Chapter 69: Two and a Half Silver Bits
Nighttime. The barking of dogs in the village had quieted down.
Those that were barking happily quieted down after getting a beating.
The ancients went to sleep early.
Candlelight was expensive.
Jiang Mianmian’s Father and Mother were not yet asleep.
Father opened a bundle, and inside was a jar. Father did not open it; it was well-sealed.
It was very dark, and the couple was actually sneaking around digging a pit.
Elder Brother and Elder Sister were both asleep.
Father and Mother got up like thieves.
Jiang Mianmian, strapped into Mother’s arms, was groggily shaken awake.
She realized what they were doing.
The pit was dug very deep.
Father personally placed the jar at the bottom.
Then he covered it with soil.
Layer by layer of soil, the jar slowly disappeared from sight.
Jiang Mianmian was truly curious about what treasure they were burying, to be so serious about it.
Should she dig it up to see when she grows up?
The couple finished burying the jar, washed their hands, and then returned to the room to sleep.
Jiang Mianmian just happened to have another round of late-night milk.
Then she lay in the middle.
It was pitch black, but she wasn’t afraid; on both sides were the scents of Father and Mother.
In the darkness, she heard Mother whisper: “How could Saner be so cruel to himself? How could he bring himself to do that?”
Father did not answer.
But Jiang Mianmian felt a long, slender hand gently stroking her back.
She was almost lulled to sleep, and groggily heard Father say: “Saner will come back; he is more capable than I am.”
“Mm, he acknowledged our child as his godchild. If he doesn’t come back, we will let the child burn paper for him. He has become an incomplete person; it’s pitiful. Even in the underworld, he will be bullied.” Qin Luoxia sighed and fell asleep next to Father.
Jiang Mianmian suddenly became a bit clear-headed. She suddenly understood what her parents had just secretly buried.
( ⊙ o ⊙ )…
Her new godfather’s first day, and he wielded a knife to castrate himself to pursue a future.
What kind of bizarre world is this?
In the darkness, she grabbed her little foot and tasted it; it was a bit salty.
She heard Mother’s soft snoring.
She also leaned against her parents and fell asleep.
Jiang Changtian listened to the steady breathing of his wife and daughter; he had not yet fallen asleep.
He found it difficult to sleep.
Fenger did not go with the noble person.
He didn’t know if that was good or not; staying behind seemed to offer no future, just like him.
But that day, Fenger frightened him.
He dared not imagine, if Fenger had left that day, how he and Sister Xia would go on living.
As a Father, he understood selfishness.
He couldn’t bear to let his child pursue a future; he worried that if he left, he would never return.
He worried that if he were… if he were out there, with no Father or Mother to collect his bones, the child would be cold.
Jiang Changtian dared not sigh, just kept his eyes open.
The corners of his eyes slowly grew moist.
In this small village, the only person he could truly talk to was Saner.
He was his friend.
He said his name was Yan Jiexi.
Jiexi destroyed his body; his yin and yang were unbalanced. It is said that things outside have become chaotic again. The journey to the capital is long; perhaps he would die on the road before reaching the capital.
That was his wish.
He had already done it. What he needed was not persuasion, but to forge ahead without looking back.
What he needed was not comfort; acknowledging the child as his godchild was not an escape route, but because he knew it was a dead end.
In this chaotic world, the path for the poor is one single-plank bridge after another…
He felt an infant burrowing into his arms.
Jiang Changtian wiped the corners of his eyes and pulled the infant into his embrace.
Because of his small movement, his wife Luo Xia suddenly stretched out her arm and pulled both him and the child into her embrace.
He thought he had woken his wife, but she hadn’t.
Sister Xia was still snoring softly.
Sister Xia had great strength; even in her sleep, her arm held him heavily. He couldn’t break free. He gave a bitter smile, and finally fell asleep himself.
This time, he slept very soundly.
Late at night.
The woodshed of a county inn.
A disheveled figure was curled up.
He looked like a dead person.
Looking closer, one could see his body trembling slightly.
He had someone castrate him, and after resting for a few days, he thought he was fine.
He wanted to enter the palace, to enter the place where the most noble people lived; he could only castrate himself.
Without fame, status, power, or influence, he could only become a man without testicles.
To be base to the very end, like a piece of merchandise, only then could he enter.
They needed a large number of men without testicles there.
Because they died often and were used up quickly.
But there were also the most powerful red-robed eunuchs there, whom even noble people had to pour wine for.
Yet he had not expected that tonight would be exceptionally painful.
He thought he was going to die.
For some unknown reason, his body was emitting a foul odor.
His lower body didn’t hurt, but it felt like something was not quite right.
He could only be thankful that it was warm, otherwise he would have frozen to death first.
He curled his body up and thought, he could not die. He had promised his godchild to work hard, to bring him good food and drink.
He could not die.
He could not die.
The long night was hard to endure.
Enduring and enduring, the night passed.
Dawn broke.
The first light of day slowly pierced through a corner, shining into the woodshed.
It shone onto the face of a figure.
His messy hair had been pushed back at some point, revealing a face of androgynous beauty.
He was covered in rags, but because of this ray of light, he appeared extraordinarily bewitching.
He was not dead.
Dawn.
A person as dirty and smelly as a beggar set off with a caravan of escorts.
He had two and a half silver bits in his bosom.
He sang loudly: “The road ahead is long and arduous…”
He was scolded by the head escort, who said it was bad luck and to sing something better.
He sang again: “Whose pillow does the amorous jade arm rest upon, a single pair of red lips tasted by ten thousand men…”
The head escort turned around: “Sounds good!”
