"Why is she called Xiao Hong?"
"Because Mom said that the cheaper the name, the easier it is to raise... But I'm a girl, so my name can't be too cheap; I need to keep some face."
...
"Chaosheng, are you really... a spy from another country?"
"Who said that?"
"Neighborhood rumors, I heard it came from the Magistrate's office."
"Then, which country's spy do you think I am?"
"I think... you don't seem like a spy."
"Why?"
"Because if you were a spy, Liu Jinshi would surely be eager to arrest you!"
"Haha, that makes sense, that makes sense."
...
"Oh, right, Xiao Hong, in front of other people, don't say the three words 'Liu Jinshi' from now on. Others call him Magistrate, and you should too."
"Hmm... Chaosheng, can you hum that tune again?"
...
Inside the dilapidated temple, Wen Chaosheng stared at the boiling pot, and the scene of him and Si Xiaohong sitting on the small stone bridge appeared in the water.
He was lost in thought.
In Wen Chaosheng's few relaxed and pleasant memories, Si Xiaohong was that stone that suddenly splashed into the water.
Quick and unexpected.
When with Si Xiaohong, Wen Chaosheng could temporarily forget some heavy, realistic things.
Tonight was colder than usual, but Wen Chaosheng chose to stay in the dilapidated temple for an extra half an hour, until the snow water in the pot boiled dry, until the firewood in the fire pit turned to ashes. Only then did he finally use two dry branches to pick up the almost overcooked frog from the pot and eat it bit by bit.
This half-hour of memories was his unique special treatment for Si Xiaohong.
It wasn't for that bowl of braised pork, nor was it for the zither music from two months ago.
It was because the girl's clear eyes reflected a person's shadow.
When Si Xiaohong looked at him, he could always find a person in her eyes who was both incredibly familiar and incredibly strange.
That was his true self.
So, after eating the frog, Wen Chaosheng began to sharpen his knife again.
Sharpening a knife on the coldest snowy night.
"Time is running out; die like a human."
Wen Chaosheng said to himself.
The coldness brought by the blade scraping against the whetstone permeated his bones with the sound.
His whole body was trembling, but the hand holding the knife was not.
The sharper the knife was ground, the more Wen Chaosheng distrusted Liu Jinshi in his heart.
He wanted to live more than anyone else, because he had died once, and someone who has died once fears death even more.
But for the past three years, Wen Chaosheng seemed to have been preparing for death.
After an unknown period, snowflakes drifted in from outside the temple, startling Wen Chaosheng, who was sharpening his knife.
When he looked up, he saw a person entirely wrapped in black standing at the temple entrance.
The person held a sword in one hand, their eyes as cold as ice, and the Aura emanating from their body rendered Wen Chaosheng unable to move.
For the past three years, Wen Chaosheng had never encountered a Martial Artist from the Jianghu, nor did he know how terrifying those guys truly were. He thought they were probably similar to the heroes in some Wuxia novels, but the black-clad person standing before him at this moment made Wen Chaosheng suddenly realize that he had thought wrong.
This black-clad person simply stood there, and the Aura that came with their gaze pressed him so hard he couldn't breathe.
Wen Chaosheng had no doubt that if the other party wanted to kill him, it would be as simple as stepping on an ant.
But why would such a person suddenly appear in Bitter Sea Town?
"Kid, I'm looking for someone..."
The black-clad person spoke, their voice a hoarse male sound.
"Have you seen a woman recently? Oval face, a bit thin, about eight chi tall, and she should have many scars from weapons on her body..."
In this world, one chi is roughly twenty to twenty-two centimeters in his previous life's measurements. Eight chi tall is about 1.6 to 1.8 meters, which matches A Shui's height. Plus the black-clad person's later sentence, Wen Chaosheng basically concluded that this person was looking for A Shui.
"A woman came a few days ago. I don't know if she's the one you're looking for. She wouldn't say anything when asked, and then she left on her own."
Wen Chaosheng didn't completely hide the truth, but he didn't reveal everything either.
The other party was clearly looking for trouble, and he couldn't appear to have any connection with A Shui, lest he invite a deadly disaster.
Upon hearing this, the black-clad person asked again:
"Which direction did she go?"
Wen Chaosheng thought for a moment:
"I wasn't there when she left, but if she was as badly injured as you say, she either went to the county town for treatment, or she found a fast horse from somewhere and headed east across the wilderness towards Zhao.
"However, the snowfall in Qi this year came too quickly. It's so thick on the wilderness it can reach a person's knees. The possibility of her going to Zhao is too small; even if she could endure it, a horse couldn't."
The black-clad person's gaze was sharp, but he said nothing, his thumb on the hand holding the sword already pushing open the scabbard.
The sound was soft, but not pleasant.
Wen Chaosheng gripped the sharpened firewood knife, looked up at the black-clad person, and said:
"Are you going to kill me?"
The black-clad person didn't shy away:
"To silence you."
