"Did your mother happen to eat corn flour cakes yesterday?"
Dong Ying was taken aback for a moment. "We eat corn cakes often at home," he said.
"And your mother has a habit, doesn’t she? When the corn cakes get hard, she soaks them in water, right?"
"That’s right." Dong Ying’s expression turned serious.
Li Qingxian said, "I just performed a Divination. The corn cakes you ate were contaminated with some kind of mold. Plus, your mother was a bit careless last night and let half a cake soak overnight. She couldn’t bear to throw it away, so she ate it today."
Dong Ying’s expression changed drastically. "Before I left this morning, my mother did say her stomach was feeling a little upset."
"That’s it, then. If I’m not mistaken, your mother is probably already vomiting and has diarrhea, and is looking for a doctor. You should hurry over there. Use your True Essence to assist the doctor’s treatment, or the consequences will be dire," Li Qingxian said.
Dong Ying broke into a run, his left hand holding his saber steady. As he ran, he looked back and shouted, "If you save my mother, you’ll be my, Dong Ying’s, greatest benefactor! I’ll owe you my life. But if you’re tricking me, you can go work the docks!"
"Go to Ningsheng Hall!" Li Qingxian shouted.
Dong Ying ran on without another word.
"Qingxian, what was that about?" Zheng Hui came over with his men.
"It’s nothing," Li Qingxian said.
"What really happened?" Yur Ping asked.
"You’ll find out tonight," Li Qingxian said with a slight smile.
"So secretive. Come on, let’s go get some lamb soup!" Yur Ping turned and walked away.
Zheng Hui and Han Anbo looked at Li Qingxian curiously, but when they saw he wasn’t going to say anything, they dropped it.
Li Qingxian pondered as he walked.
’Looks like I should avoid using the Qi Observation Skill as much as possible before Entering Grade, especially on High Grade individuals. Using it once made me dizzy; a second time might make me pass out.’
’The Qi Observation Skill is certainly powerful, but what did that withered tree mean?’
’It seems related to Fate Skills. I think I’ve studied it before, but the important memories are still a blur.’
After walking for a while, Yur Ping sniffed the air forcefully.
"We’re here!"
The other three looked in the direction of his voice and saw Yur Ping, who was walking ahead, hurry into a ten-foot-wide alley as if possessed, taking two steps at a time.
The three exchanged a smile and followed him in.
The mottled brick walls on both sides were covered in vibrant green moss, and a broken, light-gray flagstone path stretched all the way to Xile Street.
Outside the alley’s entrance, people bustled back and forth. A multitude of voices merged into a growing buzz.
The fragrant aromas flowing through the air grew more numerous and intense.
Skirting a filthy little puddle, the three of them walked out of the alley.
The sights and sounds of the marketplace, the very essence of worldly life, rushed in to envelop them.
Yur Ping picked up his pace again, while the other three walked unhurriedly along the rutted dirt road.
SIZZLE... An oil cake hit the wok, kicking up a wisp of smoke that was both rich and fragrant as it drifted into their nostrils.
BUBBLE BUBBLE... Beneath billowing steam, pieces of dark-red, pot-stewed meat bobbed up and down.
"Off the steamer..." The lid was lifted, and as the thick white steam dissipated, it revealed glistening yellow cornbread buns.
Li Qingxian gazed at all the familiar sights, listened to the clamor, and felt a wave of joy, like a survivor of a great catastrophe.
In his peripheral vision, a plump, fair-skinned figure was waving energetically.
Li Qingxian looked over and saw Yur Ping waving wildly with his left hand while pointing at an empty table and chairs with his right. He was grinning and wide-eyed, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Hurry up! I saved us a spot..."
The three of them quickened their pace.
A grease-stained white banner fluttered in the wind, the grimy word "Zhangg" clearly visible.
Six tables and several long benches were set up outside the shop. Above the main entrance hung the Zhangg sign—a black plaque with gold characters.
Li Qingxian peeked inside and saw that the shop was completely full. Even two of the tables outside were already occupied.
"Master Zheng is here! Have a seat! Lamb offal or lamb meat?" Old Zhang, who was so busy he was practically running, came over. He looked at Zheng Hui with effusive enthusiasm while pulling a towel from his shoulder to wipe down the soup-splattered table.
People nearby looked over. Seeing the Brocade Robes and sabers, some shrank back, some swallowed nervously, and others simply remained expressionless and continued eating.
Zheng Hui waved a hand magnanimously. "We’re all friends here, no need for formalities. You go on with your work, don’t mind us. The usual: four bowls of lamb offal soup, three hard white-flour buns, two of them cut up."
Han Anbo chimed in, "And four glasses of water to rinse our mouths after the meal."
"You got it!" Old Zhang said, turning to leave.
Zheng Hui, his face beaming, said, "Old Zhang is a really decent guy. I just helped him chase off a few lowlifes once, and he’s remembered it all these years. He’s so enthusiastic every time, it almost makes me embarrassed to come too often."
"Captain Zheng, you aren’t related to Old Zhang at all, yet you were willing to help him. That makes you even more decent," Han Anbo said.
"Not at all, not at all..." Zheng Hui said politely, but he was grinning from ear to ear.
Yur Ping pouted. "Captain Zheng, I even saved you a seat. Where’s my reward of a bowl of lamb meat soup? You only ever treat us to offal soup. Do you want to keep your dignity as a Tenth-Grade Powerhouse or not?"
"Old Zhang’s lamb offal soup is his specialty." Zheng Hui couldn’t be bothered to look at Yur Ping and stood up to grab the chili oil and pepper from another table.
Li Qingxian glanced at the prices posted on the wall. Lamb offal soup was five Wen, while lamb meat soup was fifteen Wen.
Deputy Captain Han Anbo came over with coarse pottery dishes. Li Qingxian, realizing this, quickly stood up and took them. "Thank you for your trouble, Captain Han."
"It’s nothing, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter who gets them." Han Anbo smiled as he passed out the dishes.
Li Qingxian helped pass out the bamboo chopsticks and wooden spoons.
"You didn’t order a white-flour bun for me again!" Yur Ping sighed.
Zheng Hui pushed the chili oil and pepper over. "Who told you to be so picky? You insist that white-flour buns only go with lamb meat soup and don’t taste right with the offal soup. Serves you right!"
"But it’s true! Everyone knows you eat buns with lamb meat soup, who’s ever heard of eating them with offal soup? Make it up to me with a salted duck egg." Yur Ping looked at Zheng Hui with pleading eyes.
"In your dreams."
"Just one!" Yur Ping’s gaze shifted from the salted duck eggs piled on rice husks back to Zheng Hui, his expression pitiful. "Bro, not even one? I haven’t had one in over half a year! I promise, today’s salted duck eggs look especially good. Break one open and the oil will just spray in your face."