"Bloodweed... this must be bloodweed."
In the mountains, Song Tieniu looked at the green plant in his hand and smiled, carefully placing the freshly picked herb into his basket. He then glanced at the other herbs listed on the "prescription" and frowned in frustration.
He recognized bloodweed—it was easy to find—but herbs like Hundred-Mile Red, Ten-Thousand-Year Fragrance, and Withered Wood Frost... he had never even heard of them before. Finding them wouldn’t be so simple.
Yet, the thought of Chu'he filled him with guilt. He must not have taken good enough care of her, which led to her "relapse." Driven by remorse and determination, he knew he had to gather these herbs as quickly as possible.
Song Tieniu took a few more steps forward when he faintly heard footsteps ahead. He found it strange how sharp his hearing had become. Looking up, he saw a familiar face.
"Sister-in-law."
Lan Yingying paused mid-step and turned around, smiling. "Brother Tieniu."
Song Tieniu approached her. "What are you doing here?"
"I was worried about that litter of kittens in the mountains, so I brought them some food." Lan Yingying lifted her basket, which held the meal she had prepared for the little cats.
She added, "Chun Ming caught a lot of fish yesterday. We’re drying them at home to make fish jerky. I’ll bring some for you and Chongyang later."
Song Tieniu walked alongside her and chuckled. "Sounds good. I’ve never made fish jerky before—maybe your sister-in-law will like it too."
Lan Yingying hesitated slightly. "Sister-in-law?"
"Yeah, she hasn’t been feeling well lately. Chongyang’s been worried sick. Thankfully, we called a doctor, who told me to gather some herbs in the mountains. Brewing them into medicine should help her recover."
Lan Yingying quickly masked her surprise, her eyes curving into a bright, cheerful smile. "She’ll be fine. Both you and sister-in-law are good people—fortune favors the kind-hearted."
Just then, they reached Lan Yingying’s destination.
The kittens were hiding in a hollow tree, their mother absent—likely out hunting.
She crouched down and set out the mushy food from her basket in front of the kittens. They sniffed at it and soon huddled together, their tiny heads bumping against each other, utterly adorable.
Lan Yingying couldn’t help but smile sweetly, reaching out to stroke one kitten’s head. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling her figure with golden spots, as if she were bathed in a soft glow.
Song Tieniu found himself staring at her profile, mesmerized. When he realized what he was doing, he hastily turned away, his face burning with shame.
He was a married man—how could he stare at another woman like that?
Could it be… could it be… that he was actually the kind of man who wavered in his affections?
Song Tieniu felt a crushing blow to his conscience, convinced he was nothing but a fickle-hearted scoundrel.
The village of Wutong was small. At this hour, the adults were busy with farm work, while the children ran wild, playing freely.
The little ones, fearless and naive, didn’t think to hide when they saw two figures with white hair—one tall, one short. The adults, however, quickly distanced themselves, watching the pair with a mix of disgust and fear.
Ninth had somehow scavenged a few wild fruits and was leisurely trailing behind the little runt, taking occasional bites without any intention of sharing.
"Hey, what do you even want to play?" Ninth said. "My job is to take you out to have fun. If you don’t play, we can’t go back."
Chongyang trudged forward, wishing he could shake off the boy behind him but failing every time. Hearing Ninth’s words, he pressed his lips together and simply crouched by the field to play with mud.
Ninth leaned against a nearby tree, frowning in displeasure. "Tch." As his child, Chongyang should be out causing chaos—not playing with dirt. Clearly, Song Tieniu had ruined him.
But… playing with mud technically counted as playing, right?
Ninth decided his mission was accomplished and was about to drag Chongyang back when suddenly, a small stone struck the boy’s back before rolling to the ground.
A chubby boy and two others around his age stood nearby, laughing and chanting,
"Little freak, no dad, no mom, playing in the mud like a bum!"
Chongyang didn’t react. He just kept shaping the mud in his hands, indifferent to the taunts.
This scene had played out too many times before.
"Little freak, no one wants you!"
"Mud for food, dirt for bed, left to rot till you’re dead!"
"When it rains, he hides in the sludge!"
Stones pelted him one after another, but Chongyang didn’t even lift his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he was just numb to it all.
Then—
Thud!
The chubby boy was kicked into the field, splashing water and mud everywhere, drenching Chongyang where he crouched.
