Borrowing

He Lingchuan counted on his fingers. "Out of five, I've caught two?" *Aren't you guys terribly inefficient?* "Isn't there a curfew at night?" What he really meant was that Panlong City surely released Three Corpse Worms on constant patrols, yet they still couldn't catch those monsters? "They changed their schedule; they don't roam at night anymore," the sparrowhawk replied. "Nor do they come out in broad daylight. They pick overcast days exclusively, probably harboring some fear of True Solar Fire. These things aren't very bright, so we suspect someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes. And—" It hesitated. "And what?" Experience told him that whatever followed such a pause was usually the crucial point. "Commander Zhong brought in the most experienced apothecaries to examine those monsters, and I was present as well. Their conclusion was that these monsters are still in their infancy." "Infancy?" He Lingchuan frowned. "They're still cubs?" "The fontanelle sutures on their skulls are wide open and haven't even begun to fuse. The apothecaries judged them to be in an embryonic or infant stage," the sparrowhawk relayed. "Either babies or fetuses." "Fetuses?" He Lingchuan was genuinely astonished. "They're this troublesome to deal with, and they're only fetuses?" How terrifying would these wretched things be once fully grown? "That's why they instinctively fear harsh light and only venture out on cloudy days." The sparrowhawk suppressed the urge to flap its wings. "There haven't been many overcast days since the first monster appeared." So it wasn't that the garrison hadn't tried hard enough; the opportunities had simply been scarce. "That little monster—did it wander over on its own?" "Yes. It stopped and went, seeming to search for something, until it ended up on your courtyard wall." The sparrowhawk had originally been watching from high in the sky. "I saw it turn around to bite you, so I swooped down." "Thank you." Deeply moved, He Lingchuan gently stroked its head. The sparrowhawk ducked away with utmost disdain. "If you want to thank me, light the stove!" This room was freezing; it was practically freezing to death! "All right, all right." He Lingchuan realized he truly had been a poor host. "I'll light the fire right away." He took a turn around the kitchen, only to discover there was no charcoal left, nor any firewood. Right, he had used it all up during his last entry into the dreamscape and had been too lazy to restock. He was young, robust, and full of vigor anyway, more than capable of weathering the cold. So what now? After a moment's thought, He Lingchuan took his only quilt and bundled the sparrowhawk inside. "Wait here. I'll go borrow some charcoal and be back in a flash." *** After leaving He Lingchuan's house, the patrol guard took a winding route into increasingly secluded streets, eventually entering a deserted alley. The walls on either side were low, the overhead trees tall. Adjacent to the alley stood a residence undergoing renovation; its main gate hung wide open with construction materials piled up, but there was no one inside. Dense clouds gathered overhead; it looked ready to rain soon. The guard glanced around to make sure he was not being followed, then slipped inside. Stepping into a corner behind the house, he lifted the straw basket to eye level with the little monster within. Man and monster stared at each other for several breaths. Then, the little monster began to emit a rapid clacking sound, as though unburdening itself. The guard remained motionless. Once the little monster finished, he actually emitted the same clacking noise! Listening closely, the sound did not come from his throat, but from his chest cavity! The guard then lowered the basket, intending to dump the little monster out onto the snow. If he coated it thickly in snow powder, the sticky sap might lose its grip as the snow melted, and it could perhaps break free. Just then, an arrow shot from nearby, pinning the guard's arm directly to the wall. He didn't even register the pain or let out a cry before the belated whoosh of parted air finally arrived. The guard reached out to wrench the arrow free, but the next shaft struck, pinning his other hand to the wall. Finally letting out an enraged roar, he yanked with reckless abandon, tearing his entire palm off the long arrow! The arrow remained lodged in the wall, coated in blood from tip to fletching. Yet he was still a step too slow—the third arrow struck him dead in the heart! The guard froze instantly, his head drooping. But behind him, the backplate of his armor shifted, and something suddenly burst out, darting toward the base of the wall to flee. Its movement was exceptionally decisive and blindingly swift. Even to someone watching intently, it would have appeared as nothing more than an afterimage streaking through the air. Unfortunately, the fourth arrow arrived right on cue, striking dead center as if anticipating its trajectory. Its desperate leap made it look as though it had thrown itself onto the arrow. "Gaaah—!" A harsh, grating shriek rang out. Four unadorned arrows had flushed it from its hiding place and pinned it dead to the wall. Calm, measured, and effortless. Only now could one clearly see that the thing bursting from the guard's back was another monster. It looked like a long-legged spider, its eight legs each at least three feet long but as thin as noodles, while its body was no larger than a duck's egg, bearing a vicious human face upon its back. Struck by the arrow, its eight claws clawed and scraped desperately against the wall, yet failed to even scratch the plaster. Its long legs were meant for delicate work—injecting venom, manipulating human nerves, making a flesh puppet speak and act normally—not for brute violence. Evidently, the guard had been ambushed and turned into a living husk inhabited by the creature. It had deceived He Lingchuan only to rescue the little monster in the basket. Unfortunately for it, the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Only now did a figure drop from the wall, approaching silently. With a smooth tug, the