Chapter Sixteen
Old Wen now seemed a bit more alert, but Ah Heng knew this was a deathbed revival. Before death, the body desperately tries to salvage the dying flesh, causing a brief burst of mental clarity.
This was precisely Old Wen’s condition now.
Gouzi unwrapped the cloth bundle. Inside lay a small red bellyband embroidered with a hundred children motif in gold thread. Inside the belly band lay a jade pendant carved with dragon patterns, beneath which hung an exquisitely crafted tassel.
Gouzi sniffed, “What’s this?”
Old Wen struggled to turn over, but found it difficult. Wen Heng held him in his arms, turning his face toward Gouzi.
Old Wen said, “Old Li told me this was what you were wearing when we found you. Probably a token your parents left for you. Old Li and I aren’t much to speak of, and we know few people. We simply couldn’t find your parents for you. Doggie… you might be a child from a wealthy family. You must do well from now on and become someone of worth.”
Doggie casually tossed the items aside. He threw himself onto Old Wen’s chest, wailing, ” I don’t want any real parents! They abandoned me long ago. If it weren’t for you and Grandpa, I’d have been eaten by dogs long ago. I don’t want parents—I only want you! Old Wen, you have to get better! Today Ah Heng caught a plump pheasant. I’ll cook your favorite roast chicken for you later! This time I’ll roast it longer, until it’s tender enough to eat right off the bone…” Gouzi babbled incoherently, sobbing uncontrollably.
Unable to bear it, Wen Heng turned his head away. With his last ounce of strength, Old Wen gripped Gouzi’s hand and pressed it against Wen Heng’s palm, which had been channeling spiritual energy into his abdomen.
Old Wen smiled and said, “I’m done for… After I’m gone, you two must take care of each other… Ah Heng, Gouzi will need your patience… I know you’re capable, but when you travel, learn to take care of yourself. Stop being such a pessimist… After I’m gone, just find a place to bury me. They say rest in peace. Old Wen’s life was one of wandering and hardship. At least let me find a quiet spot to pass away peacefully…”
Old Wen’s hands grew colder and colder, his voice fading lower and lower until it vanished entirely. When Ah Heng and the others looked closely, Old Wen had already slipped away with a smile. This lonely beggar, who had lived a life of hardship, did not die in the cold winter night. He closed his eyes forever on a bright, sunny autumn morning.
Gouzi wept with a broken heart, clutching Old Wen’s body as if he’d never let go. Wen Heng laid Old Wen on the straw mat. Running his fingers over the empty beggar’s sack, he wanted to buy a simple coffin for him, but his pockets were truly empty. The thought crossed his mind, and he said to Gouzi, “Cry for a while. I’ll go to town.”
Death is like a lamp extinguished; funeral rites are merely for show. Wen Heng understood this well, yet he couldn’t bear to simply wrap Old Wen in a straw mat for burial. The woods teemed with wild beasts, some of which would even dig up recently buried corpses in the graveyards outside Xiaoyan Town to feed.
Old Wen hadn’t lived in luxury, but at least in death, he could rest in peace as he’d wished.
The coffin shop in Xiaoyan Town was in the northern alley, run by a lame old man. When Wen Heng arrived, the old man was puffing on a pipe by the door. Spotting him, the old man blew out a pale blue smoke ring. “Here to buy a coffin?”
Wen Heng bowed his hands. “Sir, you have keen eyes.” The old man scrutinized Wen Heng from head to toe. “You’re… the little beggar taken in by the old beggar, aren’t you?” Old Master Wen had never brought Wen Heng to North Alley, yet this old man knew his entire story.
“In our line of work, we make coffins for those who’ve passed on after they come to us first. Of course, you wouldn’t understand that.” The old man rose slowly from his wooden chair. “Xiao Yan Town has suffered a great calamity these past few days. Many came to me recently. I made twenty-eight coffins. Twenty-seven have already been taken. Only one remains.”
“Got any money?” the old man asked Wen Heng. Wen Heng stammered awkwardly, “No money… but I can help you with things.”
The old man tapped his dry tobacco pipe. “Who in Xiaoyan Town doesn’t know you’re strong enough to fight tigers? But in our line of work, no payment just won’t do. Go beg for it—even a single copper coin would help.”
Wen Heng pressed his lips together. “Thank you, sir.”
Begging for a copper coin felt like a huge burden. Wen Heng scratched his head in frustration. Xinghua Pavilion was now in ruins, and Master Mu had long since passed away. Getting a hard steamed bun was already difficult; asking for money directly seemed nearly impossible.
![Flying Dust [Fei Chen]](https://novels.space/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/9k.png "Flying Dust [Fei Chen]")
