He Lingchuan looked up to see an old woman walking over, looking this way and that with a slightly pigeon-toed gait.
She was scrawny and withered, yet her belly protruded slightly, instantly reminding He Lingchuan of a dried-up tree stump by a riverbank.
"Are you the shopkeeper?"
When she spoke, her voice sounded surprisingly much younger than her appearance. He Lingchuan also noticed she had a full set of teeth; she didn't seem quite as old as she looked.
"You could say that," he answered honestly. "I only just took over this shopfront. It'll probably be some time before it reopens."
"What are you going to sell?" The old woman touched this and rummaged through that, making herself entirely at home.
"I don't know yet." He had neither the time nor the energy to run a shop in a dream realm, so he planned to entrust it to the authorities to lease out and just collect the rent each quarter. "And you are...?"
"I... I collect things." The old woman's eyes swept across the piles of clutter, darting up and down, sharp and alert without the slightest sign of fading eyesight.
For some reason, He Lingchuan thought she resembled an otter on a dry riverbed. That creature also loved lingering amidst piles of debris it had gathered itself.
It was just that she was too thin, her eyes slightly bulging and webbed with bloodshot veins.
"Do you still want all this?" the old woman asked in a dry rasp. "If not, give it to me, eh?"
"I don't want it. Take whatever you like."
Right away, the old woman bowed to him with clasped hands. "Kind soul, kind soul! Heaven will surely bless you!"
That was overly polite.
Before long, He Lingchuan saw that she had brought a handcart from somewhere and parked it outside the door, then came back inside to haul things away.
First, she carried out a jar.
This jar was coated in a thick layer of yellow mud and dust, tucked away under two nested tables that were further concealed behind a folding screen. When He Lingchuan had first taken inventory, he hadn't noticed it at all; he had no idea how the old woman had spotted it.
He couldn't resist asking, "What use is that jar?"
"Pick... pickling vegetables."
The jar wasn't particularly large, holding at most five to seven jin of liquor; every pickle jar He Lingchuan had ever seen was bigger than this.
"Shall I help you carry it?" he asked out of pure goodwill.
The old woman clutched the jar even tighter, looking terrified that he might snatch it back. "No need, no need!"
Then she hauled off two incense burners, several inkstones, and took a row of ceramic figurines.
The craftsmanship of these figurines was crude, and He Lingchuan always felt they were glaring with malicious intent. The shop's former owner had probably felt the same way, tossing them into the storeroom out of sight, out of mind.
Yet the old woman was delighted with them, chuckling cheerfully. "These are nice. I'll take them back for my sons to play with."
He Lingchuan almost asked how old her sons were to still be playing with such things, when a loud crash suddenly came from outside—someone had knocked the handcart over.
The old woman let out a cry and hurried out.
Several items on the cart had tumbled to the ground, and the jar had rolled several times.
He Lingchuan immediately saw that a large patch of the mud crust had flaked off the jar, revealing a grayish-white, yellowish substrate underneath.
A jar of this color didn't seem very common in Panlong City, did it?
The old woman felt heartbroken over it. She picked up the jar and turned it over twice to inspect it, letting out a breath only when she found no further damage.
Right then, someone else approached from the side and greeted He Lingchuan.
"A'luo?" He Lingchuan asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Heading to the apothecary ahead to pick up medicine." A'luo pointed back over his shoulder. "The goods were ordered a few days ago and only arrived today. Is this your shop?"
"Yeah."
"Only coming to clean it up today? Looks like you're not strapped for cash." Every day sooner the shop was leased out was a day sooner rent could be collected.
While the two spoke, the old woman stood up.
Perhaps because she had squatted for too long, she swayed twice upon standing and nearly fell over.
A'luo reached out and steadied her.
Once steady on her feet, the old woman gripped the cart handles and began pushing it forward.
"Old woman, you're only taking this much?" Looking over, the two saw barely anything in the cart.
"I can't carry much anyway," the old woman said pragmatically. "Leave the rest for others."
A'luo's expression and gaze turned somewhat strange. He asked her, "Are you alright?"
"Fine." The old woman pushed the cart, eager to leave.
A'luo clamped down on the cart handle. "You're pregnant. You know that, right?"
At those words, He Lingchuan was thoroughly startled.
Pregnant? This old woman?
The old woman froze for a moment as well, but quickly snapped, "None of your business! Stop meddling!"
She looked furious and was clearly aware of her condition, so A'luo had no choice but to let go and watch her push the cart away.
Her figure soon vanished around the street corner, never looking back once.
He Lingchuan scratched the back of his head. "What did you just say? She's pregnant?"
"Yes. I caught her pulse, even if only for a second."
"Could it be..." a mistake?
Catching A'luo's look, however, He Lingchuan immediately switched tracks. "How many months along?"
He had noticed earlier that her belly stuck out a bit, but plenty of elderly folk looked like that, so he hadn't thought much of it.
Who would have thought it was something so bizarre?
"About four or five months."
Anyone hearing this would draw a sharp breath—it was truly impossible to tell at a glance.
A'luo shook his head. "All I know is that her pulse was firm to the point of being restless. The fetuses in her womb are so active there's even a risk of miscarriage, but thankfully they're robust."
"'Fetuses'?" He Lingchuan was astonished. "She's carrying more than one?"
"At least two," A'luo said. "Do you take me for an immortal? How could I know the exact number from a single touch?"
Suddenly, a voice chimed in from the side: "Are you sure? Sister-in-law Ji is with child?"
