A strong night wind swept across the open country. A group of riders traveled through the moonlit road, a small child among them.

None of Xie Changgeng’s men could have anticipated that he would go to Liancheng alone, only to return with a child in his arms.

When this child appeared before them, he had only an inner garment on, his feet bare, still bundled up in a quilt. It was plain he had been lifted directly from his bed.

Who this child was, and why the Lord Commissioner was carrying him along, they did not know clearly. But thinking over the Lord Commissioner’s various strange behaviors over these past several days, it was not hard to guess that this child must have some connection to the Lady.

Since it was a matter between husband and wife, who among them would dare ask a single question? They could only follow and ride on, until this very moment.

The night grew deeper and deeper. Xie Changgeng bowed his head and looked at the small figure still wrapped in the quilt on the saddle in front of him.

After being carried out, the child had at first struggled and writhed without stop — like an angry little tiger, with energy seemingly inexhaustible — but by now, having gone on like that until this moment, he must surely be utterly spent and drained.

Through the thin quilt, Xie Changgeng felt the small body, jostled by the gallop of the horse beneath him, lean softly against his own.

This sensation was, to him, very strange.

It was as though a ball of cotton had nestled against him from the front. And beyond that, it actually evoked in him something resembling the feeling from before — of that woman in his arms.

The moment Xie Changgeng thought of Lady Mu, and then of this child’s face so like hers in brow and eye, he immediately felt a discomfort pervade his entire body.

His body instinctively leaned back. The small figure beneath the quilt abruptly lost its support and swayed on the jolting horse’s back; it was about to tip over and fall. Xie Changgeng reached out and caught it again.

He halted his horse, surveyed the surroundings, and said to his men: “Find a place. We’ll camp for the night.”

A moment later, the group settled at a nearby desolate earth god shrine.

Wherever people lived — every county, and indeed every village — there were shrines dedicated to the earth god or mountain god. They varied in size; some received incense offerings, others had fallen out of use along with the communities that once tended them. The distinction was no more than this.

Having traveled constantly on the road, in places with no relay post, a deserted wayside shrine was, in practice, a more convenient place to camp overnight than imposing on a stranger’s household.

After entering the shrine, several attendants performed their customary ritual bows before the clay idol — which had toppled half to pieces — then checked the surrounding terrain, fed the horses, gathered material to build a fire, and each went about his task with well-practiced efficiency.

Not wishing to deal any further with this child, Xie Changgeng lifted him, quilt and all, off the horse and handed him to Liang Tuan, the most approachable-looking of his men. He told Liang Tuan to find a spot and make up a bedroll for the child to sleep on. Then he went to the doorway himself, sat on the threshold facing the pitch-black open country, took out his water flask, pulled the stopper, and drank a few mouthfuls.

“My Lord, he won’t eat!”

Liang Tuan came running out, looking quite helpless.

“I’ve already heated up the flatbread. I’ve asked him to eat. No matter how much I coax him, he just won’t eat, and he won’t talk to me either.”

When they had stopped to eat during the day, the child had also refused to eat, and at the time Xie Changgeng had paid it no mind.

Since the moment he had been carried out, until now — a full day had passed, nearly six watches of time. Except for the brief rests in between, nearly all of it had been spent jolting about on horseback.

“He can’t go without eating — he’s still so small; what if…”

Liang Tuan stopped himself.

Xie Changgeng frowned, swallowed the mouthful of water in his mouth, rose, and walked inside.

In the innermost corner of the earth god shrine, a single candle was burning. Straw had been spread on the ground; beside it lay a piece of flatbread, a few strips of dried meat, and a bowl of water.

Xi’er sat in the corner, arms around his knees, head drooping, his small body curled into a tight ball. He suddenly heard footsteps approach, looked up, and saw Xie Changgeng striding toward him. He immediately sat straight and squared his small shoulders.

“Young Lord, eat something — you haven’t eaten all day…”

Liang Tuan, seeing Xie Changgeng’s dark expression, rushed to speak first.

The small child that the Lord Commissioner had brought back was not cooperating about eating, and seemed also to harbor a deep resentment toward the Lord Commissioner who had seized him. What surprised Liang Tuan, however, was that the child’s attitude toward himself was actually quite decent.

Earlier, when he had asked the boy to eat, the child had refused, but had not made a fuss toward him. After being set down on the bed of straw, he had simply curled up in the corner without moving, looking truly pitiful. Beyond that, he was such a fine-looking and adorable child — and thinking of his young age and the violence with which he’d been snatched from his bed, he must have received a tremendous fright, no wonder he couldn’t eat.

Liang Tuan, that old bachelor, found a few stirrings of tender feeling for the child rising in himself. Afraid that the Lord Commissioner might frighten the boy further by losing his temper, a little regret crept in — he perhaps should not have gone to fetch him just now.

The Lord Commissioner, though brilliant in strategy and undefeated in war, was not necessarily any better at coaxing children than Liang Tuan himself.

“We’re all good people, don’t be afraid. Eat up — it’s very good.” He squeezed out a smile for the boy curled in the corner and tried to coax him once more.

Xi’er still did not move.

Xie Changgeng’s gaze rested on the child’s face. He saw the boy’s complexion was pale, his lips cracked and dry — clearly both hungry and thirsty, weak and drained. Yet upon seeing Xie Changgeng enter, he was still defiant as ever.

