The bright moon shone like frost, the clear night scenery boundless.
"His name is Le Huan. He got sick once when he was little, and afterward Granny Wu said something had gone wrong with his brain."
Yiha held a bamboo pole, seemingly having completely forgotten that he had nearly died earlier.
A glistening trail of snot hung beneath Le Huan's nose as he followed cautiously behind Yiha.
"Just wait until tomorrow. I'll teach those guys a proper lesson."
Yiha spoke indignantly.
Having said that, he turned and asked another question.
"Right, what were you doing under the bridge?"
"Sleeping," Li Ping'an said calmly.
"Why sleep down there?"
"No money."
Little Yiha did not hesitate. "Then you might as well come to my place. If it weren't for you, I might have died just now."
They took Le Huan home first.
Le Huan lived near the southern end of the stockade.
He had only his mother at home. His father had died a few years earlier, and his mother had become somewhat unwell in the head too.
They relied almost entirely on help from the people in the stockade.
Yiha patted Le Huan's shoulder. "Go on home. I'll come find you tomorrow."
Le Huan nodded blankly.
Then Yiha took Li Ping'an and the others home.
Yiha's home was little better. He had only an elderly, frail grandfather, who also had a crippled leg.
The family was so poor that every last coin would have rattled.
It was the sort of poverty that would have made even Changqing leave a couple of coins before he could walk away.
Still, at least they had a house to shelter them from the wind and rain.
Li Ping'an rested his head on his walking stick without sleeping, seemingly thinking about something.
Monk Changqing fell asleep