Chapter 91: Yet with the xiansheng's closed jade coffin (II)

The closed paper umbrella leaned against the wall, smudged with unrestrained watermarks, as if it and the rain had engaged in a tussle for many days, and at this moment, body weary and strength exhausted, it dripped blood. The steam on the surface of the table was the best salvation, enough to take mercy on the night travellers, their stomachs rumbling with hunger.

The people in the room sat at a single table, gazing inquisitively at the child before them. The clothes she'd been wearing had been swapped for Song Shijiu's coat, the long sleeves folded up in layer after layer, and her face had been wiped with a towel, unexpectedly expressing a degree of delicacy. Her dripping wet braids had yet to be loosened, only having been wrapped up in cotton cloth to absorb the water. She was incredibly thin, her wrists abrupt as craggy stones, and at this moment, her shoulders were drawn up, and she gazed silently at the broth wontons before her whose fragrant scent entered her nose.

In the quiet within the sound of the rain, her throat bobbed, and with a rustling sound, she swallowed a mouthful of saliva, the sound coming at the same time as her stomach, shrivelled from hunger. Only at this did she raise her eyes and look at the people across from her; four young women, seeming like the supernatural beings from within a huaben story, beautiful in a hazy way, clean and dignified. As a result, she couldn't help but scratch at the dead skin on her hands, not knowing what action would be better to do.

Song Shijiu had never before met a girl as frail as this; her chin was as pointed as if a piece had been cut away, and while the bridge off her nose wasn't high, the tip stuck up, the skin on its surface broken, as if having been knocked against by something. Her cheek was low and flat, chapped and broken bright red, the only place on her face with any vital colour, but what was most eyecatching was her two grape-like eyes, about to take up almost half her face, bright and lustrous, deep black, and the look in them was neither gentle nor firm, only gazing at one without the slightest bit of attitude, like staring at a stone obelisk.

Her eyelashes were thin and sparse, the same as her fine, yellow hair, showing a bit of the deficiencies of malnutrition.

What was also deficient was A Luo's interest; she only raised her gaze and then lowered her head to look at her book; A Yin, standing, leaned against the side of the back of her chair, one hand following along her lower jaw to idly stroke, the other propped on her waist, blinking her eyes as she studied this girl.

Song Shijiu raised her chin, meeting Li Shiyi's eyes, and only then turned to the girl, saying in a gentle voice, "How come you're not eating?"

The girl seemed to have been startled by the abruptly rising voice, and she let loose the lip she'd been biting, leaving behind a row of light toothmarks, wetting her chapped lips a couple times, still unable to preserve moisture. She hadn't heard this sort of pleasant to listen to voice in a long time, to the extent that the buzzing echo in her mind was all either the screech of alarm or misery. She thought of her aunt who'd seen her grow up, pushing her out the window, the dull and painful wails, like the sound of tile scraping against glass, so depressing it caused one to be unable to breathe.

So, the sound of dignity was like this; it had a leisureliness of not being pursued, had the confidence of having eaten its full, and the idleness of a rising final syllable. She couldn't help but raise her hands to hold the ceramic bowl, piping hot, as if it were alive.

Her heart, alongside the warmth, came to life bit by bit, rudely and with exertion leaping up, soon about to be unable to look upon her frail frame, which would collapse at the first blow. She raised her hand, clinging to the spoon and stirring the wontons, the steam threading into her heart, and the greedy insect in her stomach also awoke, scratching at her heart and itching at her stomach as it shouted.

However, she only looked at the wontons, and then once more raised her head to gaze at Song Shijiu.

"If you don't want to eat, that's fine," Li Shiyi said.

A Luo raised her head, unhurriedly extending a hand, making a receptive motion.

That girl wound around her jade-pale, unevenly pretty hands around it, her hands instinctively clinging to the bowl, like a puppy guarding its food, and then she lowered her head once more, her trembling hand grasping the spoon tightly, and she opened her mouth, suddenly shoving a few mouthfuls in.

The two concave cheeks bulged in a split second, and she hurriedly exerted herself to chew, her eyes gleaming, guardedly staring at A Luo's hand.

The owner of the hand laughed softly, her fingers falling in the air, and then she drew her hand back, still undisturbedly flipping through her book. A Yin's gaze passed over Li Shiyi and A Luo's figures. Chicken thieves; the little girl also misled.

Fortunately, the wontons had cooled for half a day, and didn't count as scalding either; it was just that the girl had, in the end, been starved for a long time, and ate very hurriedly, and unconsciously belched, her greasy lips wrapping around the food, unwilling to loosen her teeth even when she belched, only furrowing her brows and forcibly swallowing.

Song Shijiu couldn't bear to look, and passed her a glass of warm water. "Eat more slowly, there's still more inside."

The two characters of "still more" unexpectedly placated her, and only then did she become embarrassed in hindsight. Reluctantly, she set the spoon down, the back of her hand subconsciously about to wipe her mouth, but paused in the action of Song Shijiu passing her a handkerchief, and, taking it, she carelessly wiped at her mouth. It was as if she didn't dare to wipe with too much effort, fearing that this fragrant, soft handkerchief would be dirtied. She grasped the handkerchief in her hand, still letting out small belches with her head lowered; in between her breaths, Song Shijiu heard a sound like a cat's cry: "Chun Ping."

Once she finished speaking, it was as if she had paid silver for a transaction, and her breaths evened out, and she kept eating from the bowl.

Song Shijiu asked again, "What about your father?"