“If he won’t eat, fine — take all the food away. Let him starve. By the time his mother comes for him, there’ll be nothing left of him to see,” he said, in an indifferent tone.

Liang Tuan was taken aback.

Xie Changgeng finished speaking, bent down, and moved as if to take away the food.

Quick as lightning, with a soft rustling of straw, that small figure came scrambling out of the corner on all fours.

A little hand darted in ahead of Xie Changgeng’s large one and snatched both the flatbread and the dried meat away.

Xi’er held the food tightly to his chest, eyes wide, staring tensely at Xie Changgeng.

Xie Changgeng met his gaze for a moment, then slowly withdrew his hand, straightened up, turned, and walked out.

Liang Tuan finally came back to himself. He nearly burst out laughing, and hastily turned his back.

He was now wholly and completely in awe of the Lord Commissioner.

He was in awe not only that one sentence had gotten the child to eat, but even more in awe that from first to last, the Lord Commissioner had kept his face completely straight throughout.

That kind of ability — he could only marvel that it was utterly beyond him.

Xie Changgeng took a piece of rations and returned to the entrance of the earth god shrine.

His men had attended to their tasks, filled their bellies, arranged the night watch roster, and then lay down to sleep, each in his place.

Xie Changgeng knew the child harbored hatred toward him and, having eaten, would not come inside to sleep. He lay himself down casually on the crumbling offering table directly across from the shrine’s entrance, facing out into the dark open country, took out his flask, pulled the stopper, and drank a few more mouthfuls.

Before long, the sound of his men sleeping soundly filled the air.

Xie Changgeng lay there for a long time, utterly without sleep. He got up, went outside the shrine door, and told the man on night watch to go inside and sleep while he himself took the watch.

That man repeatedly shook his head. “My Lord, you’ve labored hard all day — please go rest.”

Xie Changgeng smiled lightly and said, “You’ve labored hard too. I can’t sleep. You go sleep.”

The attendant, seeing he truly meant it, thanked him again and again and went inside to sleep.

Xie Changgeng dragged the offering table closer and set it sideways across the shrine entrance — which was missing one of its doors — then lay down on it again, laid his sword beside him, and closed his eyes to rest his spirit.

The night deepened further. From the corner inside, a faint, soft rustling sound suddenly rose.

A small figure lightly rose up from the bed of straw within, glanced around, then tiptoed past the several loudly snoring adults nearby, keeping close to the wall, crouching low, and headed for the way out. Near the doorway, approaching the offering table, it stopped.

It saw that the entrance was blocked by an offering table laid sideways across it.

In the darkness, the figure lying atop it was motionless.

Xi’er did not dare breathe a single breath. He stayed where he was for a moment, decided the person must already be asleep, and only then allowed himself to relax.

Xi’er knew this man had taken him to harm his mother.

He fixed his eyes on that person, held his breath, and slowly crouched down. He pressed himself flat to the ground, moving hands and feet together, and finally crawled under the offering table.

He crawled out past the threshold, immediately stood up, opened his legs, and was about to bolt in the direction they had come from. From behind him, a hand suddenly reached over and seized the back collar of his garment, hoisting his entire person into the air at once.

Xie Changgeng lifted the would-be escapee in front of his own face. He had expected the boy to cry and curse him — instead, the boy still kept his mouth clamped shut, silent as a mute, only staring at him furiously while struggling with all his might, his two feet kicking wildly.

In the midst of his struggling, something fell from the child’s chest.

Xie Changgeng glanced down. It was the other half of the flatbread and the dried meat — what was left after eating.

He truly could not help it; the corner of his mouth twitched. He lifted the boy in one hand and deposited him on the offering table, pressed him flat with the scabbard of his sword, then laid the sword on top of him, and said, “Can’t sleep? Then you can keep watch with me.”

Having said so, he lay back down himself.

The small child beside him, pinned under the scabbard, at first kept kicking furiously — like a small fish pressed on a cutting board, flopping desperately to get free — but gradually, perhaps realizing escape was impossible, finally went quiet.

After a long while, Xie Changgeng opened his eyes and turned his head.

A faint beam of moonlight filtered in through the broken door of the earth god shrine.

The child lying beside him — having apparently exhausted every last ounce of energy in his small body — was worn past endurance and had fallen asleep just like that.

His small body had curled into a tight ball. His eyes were closed; at the corner of one eye hung a teardrop not yet fully dry. One small foot, smeared with mud, had slipped over the edge of the offering table and hung suspended in the air.

Xie Changgeng slowly withdrew the sword, which was not exactly light. He gazed at the face of this child beside him for a long time, then slowly sat up on the offering table.

In the darkness, his silhouette was utterly still.

A commotion suddenly broke out inside.

Liang Tuan had woken, discovered that the child who had been sleeping at his side was nowhere to be found, and was alarmed. He ran out quickly, saw the child sleeping right beside the Lord Commissioner, guessed the boy must have tried to run and been caught, and breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly offered an apology: “That was my oversight — I slept too soundly and nearly let the child run off. My Lord, please rest at ease — I’ll take the watch.”

Xie Changgeng stepped down from the offering table and said lightly, “Take him back inside to sleep.”

The next morning at dawn, Xi’er had not yet woken from sleep before he was once again scooped up, wrapped head to toe in a quilt, set back on a horse, and they were on the road again.

He had lost all sense of direction and did not know where this man intended to take him.

He only knew he was growing further and further from his mother, and that he would never find his way back to her side again.