The moonlight blended warmly with the festival lanterns. Laughter and music filled the air as the villagers immersed themselves in the celebration. Children ran about clutching lanterns, while adults feasted on rice wine—the cheers and applause echoing from the grand stage in the city center.
"Hey, you brat!" a raspy voice barked. It was the tanghulu vendor, chasing after a small child no older than six.
"Stop right there, you little thief!" The vendor panted as he gave chase. Despite his large, stout frame, he was surprisingly agile.
"I'm sorry! I only took one—it's for my sister!" the young thief shouted back. He glanced over his shoulder, nearly colliding with the festive crowds ahead.
"Watch where you're going, you damn brat!" Reeking of alcohol, a man nearby nearly swung at the boy for the interruption.
"I'm sorry," the boy muttered, bowing his head quickly.
The drunkard ignored him, but the vendor's voice was drawing closer. "You! Stop, you bastard!"
The boy panicked and bolted at full speed.
"What did you say?! I'm a bastard?!" The drunkard, misinterpreting the vendor's shout, turned his ire toward the merchant.
"Wait—no, sir! I wasn't talking to you! I'm trying to catch that little thief!" The vendor raised his hands, trying to de-escalate the situation.
The drunkard nearly started a brawl, but the vendor, wanting no further trouble, quickly retreated to resume his pursuit of the boy.
After running for a long time, the vendor finally reached his limit. He stopped, gasping for air. "Ah... damn brat. If I were as young and strong as I used to be, I'd have thrashed you until I was satisfied." He turned back toward his stall, still muttering curses. "Forget it! Consider it a charity for your pathetic life!"
The young thief, Xiaojun, panted heavily as he looked back. Seeing the vendor was gone, he finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Haa... I'm safe at last." He slumped his shoulders. "Xiaoping must be worried sick. I have to get home," he whispered, looking at the tanghulu, which had begun to melt slightly.
He walked past the harbor, where countless massive ships were docked. Han Lian was known for producing the finest shipwrights in the Qin Empire, and the sheer number of vessels reflected that prestige.
Xiaojun stole a moment to look at the moon and stars before heading into the slums. He navigated through the grimy alleys inhabited by scavengers, doing his best to hide the tanghulu under his clothes. In a place like this, the strong ruled and the weak were crushed.
Glinting eyes watched him from the shadows. Hunger and greed filled the minds of the scavengers; they looked like predators ready to do anything to get what they wanted.
Xiaojun's heart hammered against his ribs. He gripped the tanghulu tightly, his hands trembling as he quickened his pace. This was the fastest way home.
But he had already been marked. A middle-aged scavenger approached him slowly.
"Hey, Xiaojun. What are you hiding there?" The man's eyes bulged, his body slick with sweat. Xiaojun felt a cold dread sink in.
"I-I don't know what you mean, Uncle Ming. I'm not hiding anything." Xiaojun swallowed hard. Pak Ming's face was pale and cold—the face of a man who didn't know how much longer he had to live.
"Don't lie to me. I saw you lying to your mother plenty of times before she passed three months ago." Pak Ming and Xiaojun were neighbors. Initially, Pak Ming had been kind, but that was only while Xiaojun's mother was alive. Once she was gone, he showed his true colors, exploiting Xiaojun and Xiaoping, forcing them to beg and steal just so he could take their earnings.
'I feel so guilty for always worrying Mother with my lying and stealing,' Xiaojun thought, bowing his head in regret.
Smack!!
A rough, calloused hand struck Xiaojun squarely across the face. The boy went stiff, his head snapping to the side from the force of the blow. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Don't you dare lie to me, you little shit." Pak Ming glared at Xiaojun's hands and grabbed his arm with a crushing grip. "Hah! I thought you were hiding something valuable. It's just a tanghulu?"
A sneer of disappointed rage twisted Pak Ming's face. He tried to wrench the treat away, but Xiaojun held on with all his might.
"Let go of it, boy!"
Despite the stinging heat in his cheek and the ringing in his ears, Xiaojun refused to let go. His body seemed locked in defiance.
Pak Ming pulled Xiaojun's arm so violently that the boy was lifted nearly a foot off the ground. A sickening crack echoed through the alley as his arm dislocated.
"Fine! If you want it that badly, keep it!" Pak Ming hurled Xiaojun toward the south, underneath the Yue Ming Bridge.
Xiaojun's body flew through the air and slammed hard against a stone wall. The tanghulu flew from his hand, landing in the dirt.
Though blood streamed from his nose and his vision began to flicker, he crawled toward the treat. It was covered in filth, but he didn't care.
"Xiaoping... wait for... brother to come home," he whimpered, dragging his broken body with his one good hand. "I got it... Xiaoping's gift."
Xiaojun bit onto the wooden stick of the tanghulu and began to crawl away.
"Strange kid. All that for one stick of candy," Pak Ming muttered with a look of pure disgust. "Whatever. Arak and warm buns sound better than dealing with him."
Leaving the dying boy behind, Pak Ming headed toward the city center to drink.
Xiaojun's face turned a sickly blue. He was losing too much blood. If he didn't get help soon, he wouldn't survive the night. He shivered violently, his sweat mixing with the blood dripping onto the ground.
"Don't die yet... not until Xiaoping gets her gift," he whispered, his voice fading.
"Poor child." Xiaojun's eyes began to lose their light, but through the haze, he felt someone approaching. His breathing became shallow as the warmth left his body.
Only fifty meters away, Xiaoping was still waiting.
The distant sounds of the festival reached her dilapidated tent. She hummed a simple, innocent tune.
"Brother will definitely bring me a birthday gift." She kicked her legs excitedly, her heart blooming like a flower in the morning sun. "I hope he comes home soon and that he's okay."
Minutes turned into hours, but Xiaojun did not appear. Xiaoping eventually drifted off, only to wake up when her head slumped forward. Rubbing her eyes, she murmured, "When is big brother coming back?"
She yawned, exhaustion taking hold. "Maybe he's in trouble... I hope he's okay out there."
Rain began to fall, turning the dirt outside into thick mud.
"Why is it raining? I'm getting worried. I have to wait for him." Xiaoping clenched her small fists, her heart full of hope. But the rain and the scent of damp earth were lulling her back to sleep.
Midnight passed. The rain stopped, but Xiaojun was still missing.
Woof! Woof!
"What was that?" Xiaoping blinked away her sleepiness. In the shadows, she saw a small, stray puppy.
The puppy walked up to her and nudged her hand, wagging its tail happily.
"Whose puppy is this? Brother couldn't have given me this as a gift, could he?"
Xiaoping stroked the puppy's head. The silence of midnight was suffocating, and this small creature was her only comfort. Tears began to blur her vision.
"Gods and Goddesses... please, don't leave me alone."
Xiaoping pressed her hands to her chest in prayer. Everything went silent. No one knew if the heavens were listening.