Chapter 42: Return from Death?

"Woo... woo..."

"Kind sirs and uncles, please, is there anyone here willing to take pity on us siblings and buy us, so we may properly bury our father... We will work as your servants, repay your kindness with our lives..."

The icy wind howled.

In the midst of the crowd, a frail girl of sixteen or seventeen, accompanied by two half-grown boys of about eleven or twelve, stood shivering. Their tattered thin clothes were covered only by a strip of white mourning cloth. Tears and snot streamed down her face as she wept bitterly.

Beside them, a body lay covered by a noticeably short piece of white cloth, barely concealing a middle-aged man's form.

It was plain to see.

These three siblings could not even afford proper mourning attire for their father's burial...

Alas...

Though the girl was of age, she was not blessed with good looks. Worse, an unsightly birthmark marred her face.

This drew jeers from the crowd.

"Girl, it’s not that I wouldn’t buy you, but you’re just too ugly. I honestly can’t bring myself to do it. Hahaha!"

The voice of a brash ruffian rang out, and the crowd burst into laughter again.

They treated the three siblings as if they were sideshow entertainment, showing not a shred of mercy.

"Indeed. Girl, with a face like that, even the brothels wouldn’t take you in. Hahaha!"

"Ha ha ha ha..."

As the crowd's ridicule grew louder, the siblings seemed to shrink into oblivion, sinking into utter despair.

Li Ruichen’s brows furrowed tightly.

Having only just buried his own father Li Honest and his mother, Li Yuanjing felt a profound sympathy for those three siblings.

He understood deeply!

The cost of burial in this era was a terrifying thing!

For in Great Qian, the principle of "governing with filial piety" reigned supreme, its doctrine promoted tirelessly through every channel as a means of keeping order.

Over the years—

Even the poorest families, when an elder died, were expected to give them a proper, lavish burial.

If you failed to do so, not only would you be mocked by your neighbors, but even the authorities would frown upon it. You could be imprisoned, or even exiled to the frontiers.

This was the very reason Li Yuanjing had once owed the philanthropist Xue Daren four taels of silver!

"Uncle Mao?"

Just as the siblings seemed about to collapse, Li Yuanjing was about to speak when Zhang Kun, beside him, suddenly grew agitated.

He strode forward, parting the crowd, and threw himself upon the body covered in white cloth, crying out,

"Uncle Mao, is it really you? It’s only been half a year since we last met—how could you... Wah!"

The wind had blown the cloth from the dead man's face, allowing Zhang Kun to recognize him at once. Clearly, they had known each other well. Overcome with grief, Zhang Kun sobbed bitterly by the corpse.

The three siblings stared in stunned disbelief, but seeing Zhang Kun cry, their own tears flowed harder still.

For a while, their wailing filled the air.

Seeing this, the surrounding crowd began to curse at the bad luck, and some, bored of the spectacle, simply left.

After all—

It was clear Zhang Kun intended to take charge of the situation; the show was over, and no one wanted to linger in the cold and risk falling ill.

"You must be Uncle Mao’s eldest, Little Grass, right? I’m Zhang Kun, your elder brother in arms. Has your father ever mentioned me?"

After a while, Zhang Kun pulled himself together and spoke gently to the girl.

The girl seemed to recall Zhang Kun and quickly embraced him with her two younger brothers, all of them crying anew.

After soothing the siblings a bit, Zhang Kun wiped his tears and hurried over to Li Yuanjing, speaking in a low voice:

"Master, these are the children of an old comrade of mine. I intend to help them..."

But Li Yuanjing did not reply right away. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the face of the middle-aged corpse.

"Master?"

Zhang Kun, unable to follow Li Yuanjing’s train of thought, reminded him nervously.

Truth be told, Zhang Kun had always held a deep respect—and a certain fear—for Li Yuanjing.

Without Li Yuanjing’s approval, he wouldn’t dare act even with his own money.

"Eh?"

Li Yuanjing finally snapped out of it, signaling to Zhang Kun before quickly approaching Little Grass and asking quietly,

"Miss, when... when did your father pass?"

