As the boatwoman’s tune reached its end, the vessel pulled alongside the bank. The youth stepped onto the town’s pier and vanished into the crowd.
The sound of rushing water faded behind him, and Li Qiao’s pace grew light and swift.
He did not like boats, he did not like boatmen or their wives, and he disliked everything associated with water. However, Di Mo understood these things better than he did; if he wished to conceal his tracks and avoid trouble under the watchful eyes of the Manor of the World’s Best, he had to do the unexpected.
Along the way, he had done his best to stay away from crowds, but today, this place...
Li Qiao stopped in his tracks and looked up at the bustling small market behind the pier’s archway. At the entrance of the market, several small, noisy shops were huddled together. Among them, an old, somewhat faded blue cloth banner hung limply. The characters on the banner remained the same: one for "Wine," and one for "Cake."
This was the first shop one saw upon entering Xingshou Town, and it was the only wine shop in the small settlement. The storefront was small; it closed as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, the owners too lazy to stay open a moment longer. Unlike the shops in Jiugao, a wine shop in a town like this mostly served regulars. Even with people coming and going, the proprietor didn't bother to get up and greet anyone until the unfamiliar young guest spoke first.
"Shopkeeper, are there still cakes for sale?"
The proprietor was a middle-aged woman with hair beginning to turn gray. He had to ask twice before she finally looked up, seemingly coming to her senses.
Old customers would usually drop their silver first, give a brief word, and then wait to the side; they rarely wasted breath asking such questions. As for the lees cakes, they were steamed cakes made from the dregs left over from brewing wine. They sold for only a few copper coins—merely a way to make use of everything—so they weren't available every day, and few people asked for them so close to sunset.
*A new customer,* she thought.
At that, the proprietress set down her work, responding as she pulled back the cloth curtain to greet him.
"We made fewer today, and they sold out this morning..."
She wiped her hands clean on a cloth, intending to give the new guest a proper welcome, but she froze the moment she saw him. She squinted, her gaze initially filled with doubt, before she asked somewhat uncertainly after a long pause.
"Are you... are you that boy from back then...?"
She pointed toward the old persimmon tree in front of the shop—the one whose trunk had once snapped but had since sprouted new branches from the base. Before she could finish, he interrupted her.
"The shopkeeper has mistaken me for someone else. This is my first time in this town. If there are no rice cakes, then I shall trouble you for a measure of Laobai."
The proprietress’s voice faltered. She looked him up and down again, then laughed sheepishly after a moment, her tone tinged with nostalgia.
"I truly did see wrong. That child’s appearance was somewhat similar to yours, young master, but his eyes were different. I suppose I only thought of him because you are wearing black; I’ve never seen anyone who suited black more than him... Oh, look at me, people get talkative as they age. Don't mind me. I’ll get your wine now."
The proprietress turned and picked up a wine ladle, personally lifting the curtain to draw the wine. She was getting on in years; her movements were stiff when she bent over, and one of her ears was failing, requiring others to speak up. Yet, her eyes and memory had not faded in the slightest, allowing her to remember a person she had met only once many years ago.
It was a pity he had no "old friends." Once upon a time, every person who could recognize him was a target for his hunt. But this time, he felt no killing intent; he only reflected on what she had just said.
Perhaps black did suit him. She, too, liked him in dark colors; almost all of Situ Jinbao’s dark-colored clothes had been picked out and given to him.
During these years of rising grain prices, the measure of Laobai wine that once cost thirty copper coins had risen to thirty-seven. The proprietress was about to offer a brief explanation, but the youth said nothing more. He simply requested an extra ceramic pot, paid the silver readily, and didn't even take the change. He carried the pot and the wine away.
Li Qiao had not expected to be recognized at a glance in this remote town. After all, many years ago, he had only met that proprietress once.
That was the seventh day after he and Li Qingdao had escaped. After fleeing through the mountains for several days, the two had finally reached temporary safety. Only then did they dare enter a place with signs of human life, looking so disheveled that even the town’s beggars would have felt pity.
He had silently carried the woman on his back into the town. No matter how the people on the street looked at him, he gave no reaction. He had seen gazes far more terrifying than these; what did this matter? After passing through the old archway, he was about to continue forward when he was suddenly called to a halt.
"Where are you going?"
The youth turned his head, clearly not understanding why the half-dead person on his back would ask such a foolish question.
"To the clinic, of course."
