Chapter 171: Extra (1)
The autumn sun had just risen.
In the north, the weather had begun to turn cold — the further north one went, the chillier it became. White frost coated the dry grass and fallen leaves each morning, and the people walking along the roads, carrying their wares on shoulder poles, were all wrapped tightly in long robes.
Several jolting carriages were traveling down a dirt road. The exposed ground was hard-packed and barren, showing it had been well-trodden for many years. A troop of guards rode before and behind the carriages. The men accompanying them were clearly not from the Central Plains — the leader wore a Sichuan-style embroidered headscarf, and the rest had long hair with two small braids at the temples, decorated with colorful silk threads.
They had been traveling for a long while, the only sounds the occasional shouts of the drivers. After some time, the lead carriage suddenly came to a stop. The man inside gave an order in the Sichuan dialect, and at once, a mounted guard rode off into the distance and soon returned, carefully carrying a large bunch of foxtail grass to the carriage window.
“Master, is this enough?”
The curtain lifted halfway, and a man leaning lazily against the doorway stretched out a hand to pick and choose — it was Xie Siquan.
The head of the Xie family was strikingly handsome. Even when lowering his head to select grass, his focused expression gave off a certain grace. A few strands of turquoise and amber beads tied into his long braids glimmered in the sunlight. He looked more like he was choosing precious gems than mere weeds.
After carefully selecting a few long and sturdy stems, he waved the guard away.
Inside, the carriage was spacious. Sitting cross-legged, Xie Siquan began to braid the grass with full concentration.
Beside him were several failed attempts — messy tangles of grass vaguely resembling animals.
After a few tries, he finally managed to weave a small rabbit. Two pieces of foxtail grass stood up like fuzzy ears, wobbling slightly. Though a bit rough, it looked far better than the earlier ones.
Satisfied, Xie Siquan proudly tossed all the failed ones out of the window, “destroying the evidence.”
By noon, both men and horses were weary.
The carriages stopped under a large tree to rest.
This group was clearly well-prepared for long journeys — without needing to be told, some men started a fire to boil water, while others quickly pitched tents and prepared hot soup to share around.
From one of the rear carriages stepped down a young couple — the man was refined and handsome; the woman, dressed brightly, carried a lively, spirited air. She didn’t wait for her husband to help her down but hopped out of the carriage on her own.
Xie Siquan walked over, sleeves gathered in his hands, and asked, “Elder Sister, where’s Jing’er?”
Xie Yuanyuan replied, “Jing’er’s still sleeping.”
Upon hearing that, Xie Siquan lifted the carriage curtain. Inside lay a little boy of three or four, fair and chubby, his cheeks flushed red from sleep.
Xie Siquan poked the boy’s cheek with his grass rabbit, then lowered his head to plant a few kisses until the child stirred awake.
Little Xie Jing didn’t cry or fuss. When his sleepy eyes focused and recognized the person before him, he softly called, “Uncle.”
That one word melted Xie Siquan completely. Normally temperamental and unpredictable, the Xie family master now beamed with joy. Hugging the boy out of the carriage, he handed over the grass rabbit, saying proudly, “Jing’er, look what Uncle made for you!”
The little rabbit’s two fuzzy ears trembled as it swayed, immediately catching the boy’s attention.
At three or four years old, Xie Jing was at the height of curiosity. His dark, bright eyes followed the rabbit wherever it moved.
Xie Siquan brushed the rabbit’s ears against the child’s nose, making him giggle with delight.
Placing the toy into his small hands, Xie Siquan said smugly, “Pretty, isn’t it? Your uncle made it himself. There’s not another one like it in the world!”
Xie Jing cupped it carefully in his little palms, eyes shining. “Uncle is amazing!” he said.
Xie Siquan’s ego swelled; the compliment sent him floating.
By the time the tents were up, the guards had prepared a pot of meat soup and distributed dry rations. Everyone sat for a simple lunch.
Xie Jing adored his uncle — when he saw him, he refused to sit with his father and instead perched on Xie Siquan’s knee, engrossed in his new toy. When food was offered, he obediently took bites between play.
He was an easy child to raise.
He Dongting, the father, clearly wanted to hold his son, but his brother-in-law wouldn’t let go. Unable to find an opening, he sighed and stepped outside the tent.
Xie Siquan sat there holding the boy, lost in thought, barely eating.
Xie Yuanyuan tried speaking to him, but he gave no reply.
She glanced at him and teased, “Well, well — our new family head’s gotten quite the temper, hasn’t he?”
Xie Siquan looked up, his tone softening. “How would I dare show temper to my elder sister? I just… can’t make sense of it.”
“What can’t you make sense of?”
“I’ve been thinking the whole way, and still don’t get it. The weather’s getting colder, and I can’t sleep well at night…” Xie Siquan grumbled endlessly, while little Jing’er played happily beside him.