Wen Chaosheng's breathing quickened slightly as he asked:
"No room for negotiation?"
The black-clad person's sword tip emerged three fen from the scabbard, and the cold light glinting off it brought in the biting cold of the falling snow outside the temple.
"Generally speaking, only humans can negotiate with humans."
"You live like this, worse than the cats and dogs in the county town. If I were you, I would have been ashamed to commit suicide long ago. How can the word 'negotiate' come out of your mouth?"
Wen Chaosheng held the firewood knife, his eyes fixed on the black-clad person, showing no fear whatsoever:
"Then come."
Seeing that Wen Chaosheng dared to point his knife at him, the black-clad person's eyes grew colder. He felt as if he had been insulted, and when he struck, he no longer hesitated, even becoming exceptionally ruthless.
The first sword strike went straight for Wen Chaosheng's arm that held the knife.
He wanted Wen Chaosheng to know the gap between them, and then to let him die with fear and regret.
The black-clad person's sword was exceptionally fast. Wen Chaosheng could see the downy feathers on a bird's body when it flapped its wings in autumn, but he couldn't clearly see the sword swung by the black-clad person.
But Wen Chaosheng still struck with his knife by instinct.
He didn't plan to live; he just wanted to make one cut before he died.
A cut poured with all his courage, leaving no room for retreat.
In the instant he was enveloped by death, Wen Chaosheng actually laughed. His half-profile was reflected on the gleaming blade of the sharpened firewood knife, showing the courage only a trapped beast possesses.
In this attack, the sword was clearly fast, the knife clearly slow.
Yet the black-clad person's sword didn't hit Wen Chaosheng, but Wen Chaosheng's knife successfully struck the black-clad person's arm.
The flickering firelight on the blade seemed to become real, burning the wound hot. The black-clad person's eyes widened, and as pain spread, he realized his arm, gushing with blood, had fallen to the ground.
"How... is this possible?"
He muttered to himself, then suddenly looked behind him!
A limping woman, covered in snow, stood there, standing in the vast, hazy blur, quietly gazing at him.
Just now, a flicked snowball had broken through the strong wind and blizzard, arriving later but hitting his sword-wielding arm first, causing his sword, which should have struck Wen Chaosheng, to cut through the air instead.
"..."
The black-clad person didn't speak, but a second strike was already coming from behind him.
It was still Wen Chaosheng's chaotic knife.
Although the black-clad person didn't look back, his body had already begun to dodge.
The limping woman in the snow flicked out a second snowball.
Whoosh—
The snowball hit the black-clad person's leg, causing his movement to falter.
It was this brief falter that allowed the knife swung by Wen Chaosheng to strike the black-clad person's neck. Hot blood gushed from the wound, and the black-clad person's eyes stared wide. Moments later, his body crumpled to the ground.
Wen Chaosheng's strike was extremely vicious. The black-clad person's Protective Aura was shattered by the snowball, and how could a flesh-and-blood neck withstand such a desperate blow?
His head was split diagonally for more than half, with only a layer of skin and flesh connecting it. After his body fell to the ground, the light in his eyes quickly faded.
Finally, only the flickering flames of the campfire remained in his pupils.
Wen Chaosheng was covered in blood, his body slumped to the ground, half-kneeling before the black-clad person's corpse, gasping for breath, his knife-wielding hand trembling wildly.
A Shui entered the dilapidated temple, shaking off the snow, and came before Wen Chaosheng, asking:
"Do you have any strength left?"
Wen Chaosheng gasped, saying:
"For what?"
A Shui pointed at the black-clad person's corpse:
"You killed him, you bury him."
Wen Chaosheng ignored her, plunking down on the ground, leaning his back against the base of a stone statue, his voice trembling, unsure if from cold or the after-effects of killing someone.
"He came for you. I really shouldn't have saved you; I almost died."
A Shui replied as a matter of course:
"You absolutely should have saved me. If you hadn't saved me, you would have truly died."
Wen Chaosheng remained silent, just gasping for breath, unable to refute A Shui's words.
"You were helping me just now, right?"
"This guy is incredibly stupid. You're so powerful, how dared he come looking for you?"
A Shui squatted over the black-clad person's corpse, searching. She pulled a special jade pendant from his waist. It was tied with a black string, and the pendant had a river pattern, exquisitely crafted, with the words 'Wangchuan' engraved on the back.
"He's certainly not alone."
A Shui said calmly.
"And my head is worth a lot of money, more than you can imagine."
Wen Chaosheng paused at her words, then said:
"Because of what?"
A Shui met his gaze, a hint of pity and coldness flashing deep in her eyes:
"Because of my surname."
Wen Chaosheng said:
"A surname can be worth so much?"
A Shui took the jade pendant and put it into the pocket of her thin, tattered clothes.
"But this surname couldn't be burned clean even after seven days and seven nights."
"Do you think... is it valuable or not?"