"What are we going to a clinic for?" The woman frowned at him, clearly not understanding why he would give such a stupid answer. "We finally stole this bit of time; wouldn't it be a waste to squander it on a boring trifle like treating wounds?"
The youth stopped wasting his breath on rebuttals.
He was certain that Di Mo’s poison had rotted her brain, and there was no need for him to argue with a brain-damaged woman in the middle of the street.
He lowered his eyes and asked softly, "Then where are we going now?"
"Naturally, we are going to..." The woman’s eyes darted around, her finger stopping at a shop she had spotted long ago. "...the wine shop."
Calling it a wine shop was generous; it was quite dilapidated, with only two or three types of wine. The brewing vats looked filthy, piled haphazardly in the corner, yet business was surprisingly good.
The woman rubbed her hands together, exceptionally excited. Her face, which had been deprived of water and food during the days of mountain flight, actually regained some luster. She untied a gourd ladle she had carried at her waist all along and handed it over as a vessel. With practiced ease, she called for the proprietress to fill it with Laobai, her posture that of a veteran drunkard. However, she froze when it came time to pay, as if only then remembering the most important matter.
Where would they have silver after escaping? The few copper coins they had left were what the youth had earned by trading trapped rabbits and pheasants with mountain hunters. He had been reluctant to use them the whole way; who would have thought they would be squandered on a ladle of wine?
His hand, clutching the copper coins, refused to loosen. The woman unceremoniously pried his fingers open and gave all the money to the proprietress. However, after counting it, the latter showed a look of difficulty.
"This... it seems to be short by a few coins."
A sharp pain hit his waist. He looked down to find the woman’s hand pinching him.
"Smile."
He turned his head expressionlessly, meeting Li Qingdao’s left eye, which was twitching with hints.
"I told you to smile..."
He didn't want to smile at all, nor did he know why he should. But receiving and executing orders was etched into his bones. He turned back to the proprietress, pulled at the corners of his mouth, and offered a standard smile.
To him, it wasn't a smile, but a movement he had been disciplined to perform thousands of times, etched into his very marrow. It was no different from the motion of plunging a knife into someone's throat.
Those people never cared about the expression on his face, but he still had to smile; it was his other face. As familiar as he was with this expression, he loathed it just as much.
Strangely, after he made that expression, the proprietress also smiled involuntarily. Seeing this, the woman on his back gave a light cough and spoke in a raspy voice.
"My legs are inconvenient, so I must have my son carry me. Please don't mind us. We just met with disaster in the mountains and our clothes are soaked through. We thought to buy some wine to warm ourselves, but we only have this much left..."
As the woman spoke, her hand continued to "work its magic" on his waist. Her voice squeezed through her teeth, lingering heavily by his ear.
"Cry."
The youth’s expression instantly turned even worse; he truly did look like someone who had suffered through a disaster.
What exactly was he doing? Why was he here? Had leaving the Manor of the World’s Best been the right choice? Where exactly was his future?
Finally, he lowered his eyes. Those light brown eyes instantly seemed to mist over, his trembling lashes like the dew-laden wings of a butterfly, each flutter tugging at the proprietress’s heartstrings.
The proprietress’s resolve had already softened. Seeing this, she quickly waved her hand, handed him the wine she had already strained, and stuffed the copper coins back into his waistband.
"Oh, it’s just a few coins, don't be troubled, young master. Besides, you’ve met with such misfortune. This wine is on me. Just be more careful on the road next time, and remember to visit our shop when you come to town in the future."
Even after walking dozens of paces away from the shop, Li Qiao still felt as if he hadn't quite come to his senses. The woman had one arm around his neck and the other holding the wine ladle, her face blooming with a wide smile.
He looked at that smile, rubbed his bruised waist, and spoke with suppressed resentment.
"Since you like smiling so much, why didn't you do it yourself?"
The woman seemed completely oblivious to his dissatisfaction, merely giving him an unceremonious eye-roll.
"If my smile were useful, why would I need you?"
Having said that, she signaled for him to stop at a stone bridge by the water, setting up a "banquet" right there between heaven and earth.
The ladle used for the wine was made from a split calabash, with half-cleaned pulp still floating inside. The two wine bowls were borrowed from the shrine next to the bridge, with three chips along the rims. The wine was a crude, thin Laobai rice wine; one could smell the sour bitterness before it even touched the lips.
But the woman was perfectly satisfied. As a full bowl of wine entered her stomach, her eyes grew even brighter, almost making it hard to look at her directly.
"I’ve held back for so long just for this one sip. It was worth it!"
