Chapter 10: Dead End (10)

Chapter 10: Dead End (Part 10)

Xiao Duo’s eyelids twitched violently. He had said long ago that one shouldn't take money from the dead, but he hadn't expected retribution to come so quickly. He took two long strides to reach Zhao Zhao, crouched down before the pile of corpses, and mustered the courage to pry at the hand—be it ghost or human—that was gripping her.

No matter how hard he pulled, the hand remained clamped onto Zhao Zhao’s leg, unmoving. Anxious, he looked up and asked, "What did you take from them?"

The night was dark and the wind was high. Zhao Zhao had thought she wasn't afraid, but at this moment, she broke out in goosebumps. Bracing her trembling legs, she pointed to her feet and said, "I just pulled it out; I haven't even had a chance to take anything yet."

Not far from the hand, there was a frost-white glint on the ground. Xiao Duo glanced at it, initially thinking it was moonlight, but when he shone his torch on it, he discovered it was a slender blade. The scabbard was engraved with exquisite patterns, so beautiful it hardly looked like a weapon at all. It was no wonder Zhao Zhao had set her eyes on it the moment she saw the pile of corpses.

Picking up the blade, Xiao Duo tapped the hand that refused to let go and bargained, "Big brother, I’m returning your blade. Be a good soul and let go of my Zhao Zhao."

Naturally, there was no response. The owner of the hand was pinned under seven or eight corpses; even if he were a ghost, he would be too smothered to make a sound. Fortunately, Xiao Duo hadn't truly intended to negotiate with the aggrieved party; he was just being polite for form's sake. After speaking, he made a move to draw the blade, intending to chop off the hand and be done with it.

Who would have thought that before the blade even left the sheath, the blood-stained fingers twitched, as if they had heard him.

Both Xiao Duo and Zhao Zhao were startled, finally realizing: "He's alive?"

They had flipped over countless corpses along their journey, but they never expected to run into a living one... it would have been better to run into a ghost!

If it were truly a ghost, they could just pull the old donkey and drag the dead wolf away. But since this was a half-dead person, they had to weigh whether or not to save him.

If they wanted to save him, their own lives were thinner than paper; they couldn't afford even the slightest bit of trouble. But if they didn't, their conscience wouldn't allow it.

The two looked at each other. After a long while, Zhao Zhao sighed, "Let’s dig him out first and see."

Following the arm that had grabbed her, the two held their noses and began to peel away the seven or eight heavy corpses. Finally, the blood-covered victim saw the light of day again.

Xiao Duo couldn't see the man's face clearly, only that he was remarkably tall and slender. He had to drag him back several steps just to pull him out of the pile. Besides being tall, he was also very thin. Heaven knows where he got the strength to hold onto Zhao Zhao so tightly.

Exhausted from digging him out, Xiao Duo panted and patted the man’s face irritably. "Hey, are you dead or alive?"

"Do you think he looks like he can talk?"

Zhao Zhao held the torch closer. The man’s face was caked in blood, making it impossible to tell where his nose or eyes were. She didn't check his breath; instead, she reached out to touch his heart. It was as faint as a tiny flame, almost as if he were already dead. "He still has a pulse."

It was precisely because he still had a pulse that Xiao Duo wiped the sweat from his forehead. "What do we do now? Leave him by the roadside and let him fend for himself?"

Zhao Zhao was no saint, nor did she care much for morality, but she couldn't stand by and watch a living life fade away. "How about... we take him back?"

"Are you crazy?" Xiao Duo’s expression changed. Before, he had only been distressed, but now he looked as if he were facing a great enemy. "Take him back? Where will he live? What will he eat? What if something goes wrong? We can't afford this trouble."

What he feared, Zhao Zhao feared too, but she had her own calculations.

She looked back at the path they had come from. Scattered among the piles of dead bodies were various blades, but none were as sharp or beautiful as the one she had set her eyes on. Precious items belonged to precious people; the "blood gourd" clutching her leg was likely no mere foot soldier.

"You said earlier that the token was something only wealthy families could afford?"

Seeing Xiao Duo nod, she raised an eyebrow. "Want to gamble?"

"Gamble?"

"Gamble that if we save this person, we’ll be rolling in wealth!"

Zhao Zhao’s thinking was simple, yet not so simple.

If she and Xiao Duo took him back and used the medicine meant for Yao Niang on him, whether he lived or died would be up to his own fate.

If he died, she would sneak the body to the river at night and toss it in, letting him leave cleanly—that would be doing all they could.