figure pulled out the arrow and shoved both the shaft and the spider monster into a quiver. The little monster in the straw basket clacked frantically. Beyond mere cursing, its tiny eyes seemed filled with terror. The figure scooped up the basket and vanished down the alley in a few bounds. *** He Lingchuan vaulted onto the top of the wall. Yes, the low wall separating his home from Sun Fuling's. The brilliant plan he had devised was to borrow some firewood from his good neighbor. As a teacher at Shumin Academy, her monthly stipend of firewood and grain was more than she could ever burn through—after all, wasn't that why salary was called "firewood and wealth"? Speaking of which, why had that little monster wandered over here in the first place? The moment he cleared the wall, a sudden realization struck him, illuminating the source of discord he had felt earlier. The little monster in the basket had struggled ceaselessly from start to finish—except for two moments. Except when he was talking to that patrol guard. And except when he handed the basket over to him. During those two moments, the little monster had been as quiet as an obedient child. Why? He Lingchuan stood frozen in place for several seconds, then slapped his forehead in frustration. That guard was almost certainly suspicious! Yet so much time had passed; the man was probably long gone. What had he been thinking back then? How could he have been so easily duped? What was done was done; brooding over it would accomplish nothing. With a sigh, he continued searching for firewood. Sun Fuling's small courtyard was deserted. Beneath the eaves stood only a single chair and a ladder. The snow on the ground had thawed and refrozen into glistening ice, making it quite slick underfoot. The yard was cleaner than a polished mirror, lacking any sign of daily life. By the looks of it, Sun Fuling hadn't returned for several days. Wasn't she on winter break? Where had she gone? Finding no firewood in the yard, He Lingchuan decided to check the kitchen. At worst, he could leave her a note. They were on good terms, after all; there was no need to stand on ceremony. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Sure enough, a tall stack of firewood was piled in the corner of the kitchen, flanked by sacks of charcoal. There was no telling how many months of academy stipends she had accumulated. Looking at the woodpile that towered taller than a man, He Lingchuan wondered whether Miss Sun never bothered to heat her home. Otherwise, how could she have saved up so much? Glancing further into the kitchen, the pots, bowls, ladles, and basins were all neatly arranged—perhaps a bit too neatly. There wasn't a trace of smoke or soot anywhere, making the space resemble a pristine display room. He Lingchuan reached into the bottom of the stove to feel around. No charred soot, just a thin layer of dust. When Miss Sun said she couldn't cook, she truly hadn't been modest. Did she not even boil water, surviving purely on snow to quench her thirst? The door between the kitchen and the bedroom stood ajar. He Lingchuan knew he shouldn't pry, yet his feet moved of their own accord. Sun Fuling's bedroom was equally immaculate. The bedding was neatly smoothed out, and a chair sat against the wall with two books resting on it. He Lingchuan glanced at them—both were casual reads. Beside the wall rested a chest with a hasp, though it was unlocked. A half-burnt candle sat atop the lid. He Lingchuan scanned the room again. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, his gaze settled on the chest. Should he open it or not? He had seen Sun Fuling return to her room for medicine several times, but there was no medicine chest in sight. Could the medicine be kept inside the chest? What else might be in there? A sudden creak came from outside as the courtyard gate swung open. *Damn it.* He Lingchuan swiftly slipped back through the kitchen and stepped out the door. And came face to face with Sun Fuling as she stepped into the courtyard. Both froze. Sun Fuling blinked in mild surprise, both hands weighed down with parcels. Caught red-handed, He Lingchuan knew without looking in a mirror that his face was plastered with profound embarrassment. "Hey," he greeted, his voice lacking all conviction. "You're back." Sun Fuling looked from the courtyard wall to him, seeming to understand. "Is something the matter?" "I came to..." He Lingchuan chuckled awkwardly, "borrow some firewood." Noticing the bulging leather sacks in her hands, he hurriedly stepped forward to assist. "Let me carry those for you." Sun Fuling handed them to him, then walked into her kitchen and emerged carrying a large bundle of firewood and a generous sack of charcoal, thrusting them both into his arms. "I have more than I could ever use. Take as much as you like." A squawk suddenly drifted from next door. Sun Fuling took note of it. "What was that sound?" "A bird call." He Lingchuan gestured toward the ground with a chin nod. "Earlier, a sparrowhawk fought a monster in your yard and got hurt. It's recovering at my place right now. It kept complaining about the cold, so..." He shook the firewood in his hands. "It's injured?" Sun Fuling looked moved. She had been present when the sparrowhawk visited previously. "I'll go take a look." With that, she turned and headed out the gate. He Lingchuan could hardly climb back over the wall, so he followed her out the front door, walked a few paces, and pushed open his own courtyard gate. "Please, come in." He headed to the kitchen to light the stove. Glancing back, he saw Sun Fuling squatting down to examine the sparrowhawk's injuries, gently stroking its back. The sparrowhawk not only didn't dodge, but actually closed its eyes in utter contentment. "..." *Does this bird play favorites?* How had it treated him with such disdain just moments ago? "Poor thing, its feathers are broken. It looks like it'll need some time to recover before taking to the sky again." Sun Fuling produced a small pouch of dried meat from somewhere, tearing it into thin strips and feeding it bit by bit. "Bought it at the market; it isn't salty."