He learned a few more new words, like buying and selling, prices—shopping-related terms—to prepare for going down the mountain to make purchases.
Until the meat stew was done.
An Xiao still didn't have much of an appetite, only drinking half a bowl of soup and forcing down two pieces of meat before calling it quits.
Lin Zhuoyuan didn't push him, only pouring him a bowl of medicine.
An Xiao held the bowl of medicine, which had already cooled to lukewarm, and drank it slowly while watching Lin Zhuoyuan finish the entire pot of meat, then pick up the pot and bowls to go wash them outside.
An Xiao downed the rest of the medicine in one gulp and followed him out.
Lin Zhuoyuan squatted on the small platform washing the dishes, and An Xiao squatted beside him watching.
Lin Zhuoyuan glanced at him, took the empty bowl from his hands, and scrubbed it clean.
An Xiao mentally calculated the things he needed to buy later, then said to him, "What do people use to buy things in the village? Silver?"
There was a pile of silver ingots sitting in their storeroom.
Lin Zhuoyuan: "Yes. No need."
An Xiao frowned. "You're letting that He-zai pay for you again? Is he reliable?"
Lin Zhuoyuan: "Mm."
An Xiao thought it over and shook his head. "Let's pay for ourselves today. I want to see the prices."
Lin Zhuoyuan: "Okay."
No hesitation, no reluctance.
An Xiao's eyes curved into a smile.
Once they were ready, Lin Zhuoyuan strapped on the large backpack basket. An Xiao also casually stuffed in the basket An Yang had left behind last night, planning to make a trip later to return it.
Lin Zhuoyuan still had no objections. He adjusted the basket on his back and even bent down to pick An Xiao up.
An Xiao was about to refuse, but Lin Zhuoyuan said, "This is faster."
An Xiao: "…"
He couldn't argue with that.
He glanced at the village at the foot of the mountain, gave up struggling, and proactively reached out his arms. "Come on, pick me up."
Lin Zhuoyuan's features softened, and he lifted An Xiao into his arms before starting to sprint.
This time, An Xiao was already used to it. He held onto Lin Zhuoyuan's shoulder, calmly taking in the scenery while memorizing the route.
He also didn't forget to ask about the local relationships.
"What's the name of the uncle who treated me that day?"
"Lu Changfeng. Chang as in 'long-lasting,' feng as in 'mountain peak.'"
"And the people following him?"
"I don't know their names."
"Oh."
"What about the couple who gave us the candy?"
"Uncle Jiang and Aunt Cai. Jiang as in 'river,' cai as in 'color.'"
"Does our village have a name?"
"Yes, Fuxing Village. Fu as in 'to lie prostrate,' xing referring to this mountain range."
"That's complicated. I'll just memorize the pronunciation first—Fuxing Village, Fuxing Village…"
Back and forth like this, they quickly reached the foot of the mountain, with the village just ahead.
The path underfoot also changed from grass to a dirt road dotted with scattered blades of grass.
They could see villagers moving about in the village.
An Xiao quickly called for Lin Zhuoyuan to stop, jumped down, and walked ahead excitedly on his own.
Lin Zhuoyuan followed closely behind him.
An Xiao ignored him, focusing his gaze on the buildings ahead.
They were all mud walls, gray and dull. The shapes of thick mud bricks were visible, but after years of wind and rain erosion, the walls were uneven and pitted. It felt like if the rain came down any harder, these houses wouldn't hold up.
The roofs weren't tiled either—instead, split bamboo tubes were laid in alternating directions to channel water away from the walls, then covered with thick thatch for insulation.
An Xiao was puzzled. He looked at the soft fabric of his own clothes, then at these mud walls and bamboo eaves… Were these even from the same level of production?
The outer buildings were relatively new, but the further they walked into the village, the more dilapidated the houses became. The walls were uneven, and some even showed obvious signs of patching with mud.
The village roads were also… quite natural.
The houses generally had vegetable plots in front and back, and occasionally one could spot a few small animals in cages.
But between the houses, there were only dirt paths. No vines or creepers like outside the village, just dusty and bumpy—clearly the result of rain washing and mud accumulating over time.
