Sun Fuling's eyes. "I heard from Miss Willow that after my brother was killed, you jumped into the burrow spiders' nest too?"
"Yeah." The fire was going, so He Lingchuan quickly set the kettle over it and poured in water.
*This fire is burning far too slowly.*
"Then did you see Zhu Erniang? The leader of the burrow spiders." Sun Fuling held out her hands by the fire to warm them. The firelight reflected in her eyes, dancing in bright, glittering flickers, delightfully playful.
Chapter 207