Chapter 121: Using Beauty to Serve People (I)

The rain had fallen for six days and six nights without a moment's pause.

River water overflowed the dikes, floodwaters carrying mud, sand, broken wood, and livestock carcasses surged in from the north.

The earthen huts in low-lying areas held out half the night before collapsing, sighing in their final moments.

In the filthy muddy water, people were everywhere.

A woman held a baby whose face was bluish-purple, her eyes wandering silently through the world.

An old man leaned on a broken piece of wood as a cane, staggering step by step through knee-deep muddy water.

Several older children were scattered by the crowd, crying for their parents in the rain; their voices were quickly drowned by the downpour, like pebbles sinking into a mire without even a ripple.

No one could spare a thought for anyone else.

The living only cared about staying alive.

Liu Er was squeezed among these people, head lowered, shoulders hunched, rainwater streaming down the edge of his bamboo hat and soaking half his face.

He wrapped his head and face in a coarse cloth, leaving only his eyes exposed.

Those eyes were beautiful; even in such a sorry state, one could see the handsome features hidden beneath—

Delicate brow bones, eyes slightly upturned at the corners—a flirtatious bearing honed over years on the stage, impossible to conceal completely.

Amid the surrounding clamor, he clutched the bundle more important than his life tightly to his chest.

The bundle was not large, wrapped in several layers of oilcloth, then bound with hemp rope, tied around his waist and carried close to his body.

He could feel the hard silver ingots pressing against his ribs, each step a constant reminder—

These things were bought with his life.

Three days.

No, it's been four days.

He couldn't quite remember.

Since that night when he accidentally smashed the Guanyin statue onto the magistrate's head, he had not had a peaceful moment of sleep.

He remembered the sound—dull and heavy, with a faint crack like breaking bone, and the shattering of pottery scattered across the floor.

The magistrate didn't even have time to cry out before his body went limp.

Liu Er stood there watching him for a long time, seeing blood slowly trickle from the magistrate's temples, tracing along the hairline and gradually staining half of the thick blanket red.

He did not panic.

Moreover, there was a strange pleasure, like a spring blocked for years suddenly bursting forth, cool water welling up from his chest and washing away all the humiliation that had accumulated over the years.

But he soon realized that this pleasure came at the cost of his life.

He rummaged out the silver the magistrate had hidden in a secret compartment, stuffed it haphazardly into his bundle, changed into coarse clothes, and climbed over the wall out of the county office under cover of night.

That day, he had originally planned to slip out of the city before dawn, but before he even reached the city gate he heard the night watchman striking his clapper and shouting throughout the streets—

"The magistrate has been murdered; the city gates are sealed; the whole city is under a manhunt."

He could only hide.

He hid for three days, crouched beneath the offering table of a ruined temple south of the city, keeping company with spiderwebs and rat droppings.

When hungry he gnawed on two dry biscuits; when thirsty he caught rainwater from the eaves.

Outside, constables were everywhere searching; he heard their footsteps pounding overhead, his heart beating like a drum, his palms slick with sweat.

On the fourth day, the search loosened somewhat.

He thought he could make it out.

But the water had already risen to a point where no one could flee even if they wanted to.

The flood came far faster than he had anticipated, and far more violently than anyone had expected.

The ruined temple's foundation was low; by the time he had just secured his bundle, the water had already risen to his waist.

He stumbled out and joined the throng of refugees, heading for the higher ground to the east.

But the rain kept falling, and falling.

Even the higher eastern part of the city was submerged once again.

He could only keep walking, once again taking to the road of flight.

One step, two steps, three steps...

His foot landed on something soft; he looked down to see a bloated cat carcass, its eyes bulging, staring vacantly at the sky.

He jerked his foot back, his stomach churning, and gritted his teeth as he pressed on.

Beside him, an old woman suddenly collapsed, splashing water all over him.

He instinctively reached out to help, then withdrew his hand halfway.

It wasn't unwillingness; he dared not.

The hard bundle at his waist made him afraid to do anything that would draw attention.

He could only watch as the old woman struggled twice in the water before being trampled by the surge of people behind her.

He turned his gaze away; his chest felt as if something had twisted it, but it soon hardened again.

What had he not seen in these years?

Sold into a theater troupe at seven, at sixteen he caught the magistrate's eye; thereafter, for three full years he lived like a caged bird, dressed in the finest garments, eating the most delicate food, yet at night forced to twist and turn beneath a man older than his father.

Those years he learned to smile, to sing, to look at people with affectionate eyes, burying his hatred deep beneath that smiling face.

Now that smiling face is shattered; all he has left is this life and the silver in his bosom...

There must be no mishap.

There absolutely must be no mishap.

He had come into this world solely to enjoy blessings.

If he could just endure this stretch, then later, once he found a place to settle where no one knew him, he could finally live a good life!

The rain eased a bit.

It went from a downpour to a drizzle, but the water was still rising.

By the roadside lay an old pagoda tree uprooted, roots pointing skyward, like the stiff, clumsy hand of an old man.

Someone sat in the tree, a half-grown child clinging to the trunk, crying pitifully.

But no one stopped.

Liu Er followed the crowd mechanically.

His legs no longer obeyed, numb from soles to calves; he didn't know if it was from soaking in water or from walking too long.

His shoes had long since fallen off; his toes stepped on something sharp in the mud, hurting briefly, then the pain faded.

He didn't know where he was headed.

He wasn't even sure of his current direction.

All he knew was to walk, follow the person ahead, keep moving forward as long as he hadn't collapsed.

But people get tired.

Let alone trudging through heavy rain and sewage.

These years he'd grown accustomed to being a male favorite, and he was far less capable than when he studied acting.

The bundle in his arms grew heavier and heavier, his eyelids drooping.

Liu Er began to feel dazed, thinking it wasn't silver but the magistrate's skull he had smashed, heavy as lead, pressing on his chest, impossible to shake off.

Suddenly, a sound rang out amid the rain.

Clear and lingering, it pierced the rain like a silver needle stabbing into the gray haze.

It was the sound of a chime.

At dawn, when the sky was just lightening, the sound was strikingly abrupt; Liu Er jerked his head up.

In the torrential rain, he could only see a dense mass of heads moving ahead; he couldn't make out what lay farther.

Yet that chime carried an indescribable solemnity, like a hand reaching down from heaven to silence everyone's clamor.

The crowd suddenly stirred.

Someone ahead shouted loudly, the wind scattering the words; Liu Er caught only a few syllables——

"Princess" "relief" "lodging".

Then the shouts merged into a single cry, passing from the front: one person shouted, ten shouted, a hundred shouted, the volume swelling until it nearly drowned out the rain.

"Princess, show mercy! Willing to relieve the disaster victims! Hurry!"

?? coming coming!