After just a few steps, An Xiao's black cloth shoes were covered in a layer of dust, and his trouser cuffs were starting to change color.
An Xiao couldn't help grumbling to Lin Zhuoyuan: "These clothes get dirty too easily. If we have enough money, buy me two outfits in that fabric you're wearing."
Lin Zhuoyuan nodded, then shook his head: "Enough money, won't buy. You look good in this."
An Xiao: "…Can looking good be eaten as food?"
Lin Zhuoyuan said matter-of-factly: "My partner naturally should wear the best clothes."
An Xiao was exasperated and concluded directly: "As long as there's enough money, that's fine. Take me to buy some later."
Lin Zhuoyuan: "…"
Before descending the mountain, An Xiao had discussed with Lin Zhuoyuan what they needed to purchase, so Lin Zhuoyuan led the way, heading straight for their destination.
Perhaps because it was still early, they walked for a while without seeing anyone in the village, until someone let out a startled cry.
Then came call after call from across the walls, all shouting "** is here."
An Xiao didn't know what "**" meant, only seeing the villagers popping up like bamboo shoots after spring rain.
He glanced at the calm and composed Lin Zhuoyuan, suppressed his urge to ask, and instead kept his eyes peeled, starting to count in his head:
Elderly person, plus one.
Child, plus one.
Elderly person, plus one.
Elderly person, plus one.
Child, plus one.
Sturdy middle-aged woman, plus one.
…
By the time he'd counted 42 elderly people, 7 children, and 2 women, Lin Zhuoyuan finally turned and led him to a house.
Stepping past a few plots of green seedlings at the entrance, Lin Zhuoyuan patted the half-closed wooden door.
Footsteps sounded, and someone inside drawled, "Who is it?" before an old woman with white hair came out.
When the old woman saw who was knocking, she froze, then dropped to her knees with a thud: "**, why have you come?"
An Xiao, following behind, was startled and quickly sidestepped a few paces to avoid being in the way.
But Lin Zhuoyuan was used to it, merely lifting his hand casually and asking: "Where's Yonghe?"
The old woman got up and said respectfully: "A corner of Wu Lao'er's house at the west end of the village collapsed. He took some people to help repair it."
Lin Zhuoyuan was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Then I'll go over there to find him."
"Yes, **, go slowly."
Lin Zhuoyuan turned and walked over to An Xiao, signaling him to follow.
An Xiao smiled at the old woman, but she bowed to him in return, which startled him so much he scurried over to Lin Zhuoyuan, who was waiting for him at a slow pace.
Lin Zhuoyuan patted his head and took his hand to move forward.
Most of the people peeking out from both sides were elderly, with a few children wearing little topknots following behind, hiding and dodging. An Xiao felt uncomfortable and pulled his hand free.
Lin Zhuoyuan paused and stopped to look at him.
An Xiao understood instantly and said in a low voice: "So many people are watching."
Lin Zhuoyuan: "They all know you're my partner."
An Xiao: "…"
Grabbing his sleeve, "How about this? Does it work?"
Lin Zhuoyuan lowered his gaze to look at his fingers, seemingly still dissatisfied, and opened his mouth—
"That's enough," An Xiao pushed him. "Hurry up, there's a lot to do."
From afar, startled cries seemed to come.
An Xiao glanced over and only saw two old men, one holding his forehead and the other shaking his head, chatting about some topic or other.
He didn't think much of it and withdrew his gaze—because Lin Zhuoyuan, pushed by him, had accepted his sleeve-holding method and continued walking forward.
The village was large, with houses scattered about, but for the most part they were built along the riverbank.
However, there was no planning in how the houses were built—one here, one there, and nearly all of them looked the same. Walking through them felt like navigating a maze.
An Xiao tugged at Lin Zhuoyuan's sleeve, feeling completely at ease, and even had the presence of mind to look around and count the population.
They passed through fields and alleys until they reached the western edge of the village, where they stopped upon seeing a crowd gathered in front of an old house.
