Dou Sufu, All Meetings of Grudge and Hatred

The sound of running water never ceased, and the air smelled foul.

The astonishment in Fang Shu's eyes quickly turned strange.

The figure in the ditch noticed him as well. Alarmed but not daring to make a commotion, she lowered her voice and said:

"Who!?"

Fang Shu did not hide. After thinking for a moment, he squatted beside the ditch and answered in a low voice:

"Not a villain, Sister Dou. It's me, from next door."

"It's you..." The tension eased from Dou Sufu's face. She hesitated, then her body involuntarily shuddered and trembled.

With his sharp ears, Fang Shu clearly heard the water in the ditch splash and quiver along with her. Even though he tried hard to rein in his stray thoughts, the scene still made his heart skip a beat.

Hearing his breathing, Dou Sufu's face flared red. She cursed softly:

"And you say you're not a villain, you wrong-timed, head-chopping fool."

Yet she did not scream. She merely scooped up water at the edge of the ditch with splashing sounds, then rustled as she straightened her sleeves and sash.

When she stood again, this milkmaid beauty was composed and unruffled. She said to Fang Shu:

"What a coincidence. So it's the little fellow next door.

"I was washing clothes. Are you here to wash some too?"

Under the moonlight, Fang Shu's gaze could not help but flick toward the other's tight, close-fitting clothes.

It was a lotus-root-colored gauze blouse, whether deliberately disguised or not, dripping water in a timid little trickle.

He took her at her word that she had truly been washing clothes and replied:

"No."

Dou Sufu nodded, then pressed a hand against her hip, lifted her skirt, and headed toward the paper house by herself.

But when she reached the front of the paper house, she saw Fang Shu by the ditch trailing after her like a dog sniffing at someone's backside.

Her lovely face flushed with spring, ashamed and angry all at once. She turned and shot Fang Shu a fierce glare, about to scold him.

But Fang Shu's next sentence choked the words in her throat.

Fang Shu spoke with earnest sincerity:

"Forgive me for disturbing you so late, Sister Dou. I feared those strongmen, but I also wanted to ask where my Second Uncle went, so I came here rashly. I hope you can pardon me."

"Oh, so that's how it is." Dou Sufu seemed to know something. Her voice carried slight surprise as she covered her lips.

Leaning against the door, the milkmaid beauty lowered her head to ponder for a while. Then, with a sigh on her face, she creaked open the paper door and invited Fang Shu inside:

"Come in first. We'll talk properly."

Fang Shu lifted his foot, but recalling what had just happened, he hesitated again. His steps wavered as he considered whether he should simply ask outside the door.

Dou Sufu shot him another vicious glare and said in a low voice:

"If I tell you to come in, then come in. Why are you dawdling? If you don't come in and someone sees us, it'll surely ruin this woman's reputation."

"Forgive the intrusion." Hearing this, Fang Shu hurriedly clasped his hands, then bent over and slipped into the paper house.

The moment he entered Dou Sufu's paper house, a rich scent of tofu and milk rushed at his face.

The place was about the same size as his Second Uncle Yu Le's, but it was arranged quite nicely, filled with the feeling of a young woman's room. There was even a cellar dug beneath it, expanding the space below considerably, its interior packed with jars and bottles.

A bean-sized oil lamp burned in the room. Its light was dim and yellow, but its fragrance was pleasant and warming.

Dou Sufu pointed at a low stool in the room. "Sit."

She herself sat sideways on the paper bed. Her hipbones stretched the bedsheet taut beneath her, drawing the eye intensely.

Noticing Fang Shu's gaze, Dou Sufu gave him another look that could carve flesh from bone and said irritably:

"You little brat whose feathers haven't even grown in, what are you staring at? Ask what you came to ask."

Fang Shu nodded apologetically, exhaled a breath of turbid air, and hurriedly asked where his Second Uncle had gone and why he had vanished without a trace.

Since they were talking business, Dou Sufu sighed, put away her embarrassment and anger, and slowly told him what she knew.

Fang Shu listened in silence and found that what she said was not much different from what the talisman master Li Yuan had said, only slightly more detailed. For instance, his Second Uncle had entered the mine three days ago. He had deliberately left at dawn and seemed to have found companions.

And Cheng the Jar had recently been strutting around the Paper Workshop in great style, far more smug than before. He looked down his nose at everyone he met; anyone unaware of the truth might have thought the bastard had developed crossed eyes.

After digesting this information, Fang Shu immediately rose and bowed to Dou Sufu.

