Pingyang City

The city gate stood before Chen Chong, with three large characters carved into it: "Pingyang City."

The walls rose higher than those of Dingshan County. Their bricks had recently been replaced, and the gray-white stone blocks glowed warmly in the setting sun.

The three characters were set into the lintel, their strokes bold and vigorous. Chisel marks still lingered on the stone, and when the slanting sunlight struck them, light and shadow intertwined to striking effect. A queue had formed at the gate. There were plenty of people, but things were far more orderly than in Dingshan County.

The soldiers guarding the gate wore sabers at their hips and checked each traveler's pass in turn.

Many shacks had also been built outside the walls, sheltering numerous refugees. Conditions were much better than in Dingshan County: at the very least, they had plenty of scraps of cloth and some kind of leather to keep out the wind and rain.

The shacks stood in neat rows, with passageways left between them. Crushed stone covered the ground, keeping it from turning to mud.

Someone crouched before a shack, cooking over a fire. Wisps of smoke rose and stretched into thin threads against the dusk.

Chen Chong walked steadily through the refugee camp toward Pingyang City. It was not nearly as crowded as he had imagined.

In Dingshan County's refugee quarter, people had been packed shoulder to shoulder. You had to turn sideways just to walk through.

This place was different. There was space between the shacks, the paths were wide, and children even chased one another across an open patch of ground.

A scream drew Chen Chong's attention.

In the distance, several men dressed like servants were beating a pale young man.

The young man wore rags: a gray cloth jacket full of holes, and trousers worn through at the knees, exposing his bony legs. He lay curled on the ground, hands over his head, his body drawn into a tight ball.

The servants surrounded him, kicking him again and again. "Penniless wretch! You dare leave your debt unpaid?" they cursed. "Pay what you owe today, or we'll take your little brother to settle it!"

The young man cried out with every blow. His voice was hoarse, as though he had shouted so long he had worn his throat raw.

Chen Chong strode over.

He did not draw his blade. He simply seized one servant's wrist and twisted it, sending the man to his knees with a scream.

With a backhanded shove, he sent another servant sprawling several yards away.

The third had just turned to run when Chen Chong kicked him in the backside and sent him sprawling face-first into the dirt. The others saw how things stood, helped their companions up, and hurried away.

The pale young man climbed to his feet.

His face was mottled with bruises, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and his left eye was swollen to a slit.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he took a few breaths before looking up at Chen Chong and thanking him.

"What happened?" Chen Chong asked.

The young man gave a bitter smile and invited Chen Chong inside.

Chen Chong followed him to the shack. It was small, propped up by a few wooden poles and covered with torn cloth and several pieces of stiff leather.

He ducked inside. It was even smaller than it looked.

There was barely room for two people to stand. Chen Chong bent at the waist, found a little stool, and sat down.

A child of twelve or thirteen lay on the bed.

Calling it a bed was generous. It was only a few broken planks fitted together, with a layer of dry straw spread over them.

The child lay beneath a thin, dingy cloth.

His eyes were open, but when people entered, only his eyes could move. His arms rested at his sides, thin as two sticks of firewood and utterly still.

The young man said to Chen Chong, "We're from Dingyuan County. Our family used to be wealthy. Our parents spent most of our savings getting us out. But during our escape, we ran into demonic beasts. Many people died in their bellies, and we were separated from our family. My little brother and I finally made it here, only for a strange epidemic to break out. He caught it. It's hard enough for me to keep us both fed; I can't afford treatment for him. So he's been lying here ever since."

He paused, his voice sinking lower. "Then these Clear River Gang people heard somewhere that I had a brother and demanded an extra payment. I didn't have the money, so they beat me."

Chen Chong listened quietly as the young man rambled on.

His gaunt face looked almost sickly, with jutting cheekbones, sunken eyes, and cracked lips. The wound at the corner of his mouth pulled with every word. Yet his voice remained even. He neither wept nor raged, speaking as though he had already accepted his fate.

Chen Chong took out a banknote worth ten taels of silver. The panel had its humane side: money paid into it could still be withdrawn.

He handed it to the young man.

The young man stared at the banknote and bit his lip. His fingers drew back, as though he wanted to take it but did not dare.

"Take it," Chen Chong said. "Get your brother treated."

Tears ran silently from the young man's swollen eye, mingling with the blood and grime on his face in murky streaks.

He accepted the note and thanked Chen Chong over and over, bowing until his head nearly touched his knees.

Then, as if remembering something, he rummaged beneath the tattered straw mat under his brother. After a long search, he pulled out a torn sheet of paper and handed it to Chen Chong.

The paper was no ordinary thing. Chen Chong felt the difference as soon as he took it. Its surface was smooth as cream, with a faint ivory tint; its fibers were even, and it was thin without being translucent. Its edges were ragged, as though it had been burned or soaked in water, and nearly half of it was missing. A few words were written on it: Jade Splendor Essence-Nourishing Pill.

A damaged pill formula.

A pill formula lost most of its value once it was damaged.

To reconstruct it, you needed a similar formula. Without one, the cost of working it out was enormous, and the chance of success was low.

That made it a paradox. Anyone with a similar formula had no need for this fragment; anyone without one could not reconstruct it from the fragment.

Yet damaged pill formulas were rare, which made them precious in their own way. Most were kept as collectibles: too good to throw away, but of no practical use.

The young man saw Chen Chong's expression and thought he disliked the gift.

He went on to explain, "It was the last keepsake our father left my brother. I thought about selling it, but no one offered even one tael of silver, so I've treasured it all this time. I have no way to repay your kindness. Please accept it as a gift."

Chen Chong left the camp with a sigh. He had done a good deed on a whim and truly received a good turn in return.

He looked at the panel before him—

"Spend one hundred taels of silver to reconstruct Jade Splendor Essence-Nourishing Pill (damaged)?"

Chen Chong chose yes.

Light flowed across the panel. Lines of text appeared and vanished. Reconstructing... Reconstruction successful.

Chen Chong tucked the torn paper into his robe and glanced at the sky.

Dusk had already spilled down the city walls. Lights came on one by one inside the shacks, their scattered sparks joining together as the night deepened.

He quickened his pace toward the gates of Pingyang City.