The Sun was directly overhead.
On the Chidao, a hefty cart made of thick pine, pulled by a gray beast resembling a blue ox but larger in size, moved slowly forward.
Sitting beside the cart's shaft, an old man with dark skin, wearing a coarse blue cloth robe with a blue cloth wrapped around his head, held a copper pipe in his mouth, 'click clack' smoking dry tobacco.
A long bamboo whip was inserted by his side, but he hardly used it, as the ox-like beast didn't need driving and quietly kept its head down proceeding along, followed meekly by the rest.
"Aiyoyo, pretty girl, sit at the front of the cart, aye, I'll walk beside, chatting and laughing, holding hands so tenderly..." the old man took a drag from his pipe, revealing a set of white teeth that contrasted his appearance, and broke into song, clearly in high spirits.
His hoarse but melodious voice carried along the winding mountain road, drifting off into the distance.
Suddenly, the old man let out a shout, halting the procession.
He scrunched up his dark, weathered face, propping himself up to look toward the riverbank by the road, then suddenly narrowed his eyes, leaped down from the cart, and hobbled toward the riverbank.
Reaching the waterside mud bank, he finally saw clearly, a body clothed in fine garments lay sprawled on the mud bank, half a foot still submerged in water, being washed over continuously by the gently rippling waves.
The old man hurriedly bent down, grabbed the collar of the body's clothes and dragged it towards the bank, turning it over.
It was uncertain how long the body had lay on the shore, as the upper half of its clothing was already dried.
Turning the body over, the old man saw a pale face smeared with sand and mud.
Long black hair hung loose, she looked to be only about thirteen or fourteen, with closed elegant and long phoenix eyes, a high-bridged nose, and thin lips devoid of color.
"He's a Central Plains person, heh, what a shame!"
The old man glanced back at the cart, then stooped down, heaved up one of the corpse's arms over his shoulder, and got up with an effort, half carrying, half dragging toward the direction of the cart.
The corpse, laid across the old man's back, was quite tall – a head taller than the old man himself. Perhaps because it was pressed against the old man's chest, a little bit of water dribbled out, flowing down the old man's neck. This chapter was first seen on *.
The old man paused briefly, seemingly lost in thought, then continued dragging the body forward. Upon reaching the cart, he threw the body to the ground and wiped his neck with a sleeve where the water had trickled down.
"Thirty copper coins."
Having said that, he squatted down to remove the young man's belt, stripping off the jacket embroidered with gold threads and shaking off the water from it.
"This is fine stuff from the Northern Central Plains, this quality of silk can't be woven in the Southern Border, nor can such fine yarn be produced there. Really, it's such a pity it got a few tears. Cleaned and mended, it can still fetch a decent price. Hehe." As he spoke, the old man neatly folded the garment and placed it on the cart beside him.
"Tsk tsk, this robe isn't bad, if it were new, it could be worth six or seven silver coins. Central Plains people do have a taste for the finer things—the linings of the clothes are silk and could be worth two pieces of silver. These shoes are nifty too, look like they are made of satin and even woven with gold threads, could be worth seven or eight silver coins. Ah, there is only one left..."
Mumbling to himself, the old man stripped these items off the corpse one by one, placing each neatly on the cart.
In the end, he looked at the brocade trousers on the corpse's legs, where one could vaguely see the intricate embroidery, but unfortunately, it too was torn, with bloodstains all over it.
"I really need to find someone to patch this up... What a waste!"
While speaking, his hand felt around the corpse's waistband for a while, and suddenly his brows lifted, joy spreading across his face.
"There really is something..."
The old man pulled out an embroidered mandarin duck purse from the corpse's belt and immediately opened it.
"Wow, gold, they're gold beans..." The old man exclaimed excitedly, pouring out the contents of the purse to reveal seven or eight peas-sized gold beans and three or four pieces of broken silver.
For a moment, the old man could hardly believe his eyes; throughout the years, he had never even seen a silver ingot, let alone gold beans. He had seen and touched the silver coins commonly used in the Southern Border, but those coins were worth only one-tenth of a silver ingot each.
The value of these gold beans was beyond what the old man dared to imagine. He just stood there, staring blankly for a long while, swallowed his saliva, and muttered, "Grandpa Yu's blessing, I've really struck it rich this time..."
He glanced at the half-naked young man lying on the ground, his chest and abdomen bruised, standing out starkly against his pale skin and looking like it was caused by some blunt instrument. There were multiple wounds on his body.
The young man had a well-proportioned figure, with clearly defined muscle blocks on his chest and abdomen. Even with bruises and wounds all over, he still looked powerful, the mark of someone who had undergone prolonged exercise.
"What a waste of a good skin," the old man said with pity in his eyes.
But having said that, he was even more tempted to thoroughly strip off the young man's trousers, suspecting there might be more valuable things hidden inside.
"Wealth in life, dust after death, these things are of no use to you now. Let the old man make use of them, and I'll send you to a good place afterwards," the old man said as he tore off the blood-stained trousers of the young man and threw them aside.
A conspicuous scar was revealed on the young man's leg, turned somewhat white from soaking in the river water, the wound flaring outward without a scab.
Looking at his naked form, the old man ultimately resisted the urge to strip off his last piece of underclothes as well, but stared at a certain spot a few times, pursing his lips.
The old man took a satisfying breath, wet his lips with a drag from his pipe, and lifted the straw mat that was covering the cart.
In an instant, a nauseating stench spread.
On the cart lay seven or eight neatly arranged corpses.
Among these corpses, some were clothed in tattered garments and thin as rails, some had incomplete bodies and various afflictions, and others were tall and strong but had distinct fatal wounds crusted with shocking blood scabs.
Regardless of which, their skin was quite dark and the hair was curly, indicating that they were people from the Southern Border, starkly different from the young man.
Compared to them, the young man's body seemed exceptionally lean and pale.
The old man was accustomed to the sight, blowing out a large cloud of smoke and waving his hand in front of him to disperse the smoke, which also helped to dispel some of the rotten smell.
He bent down to lift the young man's arms, and with just a bit of effort, dragged the entire body up, then hugged it around the waist and placed it onto the cart, stacking it on top of the other corpses.
The old man adjusted the position slightly, arranging the body properly before covering it up again with the thick straw mat.
Strangely enough, one couldn't tell what the straw mat was made of, but as soon as it covered the corpses, it immediately suppressed all the foul odors.