Yang Xiaohai

Yang Xiaohai opened his eyes, still drowsy with sleep. When he saw light seeping through the paper window, he threw off the covers and began to dress.

Creak~ The kitchen door swung open. He walked to the water vat, checked the level inside, and decided it wasn't enough. Picking up a carrying pole, he balanced two empty wooden buckets and headed out the door.

"When the senior brothers and sisters wake up, they'll need to wash. And then I have to cook the congee. This water won't be nearly enough."

As a temple boy at Qingfeng Temple, Yang Xiaohai was only ten years old. But he was skilled at cooking, washing clothes, and mending garments. He even knew a little about the properties of some alchemical ingredients.

These were things he had been forced to learn. Those who hadn't been forced to learn them were already dead.

In that sunless temple, he had learned one thing above all else: a person had to be useful. Useless people were garbage.

If the senior brothers and sisters ever decided they didn't want to drag along dead weight, they'd kick out the one still snoring in bed first.

Yang Xiaohai had a secret he never told anyone: the address he'd given for his home was fake. He didn't have a home at all.

Right now, all he wanted was for this journey to never end. That way, he'd always have food to eat.

He was different from the others. Back when they went to Qingfeng Temple, the other children had been sold or stolen. Yang Xiaohai had gone willingly. He'd gone because someone told him there was food there.

As he passed through the temple gate, he bowed to the woman practicing her sword in the distance. "Good morning, Senior Sister."

Chun Xiaoman didn't have time for him. Her full attention was on the sword manual in front of her.

Yang Xiaohai was used to this by now. Lately, apart from eating and sleeping, this senior sister with her thick black body hair spent every waking moment practicing her sword.

Accompanied by the damp morning fog, he walked alone down the empty path.

"Could I ask Senior Sister to teach me swordsmanship? If I learned, even if I go back to being a beggar, no one would dare bully me."

"But would she be willing? Senior Sister Xiaoman is usually so detached."

Lost in thought, Yang Xiaohai reached the village pond and began filling his buckets.

Suddenly, a large dark mass surged out of the distant hazy fog. It startled him.

But he wasn't scared for long. The dark shapes were people—a group of beggars, tattered and filthy. He had been one of them once.

Judging by their shivering and the snot running from their noses, they hadn't lit a fire last night while they slept.

As startled as Yang Xiaohai was by their appearance, the beggars were even more shocked by him.

When they were sure he was a living person, the group pushed a young beggar forward.

A little beggar with only one ear shuffled forward woodenly, hesitating.

Seeing that Yang Xiaohai was about to finish filling his buckets and leave, an old beggar lunged forward, shoving the one-eared boy face-first into the mud. Then the old man hunched his back as low as he could, put on a fawning smile, and asked, "Little one, a question for you. Is this Wu Family Village?"

"There's no one here for you to find," Yang Xiaohai said. "It's empty. There's nothing left."

If Yang Xiaohai had said nothing, it would have been fine. But the moment he spoke, the old man's excitement spiked. His red, gin-blossom nose grew even redder.

A trembling finger pointed at everything around them. "So these houses... and this land all around... they're all masterless now?!"

Yang Xiaohai didn't want to talk to the man who had kicked the little beggar. He turned and left.

Back in the kitchen, he emptied the buckets into the vat, wiped the sweat from his forehead, hoisted the carrying pole, and headed back out.

A vat this big needed more than one trip. It would take several.

When he came back out again, he could see the beggars had broken into the empty houses, rummaging through them.

They wouldn't find anything valuable. Anything worth money had been taken by the people who left. What they'd missed had already been collected by him and Senior Brother Gouwa.

But these beggars didn't care. They cheered and jumped for joy over even a single tattered rag.

By the time Yang Xiaohai came out for his third trip, some of the beggars were already fighting each other. He couldn't tell what they were fighting over.

"Don't stay here!" Yang Xiaohai warned his former comrades. "This place is cursed. Bad things happen here!" But no one listened.

On his fourth trip, Yang Xiaohai's face was pale with exhaustion. But he pushed through, carrying the pole back into the yard. Once inside, he set it down, caught his breath, and waited quietly.

When he heard footsteps approaching from within, he quickly hoisted the pole again and hurried inside.

He hadn't gone far before he ran into one of the other senior brothers.

"Good morning, Senior Brother Cao... Senior Brother Gouwa."

"Hey there, kid. Still hauling water, huh? You're so responsible. You should make the Fool do this kind of heavy lifting." Gouwa patted his head and walked past him toward the gate.

"Senior Brother Gouwa," Yang Xiaohai called after him, "I've already got congee cooking on the stove. Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to wake up the Fool."

By the time the sun had risen and cast its light into the yard, everyone had gathered in the main hall.

Breakfast was simple: plain congee, pickled vegetables Gouwa had dug up from a village cellar, and dry rations they'd brought with them—flatbread. But there was meat too: two eggs in a small bowl.

No one touched their chopsticks. They all sat in silent waiting.

When the door opened and Chun Xiaoman, who had been practicing her sword outside, came in, Gouwa teased her. "Junior Sister, you've been training hard winter and summer. How's it going? Teach your senior brother when you've got it down, will you?"

"Not bad. Better than flailing around on my own, anyway. The escort master said there's no trick to it—you just have to practice. I've carved a couple of wooden swords. After breakfast, you can spar with me."

Gouwa's face twisted into a grimace.

Xiaoman hung her sword on the wall and sat down at the table with the others, waiting.

When Yang Xiaohai heard the approaching footsteps, when he caught the smell of blood in the air, he tensed up instinctively. He kept his head low, not daring to look in that direction.

It was Senior Brother Li Huowang.

He knew Senior Brother Li wouldn't hurt him. In fact, he owed his life to him. But he was still afraid. Especially after everything he had seen on the road.

Bai Lingmiao was supporting Li Huowang. She helped him to the seat of honor at the Eight Immortals table, and he started to drink his congee. Only then did everyone else begin to eat.

Even Li Huowang himself hadn't noticed when this rule had started.

As they ate, the sound of swallowing came from outside the yard. A few beggars were standing there, craning their necks, staring hungrily.

"How are there still beggars? Isn't Wu Family Village empty?" Li Huowang asked.

Yang Xiaohai stood up, tense, and told him everything he knew.

"Heh. This bunch has good sources. They heard the place was empty. But even the chopping block of Layue Shiba dares to squat on? They're not afraid of bad luck?" Li Huowang set down his bowl. "I'm full. Eat slowly, everyone."