Drifting Duckweed

The commotion continued for a long time. During that time, Qin Fang tried to get up, but his body was terribly weak and completely devoid of strength. His stomach had started rumbling, too...

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Hungry again.

How could he not be?

He hadn't eaten anything for several days. The only food he'd had was a few bowls of thin sorghum porridge the night before last, and then he'd fallen ill.

Yesterday, he hadn't eaten a grain of rice or drunk a drop of water all day.

His condition had been too poor yesterday for hunger to make itself felt over all his other discomfort.

Today, he was feeling a little better, and the hunger had surfaced again.

Though it was difficult, he forced himself upright. The movement tugged at the wounds on his waist and left shoulder, making him grimace and knit his brows.

Even just sitting up straight left him panting, sweat beading on his forehead.

As soon as he moved, a foul, sour stench rose from his chest... Even Qin Fang couldn't help frowning repeatedly.

He looked down. His hands were still filthy black with dirt. Clearly, though they'd saved him, they hadn't bothered to wash him properly.

He'd worked up another sweat yesterday. When he'd been lying still in bed, it hadn't been so bad, but now that he'd moved, the stench wafted up.

The smell coming off him now... could be caught from ten yards away.

His straw sandals were gone. He looked down, but there were no shoes under the bed, either. Just as he was frowning over it, the door creaked open.

"Holy shit, what's that smell?"

A young man's voice rang out.

Qin Fang looked up and saw two young men about his age entering the room, both dressed in coarse cloth.

The one who entered first caught the smell and immediately changed expression, instinctively covering his nose and mouth.

The other was a little older and seemed more composed. He frowned as they looked into the room.

At once, they spotted Qin Fang sitting on the bed. The one covering his nose and mouth cried out in shock, "A refugee?!"

Qin Fang said nothing. He merely watched the two of them, wariness rising in his own heart.

His gaze swept over them and landed on the tray in their hands, which held some food... He immediately realized the two of them had probably been sent by Old Wu to bring him a meal.

"How could there be a refugee in the hall?"

The youth covering his nose and mouth cried out in alarm.

The other youth seemed more composed, but now his eyes, too, were full of wariness and suspicion.

Remembering what Old Wu had told him, Qin Fang immediately understood... This was the effect of the refugees' unrest.

The situation must be serious... Otherwise, the two youths wouldn't have reacted so strongly to seeing him.

Even after their initial shock, clear wariness and disgust showed in their eyes as they looked at him.

Qin Fang spoke hoarsely. "Did Elder Wu send you to bring me food? Thank you both... I nearly died yesterday. Fortunately, Elder Wu treated me."

Qin Fang's sudden words left both of them stunned.

He'd nearly died yesterday and Elder Wu had treated him?

In other words... he certainly hadn't taken part in the unrest.

And looking at his condition, it really didn't seem likely he could have participated in any kind of disturbance.

After exchanging glances, they still didn't look any friendlier toward Qin Fang. They came in, set the tray on the table where the oil lamp stood, and then, without saying a word, prepared to leave.

But Qin Fang spoke up just then. "Could I ask you both to wait a moment?"

They stopped instinctively, then frowned at Qin Fang. The more blunt-tempered one made no effort to hide the disgust in his eyes. "What else do you want?"

"Elder Wu just told me a little about what happened... I heard that the refugees rioted and quite a few people were injured or killed?"

Qin Fang had barely begun when the youth gave a cold snort, gritting his teeth. "Your homes were struck by disaster, so you fled here. The people of True Martial took you in out of kindness. We never expected you not only to show no gratitude, but to charge in and cause trouble, hurting the people of True Martial! And you still have the nerve to ask?!"

He was plainly seething.

Qin Fang's next words died in his throat.

But he understood how they felt.

Even in his previous life, people had looked down on other regions.

How much more so in an era when travel and communication were so underdeveloped?

The refugees had suddenly erupted in unrest for no apparent reason, throwing True Martial County into turmoil and even causing casualties. As a member of True Martial County, it was only natural for them to despise and distrust him, a fellow refugee.

If their positions were reversed, he would probably instinctively distrust and resent other refugees, too.

"I'm sorry. I truly didn't know," Qin Fang said directly.

His frank apology left the two of them stunned.

They still weren't friendly, but they didn't keep on berating him, either. They just gave a snort and left.

In the end, they didn't answer any more of his questions.

Qin Fang knew they wouldn't talk to him much anytime soon... They hated him; why would they tell him anything?

But familiarity came with time. If he spoke with them more, they would gradually understand that he posed no threat and be willing to talk to him.

Then he looked at the tray on the table. He didn't have shoes, but he couldn't worry about that now. He walked over barefoot, his feet wrapped in gauze.

When he stepped down, pain shot through the soles of his feet... but it was still much better than before.

He breathed out softly and went to the table. The food on the tray wasn't anything fancy, just a bowl of porridge, two steamed buns, and two small dishes of pickles.

But even at the sight of such a simple meal, Qin Fang couldn't help swallowing furiously...

How long had it been since he'd eaten anything this "solid"?

He didn't bother holding back. He grabbed a steamed bun and ate in great mouthfuls, washing it down with porridge and pickles.

In no time, he'd polished off all the food.

They'd been thoughtful enough to prepare water, too. Qin Fang gulped down a whole pot, then finally let out a long, satisfied breath.

...It had been so long since he'd felt completely full.

The noise outside continued. Qin Fang hesitated, but in the end, he didn't leave the room rashly.

...The two youths' reactions were enough to show just how hostile people in True Martial County were toward refugees now.

The people shouting curses and wailing outside might well have been caught up in whatever the refugees had done.

If he showed himself now and someone saw him, he'd probably immediately become a target for their anger.

...He knew all too well what refugees were capable of.

People driven mad by hunger could be more vicious than anyone could imagine.

And once they'd been through a bloody ordeal, the next time they struck—even if hunger wasn't the reason—they'd be more ruthless than ordinary people.

He himself was proof enough... Hadn't he become the same?

After going through what he had with the refugees, the thought of "killing" no longer stirred the slightest ripple in his heart.

His state of mind was sliding toward the extreme.

If this really was a refugee riot, then the refugees would be striking with the intent to take their opponents' lives.

On the road, conflicts were rare, but once one broke out... it was a matter of life and death.

If you didn't kill the other person, you were the one who'd die.

Once you got used to thinking that way, it was easy to see just how ruthless you'd be the next time you struck.

Qin Fang simply returned to bed and stayed in the room.

After lying down again, he kept listening closely to the sounds outside.

Not long afterward, a wave of drowsiness came over him.

...With his hunger eased, his other ailments had returned.

He had no idea how long it would take this body to recover completely.

He pressed his lips together, feeling that this was going to be the death of him.

Still, compared with fleeing from place to place, things were unquestionably much more stable now.

At least he no longer had to stay on guard every moment or keep walking without rest. Things were already many times better.

It was just that his dagger had been taken away, most likely tossed somewhere by the people from the Iron Tiger Gang.

He couldn't even practice.

His body was like willow fluff, his life like duckweed...

That was the clearest, strongest feeling he had now.

With his heart full of unease, he sank into sleep once more.