[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 96

The little girl’s gaze fell on the wailing Old Lady Chen and the dirty ear on the ground. Seeming to reach a decision, she replied, “Yes.”

The girl stood up, making it even clearer how thin she was—just a bag of bones, like a frail seedling in the fields robbed of nutrients by weeds, yet still clinging to an unbending stubbornness.

She walked out barefoot, her slender back straightening, leaving the still-groaning Old Lady Chen behind without a backward glance.

Shiliu watched her thin back and followed.

Only when they reached the end of the eaves extending from the City God Temple’s main hall did the little girl finally stop. She turned to look at Shiliu’s group, pointed toward the distant, hazy mountains in the north, and began recounting her story.

“My name is Ya’niang. I used to live in the mountains over there. It was a small hamlet. My father was a hunter. Usually, he’d trade roe deer, wild rabbits, and such at the market for grain, and we managed to get by.”

“But later, a fire broke out in the hamlet. No one knew where it started. It burned down many homes in the hamlet, including ours. My mother died in the fire. My father burned his legs saving me.”

Ya’niang’s eyes were empty—no pain, no fear, instead seeming numb.

Shiliu and her senior brother exchanged a glance. Sure enough, another large-scale fire. She looked at Ya’niang and asked, “What happened after that?”

She felt that if Ya’niang’s father were still around, he would never have let her fall to such a state.

“After the fire, an illness spread through the hamlet. No one knew what it was, but it spread very fast. The surviving families in the hamlet didn’t dare take in those of us who had lost our homes anymore. Many were driven out.”

“My father, dragging his injured leg and sick, took me to seek refuge with relatives in the city. But before entering the city, Father couldn’t hold on anymore. He was afraid the city relatives would dislike him for being sick. Since I hadn’t fallen ill, he told me to leave him and go into the city alone. I refused. Father hit me hard with his crutch, telling me to obey, or he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes in peace.”

“I obeyed Father and walked a long way. I waited until the sun was almost set before going back. Father lay in the grass, already breathless, his eyes still open. I didn’t have the strength to dig a grave, so I just closed his eyes and left.”

“I obeyed him.”

After saying this last part, Ya’niang’s small body trembled as she let out a turbid breath. She looked only eleven or twelve, but her eyes were filled with numb exhaustion.

Shiliu didn’t know what to say. She was once again enveloped in that feeling of guilt. She and Ya’niang were like mirror images overlapping on some fragment of life, yet she had received so many extra gifts from fate.

Li Xuanci, however, remained as cold as an icicle frozen for millennia, impervious to wind and rain, utterly unmoved at this moment, directly piercing to the key point. “Illness? What illness?”

Ya’niang shook her head, saying stupidly, “I don’t know. At the time, those who lost their homes were all crowded together. Many were injured. Fevers were just assumed to be from the burns. By the time more and more people started coughing blood, vomiting, and feeling pain, it was already too late. The hamlet people were scared. Regardless of whether they were sick or not, they drove everyone out.”

Li Xuanci raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at the desolate City God Temple.

In the spacious main hall, the mottled, colorful statue gazed indifferently at its people. Below the shrine, countless tiny figures lay or sat on the ground—some mournful, some wrathful, some melancholy—sketching a bizarre tableau of mortal suffering.

He turned back and said, “What about those who escaped with you? Where did they all go? Are they all dead too?”

But Ya’niang seemed somewhat dazed. She looked up and replied, “Father’s leg was badly injured, and I was small and weak, so we walked the slowest and fell behind. After that, I never saw them again.”

“Not even after entering the city? You never saw a single one again?” Shiliu also sensed something odd.

Ya’niang nodded. “Never saw them again. After Old Lady Chen took me in, when the beatings were bad, I thought about seeking out familiar families. They were also coming to rely on city relatives. But I couldn’t find a single one.”

Li Xuanci turned, facing the downcast-eyed statue in the hall from a distance, his entire demeanor sharp and cold.