"Thank you, Sister Dou, for telling me."

After hesitating, he added, "I also hope you won't tell anyone else that I came tonight, lest..."

Before he could finish, Dou Sufu nodded with a mocking smile.

"Breaking into a widow's door at night? This woman is more afraid that you yourself will spread it around and ruin my reputation."

Fang Shu froze at the words "widow's door."

He stopped in time and said nothing further. Only after Dou Sufu finished mocking him did he slowly add:

"Lest Cheng the Jar hears of it and takes his anger out on you, Sister."

This caught Dou Sufu off guard. She realized she had missed her mark.

Her face reddened slightly and her eyes darted about, but when she saw Fang Shu's wooden expression, she burst out laughing. With three parts mockery and seven parts teasing, she said:

"What, did your Second Uncle never tell you who I am?"

Then she muttered, "And don't think I'm afraid of Cheng the Jar. I didn't tell you all this today because I pitied you. It's because I have a grudge against Cheng the Jar too.

"Back then, if it weren't for him claiming some treasure mine had appeared in the mountains and dragging a whole group of people out of town, this old lady would never have become a widow.

"In the end, he was the only one who came back alive. If he hadn't also wrapped himself in the Black Tiger Daoist Hall's tiger skin... even if I had to stake my life on it, I'd avenge my man and demand his life!"

By the end, Dou Sufu's lovely face no longer held embarrassment or anger, but gritted teeth and the hatred accumulated over many years.

Fang Shu pondered these words carefully and recalled that his Second Uncle had indeed vaguely mentioned this neighbor before.

But his Second Uncle had not bluntly said she was a widow. He had merely remarked lightly that Dou Sufu was also someone with a bitter fate, and that Fang Shu must never look down on her.

Who would have thought there was such a story behind it!

Fang Shu hurriedly clasped his hands toward her, apology written across his face.

Seeing Fang Shu's apology, the hatred on Dou Sufu's face scattered.

She returned to calmness and changed the subject.

"These old sesame seeds and rotten millet aren't worth talking about. After all, whose household in this Paper Workshop doesn't have a grudge against Cheng the Jar? What happened to me may not even amount to much."

She spoke lightly, as though the hatred from moments ago had been an illusion. After pausing, she also warned Fang Shu:

"It's your Second Uncle who has a grudge against that bastard Cheng the Jar. You're still young, so don't let youthful hotheadedness get the better of you, lest... it makes your Second Uncle even sadder."

The woman sighed. "In this market district, everyone has endured things one batch after another. You'll get used to it in time."

Fang Shu understood what she meant. It was nothing more than "lest the white-haired send off the black-haired."

He did not argue. Instead, he nodded seriously. "Thank you for the advice, Sister. I'll remember it."

Seeing how obedient Fang Shu was, Dou Sufu's gaze softened greatly, as though she were looking at her own younger brother.

Seeing Fang Shu rise as if to take his leave, she immediately said, "Sit first."

Then Dou Sufu bent over on her own and lifted a wooden bucket from the cellar in the cramped paper house.

When she opened the lid, a plume of heat rose from inside, along with a pleasant fragrance that crowded the entire room.

With her back to Fang Shu, she rolled up her sleeves, exposing fair wrists and arms. Then, bracing herself against the rim, she scooped a bowl of even whiter milk tofu from the bucket.

Fang Shu had been calmly restraining his wandering thoughts, keeping his eyes from impropriety. But when he smelled the milk tofu's fragrance, the spiritual taste of milk tofu immediately returned to his mind.

He could not help swallowing. Glancing over, he found the milky scent stirring his blood and qi until it rolled within him, even bringing color to his cheeks.

When Dou Sufu turned around, she saw Fang Shu's flushed little face and his fixed stare at the bowl of milk in her hand.

She could not help smiling. She immediately plopped down on the closed lid of the milk bucket and set the bowl on the table.

"You little glutton. Go on, eat."

But Fang Shu stared at the milk tofu in the bowl without moving. He took a deep breath and said in a low voice:

"Sister, I have no money."

Dou Sufu smiled even more sweetly. "I know you have no money. Consider this bowl the belated first-meeting gift from your sister."

One hand propped her up while the other supported her chin as she smiled at Fang Shu.

But Fang Shu looked at the milk tofu on the table, and his thoughts suddenly drifted as he remembered something.

He swallowed, looking at Dou Sufu with some unease. He hesitated, and his face reddened further.

