The journey passed without incident. Qing Ni led the two strange people who seemed as though she had picked them up somewhere along the way safely back to the small town. What outsiders saw as a furtive, filthy place was dear to the girl. Once they returned, the skinny girl visibly relaxed, and even her steps became lighter. Earlier, when she had followed the sword-carrying youth through the wilderness, Qing Ni's body had been somewhat stiff, her heartstrings drawn taut every moment. Perhaps to a girl born and raised here, the familiar small town and the unfamiliar world outside were as different as day and night.
The young Daoist asked, "Qingni Little Daoist Friend, does this small town have a name?"
"Fengle."
"Once a battlefield where Military Strategists clashed in arms; now every season holds sights too lovely to resist."
This Daoist priest wearing a Lotus Crown had on a heavy cotton Daoist robe that reached only to his knees. Cloth strips were bound around his calves. Perhaps because there were no broad official roads in Hehuan Mountain's territory, the leg wraps were still snagged with thorns and barbs.
What worried the girl more at this moment was that Sister Zhou would be angry when they returned home. Sister Zhou looked gentle and virtuous, and normally spoke softly and quietly, but after living together day after day, year after year, the girl had long discovered that all those grown men, including Uncle Liu, held Sister Zhou in great awe.
After twisting and turning through seven bends and eight corners, Qing Ni led the young Daoist and the sword-carrying youth into a dark alley. Every so often, she looked back and saw that Daoist priest sneaking about with shifty eyes. Was he casing the place?
Zhou Qiu, holding an umbrella and