Chapter 18: A Meat Bun in Sight, but Out of Reach

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Just as Hong Xiaoduo was about to mention the matter of the travel permit, the projection on the wall suddenly turned into a flurry of snowflakes, then faded into a pure white surface. Faint, broken voices of the old man drifted through: “Don’t worry, I will fix it… will fix it… will fi—” The sound trailed off intermittently. Hong Xiaoduo silently pressed her forehead, knowing all too well that that troublesome old man was unreliable!

She had been out of the space for quite some time; the bathwater had gone cold, yet she hadn’t rushed out, fearing that if she stood up too soon, she might be seen by the old curator again. Eventually, the water grew unbearably cold, and with no other choice, she quickly got up, hastily wiped herself, and started putting on her robe.

Without a hairdryer, she twisted her damp hair with a cloth until semi-dry, then recalled she didn’t know how to style a bun. So she simply used a comb from the guest room to tie her hair into a high ponytail.

She wrapped her discarded clothes in the cloth used to bundle new clothes, planning to wash them with hot water after dinner. There was no need to throw them away, especially since she still had over ninety taels of silver on her. Who knew if money would be easy to come by in the future? It was best to be frugal for now.

Although she hadn’t completed the main business in her recent contact with the old curator, at least it showed that the old man was even more eager than she was to establish a connection. So at this moment, Hong Xiaoduo’s mood was somewhat lifted.

Upon opening the door, she saw two little bald girls standing at the entrance. One wore a pale pink dress, the other a pale yellow one, both fair-skinned and staring at her.

“Mother?” the two bald girls shyly called out.

“Oh, you’re Xiao Yaoguang? And you’re Yuheng?” Hong Xiaoduo recognized them from their big eyes and voices but hesitated to acknowledge them outright.

Due to long-term malnutrition, the two girls, though clean and fair now, looked even more fragile, their lips lacking natural color.

“You must be hungry. Come on, let’s wait at the door for Tianshu and the others.” Hong Xiaoduo carried the bundle of clothes and held one child’s hand with each of hers as they stepped outside. With five children, it would take a while for them all to finish washing.

At the entrance, four other newly dressed bald children were already waiting.

Seeing Hong Xiaoduo, they approached shyly, somewhat hesitant.

Looking at them now, it was no wonder that young A-Kuan accused her of abducting the little beggars to clean them up and sell them for a good price.

These children, once cleaned and clothed in fresh garments, truly looked handsome—young lads, in fact. Hong Xiaoduo found herself at a loss for words to describe their good looks.

After a brief wait, Tianshu was the last to come out, standing shyly by her side, still adjusting to the feeling of clean skin and new robes.

Following closely was the landlord’s wife, wiping tears with her sleeve as she walked.

“What’s wrong with the grandmother? Have the children been naughty?” Hong Xiaoduo asked, though she knew it wasn’t the case.

“My dear girl, how could there be such cruel people in this world? The children are already pitiful, yet they mistreat them so badly. Look, their bodies are covered in wounds,” the old woman said between tears, reaching out to pull up the sleeve of the child closest to her.

It was no wonder she cried. The freshly cleaned arms revealed new bruises and old scars, some purple, some yellowish, more clearly than before.

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The marks were mostly in inconspicuous places, except for a fresh wound on Tianshu’s forehead.

“Old Tong Bo is an old man, but he’s heartbroken over this,” the old woman added, tears streaming down her cheeks again.

“Don’t cry, grandmother. It won’t hurt anymore,” Yuheng gently wiped the old woman’s tears with her sleeve.

“Good child, good child,” the old woman said, pulling out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. “Originally, as you suggested, I was only going to give them short haircuts, but they were infested with lice and nits. So I took the liberty to call a barber from the street and shaved their heads completely. Otherwise, no matter how clean their clothes, they’d be covered in them again in a few days.

“Dear girl, I hope you don’t blame me for this?”

Hong Xiaoduo was far from ungrateful; she quickly replied that she didn’t mind at all and asked how much the haircuts cost, offering to pay.

The old woman said it was unnecessary; the barber charged only one wen per shaved head, so it wasn’t much.

Hong Xiaoduo thanked her but mentally noted the kindness.

Just then, Old Tong Bo, who had helped bathe Tianshu and the others, came out carrying a large cloth bag. Seeing them about to leave, he hurriedly called out.

“Old man, is there something you need?” Hong Xiaoduo asked.

“Yes, I have something. These are the old clothes they changed out of. I plan to take them somewhere no one will see and burn them. But the children didn’t ask for that, and I don’t dare decide on my own. I wanted to ask if you think any of them are still useful.” He said this while holding up a small object.

It was a bamboo plaque threaded with a thin cord, carved with some characters, but the details were unclear.

Hong Xiaoduo asked Tianshu what it was.

Tianshu didn’t know either. He said that he had always worn one around his neck since he was old enough to understand. Whenever a new companion joined, the villain would make one and hang it on them as well.

That explained why none of the children wanted to keep them.

Just as Hong Xiaoduo was about to say they didn’t need them, she hesitated for a moment, took the objects from the old man, and asked the children if they could remember which one was theirs.

Though they all looked similar, the children quickly identified their own.

Hong Xiaoduo thought for a moment, then cut off the dirty, colorless cords, keeping the bamboo plaques and handing them back for each child to keep.

She wasn’t sure if she was overthinking it, but she felt these items shouldn’t be discarded—perhaps they would be useful.

After all, the villain didn’t treat them kindly, so he wouldn’t have had the goodwill to make them pendants. Why then make them wear these?

No matter; she couldn’t figure it out now, so she would keep them and ponder later.

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Hong Xiaoduo led the group of handsome bald children toward the street. Now there was no worry about any eatery refusing them entry, unless the owners thought they were making too much silver.

Though hungry, she didn’t immediately seek out food stalls. Instead, she first found a clinic and asked a doctor to treat the wound on Tianshu’s forehead with medicine and a bandage.

The herbal anti-inflammatory and hemostatic paste she’d picked by the roadside had been used in the bath, but the wound hadn’t healed yet.

A sword-bearing, striking young woman accompanied by seven good-looking bald children attracted the attention of passersby.

Their gazes were kind and curious, unlike the disdain and occasional pity they used to receive. The children were still shy, lowering their heads awkwardly, some even walking in sync.

What should she feed the children?

Hong Xiaoduo looked at the nearby eateries, noodle houses, steamed bun shops, and wonton stalls, torn over what to choose.

“What would you all like to eat?” she decided to ask.

“A steamed bun will do,” Tianshu said first.

“Wonton soup, hot and fresh,” Kaiyang added.

The other children’s choices made Hong Xiaoduo feel uneasy—burnt flatbreads, cheap noodle soups, and other items that others might find unappetizing but were, to these children, long-awaited delicacies.

Seeing several children frequently glance toward the steamed bun shop’s steaming baskets filled with plump, fragrant meat buns, Hong Xiaoduo knew what to choose.

As she approached the bun shop, a wealthy-looking young man blocked her path, a forced smile on his face. “Hey there, where did this young lady come from, bringing along seven bald children? Where are you headed? Want me to take you all somewhere fun?”

Just a few more steps to the steamer filled with hot, fluffy meat buns—and yet someone had to spoil the good mood.

Hong Xiaoduo’s temper flared sharply.

Nearby, at a teahouse window, two young men watched. One was about to stand and intervene, but the other stopped him, saying, “Calm down. Don’t meddle. Didn’t you see they carry swords at their waists?”