Making a Life

The bright red meat looked especially enticing, drawing quite a few wealthy families from the docks over to buy it.

In the Great Li Dynasty, beef was meat only the rich could afford, because slaughtering cattle without permission was a serious crime.

As an agrarian civilization, the Eastern Lands regarded cattle as vital means of production. Every dynasty had strictly forbidden the private slaughter of draft oxen.

If an ox was old, weak, sick, or injured and truly had to be killed, it had to be reported to the authorities. Slaughter was permitted only after official approval, and the hide, tendons, and horns had to be handed over without compensation—they were military supplies.

What puzzled Qin He was that the cattle market owner watched the shop hand cut the beef while wiping away tears, as though his father had died.

There were so many cattle in the market. Birth, aging, sickness, and death were perfectly normal. Was he going to cry every time one died?

What, was he some fragile young miss?

"Pathetic, ptooey!"

Qin He spat and left carrying the large iron pot.

But he had barely taken a few steps when shouting erupted behind him.

"Thief!!"

"Someone stole my silver!"

Qin He turned around and saw a rather portly man pointing at a fleeing figure and yelling at the top of his lungs.

He lumbered after the thief, but he was far too slow.

The running figure was skinny yet nimble, darting swiftly through the crowd. He slipped around a street corner and vanished in a flash.

By the time the portly man reached the corner, there was no one left to find. He could only curse and spit out empty threats. In truth, he probably had not even gotten a clear look at the thief's face.

Hou Xiaoliu ran for a long while before stopping beside a wall. The rapid sprint made his chest heave violently. After catching his breath for a moment, he looked around, and seeing no one nearby, opened the money pouch he had just obtained. Inside were a small silver ingot and more than a dozen copper coins.

He weighed it in his hand and estimated it to be nearly four taels. He smiled in satisfaction.

"Split the money in half when you see it."

The sudden voice at his ear nearly scared his soul out of his body.

He hid the silver behind his back with lightning speed and looked closely. A man with an iron pot perched on his head was standing beside him somehow, grinning with a mouthful of dazzlingly white teeth.

Without another word, Hou Xiaoliu turned and ran, breaking out in a cold sweat.

He simply could not understand when that man had gotten beside him.

Fortunately, when he ran, the man did not chase after him.

Hou Xiaoliu ran in one breath from East Street to West Street, twisting and turning before hiding in a ruined temple.

Yet before he could even catch his breath, the voice came again from above his head.

"Split it in half when we meet."

Hou Xiaoliu looked up and saw the pot-headed man crouching atop the wall, smiling at him.

"Good heavens!" Hou Xiaoliu cried, scrambling up and running again.

After another frantic flight, he ran from the western end all the way to the north.

The result was the same as before. The moment he stopped, that man appeared.

"Split it in half when we meet." The voice had become downright demonic.

Hou Xiaoliu was truly frightened now. Even if he had never encountered one before, he had heard of them. Anyone who could chase him around like it was play while wearing a large iron pot on his head was no ordinary person.

"Hero, spare my life! I haven't eaten in three days. I truly can't hold on anymore. Please leave me a way to live." Cold sweat streamed down Hou Xiaoliu's face. The feeling of giving it his all yet still being unable to escape the other man's grasp filled him with terror.

If he was dragged off to see the authorities, even if he did not die, he would lose a layer of skin.

"Giving up half won't cut off your way to live, will it?" the man asked, tilting his head.

"Huh?"

Hou Xiaoliu froze. "Half?"

"What's your name?"

"Hou... Hou Xiaoliu."

"Hand over the pouch."

"Yes, yes, Hero."

Under such absolute control, Hou Xiaoliu did not dare entertain any other thoughts.

Qin He took the pouch, pulled out the small silver ingot, and gave it a light snap. The ingot split into two halves.

He put one half into his own pocket, returned the other half to the pouch, and tossed it back to Hou Xiaoliu.

Hou Xiaoliu stared dumbly. This sort of silver ingot was very hard; even teeth might not be able to bite off a small piece. Yet this man had snapped silver apart with his bare hands.

