Chapter 10: How to Respond

Hong Xiaoduo’s question didn’t give the old man much pause; he simply took it as casual conversation.

“As for that, I’m not entirely sure, but generally speaking, if someone dies, you have to report it to the authorities. The yamen sends a coroner to examine the body, and the bailiffs investigate to confirm the identity before striking the deceased from the household register.

However, for people like beggars who have no fixed abode—some die of hunger or illness, others are killed in fights over food—it’s nothing unusual for them to die out in the open. Unless their own people go to the yamen to demand justice, the officials usually just register the date and location of death, record the deceased’s physical features, and send the body to the charity morgue for a while. If no one comes to claim them, they’re just tossed into a mass grave and buried in a shallow pit.

In this day and age, the yamen doesn’t put much effort into investigating such cases.” The old man had served as a village head in his youth, so he had some experience.

I see. Hong Xiaoduo breathed a slight sigh of relief. “By the way, sir, I’d like to ask if those beggars who were causing trouble in your village had any distinct features?”

The old man hadn’t expected her to ask this, but he didn’t seem annoyed. He carefully described the group, noting their heights and builds, and mentioned that one of them went by the nickname ‘Old Cat.’

“Those fellows certainly aren’t doing this for the first time. If you happen to run into them again, it’s best to avoid them,” the old man kindly warned.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed the sword at Hong Xiaoduo’s waist, but the young woman didn’t give him the impression of a seasoned martial artist; she just didn’t seem experienced enough.

A child at the edge of the village called out for his grandfather from afar, and the old man said his wife was calling him back.

Hong Xiaoduo watched with the seven children as the old man turned and left, then she continued on her way.

After about a quarter of an hour, she vaguely spotted the empty house the old man had described. It was a dilapidated courtyard without a gate.

Uninhabited and long neglected, half the roof had collapsed, and the window frames were gone—likely dismantled by someone for firewood.

Looking at the structure, Hong Xiaoduo thought to herself that if she were alone, she might not have dared to stay there. Just looking at it gave her the creeps, like something out of a ghost story.

“Mother, wait a moment, let us tidy up.” The eldest boy helped Hong Xiaoduo unfasten the little girl from her back and set her down as he spoke.

Hong Xiaoduo was about to say that she should be the one doing such things, but she saw the eldest boy take out a fire starter and begin working with the other children in a well-coordinated manner.

In the corner of the room where the roof was still intact, there was a pile of hay; it looked as though travelers had rested there before.

In front of the resting spot, the eldest boy lit a pile of twigs and placed the steamed buns the old man had given them nearby to warm up.

Hong Xiaoduo carefully inspected the remaining section of the roof to ensure there was no danger of it collapsing before she felt at ease enough to sit on the hay and rest.

“Mother, have this.” The little girl, sitting right next to Hong Xiaoduo, offered her the roasted bird she was holding again.

Mother had carried her today, and she had even slept on Mother’s back—it was so comfortable. Having a mother is wonderful, just as the big brother said.

Hong Xiaoduo smiled at the sight. She took it, but instead of eating it, she handed it to one of the children by the fire, signaling for them to heat it up again.

Once it was warm and blown cool enough not to burn, she gave it back to the little one.

The little one was still reluctant to eat it, wanting to save it for later.

“Eat it. If you like it, I’ll catch more tomorrow. Other things might be hard to catch, but birds are everywhere,” Hong Xiaoduo told her with a smile.

The little one nodded happily, but still didn’t eat it right away. Instead, she got up to offer it to her brothers and sisters. After a full round, no one would take the bird, which had been small to begin with and was even smaller after roasting.

The steamed buns were warmed up, and the eldest boy brought two to Hong Xiaoduo first.

There were only five buns in total. Giving her two meant the seven children would have to split the remaining three.

These buns were the size of a fist; to be full, Hong Xiaoduo would need at least three. She was indeed hungry, but how could she eat them? She broke one in half, kept half for herself, and gave the rest to the eldest boy to distribute among the others.

“Didn’t you call me Mother? Doesn’t that mean you have to listen to me?” Hong Xiaoduo deliberately darkened her face. The eldest boy opened his mouth to protest, but eventually, he honestly came over to take them and share them with the others.

The buns were devoured in a few bites. In such an environment, there was no point in thinking about washing up before bed.