At first, Dou Sufu did not understand why.

She thought there might be something on her face. But once she clearly saw Fang Shu's flickering, half-lowered gaze, she too suddenly remembered something. Her arms tightened around herself, and her cheeks flared crimson, burning hot like fire.

"Pah!" Dou Sufu immediately spat under her breath.

"You wrong-timed, head-chopping fool. What are you thinking at your age?"

At once, she hesitated fiercely.

She was considering whether to explain to Fang Shu exactly how the milk shops on Blood Street operated, but she worried it might hurt her own business.

Noticing Fang Shu's awkwardness and the strange atmosphere in the paper house, especially given Fang Shu's young age, Dou Sufu ultimately put on a serious face, poked Fang Shu in the head, and spat softly:

"Thinking such improper things at your age."

She then briefly explained the workings of the milk shops on Blood Street.

It turned out that the milk shops on Blood Street mixed truth with falsehood. Though the milk foods they sold did include the real thing, there was not much of it.

After all, so many customers came and went along one street every day. Even if they used cow's milk or mare's milk, it would take hundreds or thousands of animals to supply them, much less people.

Seeing Fang Shu listen attentively with a dazed expression, Dou Sufu said crossly:

"If you want the real thing, go buy it in those filthy, conscienceless places. The girls there can make it fresh for you to eat."

Fang Shu understood that she was referring to the brothels and pleasure houses in the market district.

He gradually came back to himself and said:

"So in that case, most milk shops on Blood Street are merely a gimmick, meant to comfort those who sell blood for money?"

It was Dou Sufu's first time hearing the phrase "comforting gimmick," but after thinking it over carefully, she found it was indeed so.

The Blood Ghosts sold blood for money, while the milk shops sold milk. With that "gimmick" in place, everyone sounded as though they were selling the same sort of goods.

That way, the Blood Ghosts would willingly buy milk foods to eat, seeking comfort in their hearts and compensation for the stifled humiliation of selling blood. And because of that, the milk shops' business increased.

Though she agreed inwardly with Fang Shu's words, Dou Sufu huffed:

"It isn't entirely a gimmick. This bucket of milk costs us one tael of spirit stones, and if you want spiritual energy to blend into the milk food, you also need the corresponding spells to harmonize it.

"It may not count as pill refining or medicine brewing, but it is still a kind of medicinal cuisine.

"Don't believe me? Why not eat some and see?"

Seeing Fang Shu still hesitate, Dou Sufu feigned anger.

"Don't worry, I didn't poison you, little fellow. If I really poison you to death and you die in my room, who knows what people outside will say about me."

Fang Shu could not refuse such kindness. He could only obediently hurry to pick up the milk tofu.

After one bowl of milk food entered his stomach, a warm current rose in his abdomen, and his whole body felt pleasantly heated.

Compared to the fierce, harsh medicinal effect of the Essence-Nourishing Pill, which was like undercooked rice, Dou Sufu's milk food was like a bowl of hot porridge, simmered until soft, thick, and nourishing. One bowl filled the belly and soothed the body.

Nourished by milk food worth fifty coins a bowl, the exhaustion in Fang Shu's body from burying his head in hard training throughout the day vanished at once.

He truly wanted another bowl!

Fang Shu's eyes shone as he stared at Dou Sufu, but Dou Sufu was no longer as generous as before.

She warily leaned back, planted her backside firmly atop the milk bucket, and knocked on it as a reminder.

"One tael of spirit stones per bucket."

At those words, the shine in Fang Shu's eyes immediately vanished. Yet he did not look disappointed; instead, he looked at her gratefully.

For her to give him even one bowl of such medicinal cuisine for free was already exceedingly generous.

And seeing Fang Shu's well-behaved, sensible manner, Dou Sufu's expression did not change, but her heart had already softened.

After thinking for a moment, she simply lifted another, much larger bucket from the cellar. The bucket was as large as a water vat, and the effort made her whole body tense.

Fang Shu fidgeted where he sat, wanting to go help her but not daring to make too many movements, afraid Sister Dou might misunderstand.

At last, Dou Sufu opened the bucket, scooped directly from it with a water ladle, gripped the handle with her pale fingers, and handed Fang Shu the ladle itself.

"Here. You can't have much more tofu, but you can drink your fill of whey."

Fang Shu confirmed that he really could drink straight from the ladle, and delight appeared on his face.

"Sister, you're so kind!"