Could the silver be fake?

The thought suddenly struck Hou Xiaoliu. He hurriedly pulled out the silver, put it in his mouth, and bit down.

After biting it, he found there was nothing wrong with the silver.

When he looked back at the Hero—eh, the man had vanished again.

"Shopkeeper, one jin of beef."

Qin He returned to the ox-head stall with the iron pot on his head and set down six mace of broken silver.

"Coming right up."

The shop hand moved with great efficiency, cutting off a piece for Qin He. Once it went on the scale, it weighed exactly one jin, not a bit more or less.

Clearly, he was an expert.

After taking the beef, Qin He went to a grain and oil shop. He spent the remaining tael or so of silver on one jin of hempseed oil, ten jin of flour, half a jin of leaven, a kitchen knife, and a little Sichuan pepper, ginger, fuliu vine, chili, and other seasonings.

He returned to the Corpse Burning Facility laden with goods. The Corpse Burners had all gone to sleep, and only Yang Baitu watched Qin He return to the Corpse Burning Room in astonishment.

Corpse Burners never knew whether they would live to see tomorrow, so buying food and drink was nothing strange. But buying a pot was unheard of. Yang Baitu had spent thirty years at the Corpse Burning Facility and had never heard of such a thing.

An iron pot was not cheap. He might buy it today only for it to pass cheaply into someone else's hands tomorrow.

Qin He's actions declared one thing: he intended to make a life for himself at the Corpse Burning Facility.

Only someone making a life for themselves would furnish their own "household belongings."

"Sure enough, extraordinary people always have extraordinary ways!"

Yang Baitu gave Qin He an astonished appraisal.

After setting down his things, Qin He went to borrow a cart from Yang Baitu. He hauled stones and dug up mud outside, preparing to build a stove.

With inner strength, work went quickly. One slap shattered a large stone into seven or eight pieces. After trimming the edges and corners, they became flat and even, like bricks one after another.

After making four or five trips, he had gathered enough materials.

Then came the building.

A single-burner stove did not require much skill. With slow patching and adjusting, it gradually took shape.

Though it was a little ugly, that did not affect its usefulness.

Once the iron pot was set on top and a ring of mud was plastered around it, the stove was complete.

He shoveled up some coal cinders, used fire oil to ignite them, and slowly baked out the moisture. Then Qin He went to knead the dough.

Tonight, he planned to have a solid, hearty meal.

After kneading the dough, he went to the nearby Mass Grave and cut two bamboo stalks to make bowls, chopsticks, and a steamer.

Once Shadowless Hand was activated, not only could he make these things, he could make them incredibly fast.

By the time everything was ready, night had fallen.

The Marshal's Office corpses arrived, sixteen in total.

The three villains' "awareness" had still not improved in the slightest. They actually gave Qin He the night off, without sending him a single corpse.

Since delicious food was about to hit the table, Qin He spared them for the moment and continued his great culinary undertaking.

By the time the moon climbed over the mountaintops, an incomparably lavish meal by Qin He's standards—stir-fried beef with chili and white-flour steamed buns—was finally on the table.

The buns were white and fluffy. Even without sugar, they carried a thread of sweetness.

And there was no need to mention the stir-fried beef with chili. One bite was filled to the brim with happiness.

Just as Qin He ate with great gusto, his cheeks stuffed round, the sound of the main gate opening suddenly came from outside.

Qin He raised his head, because he had not heard any footsteps.

Not only were there no footsteps, even the sounds of constables patrolling outside had vanished at some point.

The door opened, and a fair-faced young man wearing a small conical hat walked in. Seeing Qin He's puffed-out cheeks, then glancing at the food on the table, he paused in slight surprise.

Qin He was stunned as well.

"Who are you?"

"Luo Jiu."

The newcomer removed his hat and hung it from a roof beam. He walked over on his own and said, "I came to ask about someone."

"Who?"

The man drew a portrait from his robes. It showed a handsome young man.

Qin He recognized him: Liu Cang, the Snake Immortal.