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At the end of the small path, faint wisps of cooking smoke rose. The tired figures toiling in the fields began to pack up their farming tools, heading home one after another.
A pair of good-looking brothers arrived in Qianjia Village. One walked ahead, and the other rode a nearly man-high, snow-white mule. The mule was truly beautiful, with not a single stray hair on its body, and a valuable pure gold bell hanging around its neck, tinkling crisply with every step. The two immediately attracted the attention of the farmers upon their appearance. The older one wore a raven-black long robe, a headscarf, and wooden clogs. His figure was slender, and a Literary Heart signature seal hung from his waist, suggesting he was a young scholar traveling for study. The younger one looked eleven or twelve, not resembling the older one, but was also a handsome youth with red lips, white teeth, and deep-set features. He probably had a touch of foreign blood from his ancestors, making his facial features deeper than common folk. At first glance, one might mistake him for a bright and beautiful young woman, but only upon hearing the older youth's address did they realize he was a young lord.
"My humble abode is simple. I apologize for the inconvenience to the two young lords, but please make do for the night." The village chief led the two into a side room. Qianjia Village was a small village of less than a hundred households. The most presentable and clean house in the village belonged to the village chief. Hearing that the two young lords wished to stay, he warmly invited them to stay at his home and even had his wife clean up the side room.
Qi Shan took out a piece of broken silver and gave it to the village chief, asking them to prepare a few days' worth of dry rations, and to heat a pot of water for bathing, with the rest as a thank-you gift. The village chief smiled as he weighed the silver, and after an estimation, quickly said it was no trouble. Before leaving, he also asked if they wanted some fresh grass for the mule. Hearing the village chief mention the mule, Qi Shan's expression showed a momentary unnaturalness: "No need. That mule is not a living creature; it is my younger brother's Spirit Language creation."
The village chief understood immediately, his expression growing even more respectful.
Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling— The familiar sound of bells approached. Qi Shan pushed open the window to air out the stuffy room. He looked up to see Shen Tang leading the mule with one hand and holding a handful of grass to tease it with the other. He vaguely heard young lord Shen muttering to the mule.
"Motorcycle, why don't you eat? Just one bite, I picked it specially for you..."
Qi Shan: "..." Speaking of this mule named "Motorcycle," he had a feeling of exasperation. No one expected that a strange Spirit Language—"Lightning Speed, Dayun Motorcycle"—could actually condense into a snow-white mule! Young lord Shen happily rode onto it.
"Mr. Qi, would you like to conjure one too?"
Qi Shan flatly refused. Not to mention that he couldn't use that Spirit Language, even if he could and succeeded, the effect might not be the same as young lord Shen's. Most importantly—no matter how beautiful a mule was, it was still just a mule. He wouldn't ride it!
"Then would you like to ride together?" Shen Tang raised her hand to shield her eyes from the dazzling sun, offering another suggestion.
Qi Shan refused again. He would rather walk until his legs broke than ride this foolish-looking mule. Shen Tang shrugged and didn't insist. With a low-spec sports car (the mule) for transportation, her feet were finally liberated. Passing an unknown tree that closely resembled a banana tree, she, from the mule's back, bent over and plucked two large leaves. One she propped on her shoulder for shade. The other she offered to shield Qi Shan's head.
"Mr. Qi!"
With the sun blocked from above, Qi Shan turned his head upon hearing her. Shen Tang tossed the leaf to him. "Catch!"
Seeing Shen Tang's posture, shielding herself from the sun, he smiled helplessly. "What true man fears such hardship?"
"I don't fear it, but as the old saying goes—one fair feature covers a hundred flaws." Shen Tang adjusted the angle of the large leaf, carrying it as she chuckled, "Getting tanned makes your skin uneven, detracting from your beauty."
Qi Shan: "..."
The two traveled for several hours before seeing signs of human habitation. Due to years of drought and war, Qianjia Village had only a few households left. The entire village showed few young faces, only elderly people and innocent children. The sudden arrival of two unfamiliar faces spread the news from one end of the village to the other, and mischievous children occasionally peeked out from the village chief's house.
Qi Shan had business with the village chief. Upon his return, he heard Shen Tang's laughter as she played with several children. The two groups were "fighting a war." A small child, dressed in a faded, washed-out garment, rode on the snow-white mule's back, holding a withered tree branch as a long spear, looking fierce. Young lord Shen, on foot, wielded a stick to meet the enemy. The two went back and forth, clashing continuously, fighting "fiercely." Other children, acting as "soldiers," watched the "battle" nervously from the sidelines, occasionally applauding and shouting, "General is mighty!"
Qi Shan: "..." At first, he thought Shen Tang was just playing around—after all, young lord Shen was only an eleven or twelve-year-old boy, and even after suffering the hardships of exile, his essence was still mischievous and energetic—but after watching for a while, he realized that the unfamiliar child was also quite interesting. He asked the village chief, "What is this child's name? Which family in the village does he belong to?"
The village chief replied, "He's not a child from the village."
"Not?"
The village chief sighed, "I heard he's from a prominent family, but he's had a severe illness since childhood and lives in a nearby manor to recuperate. They say he's recuperating, but in reality, he's been abandoned. The servants naturally don't care for him diligently, so he looks very pitiful and often sneaks out to play with the village children..." Usually, he would play until dark, and then the manor servants would come to pick him up.
Qi Shan's curiosity was piqued. "Severe illness? Where is the illness?"
The village chief glanced at the child, who had a joyful expression, and carefully pointed to his own head, saying, "I heard it's a brain illness." In short, he was a fool.
Qi Shan was slightly surprised and was about to speak when he heard several children burst into loud cheers. It turned out that the child had performed a feint with his spear, "tricking" Shen Tang, and stabbed her protected "lord." The strike was neither contested nor deflected, hitting the "lord" squarely on the forehead. According to the game rules, he won.
Looking at the "fallen lord," Shen Tang could only "helplessly" spread her hands and drop her weapon, "surrendering." "Sigh, I lost." The winner received spoils of war. The so-called spoils were thumb-sized pieces of malt sugar. She opened the pouch at her waist, took out a handful of malt sugar she had made out of boredom, and distributed one to each person. This was called "rewarding the troops." The "general" who had performed great deeds—the child riding steadily on the mule, brandishing his spear with quite some flair—received three exclusively. The other children eagerly put the malt sugar into their mouths, but only that one child did not, blankly holding the malt sugar, not even eating it. This dull appearance was completely different from the spirited look he had while "fighting" on the mule's back.
"Aren't you eating?" Shen Tang crouched down and asked the child. The child shook his head. He looked at the malt sugar in his hand, hesitated for a moment, then picked one up and handed it to Shen Tang. He looked at her intently, as if expecting something.
"You're feeding me?"
"Mm, eat." The child said. Shen Tang didn't mind the child's dirty little hands, opened her mouth to eat the malt sugar he offered, and smiled, her eyes crinkling. "Oh, it's so sweet. You try some too?" The child then picked up another piece and put it in his mouth. The last piece he put back into his faded pouch at his waist.
The pouch was heavy. Shen Tang, utilizing her vantage point, vaguely saw a delicate tiger-head jade disc inside, with tiny seal script carved into it. The other children returned home satisfied, but only this child, whose clothes were washed until faded, remained, led by the village chief to the main house to wait.
The summer sky was extremely fickle. Not long after dusk, heavy rain poured down from the dark sky. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and winds howled. Shen Tang was reading by lamplight, frantically memorizing Spirit Languages. Just then, a loud pounding came from the door.