He glanced sideways at the cloudy liquid, not the least bit curious about its taste.
Perhaps sensing his gaze, the woman shared a bowl with him.
"That persimmon tree in front of her shop was struck by lightning and has rotted; it will break and crush her shop sooner or later. After you finish this bowl of wine, go and trim it for her. It won't take much of your time."
He didn't touch the bowl of wine, only frowning as he asked, "The goods are already in hand, why bother with such a superfluous act?"
Before his voice could fade, he felt a gust of wind behind his head. He tried to dodge but still took a slap.
He was clearly familiar with her moves, yet he could never dodge them.
"She works hard for her business too. She gave you wine because she liked you and pitied you, and now your tail is wagging? You think you’ve had it hard, that you’re pitiful, but there have never been just one or two pitiful people in this world. Don't think everyone owes you just because your life is bad..."
She stopped abruptly as she spoke. In the next moment, a streak of dark red flowed from her nostril.
A gust of wind blew, and the first petal fell from the small yellow flower tucked behind her ear.
He froze, but she seemed to have expected it. She wiped it away nonchalantly and poured herself another large bowl.
"The medicine needn't be taken, but the wine must be drunk."
He remained silent, quietly watching her drink deeply.
The setting sun was behind her, the wine bowl was in her hand, and joy was in her brow.
"Little Thirteen, I might only be able to accompany you this far. I don't regret it, I just find it a bit of a pity. If there were more time, I could have taught you how to drink, how to cricket-fight, and how to steal the spirit medicines those old geezers hide under their quilts. I would have taught you more than just this boring way of killing. Alas, our fate is limited; I can only teach you the methods to save your life first. After all, one must be alive to experience more, to truly look at this mortal world." The woman’s voice came heavily. She didn't bother to wipe her nose; blood flowed down her lips and chin, dripping into the wine bowl and blooming like a red flower. "As long as you live well, live with your heart, you will eventually meet that person who is willing to stay by your side. The things I couldn't continue to teach you, she will teach you. The things I couldn't accompany you in doing, she will do with you. You will go to many places together, and in the end, you will always return to the same place. You will live the same days every day, yet hope that those days never end..."
He didn't believe her. He didn't believe a single word Li Qingdao said.
He thought it was merely the delirium of a dying person. Regardless of what she said, he couldn't verify it immediately, nor could he argue with her in the future.
*But Master, it turns out I was wrong. Your words have all come true.*
His master had not lied to him. After seven years of wandering alone, after he had decided that he would live out the rest of his life in such a way, he had finally met that person.
She taught him to recognize herbs, to weigh them, to sort them, and to decoct them. She taught him about the mundane details of life—firewood, rice, oil, and salt—and taught him how to touch life itself. She wiped away the poison in his body and healed his lacerated wounds. They stayed together day after day, and he wished they could stay together forever...
But what a pity, Master. He couldn't remain by her side.
During the days away from her, he curled up on that small boat, following the rivers through town after town, across stone bridge after stone bridge, through patches of lamplight and human life.
Sometimes he would sit quietly at the bow, letting the light and shadows fall upon him. He veiled his face with light gauze, but his eyes were brighter than ever before.
It was as if she had planted something in his eyes, allowing him to pierce through the thick shell of the mundane world and begin to see things he had never noticed before.
He saw green fruits ripening on the branches; he smelled the fragrance of osmanthus drifting in the air; he tasted the sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy flavors within the clamor of voices; he felt the wind kissing his hair and the sunlight enveloping his lonely shadow, just like the mornings and evenings when she used to take his hand, and the days and nights when she soothed his pain.
She was nowhere to be found, yet she was everywhere.
He had clearly left her, yet she had been with him all along.
*Master, will I be able to see her again in this life?*
*Master, can you tell me...*
*Master...*
The surroundings were bustling, his shadow falling lonely on the ground, crushed in an instant by countless feet.
Finally, he lifted the pot of wine and shook it gently. He glanced at the cloudy liquid within, which was as murky as ever, and after a moment’s hesitation, he took a gulp.
The sour, bitter liquid spread across his tongue, leaving a dry aftertaste and a burning sensation in his throat.
He still didn't like the taste, but he no longer wondered about his master’s sighs while drinking all those years ago.
Some flavors in this world can only be experienced by oneself.
Though he had lived for over twenty years, his life had truly begun seven years ago in Xingshou Town with a cup of worthless, cloudy wine. And then, it had begun to possess color and bloom with flowers during that spring a few months ago.