Chun Ping drew in the unbitten dumpling skin, and then, as she did so, also sucked in a trickle of mucus that had emerged due to the heat, and only said after a long while, "I don't have a father." Her voice was hoarse, weak and without strength, bringing along a Jiangnan accent.

"And your mother?"

Chun Ping let out another small belch. "I don't have a mother."

"You don't have a father or a mother; could it be that you emerged from a rock?" A Yin touched her earrings, her charming voice leisurely.

Chun Ping didn't speak, nor did she eat, still firmly biting her lower lip, biting until the tooth marks faintly reddened, and only after a while did she release it, gulping down all of the soup. "They fought, and died."

Song Shijiu knitted her brows; she'd heard that a fight had started in the North; so, she'd fled from calamity.

A Yin fell speechless, for a bit having some apologeticness, and then, brows lowered, she also bit her lip like A Chun, the liquid in her peach blossom eyes hazy and swaying, half guilt, and half distress.

Yet Chun Ping seemed to be quite familiar, and drank the remnants of the broth until not even a mouthful remained, her abdomen turning and making a rumbling sound, slightly bulging, very noticeable on her small, gaunt frame.

Once she finished eating, for a bit, she didn't know what to say, and so she stared blankly at the oilstains that had carelessly got on on her fingers. Unexpectedly, A Yin received Li Shiyi's meaningful glance, and leaned over to tug at her hands, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe at them carefully, asking her as she did so, "How old are you?"

A Yin's fingers were as soft as if they had no bones, both soft and warm, like the cats which Chun Ping had petted before in childhood, and seemed to even carry an intoxicating, sweet scent.

The frostbite itched, itching so that Chun Ping wanted to withdraw, yet didn't fulfill her wishes, and so she lowered her head to her chest, simply not looking anymore. "I don't remember anymore." In her memories, she'd only passed four or five birthdays, because she'd eaten steamed eggs; afterwards, there hadn't been steamed eggs, so she didn't remember the days well."

A Yin wiped her clean for her, and then let go of her hand, her tongue turning around the inside of her mouth, and then she said to Li Shiyi emptily, "Human."

Li Shiyi's anxieties eased, and her fingers resting loosely on the table, and she exchanged a glance with Song Shijiu. Song Shijiu pondered a while, then said, "Since you have nowhere to go, then stay and live here. Once you've eaten, I'll take you to buy a few outfits; we're travellers of the jianghu, aren't we, so luckily food isn't in a shortage."

Chun Ping picked at the hangnail on her hand, not making a sound.

After clearing up the tableware, Song Shijiu boiled hot water for Chun Ping to wash her hair, the jet-black water only becoming clear after a few passes. After waiting for it to dry, it was bound into two plaits; Song Shijiu also wound them up with a few loops of red ties for her, looking her over a couple times, more or less satisfied. Chun Ping wasn't fond of speaking, and only gazed at her with lacquer-black eyes, the fringe of her irises reflecting a new redness.

Once they'd tidied up, the few truly led Chun Ping out the door; Song Shijiu had originally meant to hold her hand, yet she'd struggled and pulled back, hiding her fingers in the long length of her sleeves.

The girl was reserved, and Song Shijiu didn't insist either, only leading her at a distance neither far nor close, passing through the alley towards the market.

The rain had only just stopped, yet the lively bustle hadn't stopped in the slightest. The steam in the bamboo steamers moistened the air, and the fragrant scent assaulted one even more, translucent and pure hawthorn, vivid and lifelike dough figures, the fat-bellied, slender-legged blown candy horses, causing one's eyes to be dazzled. Chun Ping only cast one glance, and then leaned against the mouth of the alley and parted her mouth slightly, as if about to go crazy. Green, clear jade, as if washed, plum's fragrance hidden from view, an endless stream of horse and carriages, speech and laughter, all of the scents the fortune between people; Chun Ping, standing within the piling fortune, felt at a loss as to what to do.

She turned her head to look Song Shijiu, whose features were curved; she carried Li Shiyi on her arm, leaning against the wall and smiling, her smiling expression giving her pretty silhouette a warm side, and caused Chun Ping to not dare to look at it straight on, and yet also inexplicably be unable to draw her gaze away.

She said suddenly, "I've died, haven't I?" She was somewhat bewildered; in her infinite knowledge, dying was to be dropped from the mortal world into the underworld, but experiencing this "death", it was as if she were returned from the underworld to the mortal realm. She stealthily pinched the flesh on her own waist, yet she didn't know whether it was because she'd frozen too severely or not, but it didn't hurt in the slightest; she was just about to use a bit more strength, when she say Song Shijiu lightly pat her shoulder, and say, "Whatever you want, go there."

Her toes, in her cloth shoes, obediently rose, and the fingernail of her thumb fell off halfway, at this moment growing anew, very itchily; she scuffed at the ground once more. This action caused her to look very adorable, like a young horse pawing at the ground before running.

The young horse headed into the bustle, clear eyes rigidly caught on the two women behind her, turning back three times for every step, as if fearing that, blinking her eyes, they would disappear. Song Shijiu smiled, and advanced to embrace her, bringing her gaze seamlessly to a vendor's booth, bringing the fruit as red as the hair tie before her gaze. Her eyes turned into the fancy windows of a shop, reflecting a multitude of lively, fragrant things in the world.

Song Shijiu leaned down, reaching out to take one, yet she was grabbed by Chun Ping. Her coarse frostbite chafed against her tender palm; Chun Ping raised her face to look at her, stubbornly shaking her head. "I won't eat it."

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