But if he lived, and he was indeed as important as she suspected, then it would be time for her to get rich—medicine fees, room and board, plus a reward for saving his life. Asking for a hundred taels in total wouldn't be excessive, would it?

Zhao Zhao convinced herself, and in turn, convinced Xiao Duo. They stripped a few sets of clothes off the corpses, wrapped the man and the wolf tightly, and set off back to the county on the old donkey’s back.

When they passed the county gate, it was not yet dawn. The guards were exhausted from staying up all night and were dazed with sleep. Seeing the two covered in blood and wounds, they were about to interrogate them.

The two didn't say a word before they started crying, pulling back the wolf carcass on the donkey to show how dangerous the night had been and how they had barely escaped with their lives. The guards, seeing they were just two half-grown children who couldn't possibly cause any real trouble, took the gate fee and waved them through.

Zhao Zhao and Xiao Duo breathed a sigh of relief, hurrying back to the building and dragging the man into the corner of the west courtyard under the cover of darkness.

The west courtyard had been abandoned for a long time, overgrown with weeds, with a few crumbling mud houses barely standing. Only Zhao Zhao and Yao Niang lived there. Mother Yu had moved the mother and daughter there to make things difficult for them, but who would have thought it would make it convenient for Zhao Zhao to bring an outsider home?

Even though the west courtyard was remote, Zhao Zhao and Xiao Duo still felt like thieves.

They locked the courtyard gate, bolted Yao Niang’s door, and carefully dragged the man to the empty courtyard, stripping off his blood-soaked clothes.

They thought it would be simple—just throw the clothes into a fire basin and burn them. But they didn't expect it to release such a thick, bloody stench that it set off dogs barking in every direction. They quickly extinguished the fire and dug a deep pit to bury the clothes.

After dealing with the clothes, they dragged the man to the well to wash the blood off his body with well water.

In the heat of midsummer, the well water was still bone-chillingly cold. After seven or eight buckets, the man was clean, and his various knife wounds had turned white from the soaking.

Afraid he would die, Zhao Zhao and Xiao Duo quickly carried him into the house, cleaned him up, applied medicine, wrapped him tightly in a quilt, and lit a fire basin to keep him warm.

Previously, they had been working blindly in the dark. Now, with the light, they finally saw his appearance clearly.

Even half-dead, the man was exceptionally handsome. His bones were refined, his features elegant, and his brows carried a haughty pride. He must have been born into a wealthy family, accustomed to looking down on others from a young age, to have grown such a face.

Unable to help himself, Xiao Duo touched the man’s delicate, straight nose bridge, then pinched his own, feeling a bit ashamed. Lacking the vocabulary to describe him, Xiao Duo thought for a moment and said, "He looks like the Bodhisattva in Mother Yu’s room."

Zhao Zhao looked for a while and shook her head. "Not really."

The nose wasn't the same, the eyes weren't the same; only that air of superiority was similar.

But while both were high and mighty, the Bodhisattva’s downcast eyes were filled with the compassion of saving all living beings; this man, however, exuded a coldness that kept people at a distance—a beauty that seemed destined for a short life.

Zhao Zhao didn't care about his looks; she only cared about his identity.

She pulled his hand out from the quilt. At first glance, it looked slender and fair, but it felt as rough as sandpaper to the touch. Zhao Zhao traced his fingers one by one and suddenly said, "Something’s wrong."

Xiao Duo asked hurriedly, "What’s wrong?"

"The calluses on his hands are thicker than yours. You grew up doing manual labor. If he’s of high status and only practices the blade, how could his hands be rougher than yours?"

Xiao Duo froze. He quickly lifted the quilt and leaned in with a candle. He saw that on the man’s body, besides the clear, fresh knife wounds, there were over a dozen old scars of varying sizes and depths, like cracks in white jade.

Jade with flaws is worthless, and people with flaws lose their value too. How could a young master from a wealthy family have so many scars?

Xiao Duo said dejectedly, "I’m afraid he’s just some house guard or attendant, and we’ve picked him up thinking he was a treasure. Even if we want to demand a reward for saving him, this guy probably can’t cough up much money."

It seemed their original plan was not to be.

"Nothing to be done about it. A bet is a bet. Regardless, it’s a human life; we can’t let him die in our hands."

Zhao Zhao brushed her finger against the man’s eyelashes. They were too thick, like the tufts on a cat’s ears, making her hand itch. She mused, "Let’s save him first. When he wakes up, we’ll ask. If he really has no family wealth, we’ll give him a couple of coins and send him on his way."

(End of chapter)