As night fell, the food shop closed its doors.
The assistant Xiao Wu secured the windows and doors from inside, tidied up the tables and chairs, moved a low bed behind the counter, laid out the bedding, and settled in for a peaceful sleep.
Behind the shop was a small courtyard filled with wine jars and water vats, and hung with many homemade cured sausages, preserved meats, dried vegetables, and spices. In the main room of the courtyard, a dim candlelight glowed, illuminating the woman’s focused expression.
In the adjoining room, Su Zhen had just coaxed Yan Yan to sleep before coming out. Qing Luan beckoned her to sit and pushed the wooden box on the table toward the center.
“This is the net profit from our shop for the past month. I’ve set aside the money for next month’s purchases and the assistant’s wages separately. The rest, we’ll split evenly between us.”
As she spoke, she handed Su Zhen the account book where she had meticulously recorded every transaction.
After glancing through the account book, Su Zhen peeked into the box. A layer of broken silver filled the bottom, gleaming softly.
Divided equally, each of them would receive over ten taels—more than she had earned in a whole year from her former wonton stall.
“Qing Luan, how can I ever thank you enough?” Su Zhen’s eyes sparkled as she looked gratefully at Qing Luan. “If you hadn’t bought this shop and brought me in to run it together, I might never have saved so much money in my lifetime. And now I’m even the head chef—it feels like a dream…”
The more she spoke, the more emotional she became, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Making money is a good thing. Why are you crying?” Qing Luan took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Your cooking skills are excellent; it’s only right that you become the head chef. I believe in your talent. Look, the money spent on buying the shop wasn’t wasted. If we work hard, we can earn it all back.”
Su Zhen was amused by her words and happily divided the money.
Looking back now, Qing Luan had always been perceptive since childhood. Even though they both served in the young lady’s chambers, she never quarreled with anyone, yet she handled every task assigned by her masters with grace and reliability.
In daily life, she was an unassuming girl who simply wanted to live comfortably with food and clothing. But when opportunities for rewards arose, she never missed them.
Qing Luan always knew what she wanted.
That was why she was willing to befriend Su Zhen, who had fallen on hard times; why she was willing to use her savings accumulated over many years to buy the shop and bring Su Zhen in as a partner to earn money together; and why, at just sixteen or seventeen, she was unafraid to greet and serve customers at the counter with dignity…
Every bit of profit they now held in their hands was inseparable from Qing Luan’s years of steady accumulation.
After putting away the silver, Su Zhen excitedly left the room and returned from the kitchen with a late-night snack she had prepared earlier: a plate of dried beef shreds, a dish of boiled peanuts, and a pot of warmed wine.
With a rare moment of leisure and such a good day for dividing profits, how could they not share a drink?
They poured two cups of warm wine and, accompanied by the snacks, drank until their bodies felt warm and their minds pleasantly hazy. Leaning against the edge of the table, their voices grew light and airy.
“I always knew I had what it takes to be a head chef. If my parents hadn’t pressured me to marry and I hadn’t fallen into that mess, I would have become a master chef long ago! It’s you who brought me luck, Qing Luan. I truly thank you. This cup, I’ll finish it!”
Su Zhen’s face flushed red from the wine. She downed her cup in one gulp and let out a satisfied sigh.
Qing Luan’s cheeks were tinged with pink as she leaned softly against the chair, smiling as she raised her cup in return.
Noticing the alluring, delicate flush at the corners of Qing Luan’s eyes, Su Zhen felt a pang in her heart, moved by her beauty. Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “Qing Luan, you’ve never mentioned your husband. Did he do something to wrong you?”
Qing Luan turned her face away, smiling at the oddness of her question. “I’m just an outside mistress, hardly in a position to be picky about others.”
Su Zhen straightened her back. “They say it’s better to be a rich man’s concubine than a poor man’s wife. What’s so shameful about being an outside mistress?”
“It’s not about that,” Qing Luan averted her gaze.
“Then what is it?”
“For…” She looked up at the rafters, using the slight intoxication to recall those dreamlike, intoxicating days. The man’s rugged face and his firm, warm chest, mingled with the scent of alcohol, seemed to envelop her, making her unconsciously close her eyes.
She whispered softly, “I always felt that if he had any last words for me, they would be to live well, to stop dwelling on the past, and to stop thinking of him.”
Su Zhen blinked, her drunkenness mostly gone.
After a long pause, she looked up and sighed. “He was a good man.”
“Mhm.” Qing Luan smiled.
