Poor Folk Don't Support Idle Gods
Evening in the mountains was a dusky yellow.
Dark, and yellow.
There was a pond by the хозяင် house's door, stocked with fish. Today, they had caught some, taken out preserved sausage and cured meat, and borrowed vegetables from the neighbors. The women bustled about in the kitchen.
The master of the house entertained the guests in the main hall.
They included the old gentleman invited from the neighboring village, relatives and neighbors who had come of their own accord to help, and Young Mister, who had happened to bring the child's soul back with him.
The two gentlemen were the main ones.
"My child has suffered through this ordeal. I wonder whether it will affect him in the future."
The master of the house looked toward Song You and the old gentleman.
Everyone else listened with rapt attention.
Interestingly, some of the neighbors' children had come too. They silently leaned against the doorway, peering inside in secret. These mysterious matters of gods and ghosts seemed to hold an innate, immense attraction for them.
Yet the old gentleman glanced at Song You, not daring to speak first for the moment.
Song You glanced at the old gentleman as well.
For a while, no one in the room spoke. After a brief silence—
"To be frank," Song You spoke first, keeping a very humble manner, "I have always cultivated quietly in the mountains and only came down to travel last year. Besides, I am still young and have seen very few matters of this kind. Today, I was merely fortunate enough to encounter your son's soul—it was only a coincidence. The old gentleman is the experienced one. You need only ask him."
The master of the house turned to look at the old gentleman.
The