Once they had eaten, they all obediently went to the hay to sleep. Hong Xiaoduo noticed them lying on either side of her, but keeping a small distance, knowing they were afraid she would find them dirty.

“Why are you staying so far away? Come closer, it’s warmer.” Her tone was still a bit stern, but the children immediately and nimbly shuffled closer.

Right next to her were the little one and another girl, while the eldest boy slept on the outermost edge.

The night was deep, but Hong Xiaoduo didn’t have a shred of sleepiness. From where they lay, they could see the stars in the night sky through the hole in the roof.

The Big Dipper? Hong Xiaoduo thought of something and sat up.

“Mother? Do you need water? Or…?” The eldest boy, lying on the edge, asked softly.

If Mother needed water, he would fetch it; if she needed to go outside for something, he would go with her to keep her company.

“Why aren’t you asleep? Afraid I’ll abandon you and run off?” Hong Xiaoduo asked, curious.

“No, Mother. I’m a light sleeper; any little noise wakes me,” the eldest boy whispered, his voice tinged with helplessness and a hint of grievance.

*Sigh*, what does it mean to be a light sleeper? It clearly meant he couldn’t sleep soundly. Hong Xiaoduo felt a pang of heartache.

He was just a child himself, yet he had taken on the responsibilities of an adult.

“I was thinking of your names,” Hong Xiaoduo said.

The eldest boy perked up at once and sat up as well.

Hong Xiaoduo pointed to the stars in the night sky ahead: “See that? Those seven stars connected together, looking like a ladle? That’s called the Big Dipper. There are seven of you, so I’ll name you after them.”

“Mother? Then am I called One Star? Or Big Star?” the eldest boy asked, suppressing his excitement.

*Pfft*, Hong Xiaoduo couldn’t help but laugh. “What One Star, Two Star, Big Star? Do you see the handle of the ladle? The meaning of the Big Dipper starts from the handle. The first star is the Star of Strength; it gives you power when you face difficulties. It’s called Tian-shu. So, your name will be Tian-shu. Do you like it?”

“Tian-shu? The Star of Strength? That’s my name?” The eldest boy repeated it, unable to believe it.

Hong Xiaoduo nodded. “Of course. If you don’t like it, I can think of another.”

“I like it, Mother! I like it! I’m Tian-shu! I have a name, a name of my own!” The eldest boy shouted happily. Hong Xiaoduo shushed him repeatedly, signaling him to be quiet.

But it was too late; the other six children, who had already fallen asleep, were woken up, rubbing their eyes in confusion.

“Mother, what about me?”

“Mother, me too.” One by one, they looked at Hong Xiaoduo with sleepy eyes.

Amused yet helpless, Hong Xiaoduo had to explain the origin of the names and assigned them in the order of the Big Dipper: Tian-xuan, Tian-ji, Tian-quan, Yu-heng, Kai-yang, and Yao-guang.

Yu-heng and the little one, Yao-guang, were both girls, and the names suited them well.

Hong Xiaoduo initially didn’t want to mention that the star Kai-yang was known as the Star of Calamity, a symbol of disaster and greed. But after thinking about it, she decided it was better to say it now; deliberate concealment might backfire in the future.

She told little Kai-yang that in Taoism, this star was called the Wu-qu Star, and it also carried the meaning of restraint.

So, it wasn’t a bad thing at all.

Little Kai-yang nodded very seriously. “Mother, Kai-yang understands. Keep kindness in my heart, restrain my greed, and be a good person with a heart set on goodness.”

Such a smart and adorable child. Hong Xiaoduo couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair.

Now that they all had names, they excitedly called out to each other, and all traces of sleepiness vanished.

“Alright, it’s very late, time to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to write your own names.” This was the happiest moment since the one adult and seven children had met. Hong Xiaoduo was infected by their joy, and her own mood was quite good.

“Mother, what is your name?” little Yao-guang asked impulsively.

There was nothing to hide there, so Hong Xiaoduo smiled. “Hong Xiaoduo. ‘Xiao’ as in size, ‘Duo’ as in flower.”

“Mother, your surname is Hong. Does that mean we are surnamed Hong too?” Tian-xuan’s eyes lit up as he asked excitedly.

Ah? This?

This question left Hong Xiaoduo truly not knowing how to answer. They didn’t have names, so she gave them some, and now they wanted to share her surname.

It sounded like such a simple thing—just a surname—but would this make them believe even more firmly that they could stay with her forever…

(End of chapter)