"This..."

The three siblings were caught off guard.

Zhang Kun quickly introduced Li Yuanjing to them.

Choking back her sobs, Little Grass replied,

"My father... my father died this morning. I don’t know what happened. He seemed well when he went out to find food, but when he came back empty-handed, he suddenly collapsed on the ground and was gone... woo..."

Zhang Kun wiped his tears and pleaded with Li Yuanjing,

"Master, Uncle Mao was a renowned blacksmith in our army days in Liaodong, known especially for forging firearms. When I was in trouble, if not for him, I’d never have made it back alive. Master, please help his children..."

"Brother Zhang, what did you say?"

"Uncle Mao was a blacksmith, skilled in forging firearms?"

Li Yuanjing’s eyes lit up, and he stared at Zhang Kun.

Startled by Li Yuanjing’s intensity, Zhang Kun nodded subconsciously after a moment.

Excitement flashed in Li Yuanjing’s eyes as he commanded,

"Brother Zhang, hurry and fetch a couple of men from Zhuzi’s group and have someone get a bowl of millet porridge from that restaurant. Quickly! Uncle Mao isn’t dead yet!"

"What?"

"Uncle Mao isn’t dead?"

Zhang Kun, Little Grass, and her brothers were all stunned.

"This is a matter of life and death! Delay may be fatal! Hurry!!!"

Li Yuanjing urged anxiously.

"Right away!"

Seeing Li Yuanjing so worked up, Zhang Kun dared not delay and rushed off.

Soon,

Zhang Kun returned with two sturdy young men to help, and informed Li Yuanjing that someone had been sent for porridge.

Li Yuanjing directed Zhang Kun and the others to lift Uncle Mao, then inverted his body.

"Smack!"

"Smack, smack, smack."

Li Yuanjing began forcefully striking Uncle Mao’s back.

"Is this man crazy? Treating a corpse like that—doesn’t he fear attracting bad luck?"

The dwindling crowd murmured, disapproval written across their faces.

Clearly,

They looked down on Li Yuanjing’s actions.

But,

Li Yuanjing ignored them, continuing to strike Uncle Mao’s back with all his might.

Among the crowd,

An old man could no longer stand it and scolded,

"Young man, what are you doing? The man is dead—can’t you let him rest? You’ll bring down heaven’s wrath upon yourself!"

"Uwah—"

But just as the old man finished speaking, the supposedly dead Uncle Mao suddenly coughed up a mouthful of bloody phlegm, something solid mixed within—what looked like a fragment of broken peach pit.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Uncle Mao began to cough violently, his whole body trembling.

"Quick, sit him up! Where’s the porridge? Why isn’t it here yet?!"

Li Yuanjing barked like a wolf.

"Coming, coming..."

Just then,

The young man sent for millet porridge returned, hurriedly passing the steaming bowl to Li Yuanjing.

"Hold him steady!"

Li Yuanjing had Zhang Kun and the others support Uncle Mao, then carefully fed him the now-cool porridge.

Uncle Mao, still with eyes closed and weak as a kitten, instinctively swallowed a few mouthfuls. Warmth returned to his body, color crept back into his face, and at last he managed to open his eyes.

He was still too weak to speak, but it was clear: he had come back to life!

"Savior!"

"Savior!"

"Little Grass bows to you, bows to you..."

Seeing their father restored before their very eyes, Little Grass finally realized what had happened. Weeping uncontrollably, she pulled her brothers to kneel and kowtow to Li Yuanjing in gratitude.

Zhang Kun, too, wept tears of joy.

"Master, Master, your hands are truly those of a living immortal. I am utterly convinced—completely in awe..."

Even the young men from Quanzi Village were flushed with excitement, their eyes shining with admiration and respect for Li Yuanjing.

"This, this, this, this..."

At that moment,

The old man who had tried to stop Li Yuanjing finally came to his senses. Finger trembling, he pointed at Li Yuanjing, eager to say something, but all that came out was a choking noise—he could not utter a single word.