A Meal

Chapter 69: A Meal

One by one, the yellow paper slips turned to black ash as the flames consumed them, spiraling upward on the heat.

Li Huowang watched the scene unfold, his expression complicated.

“Li Zhi, you scumbag—I’ve burned the spirit money you wanted. Hope you can collect it.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he saw the black ash twist into a small vortex in front of him, as if answering his words.

In that moment, Li Huowang suddenly understood something about superstitious people.

Compared to the utterly cruel and despairing notion that everything vanishes after death, the idea of becoming a ghost and continuing to reincarnate was practically a beautiful fairy tale.

He tossed the last stack of yellow paper into the fire, then stood up, brushing the ash from his clothes.

“Come on. Let’s find an inn in town and get some rest. Everyone’s soaked through.”

He was about to leave when Bai Lingmiao’s words made him turn.

“Senior Li… Sister Xiaoman is gone.”

Li Huowang scanned the group for a moment. She was right—the hirsute woman was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, I remember now. She told me earlier her family lives somewhere nearby.”

No one responded. After what had happened before, everyone knew exactly what Xiaoman intended to do when she got home. The already oppressive atmosphere grew even heavier.

“Um… Senior Li, do you think we should go look for her? Maybe we could talk her out of it?” Gouwa grinned awkwardly, reaching under his bamboo hat to scratch his greasy hair.

Li Huowang glanced at him, then walked toward the direction of an inn’s signboard.

“Let’s find an inn and settle in first. Xiaoman grew up around here, she knows the place. Once she’s done with her business, she’ll come find us.”

Bai Lingmiao, who had been about to say something, fell silent. She clutched the hem of her clothes with both hands and followed quietly behind.

The sky was gray, drizzling a light rain. She no longer needed a cloth strip over her eyes, and her pink pupils were filled with sorrow.

Soon enough, they secured dry guest rooms. Some washed their hair, some bathed, and once everyone was ready, they gathered in the main hall for a meal.

There wasn’t much travel money left, so the food on the table was ordinary—mostly vegetables. The only dishes that could count as meat were scrambled eggs with bitter melon and stir-fried pork cracklings with chili peppers.

But everyone ate ravenously. The reason was simple: the lard had been used generously. It smelled delicious and was filling.

It was Qingming Festival, so the inn was quiet, with few guests. A busy waiter was chatting idly with the accountant.

“Hey, scholar—did you hear? I hear there might be another war brewing on the border.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. What do you know? What right does a lousy waiter have to discuss state affairs?”

“Now that’s not fair. I may be just a lowly waiter, but I’ve still got the best information. I heard that this time, Siqi is planning to push east.”

“East?” Li Huowang, who had been eating normally, perked up his ears. East meant the territory within the pass.

He didn’t have many acquaintances over there. The only ones he was worried about were the Lü family troupe.

But then he thought of Lü Zhuangyuan’s slick nature and relaxed. That old fox was cunning enough. He’d be fine.

The waiter lowered his voice. “Scholar, I’m telling you—merchants doing business over there have all been rushing back lately. They must have heard something.”

Li Huowang shook his head as he ate. This place was already such a mess—monsters, bandits everywhere—and instead of focusing on governing the people, the higher-ups had time to launch military campaigns. What a bunch of idiots.

The waiter, excited, was about to say more when his eyes lit up. He hurried toward the inn’s entrance.

“Oh! Miss! Please, come in! Are you stopping for a meal or looking for a room?”

Hearing the commotion, Li Huowang and the others turned their heads. They saw a woman carrying a short blade, wearing a black gauze cone hat, walk in.

Not many people in this town dressed like that. When he saw the thick black hair on the back of her hand, Li Huowang easily guessed her identity.

“Waiter, bring another set of bowls and chopsticks. Tell the kitchen to add two solid dishes.”

“Yes, miss! Right away!”

Li Huowang elbowed the fool beside him. The fool, catching the hint, quickly shoveled a few more bites of food into his mouth, then took his bowl and moved to a corner to eat.

Xiaoman walked over to Li Huowang and sat down.

She took off the black gauze hat, revealing a face streaked with tears that had soaked into her black fur.

Li Huowang took a deep breath, then started shoveling his rice again. He could smell a faint trace of blood on her.

“Bowls and chopsticks—coming through! Holy m—!!”

He waved away the terrified waiter, then placed the bowl and chopsticks in front of Xiaoman. “Eat.”

Xiaoman stared at the empty bowl before her, her face twisted with pain, as if reliving something. “He sold my little sister too. He sold her to an old man over fifty. She died in childbirth earlier this year.”

The only sounds at the table were the clinking of chopsticks against bowls, the chewing and swallowing. No one spoke.

“He’s scum! I hate him! I wish I could eat his flesh and drink his blood!”

Xiaoman ground the words out through clenched teeth.

Hearing this, Bai Lingmiao’s face filled with compassion. She leaned over and wrapped her pale jade-like arms gently around her.

“My mother begged me to let it go. Said that no matter what he did, he was still my father. Said killing your own father would bring heaven’s retribution. But even if it means heaven’s wrath, I had to kill him!”

Li Huowang ladled a few spoonfuls of vegetable and tofu soup into his own bowl, then raised it to his lips and drank. His voice was light, as if making casual conversation. “The heavens in this place don’t have eyes anyway.”

The table gradually fell silent. The others sat still, watching Xiaoman in silence.

There was anger in their eyes, and grief. Everyone here had been a human ingredient. They all understood Xiaoman’s pain.

None of them could be sure, before they returned home, whether they had been sold by their own families.

When the anger in Xiaoman’s eyes finally faded, only a deep confusion remained. “My home is gone. I tore it down myself. I don’t know where to go next.”

“Stir-fried donkey meat, braised river fish! Take your time, honored guests!” The waiter set down the two dishes and fled as if his life depended on it.

Li Huowang picked up Xiaoman’s empty bowl, filled it with a heaping mound of rice, and pushed it in front of her. “Eat.”

With that, he picked a fish bone out of the braised river fish, used it as a toothpick, and headed for the second-floor guest rooms, picking his teeth as he went.

Seeing this, the others slowly drifted away as well. Before long, only Bai Lingmiao remained in the main hall, sitting with Xiaoman.

Tears slid down the fur on Xiaoman’s cheeks, falling steadily onto the rice.

Her hands trembling, she picked up her chopsticks, lifted the bowl, and began eating the rice soaked in her own tears.

The more she ate, the harder she cried. In the end, she dropped her bowl and broke down into loud, wracking sobs.