Dawn broke slowly, casting a faint light into the back courtyard of the Misty Waves Inn.
A gentle breeze brushed against the paper windows, carrying with it the scent of grass and a touch of moisture. Tree shadows swayed across the yard; beside the small well stood a water jar, and the paper lantern under the eaves creaked softly in the wind.
Bihua had already risen. After washing and combing her hair, she adjusted Layne's collar for him.
The boy, still drowsy, slipped on his shoes and leaned against the wall with a yawn.
"Mother, where are we going today?"
"We'll walk around the town," Bihua answered gently. "See if we can find a house… and a school."
Breakfast had been set out on a folding table in the courtyard corner: a bowl of thin porridge, two bean cakes, a pinch of pickled vegetables, and a pot of hot water.
The inn's servant brought it over with a yawn, adding casually, "Two merchants just set off from the front courtyard this morning. If you hurry, you might still catch up and hear some news."
Bihua nodded her thanks and slipped ten copper coins into his hand.
The servant grinned. "That's plenty, miss—such simple fare hardly costs that much."
Layne sat at the table, spooning porridge into his mouth. "It's thinner than what we had in Youzhen," he murmured, "but a little sweeter."
"More water, more sugar," Bihua said, adding some pickles to his bowl. "It only looks good on the surface."
After the meal, mother and son packed up their bundle and purse, then made their way to the street. The merchants were nowhere to be seen—likely already departed.
Morning market had begun. The main street of Muyun Town was far broader than Youzhen's. Blue-brick paving lined both sides, and somewhere nearby the sound of running water could be heard—perhaps an underground channel, or maybe a small river running through the town. The night before, in their haste to find lodging, they hadn't noticed.
Street stalls were already busy. The air smelled of tea, porridge, fried cakes, and sesame balls. Porters wove through the crowd with their poles, vendors hawked their goods, and old men sat on stools drinking tea, idly fanning themselves.
"Freshly steamed bean buns! Two coins each!"
"Wild jujube tea, five coins a pot—homemade, come try it!"
Layne's gaze followed the candied figurines at a sugar stall until Bihua pressed his shoulder gently. "Business first. On our way back, I'll buy you one."
They walked on.
The brokers' hall stood at the intersection of South and Middle Streets. An old signboard still bore the faded characters for "Hengju." Inside sat a middle-aged woman in a blue jacket, haggling with a couple.
When they left, Bihua approached with Layne.
"Looking to rent?" the woman asked, her eyes flicking over Bihua's collar and bundle. "Got local registration? Any family here? A man's name on the record?"
"No registry yet. We've just arrived in Muyun."
"Then you'll need a temporary residence slip." She waved a hand. "Without one, you'll have to pay six months in advance. Five sets of coins per month—water and fire not included. Shared kitchen. A back alley house, not too noisy."
Bihua thought for a moment. "Can I bring a child?"
"With a child, it's extra." The woman's voice was flat. "Half again the rent."
"Then we'll pass." Bihua offered a polite bow and turned away.
Layne whispered, "Where will we stay then?"
"There are other places," she said calmly. "That woman thought us easy prey. We'll find better. Tea houses and taverns hold more news anyway."
They moved toward Middle Street, where the sound of running water grew louder. Soon they saw the town's central river flowing north to south, with wide streets and rows of blue-brick houses on either side. Signs for spice shops, cloth stores, tea houses, and accounting offices hung from the eaves.
Turning a corner, they came upon a courtyard with two stone lions flanking its red doors. Above hung a plaque: "Liu's Martial Hall."
Inside, two boys were practicing. One bare-chested, the other with sandbags strapped to his arms, both shouted as they struck, fists thudding against the pads with heavy sound.
Layne froze, staring. His eyes brimmed with something more than curiosity—longing.
"Mother, are they learning martial arts?"
"Seems so. Do you want to try?"
"I… I want to be strong. Strong like that man… the City Lord." His voice faltered.
Bihua only squeezed his hand. "Training like that is not the same as being like him."
"Still, I want to try," Layne insisted. "Next time, I don't want to lose all my strength from just one grip."
She tapped him lightly on the head. "We'll see. If you still want this later, I'll bring you back."
Layne nodded solemnly, as if sealing a promise.
Not long after, they reached another building. Its walls were worn, but above the gate were carved four characters: "Mingshan Academy." A notice board read:
"To enroll: local registration required, or immigration record from another town. Tuition three sets per month. Initial fee fifty coins."
Bihua read silently.
"Do we not have enough money?" Layne asked.
"We don't even have our names registered here." Her voice was steady. "Without it, no school will take you."
The sound of children reading drifted out, bright and crisp as birdsong. Layne bit his lip, eyes clouded with memories of his friends in Youzhen.
Bihua knew where they must go: the town office.
Inside, a bored young clerk took her information, noting it in the ledger under "Widowed mother with child." He handed her a wooden token marked with gray charcoal at one corner—proof of temporary residence, no rights of permanence.
She accepted, thanked him, and left without fuss.
Later, as midday neared, Bihua and Layne entered a modest eatery called Strangers' Meeting. A copper pot of porridge steamed outside, and meat broth simmered on the stove. The boy's eyes lit up as they sat, ordering chicken wontons, bamboo-shoot rice, and tea.
The food was simple but fragrant. Layne ate eagerly, then declared, "Better than the inn's food!"
Bihua only sipped her tea. "Costs more, so it ought to."
At the next table, men gossiped between bites of meat.
"Did you hear? A big official lost his head in Qingzhou just days ago!"
"No wonder strangers keep showing up here."
"Bah, let the officials fret. Better them than us sweating under the sun."
Bihua's fingers tapped lightly against her teacup. She turned to her son.
"Layne. Do you truly want to learn martial arts?"
"Yes!" He nearly choked in his haste to answer. "I'll be stronger than anyone. I promised—I'll protect you!"
Bihua smiled faintly. "Books must come first. Martial arts too, if you insist. But both together. I can even hire a tutor to teach at home."
Layne only nodded eagerly, tears from choking still glistening in his eyes.
That afternoon, they found a small courtyard for rent on the southwestern side of town. One main room and two side rooms, sparsely furnished but clean. It was enough.
By evening, they returned to the inn. Bihua asked the innkeeper where to buy furniture and supplies, then sent Layne upstairs while she went back out into the streets.