The sun had completely sunk. In the misty night of the small town, figures were blurred. The boatwoman was pacing by the pier, looking around until she finally spotted him and hurried over.
"Did the young master find what he wanted to buy? The next town isn't far; if you’re willing..."
She stopped halfway, catching a faint scent of wine. She thought the youth must have been in a bad mood and went to drown his sorrows, yet he looked perfectly sober.
"Does the auntie know where in this town they sell white sugar cakes? I went to many shops, but I couldn't find any."
Li Qiao spoke suddenly. The boatwoman froze for a moment before shaking her head.
"Though it’s not a rare thing, no one around here makes them anymore. If you want to eat them, tell me the recipe and I’ll steam some for you. It’s not a rare thing anyway..."
It truly wasn't something worth a thousand pieces of gold, but what he wanted was something only she had.
The white sugar cakes had stayed with her in that mist-shrouded city, while he drifted downstream, only getting further and further away from it all.
The youth shook his head gently, politely declining the boatwoman’s kindness.
"Thank you, auntie. I only asked in passing; it’s no matter if there are none."
The boatwoman nodded, only half-understanding. She felt the youth was burdened with heavy thoughts and was about to offer some words of comfort as an elder, but in the next moment, his gaze shifted. He finally noticed the garment in her arms, and his entire being froze.
Noticing his expression, the boatwoman remembered her task. As she bit off the last bit of thread, she explained, "Earlier, my man was clumsy and got your clothes wet. I wanted to dry them for you, but then I saw the cuffs were torn. I happened to be free, so I mended them for you..."
Before she could finish, the youth’s expression changed.
He snatched the garment away, inspecting it inside and out, his hands seemingly trembling.
This was the only piece of clothing left that she had personally mended. He had been reluctant to wear it on the road, fearing that if it wore out, it could never be fixed again. He had carefully folded it in his bundle. If this garment were altered, then even her last trace would be erased.
Seeing his poor complexion, the boatwoman became hesitant. She didn't understand what was so precious about an old, faded garment. After a long pause, she called out softly, "Young master?"
Seeing that there were only a few more mending marks on the inside of the cuffs, he finally returned to normal and held the garment to his chest.
"Thank you, auntie."
He was about to walk away when the boatwoman pulled him to the side. After looking left and right, she fished something out from her person.
"Oh, right. When I was mending the clothes, this fell out."
The boatwoman produced a paper packet that was even rougher than her hands and carefully placed it in his.
"This thing was sewn into the lining of the cuff. I thought it might be your secret savings, so I quickly kept it for you. I wanted to return it as soon as I saw you; after all, the clothes were wet, and you couldn't just leave it there..."
Li Qiao’s figure froze completely.
She was always meticulous in mending clothes; she couldn't even tolerate a small hole. How could she have left the sleeves unsewn?
A sudden premonition surged in his heart. His fingers moved slightly, gently pinching the paper packet.
The boatwoman’s voice didn't stop, rambling on about something, but it became mere noise in his ears. His eyes grew blurry, as if the entire world had been soaked and dampened by something.
That wasn't "secret savings." He had left all his "secret savings" to her when he departed.
That was the rough hemp paper used for wrapping medicine at Guoran Ju. Inside was the antidote for Qingfeng Powder.
According to her previous words, it was also the final dose of the antidote. After taking this medicine, his body would be completely free of Qingfeng Powder.
She had kept her promise, severing his connection to the Manor of the World’s Best and giving him true freedom. She had anticipated his weakness, his evasion, and his helplessness, yet she had still sewn the final antidote into his clothes, hoping he would live on healthily and safely.
The rough paper packet was clenched into a ball in his palm. He dragged his feet back into the cramped cabin and slowly opened the packet.
The final portion of the antidote lay quietly inside, exactly seven days' worth.
The bitter taste of the medicine dissolved on the tip of his tongue, yet he felt it was sweeter than honey.
"Sister..."
He missed her so much.
Every night since leaving her, he had thought of her. Every day without her, he had dreamed of her.
The youth gasped low in the darkness, curling his body and hugging himself tightly with both arms.
"Qin Jiuye, Jiuye..."
He didn't need needle and thread, he didn't need to drown his sorrows, and he didn't need to listen to songs of longing.
Her medicine mended his body, her love watered his heart, and everything about her echoed in the depths of his soul.
He murmured her name, finally falling into a deep sleep on this lonely and long night.