Unfortunately, good men don’t live long, and good things don’t last. Perhaps the regrets in this world always outweigh the perfections by just a little.
She couldn’t change what had already happened; she could only slowly accept it and then move on—living better and more beautifully with each passing day, until finally, in the flow of time, she would forget him.
Outside the window, the crescent moon hung high, autumn frost grew thicker, and another new month had begun.
The morning in Yunxi Cheng was quiet and peaceful.
The newborn sun had yet to reach beneath the eaves, but the beggars in the dilapidated temple had already begun crawling out of the haystacks one by one, heading to the streets to claim the best spots so they could beg for a full meal.
In a corner where the hay was sparse, a chilling wind seeped through the cracks in the wall. Qi Zhaoye leaned against the base of the wall, holding Qi Yuchen in his arms, maintaining this position all night until the early hours of the morning when he finally fell into a light sleep. Even now, he was still deeply asleep.
By mid-morning, most of the beggars in the temple had left, leaving only the old, weak, sick, and disabled.
Qi Zhaoye woke up groggily, not feeling anyone beside him. He opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings warily, only to see Qi Yuchen not far away, playing with pebbles with a stranger—a lame man.
“Qi Yuchen, come here!” His voice was stern.
Qi Yuchen’s thin little body trembled, and he quickly set down the pebbles, running back to his brother’s side in a few steps.
Qi Zhaoye frowned, pulling him back to his side, then glanced at the lame man: They had entered the city yesterday afternoon and settled in this dilapidated temple by evening. Fortunately, there weren’t many beggars here, so they managed to find a place to stay. At that time, this man hadn’t been in the temple.
Had the lame man just arrived? His clothes didn’t look like those of a beggar, so why would he have the leisure to come and play with beggars?
Feeling wary, Qi Zhaoye wore a serious expression and scolded Qi Yuchen in a low voice, “How many times have I told you not to approach strangers casually? If I hadn’t woken up, would you have kept playing with him?”
Qi Yuchen turned his thin little face away, lowering his head. Knowing he had made a mistake, he didn’t dare utter a single word in response.
Seeing his pitiful expression, Qi Zhaoye couldn’t bear to scold him further. The two of them had been wandering for months, with few opportunities to stop and relax or play.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Mhm.” Qi Yuchen nodded obediently.
The two brothers avoided the lame man and left the temple. By evening, they were unexpectedly cornered in an alley by several unidentified ruffians.
Qi Zhaoye shielded Qi Yuchen behind him, his clenched fists showing bulging veins on the back of his hands. Though panicked inside, he saw that the ruffians made no move to attack him.
The leader of the men sized up the two brothers. Their cloth clothes were relatively clean, but their slightly disheveled hair, dusty faces, and worn-out cloth shoes with exposed toes completely betrayed their identities as beggars.
The man puffed out his chest confidently, staring at Qi Yuchen hiding behind and nodding in satisfaction before turning to Qi Zhaoye.
“Kid, I plan to buy that child. We’ll exchange money for the person right here.”
He took out two taels of broken silver. Seeing that Qi Zhaoye didn’t reach out to take it, his expression darkened. He forcefully grabbed Qi Zhaoye’s fist, pried open his palm, and placed the silver in his hand.
Without a word, Qi Zhaoye grabbed the silver and threw it at the man’s face, then pulled Qi Yuchen and ran.
“Damn it! Ungrateful little bastard! Throwing away a chance when given! Catch them!”
The two children were no match for the grown men in either stamina or stride, and they were caught within a few steps.
The brothers’ tightly clasped hands were forcibly pried apart. Qi Yuchen was hoisted up and tucked under an arm, while Qi Zhaoye was grabbed by the collar by the leader, who raised his hand and slapped him hard across the face. A red mark immediately appeared on his thin, sallow cheek, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
“Run? A stinking beggar, where do you think you’re running to?”
“I’m not a beggar!” Qi Zhaoye frowned tightly, his eyes fierce. Even with his life in someone else’s hands, he showed no fear. He had long known that when facing threats from villains, weakness and pleading were not only useless but would only embolden them.
“Let go of my brother, or I’ll report you to the authorities!”
The boy stretched his arms but could only reach the man’s arm, flailing wildly without causing any harm.
The man sneered, “Ungrateful. Someone has taken a liking to your brother and wants to buy him to be their son—it’s his good fortune. As his older brother, you want to stop him from going to enjoy a better life?”
Qi Zhaoye was stunned: Could such a thing really happen?