Most of the people there were middle-aged. Two of them were mixing a lump of mud, while another held a wooden bucket and kneaded the mud, adding a little water from time to time.
The others stood around chatting.
Lin Zhuoyuan stopped a few steps away and called out, "Yonghe."
Huh? An Xiao craned his neck. He didn't see any young person—
"Oh my!!" A middle-aged man with graying temples turned around in surprise. The moment he saw them, he rushed over, bowed slightly to Lin Zhuoyuan before speaking. "** , why have you come here?"
An Xiao: "…"
This was the "Yonghe" Lin Zhuoyuan had mentioned?
This man should be called "uncle"!
…Oh, "Yonghe" must be a nickname.
Come to think of it, did Lin Zhuoyuan really not bully the villagers? Why were all these elders and seniors so respectful to him?
His mind wandered for a moment, and by then Lin Zhuoyuan had already exchanged several sentences.
An Xiao, whose language skills were still unfamiliar, quickly pulled himself together and focused on listening, though his eyes involuntarily drifted to the pile of mud being mixed.
The uncle holding the bucket and pouring water seemed to be the expert. He stirred the yellow mud with his fingers a couple of times, said "Done," and the two mixers immediately stopped, scooping the mud into wooden molds nearby.
An Xiao looked at the old house ahead with its collapsed corner and couldn't help asking, "Is this mud just smeared directly on?"
Yonghe, who had been talking with Lin Zhuoyuan, stopped speaking, bowed to Lin Zhuoyuan, then smiled at An Xiao and explained, "First put it in the ** , let it dry, then use it."
…Dry and then use? That wooden mold was only for shaping?
An Xiao blurted out, "Will that even work?"
Uncle Yonghe said gently, "It'll be fine. There's still a long way to go before the rainy season, so it can dry."
An Xiao: "…"
He looked up and met Lin Zhuoyuan's calm gaze. After hesitating for a moment, he tugged at his sleeve and said quietly, "Can I talk to you for a bit?"
He hadn't learned proper word order yet—it was simplified grammar… Anyway, Handsome Guy knew his background and wouldn't mind.
Uncle Yonghe seemed to frown slightly, looking at Lin Zhuoyuan with concern.
Lin Zhuoyuan ignored him and simply nodded to An Xiao. "Go ahead."
An Xiao smiled at Uncle Yonghe, then dragged Lin Zhuoyuan to an open area. After confirming that no one who was sneaking glances could hear them, he had Lin Zhuoyuan lean down.
"What they're making—what's it called?"
Lin Zhuoyuan showed no impatience at being called over to learn new vocabulary. He replied, "Mud bricks."
An Xiao had learned "mud" before, and with this compound word, the meaning of "brick" became clear.
"I know how to fire a kind of brick that can withstand wind and rain and won't rot for twenty or thirty years. It's much better than these mud bricks."
Lin Zhuoyuan: "…Fire?"
"Yeah." An Xiao didn't hide anything. In his half-baked language, he babbled on, then pulled him down to squat and drew a diagram right on the dirt path.
Uncle Yonghe didn't come over, only watching from a distance.
Lin Zhuoyuan stared at the simple sketch on the dirt for a long while before finally speaking. "Worth a try."
An Xiao: "We have to try. These mud bricks will collapse after a few rains—how can anyone live in them securely? Fired bricks are much better than these."
Glancing at the crowd peeking from the sidelines, he added, "You can tell them about it later. I'm afraid they'll start suspecting me."
"It's fine." Lin Zhuoyuan, staying in his crouched position, waved at Yonghe. "Hezi, come here."
The middle-aged man with graying temples, who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, immediately scurried over.
An Xiao: "…"
Uncle, at your age, being called "little one" by someone—doesn't that feel embarrassing?
Yonghe didn't feel embarrassed at all. He crouched down too. "Mountain Lord, is there something—"
"Look at this," Lin Zhuoyuan said, pointing at the drawing An Xiao had just made. "My An Xiao says we can fire bricks this way to make them better and stronger."
An Xiao: "…"
Is this something you can just say outright?
Isn't this blatantly telling everyone that he's… not normal?!