Then he did not stand on ceremony. Gulping away as though hurrying to sell blood, he downed three large ladlefuls in a row.

This hungry-ghost display made Dou Sufu click her tongue. She muttered:

"Drink that much whey, and you'd better watch out for needing to pee..."

But halfway through, she shut her mouth on her own, her gaze wandering.

After filling himself with whey, Fang Shu's expression became even more content.

Though the spiritual energy in this whey was minuscule, it was still deeply nourishing, even comparable to the blood buns in the Daoist Hall.

"Thank you for the hospitality, Sister. I won't disturb you any longer."

Fang Shu wiped his mouth, bowed deeply to Dou Sufu, and made to leave.

Dou Sufu did not try to keep him. She walked gracefully to the door, intending to let him out.

But suddenly.

Dou Sufu's plump body moved first to press against the door. She made a quieting gesture at Fang Shu.

Fang Shu did not understand why.

But very quickly, he heard running footsteps outside, followed by weeping cries:

"Don't hit me, don't hit me!"

A woman was running through the night outside.

Behind her came a stream of curses:

"Run? Where can you run to!

"You filthy country whore. In a moment, you'll be begging me to take you in."

The woman running through the night sounded very young, and Fang Shu vaguely felt her voice was somewhat familiar.

The man doing the cursing sounded old the moment he opened his mouth, like some aged monkey.

"No! I'm not a servant girl, I didn't come here to be..."

The woman truly seemed unable to get away. She was caught at once and could only wail and cry.

But the old man did not seem to pity her. A sharp slap cracked through the air.

"Not? Did you really think, just because that old procuress said so, that I bought you for that debt-collecting, money-losing thing in the house?

Pah! Why don't you piss in a puddle and look at yourself? I bought you to bring good fortune, I bought you for myself!

Once you've waited on me until I die, you'll have to be buried with me too!"

Vicious curses, bitter resentment, and mournful wailing rang through the Paper Workshop as though no one else existed, especially shrill and tragic.

Yet not a single person in the Paper Workshop stepped outside to interfere. They could not even be bothered to open a window.

Dou Sufu, who was bracing the door shut, wore a despondent expression and murmured, "What a waste of a person."

Naturally, Fang Shu would not go looking for trouble for no reason.

Back when he had still been scraping out a living in the mortal Fang Clan, he had learned to respect other people's fates, including his own.

Fang Shu merely asked Dou Sufu in a low voice, "The woman outside is... Su Qingao?"

"Su Qingao?" Dou Sufu looked at him suspiciously, sizing him up and down. "You little brat, how do you even know Sister Su's maiden name?"

Fang Shu calmly told her that he and Su Qingao had arrived from the mortal world on the same snake boat.

Upon hearing this, Dou Sufu's suspicion vanished, and she muttered, "All bitter-fated people."

Only after asking in detail did Fang Shu learn what had happened.

Su Qingao had thought she was marrying into the Paper Workshop, marrying that sickly man, and coming to inherit the old man's family line.

In the end, she had been utterly deceived by that "close sister."

That sickly man had merely been a smokescreen. Her true buyer was the sickly man's father. Not one word from the old procuress had been true.

More specifically, the sickly man's father had been taking a concubine for himself. The bastard wanted to bring his son some good fortune, and if his son truly died, he could still make an effort and find some way to have Su Qingao bear him another child.

As for why Dou Sufu knew all this so clearly—

Before Su Qingao had even arrived, that old beast had already shamelessly shouted throughout the Paper Workshop about bringing good fortune to his son.

After buying Su Qingao, the old beast had strutted around everywhere, boasting that girls from the countryside were cheap.

He had even thoroughly advertised for the old procuress, saying that if everyone went to the landing place to pick for themselves, they definitely would not find goods this stupid yet this well-built!

Fang Shu listened in silence.

Then, after the old man and the young woman had made a commotion and presumably returned to their den, he bid Dou Sufu farewell and headed alone toward Solitary Gu Hall.

The night was slightly cold.

But as he walked, whether because of that bowl of milk tofu or because he had seen Su Qingao's plight, his heart burned hot. His entire body was filled with strength, and he only wanted to hurry back to the hall to temper his sinews and bones and refine his magical tools.

Thus, after returning to Solitary Gu Hall, he did not go to sleep. Instead, he continued practicing through the night in the hall.

He repeatedly recited the hall's mnemonic in his heart:

All suffering in this world belongs to the weak.

All meetings with those we resent are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, dew, and lightning; only great Dharma power can subdue them!