Amid his crying and fussing, Qi Yuchen caught a bit of this and slowed his struggling, lifting his face to look at Qi Zhaoye in confusion.
The leader raised his hand, and his subordinate set Qi Yuchen back on the ground. The child immediately ran to Qi Zhaoye’s side, hiding behind him.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The buyer is Master Qiu of Yunxi, a renowned philanthropist known throughout the surrounding hundred miles. Many people beg to have Master Qiu as their godfather but can’t get the chance. Think carefully for yourselves.”
Hearing this, Qi Zhaoye lowered his head to look at Qi Yuchen, his heart wavering uncertainly—if there was such an opportunity to give his brother a home, free from hunger and cold, perhaps he should let go.
While hesitating, Qi Yuchen, who was clinging tightly to his leg, bit his lip and whimpered softly, “Brother, I’ll be obedient… I won’t play with others anymore, don’t abandon me…”
The crying grew more intense, making Qi Zhaoye’s heart ache.
His voice hoarse, he looked up and asked the man, “Can I go along? I can read, and I can work. I can do labor.”
The man snorted disdainfully, “You think pretty high of yourself, kid. But there are rules in this business. Once you become someone else’s son, you can’t see your old relatives again—you have to make a clean break. If you really care about your brother, let him come with us obediently, then take the money and scram.”
With that, he kicked the two pieces of broken silver that had fallen on the ground toward them. The silver rolled once and stopped at the brothers’ feet.
Qi Zhaoye stood still, then bent down.
The ruffians watched with satisfaction as the boy bent his straight back, exchanging a “mission accomplished” look among themselves.
Suddenly, the boy lowered his waist and charged headfirst into the leader’s stomach!
His hard head was like a small hammer, making the man cry out in pain and double over. Before the others could react, he grabbed the boy’s hand and ran again.
Qi Zhaoye wanted to run into the street to call for help, but with Qi Yuchen trailing behind him and unfamiliar with the streets of Yunxi compared to those thugs, he was caught as soon as he entered the intersection.
“You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit! Beat him to death!”
The leader of the group angrily kicked him in the leg. The boy instantly gritted his teeth in pain, collapsing to his knees like a withered branch crushed under a massive stone.
Fists rained down like a storm from the ruffians. He tightly wrapped his arms around his head to protect his face, yet even so, he was beaten black and blue, enduring unbearable pain, unable to utter a single coherent sentence.
Qi Yuchen was held back by another man nearby. Struggling incessantly, he finally broke free from the hand covering his face and burst into tears.
“Waaah! Don’t hit my brother anymore! Stop hitting him! I’ll go with you!”
The words felt like a stab to Qi Zhaoye’s heart. His eyes, tightly shut in pain, suddenly flew open, the whites tinged with blood-red. With the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, fury surged from his chest to his throat.
“Qi Yuchen, you can’t go with them!”
How could anything so good be true?!
A so-called philanthropist of dubious authenticity, a gang of fierce-looking thugs, spending a few filthy coins to forcibly buy a person—how could it possibly lead to a life of comfort? Upon closer thought, it was impossible to agree.
Qi Yuchen fell silent from the shout, though tears continued to stream down his face.
The commotion at the intersection gradually drew a crowd of onlookers, yet not a single person dared to step forward to defend the two beggars.
Qi Zhaoye was struck on the head, and the old wound at the back of his skull began to ache faintly again. In the blink of an eye, his vision turned crimson, as if blood had seeped into pristine white rice paper.
Lying on the ground, he peered through his crossed arms at the diverse crowd—some helpless and sympathetic, others curious and staring, and still others watching coldly, taking pleasure in the violent spectacle…
The murky faces of the masses overlapped in his eyes. In his peripheral vision, a flash of cyan robe swept past.
As if stirring a suppressed hope deep within the boy’s heart, his gaze instinctively followed her figure, only to lose sight of her beyond the shifting crowd. His vision stained red, he could see no other colors.
The flicker of hope abruptly extinguished, his heart twisted in agony.
A moment later, a strange boy suddenly pushed through the crowd and squeezed in, shouting, “The constables are here to arrest people! Run!”
Hearing that the authorities had arrived, the thugs hurriedly stopped their assault, glancing around before fleeing toward the safest alley. Qi Yuchen, who had been struggling and crying, was left behind on the spot.
Qi Zhaoye lowered his arms, turned his head, and coughed up two mouthfuls of blood before he could breathe deeply and freely again.
Every part of his body ached. After embracing Qi Yuchen, who had thrown himself beside him, he no longer had the strength to stand up.