Chapter 29 — The Fire at the Ruined Temple
Li Yuan watched coldly, his wrist trembling uncontrollably as he barely supported himself against the wall.
He hadn’t eaten for days and had been tied up the whole time. He had no strength left in his hands—otherwise, he wouldn’t have only managed to strike once earlier.
He was a coward.
He had to make sure that man was truly dead before he could feel at ease.
The young girl, her hands shaking, struck several more times. When Li Yuan saw that the troupe leader Cheng no longer moved, he said hoarsely, “That’s enough.”
Only then did the girl throw away the brick, collapse into her sister’s arms, and burst into tears. The two of them were in complete disarray.
The ground was covered in blood—it was impossible to tell whose. Troupe Leader Cheng lay there with a hole in his forehead, blood soaking into the dirt. His small bundle had fallen not far away. It was the one he had stuffed full when fleeing earlier. A corner of a brass Buddha was exposed—the golden lotus base gleaming faintly amid the pool of blood.
Li Yuan’s face was ashen, his cheeks splattered with blood. He looked no better off himself.
Panting, he tried to make his voice clear, “This place isn’t safe. There’s a bundle on the wooden bed, with a few black robes inside. Put them on while I explain.”
The two girls were not stupid. Though everything had happened suddenly, the fact that they had dared to fight back already proved they had some courage.
Just as Li Yuan said, several black robes lay on the bed. Troupe Leader Cheng and his men had used this ruined temple as their lair, and since they often moved around at night, they had prepared many black robes.
The sisters changed into the clothes. The elder’s strength from striking with the brick had been spent—her hands now trembled, and she couldn’t fasten the clasps. Her younger sister came over to help, buttoning them one by one before changing her own clothes. The black robes were made for men, so the hems dragged on the ground when the little girls wore them. They rolled them up and tied them at the waist with rope. Their trouser cuffs and shoes were already soiled with mud, concealing the color enough to not draw attention.
“The man who captured you is called Cheng San,” Li Yuan said in a hoarse voice. “He’s got several accomplices—big, strong men. If they come back, we won’t stand a chance. You must leave now. Go out through the back door of the temple—there’s a path down the mountain. Follow it, and you’ll see a river. Hide there. No matter who you see on the way, don’t come out. If you make it to town, you might run into soldiers at the gate—if you’re lucky. If not, don’t linger at the docks. Keep walking. If you remember where home is, go home. If you don’t… go west and look for the Bai family of Qinghe. Ask for someone named Xie Jing. He’ll help you.”
The two sisters listened intently. When he finished, they said, “We’ll go together.”
Li Yuan shook his head. “My leg’s broken. I can’t walk.”
His leg had been broken when he was captured. He was standing now only by sheer willpower. If he fell, it would be nearly impossible to get back up.
He took a fire striker from his pocket and handed it to them. “Once you get out, set the dead tree in the yard on fire. There’s a low brick wall between here and there—it won’t burn this room right away, but it’ll make enough commotion for the mountain patrol to see and report it.”
The sisters took it, still trying to help him up.
Sweat beaded on Li Yuan’s forehead. He was both anxious and furious. “If you want to save me—then go, now!“
Only then did they let go. The elder bit her lip. “Wait for us—we’ll report to the officials!”
They took a few steps before the younger sister suddenly turned back. Her hair was messy, but Li Yuan could tell who she was. Without a word, she knelt and kowtowed to him, then turned and ran after her sister.
Li Yuan froze slightly. He had spent his life bowing and scraping before others, but this was the first time anyone had ever shown him gratitude.
His chest felt warm.
And a little sore.
Outside, flames began to rise—the fire catching on the dead tree and leaping high, crackling loudly.
The firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the room. The heat and smoke seeped through the wall, acrid and suffocating.
Under the curtain of his hair, Li Yuan’s facial muscles twitched, contorting before settling into an eerie calm. He stopped struggling, gathering what strength he had left. His half-lowered eyes hid the darkness swirling within.
Bit by bit, he crawled toward the small bundle.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, he reached for it. One wrist was still bound with rough hemp rope soaked through with blood, fused to his torn flesh. Using a shard of porcelain, he slowly sawed through the rope—and his own skin.
When his hand was nearly at the bundle, his injured leg gave way, and he fell.
Shaking, he dragged the bundle toward him, ignoring the jewelry and valuables inside. He rummaged through, searching only for that small brass Buddha. He wiped the blood carefully from it and held it to his chest as if it were a treasure.
The flames outside roared higher.
Li Yuan lay there motionless for a long while.
Then—shouts erupted outside.
People were yelling, rushing to put out the fire. Voices drew nearer. The old wooden door of the side room, long in disrepair, gave way after a few heavy blows, and several figures burst inside. The man in front raised his torch, scanning the room, then strode forward and shouted Li Yuan’s name.
Li Yuan’s ears rang; he couldn’t make out the words. He just stared at that man, tears filling his eyes.
It was Xie Jing.
Xie Jing had come to save him—!
An hour earlier, he had been desperately begging for help, calling to anyone who passed. But now, seeing Xie Jing, he couldn’t make a sound. His throat was scorched and raw; he could only rasp hoarsely, crawling weakly toward him.
He looked up at Xie Jing, eyes wet with tears.
Xie Jing approached, glanced briefly at Troupe Leader Cheng’s body, and said to the men behind him, “Call for the magistrate.”
