Yun Qing followed Liu Niang's gaze. The door stood ajar, and through the gap, he could see a small dark figure curled against the foot of the wall, utterly motionless. Counting the days, the boy had been lingering there for five or six days now.
If the reason really was what he suspected, this was going to be very interesting indeed.
Liu Niang chatted with Yun Qing for a little while. Seeing that he had finished his bowl of wontons, she collected the empty bowl and prepared to return to her own shop.
Just then, Aunt Chen, who had previously wanted Yun Qing as her son-in-law, came to buy wontons. Liu Niang hurried back to her stall to serve her customer without saying anything more.
Once she left, A Little Shop fell quiet again. Yun Qing leaned against the back of his chair with his eyes closed, seemingly resting.
But given his exceptionally keen perception, it was difficult to overlook the vicious hatred the boy's eyes had failed to conceal when Liu Niang mentioned "some sect or other hunting people down."
Early the next morning, when Yun Qing opened his door, the little beggar had indeed crawled back to the foot of his wall to report in right on time. Like a wound-up puppet, he never missed a day, come thunder or lightning.
With all his meridians severed, who knew where he found that strength?
Yun Qing crouched down and set the still-steaming noodle soup beside the threshold.
"Eat," he said.
The little beggar remained huddled there in his wretched state, neither moving nor answering.
Yun Qing did not bother with him and turned back into the shop.
After a while, a hand crept out. Two slurps followed, and the bowl was gently returned to the threshold.
A moment later,