The moment Qian San tumbled into the latrine pit, he lost consciousness. His body landed in the muck and barely twitched a couple of times before sinking in completely.
Under the moonlight, Li Yuan saw that the stone he had thrown rolled right into Qian San’s pant leg and fell in along with him. That saved Li Yuan a little trouble—no one was going to dredge the latrine just to find some random stone, let alone suspect him of anything.
Even so, Li Yuan didn’t leave immediately. Standing motionless in the freezing winter night, he took another smooth pebble from his pouch. The wind was like a blade against his cheeks and the backs of his hands, but he stayed perfectly still, watching.
He needed to confirm two things. The first was that Qian San really was dead, and the second was whether anyone else would show up. If someone came to help, they wouldn’t guess that Qian San had been taken out by a stone.
There was no way to see clearly in the pitch-black, windy night. But if anyone did come across him, they’d probably try to pull him out. Li Yuan wanted to have a sense of how things might unfold.
As for why he didn’t use an arrow, it was too conspicuous. People might suspect him too easily by drawing a direct link between Qian San’s death and a hunter’s arrow.
He waited in place for nearly half the time it took to burn a stick of incense. Seeing no movement from the pit and no one approaching, Li Yuan finally hunched low and darted into the shadowy woods, racing back home.
Before long, another figure appeared outside Qian San’s front door. Moonlight fell on his battered face, bruises around both eyes. The bald man wore plain clothes and gripped an iron rod. Though his arms were mottled with bruises, his eyes shone with defiant energy.
He strode up to Qian San’s door, inhaled sharply, then lashed out with a powerful kick.
BOOM! The door flew open.
“Qian San, you son of a bitch! I’m here to do the world a favor and rid it of scum!” the bald man bellowed, charging inside with his iron rod raised high.
A woman’s scream echoed from within.
“Monk Pan, what are you doing?” Qian San’s wife shrieked, clutching at the blanket wrapped around her. “Help! Husband, help! Monk Pan has gone mad!”
Li Yuan had no idea what was going on outside. By the time he returned to the house, fumbling quietly through the dark, he vaulted the fence and carefully slipped through the door.
He hurriedly shed his ice-cold clothes, tugged off his old pants and boots, and gingerly climbed back into bed.
Yan Yu, sensing the shift in the mattress, called out in a half-awake mumble, “Li Yuan...?”
“I’m here,” he answered softly.
“How long were you gone...?”
“Just a little while.”
She gave a drowsy sigh and reached out with her small foot, trying to curl up against him. But the moment her leg brushed him, she gasped, “Oh! You’re freezing!”
“It’s cold out,” he said.
“Then hurry and hold me.” Yan Yu gathered the blankets and tucked them snugly around them both. Pressing her warm body against his chilled skin, she radiated heat like a little stove.
Soon, the bedding felt toasty, cozier than if they’d had a coal brazier going. Li Yuan drew her closer, thinking how sweet she was to look after him .
Then she started mumbling again, “Li Yuan, why don’t you just not go hunting with Qian San? I don’t trust that man... He’s up to no good, and you two have nothing in common. I’m sure nothing good will come of it.”
But as soon as she said it, she remembered the consequences if he didn’t go, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “What are we going to do?” she whimpered over and over.
Li Yuan gently stroked her hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. It’s late. Let’s sleep.”
The next morning, just at daybreak, the entire Little Ink Village exploded with news.
“Monk Pan killed someone!”
“Monk Pan committed murder!”
“He was humiliated in broad daylight. He must’ve gone out at night to get even!”
Li Yuan, having spent the previous night half on edge—rushing in and out, and then romancing Yan Yu until late—was still asleep.
Yan Yu, on the other hand, felt surprisingly well-rested. She opened the door a crack and peered outside. Spotting Auntie Wang from next door, she ran over at once, curiosity and a strange hint of anticipation swirling inside her.
“Auntie Wang, what happened?”
Aunt Wang, always up on the latest gossip, leaned over and whispered, “It seems like Monk Pan went and killed Qian San last night.”
“Huh?” Yan Yu’s eyes went wide. She couldn’t quite believe it. Yet a tiny spark of relief leapt in her chest. Almost immediately, though, she frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Qian San is so strong, and Monk Pan was beaten up just yesterday. How could he have possibly taken down Qian San?”
“I’m not sure,” Auntie Wang said. “I’m dying to find out the whole story myself.”
“Oh...” Yan Yu wavered, feeling both uncertain and worried that the news might not be true after all.
Yan Yu stood on her tiptoes, glancing nervously into the distance. She considered going over for a look but then remembered Li Yuan's warning to stay away from crowds. She stayed put, waiting anxiously.
Eventually, she spotted some villagers returning from Qian San’s place and hurried over with Auntie Wang to ask what had happened. That was when she got the confirmation. Her heart swelled with excitement, like it was a New Year celebration. Although she forced herself to keep calm, inside she was practically singing, “Today is a good day!”
Suddenly, one of the men she was questioning asked, “Didn’t Qian San come looking for Li Yuan last night?”
Caught off guard, Yan Yu let out a long sigh, putting on a mournful expression. “Qian San wanted my Li Yuan to team up with him. Qian San was so capable! I told Li Yuan he had to follow him and learn from him. Li Yuan was anxious, too. He had a run-in with a wild boar not long ago, and the injury still bothers him. He couldn’t wait to heal up and go hunting with Qian San. And now... how did this happen? My poor Li Yuan, he just doesn’t have good fortune...”
Around midday, Li Yuan finally stirred, yawning from a late night of coming and going and from his time in bed with Yan Yu. As he tugged on his boots, he heard her humming a cheerful tune.
“Yan Yu,” he called out, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”
Yan Yu dropped the firewood she was holding and came over, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the stove. “Guess what? Qian San died last night! And that Monk Pan is really something, isn’t he? He was angry because of what happened to Sister Caihua during the day, so last night he stormed over with an iron rod and knocked Qian San into a latrine pit. Now that’s a real hero for you!”
Li Yuan froze in surprise. So Qian San’s death had been pinned on Monk Pan. Quite the coincidence, but he wasn’t about to start explaining anything.
“Don’t look too happy. People might get suspicious.”
“I know, I’m not a fool.” With that, she hurried back to tend the fire, humming her tune again under her breath.