Then he crouched down to check Li Yuan’s injuries. Most were surface wounds—but his leg was bad. The bone in his right calf had been snapped; the limb was bent and dragging limply.
Xie Jing used a branch to splint it roughly and ordered someone to carry Li Yuan out.
They laid him in a carriage. Xie Jing climbed in after him. Torches flickered outside as the carriage sped down the mountain.
This time, the firelight didn’t frighten Li Yuan. Half-reclining, he took the brass Buddha from his chest and handed it to Xie Jing. His voice was broken from smoke and thirst.
Xie Jing handed him a water flask. In the dim light, he finally saw what Li Yuan was holding and looked surprised. “This is the little golden Buddha I sold to the pawnshop? Where did you find it—did Cheng take it?”
Li Yuan nodded. His voice rasped, “Yes.”
He didn’t need to explain more. Xie Jing already understood what had happened.
His expression darkened. He said nothing for a long time.
Li Yuan sipped some water, then whispered, trembling, “I… I didn’t harm Grandma. That day you were beaten—it wasn’t me…”
Xie Jing replied, “I know it wasn’t you. If you were that ruthless, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.”
He frowned deeply, his face cold and heavy. “I only blame myself for not realizing sooner.”
Li Yuan clenched his leg, using the pain to steady himself. “What… what did you do with the three copper coins I gave you?”
“I bought a sesame flatbread.”
“You’ve saved me more than once,” Li Yuan said, eyes brimming with tears, choking on his words. “That alone repays that flatbread’s worth. Xie Jing—you don’t owe me anything.”
Xie Jing said nothing.
Li Yuan continued, “I’m useless—can’t lift or carry anything. Keeping me here does you no good. I’ve thought about it these days—once I’m healed, I’ll leave.”
After a pause, Xie Jing said quietly, “You don’t need to be useful to me. Just live—and be true to yourself. That’s enough.”
Li Yuan was sent back to Granny Kou’s place to recover—in the same little room as before.
His injuries were serious; it would take two or three months before he could walk again. The doctor feared he might develop a fever at night and left several doses of medicine, but Li Yuan’s will was strong—he pulled through. The wounds on his body healed quickly. After a few days, the bruises on his face faded, and he looked once again like the frail, thin young man he had been.
Xie Jing had been busy outside for several days, unable to return home.
The Cheng affair had caused a huge uproar, even alarming Lord Bai Jiu, who came back from Heihe personally.
Cheng San, the troupe leader’s godson, hadn’t acted alone—there were five or six of them. They’d taken over the ruined temple, kidnapping children—some beggars, some from good families. No one knew how many they had sold, but over a dozen bodies were dug up from the temple grounds, Cheng San’s among them.
Earlier that year, provincial inspectors had already warned the Heihe officials to suppress banditry. After half a year of intense raids, things had finally calmed—only for this new group of criminals in Qinghe County to appear.
The day Xie Jing lost track of them, he had immediately gone to report to the authorities. The local officials, upon hearing it involved the Bai family, dared not delay. They led soldiers up the mountain that very night and wiped out the gang. They were only kidnappers, not seasoned bandits—easy to capture.
Lord Bai Jiu handled the official matters, while Xie Jing finally found time to return home.
In the east wing room—Li Yuan was helping Granny Kou weave knots when Xie Jing entered. He looked up, wanting to speak.
But Xie Jing said first, “Grandma, could you make me a bowl of your cabbage noodles? I went on duty with Lord Bai Jiu this morning and left in a rush—only had a few sips of water.”
Granny Kou immediately bustled off—Xie Jing loved her noodles best.
When she was gone, Xie Jing said, “Cheng San is dead. Troupe Leader Cheng’s alive, but barely—his mind’s gone, hanging on by a thread. Probably won’t be able to testify. Lord Bai Jiu said your leg’s still healing, so they’ll give you a few days. When they come for questioning, just tell the truth. The other children from the troupe have been rescued. Their statements match. It’s all recorded.”
Li Yuan nodded, about to speak—but Xie Jing interrupted, handing him something. “I know what you want to say, but my account doesn’t work that way. When a man’s starving, even one flatbread is life-saving food. You gave me one flatbread; I’ll return you a way to make a living. That’s fair.”
Li Yuan blinked and looked down at what he was given—a coarse blue worker’s outfit, and a contract. He read the name on it—and his eyes reddened instantly.
It bore Granny Kou’s name.
Xie Jing explained, “Granny can’t sit idle, and I don’t want her wasting away at home. I’ve got some spare money and plan to start a small business. I’ll hire you as a shopkeeper—or call it a bookkeeper, if you prefer. Granny can’t read, so you’ll help her with that. Can’t promise big profits, but you won’t go hungry—meals are included.” He paused, then added, “If there’s anything you don’t know, ask me.”
He’d followed Lord Bai Jiu for years—running a small shop was nothing new to him. He’d done every role before: clerk, manager, accountant.
Li Yuan stared at the paper for a long time, then rubbed his reddened eyes hard.
He signed his name carefully and pressed his handprint on the contract.
And at that moment, he felt something lift from his wrists—the shackles that had bound him for so long were gone.
His wrists were still wrapped in white bandages—still painful.
But it was a good pain.
He let it give him strength—and wept freely for the last time.
It would be the final time he ever cried.
From this day on, he would never cry again.