The two turned to see the shopkeeper of the fur shop next door and his wife standing at their entrance, their faces full of disbelief.
"Sure of what?" A'luo had a short temper, especially when anyone questioned his medical skills. "Believe it or don't. Suit yourself."
The fur shop owner was amiable enough and hastened to apologize. "Don't be angry, Sir. It's just hard to imagine. This is simply too strange."
His wife was far more blunt: "Sister-in-law Ji has a man out there? You really can't judge a book by its cover."
He Lingchuan brushed away the broken shards on the steps. "An old tree sprouting new buds—what's wrong with that?"
The shopkeeper's wife said flatly, "She's not that old, only four years older than me. But she's been a widow for many years. Ever since she lost her sons, she's been muttering and delirious all day long. Who would have thought she'd find another man?"
The woman looked under forty, meaning Sister-in-law Ji was only in her early forties—far younger than her appearance suggested.
"Lost her sons?" He Lingchuan remembered the row of ceramic figurines Sister-in-law Ji had taken. "How many children did she have?"
"Two sons. Both died on the battlefield."
A'luo lowered his eyes, and He Lingchuan let out a silent sigh.
This was the destiny of all fine young men of Panlong City, though none knew it before it arrived—except He Lingchuan.
The grief of losing a child, endured twice over... No wonder the woman was a bit unhinged and had spoken of taking the figurines back for her sons to play with.
As for an old tree sprouting new shoots, strange though it was, outsiders had no right to pry.
The shopkeeper said in a somber tone, "She used to be our neighbor. In the dead of night, you could often hear her wailing at the top of her lungs. If it had been for ten or fifteen days, everyone would have sympathized and put up with it, but who could stand half a year of that howling? She grew more and more muddled in the head, even trying to snatch other people's children. In the end, the neighbors had no choice but to drive her out. I heard she moved to the outskirts."
A'luo asked suddenly, "How long has it been since you last saw her?"
"Uh..." The couple exchanged a glance. "Roughly... three years?"
Aged like this in just three years?
With the conversation ended, quiet returned to the shopfront. The shopkeeper and his wife slipped back inside, and A'luo said to He Lingchuan, "I'm going to take a shift on duty at the Martial Review Hall today. Want to come?"
"Sure, take me along for some fun." He Lingchuan turned and locked up the shop, casting the brief interlude to the back of his mind.
Panlong City had three martial testing grounds. The Martial Review Hall, located near the West Gate, was the largest and typically the most crowded.
It was a place where stalwarts honed their skills against each other. Put politely, it was making friends through martial arts; put plainly, there was no second place in martial contests.
He Lingchuan had immersed himself in hard training for months, day and night without pause, putting in three or four times more effort than ordinary people. Naturally, he wanted to test his recent progress on the martial field.
The Martial Review Hall had originally been a horse ranch situated in the outskirts. When Panlong City later expanded outward, it was quickly swallowed within the city walls. Consequently, this expanse was bound to be vast and open, though Panlong City had erected high perimeter walls around it, leaving only a fifth of the grounds visible to the public eye.
The Martial Review Hall had an enormous signboard, its three characters written in vigorous, flourishing brushstrokes, with a small inscription at the edge bearing the signature: Zhong Shengguang.
So Commander Zhong had penned the inscription himself.
Still, He Lingchuan lacked worldly exposure; it was his first time seeing a signboard with black characters on a white background. Well, now, that really looked solemn.
A'luo led him inside, and the guards examined both of their tokens before granting entry.
This place was not open to the public; only registered soldiers and officers of Panlong City were permitted within.
Once inside, He Lingchuan felt all the more how enormous the place was. He knew that the Martial Review Hall was actually divided into northern and southern compounds by Du Building in the middle. The South Compound, nearest the entrance, served Panlong City's ordinary soldiers and patrol guards, encompassing five training grounds in total. The North Compound was reserved exclusively for the Gale Army; the folks in the South Compound could only gaze northward through the fencing, harboring quiet envy in their hearts.
Du Building was a two-story structure separating the two compounds, dedicated to providing logistical support for the martial artists. Here, one could rest, sharpen weapons, change equipment, and consult attending physicians stationed on duty in case of accidents.
A'luo had come to take over a shift as an attending physician—he was short on money.
Tens of men were already gathered in the South Compound. The edges of the drill ground accommodated solo practice, but the center had to be cleared for sparring matches. He Lingchuan spotted six men grappling in pairs, their sabers and swords made of wood and coated with red chalk along the edges.
Whenever someone was struck, a red mark was left on their body. If the duel ended without a decisive knockdown, the winner would be determined by the number and location of red marks on each person.
He Lingchuan shifted his gaze again, only to spot another familiar face:
Skinny.
Waving a dozen slips of paper in his hands, that fellow stood beside one of the duels, yelling at the top of his lungs.
Yet he didn't stand out in the slightest, because the roars of the spectators crashed like an overwhelming tide!
With a resounding thud, one of the fighters in the ring was slammed unconscious to the ground by a shield.
A burst of boos instantly erupted around the perimeter. Some slunk away crestfallen, while others howled at Skinny for their payouts: "I won! I won! Pay up, quick!"
Under no circumstances could such money be defaulted on. Skinny turned his back, waving and parrying left and right to fend off the hands reaching from behind, while frantically crossing off slips of paper with a piece of charcoal. "Don't rush! Don't rush! One at a time!"
Chapter 229