"Hey."
Chongyang slowly raised his head.
Ninth now held two wailing children by their collars, his crimson eyes curved in amusement, grinning like a fox.
"You’ve got hands and feet. Why not fight back?"
Chongyang said, "There are too many. I can’t win."
So, long ago, he had learned that resistance was pointless.
"Too many? Can’t win? That was before." Ninth’s tone was light, as if discussing something trivial. "Now it’s different. You’ve got your old man standing behind you."
He jerked his chin. "Come on. Whoever bullied you—pay them back yourself."
The chubby boy floundered in the field, struggling to stand, only for Ninth to kick him back down with another splash! Water and mud flew, his shouts turning comical.
Chongyang wiped the mud from his face. After a long pause, he slowly stood, glanced at Ninth, then tentatively reached out and pushed.
The child in Ninth’s left hand tumbled into the field.
Chongyang pushed again.
The second child face-planted into the mud.
The three boys flailed wildly, trying to scramble out, flinging mud in every direction.
Ninth stepped back just in time, yanking Chongyang in front of him—so the boy’s small frame took the brunt of the flying filth.
Chongyang looked up, expressionless.
Ninth grinned. "They made you dirty. Aren’t you gonna get even?"
With a light shove, the white-haired boy stumbled forward, his feet sinking into the soggy field.
"You little freak—I’ll kill you!"
The chubby boy charged, only for a pebble to strike his knee, sending him face-first into the mud at Chongyang’s feet.
Chongyang turned.
Ninth crouched at the edge of the field, chin resting on one hand, the other tossing a small stone. His eyes crinkled as he flicked it, hitting another boy who tried to sneak up on Chongyang.
The boy had no rules about adults not bullying kids—he did whatever he pleased.
Chongyang looked back at the three boys, grabbed a handful of mud, and for the first time, hurled it with all his might—
Splat!
Right into the chubby boy’s face.
"AHH—YOU LITTLE FREAK, I’LL—"
All three lunged at him, but Chongyang didn’t flinch. He fought back, brawling in the mud, while someone behind him kept pelting stones at his enemies—keeping the odds even.
"I’m not… a freak," he muttered between punches. "Mom said… I’m her treasure."
"I'll call my dad to teach you a lesson!"
"I have a dad too."
"My dad is the strongest blacksmith in the village, all muscle—one slap from him could knock you dead!"
"My dad... one slap... could also... kill."
"My dad has hunted wild boars—he’s incredibly strong! Can your dad do that?"
"My dad... is also... incredibly strong."
"My dad can lift a millstone—can yours?"
"My dad... can also... lift a millstone."
The chubby kid, seeing how he and his two lackeys were being beaten up by the usually bullied little freak, gasped for breath and blurted out:
"My dad can eat shit—can yours?!"
Chongyang wiped the mud off his face. "My dad... can also... eat shit."
The scuffle in the field paused as the children all looked up at the clean, red-clad young man, as if eager for him to demonstrate.
Ninth’s eye twitched, crushing the pebble in his hand to dust. "Don’t look at me. I’m not your dad."
Chongyang lifted his face. "You are... my real dad."
Ninth: "..."
Since when had he been so quick to acknowledge him as his father?
Chu'he tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, worried that Ninth was too young to take proper care of the child. She finally got up, deciding to go out and look for them.
Just as she reached the gate, she saw the little mud-covered figure walking back into the yard. She clutched the doorframe, trembling.
"What happened?!"
He had left perfectly clean—how had he returned looking like a filthy mess?
Ninth, still pristine, kept his distance from the mud-covered child, clearing his throat. "He just... accidentally fell in the mud. He’s still salvageable after a wash."
Chu'he pointed an accusing finger at him. "You’re responsible for cleaning him up before bringing him back. If the child isn’t restored to his original state, don’t even think about coming in!"
The door slammed shut with ruthless finality.
Ninth looked down.
The little mud-covered face tilted up, only the round, bright eyes blinking cleanly through the dirt.
Man and child stared at each other in silence.
The dried mud on the boy’s face was unbearable. Ninth turned away, taking another step back. "You’re old enough to wash yourself."
Chongyang turned toward the door and called out, "Mom, my dad can eat—"
The young man moved like the wind, clamping a hand over his mouth. "Fine! I’ll take you to wash up!"