It rather matched the saying: the Bodhisattva lowers his eyes, while the Vajra deity glares in wrath.

“Quite the serial killer,” he said flatly. “I underestimated it.”

Shiliu seemed to understand somewhat, but not entirely. She scurried over to Li Xuanci’s side, tugged on his sleeve, pulling this Vajra deity into the mortal world’s mundane atmosphere, no longer solemn and unapproachable, determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Explain it more clearly,” she said, her round eyes looking at him questioningly.

As soon as Li Xuanci shot her a glance, Shiliu preemptively cut him off. “We’re all ordinary, mundane people. You’re so clever, so naturally you should lower your standards for us common folk. Don’t resort to being mysterious and cryptic. Explain it clearly so we can understand.”

She had the gall to be both thick-skinned and self-assured, wielding this tactic of strategic retreat with increasing mastery.

Li Xuanci saw right through it, yet he couldn’t help but indulge her, and actually began to explain.

“The Red Child sets fires, the White Child retrieves the ball. Regardless of his intentions, the result is that some lose their homes while others are spared.”

“The worry is not scarcity but inequality. Those left homeless naturally become inferior, forced to cling to those unaffected. These people are mostly injured and have lost their wealth and protection. What do you think happens to them?”

Shiliu bit her lower lip, glanced at Ya’niang, and replied, “They get driven out.” Then she added, “But that was in a remote mountain village. This is the city. The authorities would naturally take care of them.”

Li Xuanci curled his lip scornfully. “If it were just a fire, they’d naturally manage it. Their so-called management means dumping them in this abandoned City God Temple. As long as they don’t become roaming refugees, it’s considered managed.”

“But what if an epidemic is added to the mix?” He looked at Shiliu and asked.

This time, Shiliu fell silent. With so many people gathered together, if an epidemic broke out, it would spread extremely fast. Besides, those with money and power wouldn’t end up here in the first place. Only those who had lost all their possessions in the fire and had no family or friends to take them in would be forced to make do in this City God Temple.

Li Xuanci continued, “What do you think the wealthy, powerful, healthy, and unharmed people in the city would think if they knew everyone in this City God Temple had contracted an epidemic? What would the authorities do?”

It went without saying. They’d likely drive them out, just like in Ya’niang’s hamlet.

“The Chain Bureau you mentioned—is it this man-made disaster combined with a natural one?” Shiliu looked at him with complicated eyes.

“The natural disaster is false; the plague is real.” Li Xuanci stated it succinctly.

He Chong took a deep breath, exclaiming in surprise, “You mean the Red and White Children are in cahoots with this so-called Lady Mouse? The two of them selectively set fires, creating division among the city’s residents. Then Lady Mouse uses rats to spread disease among the disaster victims gathered here. Finally, the other side forces these victims to leave, and then they… finish them off all at once?”

Li Xuanci didn’t speak, just looked at Shiliu. She hung her head, lost in thought.

Actually, she had guessed this outcome before Li Xuanci even finished. But she remembered the White Child’s eyes, his smile when he said she resembled his sister. A thread of hope remained in her heart, hoping things weren’t as she feared.

He Chong also noticed Shiliu’s unusual silence, but the situation was critical. He could only urge, “Then how do we find this Lady Mouse now?”

Li Xuanci turned to him, his tone indifferent. “Not difficult. Wait until everyone here is infected and driven out. Follow them, and we’ll naturally track down the source.”

It was the easiest and least effortful path. He didn’t possess much compassion, nor was there much softness left in him. In a world that devours the weak, death was all too commonplace. The lives of these people were fated numbers in the King of Hell’s ledger—what did it have to do with him?

But even with a heart of a million cold, hard edges, he had, against his will, planted a soft, kind-hearted weakness right in his own chest.

“What if I beg you?” Shiliu’s eyes looked at him, so clear that one could see straight to the bottom. “What if I beg you to help them?”