“If you’re that afraid of the cold,” Xie Yuanyuan said, “then go back first.”
At that, Xie Siquan fell silent.
He snorted softly, hugging his warm little nephew close. “Children are like little stoves — warm all over. I’ll just hold Jing’er for warmth.” Then his eyes shifted. “Sister, if I go back, can I take Jing’er home with me?”
She shook her head. “No. This trip, Jing’er must thank the benefactors who saved our lives.”
“Just to thank them… or to give him away?”
“Don’t say that!” Xie Yuanyuan frowned. “If not for Mr. and Mrs. Bai saving us back then, Jing’er and I would’ve been dead. Madam Bai was kind to me — she proposed a family alliance long ago, and we promised to visit the north when we could…”
Xie Siquan’s eyes reddened. “Sister, you’re selling Jing’er.”
Xie Yuanyuan’s voice turned firm. “A life-saving debt — we made that promise back then.”
Before she could say more, Xie Siquan covered his nephew’s ears, refusing to let him hear a word about the Bai family.
Little Jing thought his uncle was just playing with him and laughed aloud — he had always been a cheerful child.
The more Xie Siquan looked at him, the heavier his heart grew. His precious nephew, raised like a gem in the palm of their hands — how could he bear to let anyone take him away?
Not long after, He Dongting came back, bringing a rush of cold air and a paper-wrapped roasted rabbit leg. “Hu Da just hunted these — tender and juicy. You and Jing’er should eat while it’s hot. After days of dry rations, a change will do you good.”
Xie Siquan tore off a piece and fed Jing’er, seizing the chance to say, “Sister, see? Even brother-in-law feels sorry for him.”
He Dongting blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” Xie Yuanyuan said. “We were talking about the Bai family.”
He rubbed his hands, glancing awkwardly between his wife and her sulking younger brother, and wisely said nothing.
After a moment of silence, Xie Siquan burst out again, angry. “Sister, this isn’t right. Are we so poor we can’t raise him? He’s still so young — how can you send him away! The north is freezing! What if he falls ill?”
Xie Yuanyuan said nothing, her lips pressed tight, tears glistening in her reddened eyes.
Though still little, Jing’er was sensitive to others’ moods. Seeing his mother cry, he panicked and began to wail too, scrambling off his uncle’s lap to hug her and clumsily wipe her tears.
“Don’t cry, Mama, don’t cry. I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” he repeated — the words he usually used to cheer the adults up.
But today, they didn’t work. The more he said them, the more Xie Yuanyuan’s tears flowed. She held her son tightly, heart aching with love and reluctance.
Xie Siquan stood and walked out of the tent.
He Dongting remained, comforting his wife until she calmed down. She then choked out, “Go outside. Don’t come near for the next few days.”
He looked stunned. “Ah Yuan, what did I do wrong?”
“I know you can’t bear to part with Jing’er,” she said softly, “but you shouldn’t have told my brother — now he’s making a scene. Madam Bai saved Jing’er and me back then. Now that misfortune has struck their family, leaving only a child behind, I must take Jing’er north to pay respects. I swore before the Bodhisattva — since the Bai family saved my son’s life, if they truly wish to keep Jing’er, I must agree.”
He Dongting opened his mouth, then sighed, saying nothing.
Years ago in Shanghai, he had taken his pregnant wife along on a trading voyage, unwilling to leave her behind. But disaster struck — a storm at sea, bandits on land. Had the Bai family not passed by and saved Yuanyuan, he dared not imagine what would have happened.
Now, all of that was in the past.
Sometimes, when holding his wife and son, He Dongting still felt it unreal — their happiness seemed almost dreamlike.
Three days after Yuanyuan drove him out, Xie Siquan came to her, face turned aside. “Sister, it wasn’t brother-in-law.”
“What?”
“I asked Bao Bao. She told me. It wasn’t him.”
Only then did Yuanyuan realize she’d wronged her husband.
That night, when He Dongting returned, hugging his pillow, she asked softly, “Why didn’t you say something? I almost blamed you wrongly.”
He kissed their sleeping child, then his wife, and smiled. “You didn’t wrong me.” Looking down at his son’s face, he brushed it gently and murmured, “I feel the same as your brother — I can’t bear it either.”
When they finally reached Bincheng, it was late autumn.
The northern climate was harsher — the air was already biting cold, and farther north, snow had begun to fall.
The Xie family first found a place to stay, changed into northern-style clothing, and bought thick fur coats. Little Jing’s robe was trimmed with a ring of mink fur, fluttering as he ran about.
Author’s Note:
A parallel world — if Xie Jing had grown up pampered, safe, and loved by his parents.
The northern young master and the Sichuan little warlord — a tale of what might have been.
