(Side Story) Shishu 01

"So you went to recruit an employee?" Yue Anyao looked at the young girl, then at Fang Zhiyi and Little Hei.

Fang Zhiyi nodded repeatedly.

Liu Shishi raised an eyebrow slightly: "Sister, don't blame Zhiyi. He was worried about me too. If it weren't for him, I might have ended up as one of your clients."

Yue Anyao felt something was off.

"You, don't go running around everywhere," she said. "You had your sister so worried. You look like you've lost weight."

Fang Zhiyi backed away several steps.

"Anyway, I've got a few more places to check. Little Hei!"

"On it!"

As they disappeared, Yue Anyao stood quietly staring at Liu Shishi.

Liu Shishi smiled with her eyes: "Sister, do you think I'm being inconsiderate? Did I say something wrong that upset you?"

Yue Anyao sighed: "Go on, go get your system from over there, then you can set off."

"Of course, sister." Liu Shishi took a few steps, then suddenly turned back. "Sister, you'd better keep a close eye on him, alright?"

Yue Anyao let out a cold laugh: "I can't copy your tricks, but you can ask this about it."

A sword suddenly appeared in her hand.

Liu Shishi shrank her neck and muttered: "Just kidding. Your husband is so outstanding—if people covet him, doesn't that just prove you have good taste... and that his taste is also good, since he still stayed with you despite all that."

Yue Anyao was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter: "Now I know why he remembers you. Go on, go on."

In a rundown temple by the river.

A scruffy-looking Daoist priest, completely without dignity, fished a roasted potato out of the crackling fire. Because it was scorching hot, he tossed it from his left hand to his right, then back to his left again.

From outside the temple came faint sounds of arguing, but the priest paid them no mind, focusing entirely on the potato in his hands.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a boy standing at the temple entrance. The boy was dressed in rags and staring straight at him.

The priest frowned slightly, then simply turned his back and continued dealing with his potato.

But he could still feel those eyes fixed on him. The priest had no choice but to cave.

A bad feeling crept over him, and he instinctively glanced at the compass lying carelessly in front of him. The needle on it was trembling slightly. The priest felt like crying.

Running into a ghost in broad daylight?

But the compass needle wavered for a moment, then slowly came to a stop. Puzzled, he even kicked the compass, but it gave no reaction.

The priest breathed a sigh of relief. Looks like this piece of junk had broken again.

He turned around and looked at the boy. The boy was thin and frail, his face pale.

"Come, come, I'll split it with you!" The priest said reluctantly, breaking the charred potato in half, glancing at both pieces, and handing the smaller one to the boy.

The boy thought for a moment, then walked slowly inside and took the potato.

"In the middle of nowhere, whose child are you?" the priest asked as he ate his potato.

The boy said nothing.

"Poor thing. Ever since that great upheaval, this world hasn't been as peaceful as before—ghouls and spirits running rampant everywhere, tsk," the priest muttered to himself.

The boy savored the potato in his hands as if it were a rare delicacy.

The priest pursed his lips and said no more. After finishing his half, still a little unsatisfied, he wiped his hands on his robe and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He looked at the boy, as if a thought had struck him: "Little one, do you have any family left? I'll walk you home."

The boy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

The priest sighed: "I was hoping that doing a good deed would earn me a free meal..." He gathered his things and started to leave, but after a few steps, he turned back to look at the boy again.

The priest seemed to make a decision: "Boy, by rights, you ate my food. You should do some work for me in return, right?"

The boy turned to look at him, and after a long moment, nodded.

"That's settled then. Actually, I've got a job here that I can't handle alone," the priest said. "There's a squire named Li in Banshiji not far from here. He's got some trouble at his house. I'll find you some clothes later—change into them, and you can play the part of my acolyte."

He paused.

"Don't worry. Once the job's done, I'll share a cut of the payment with you."

The boy nodded.

"Are you mute?" asked the priest.

The boy shook his head.

"Good. I'm called Wang Qianyue. Remember that. What's your name? Forget it, I'll give you a name. You can be... Little Mouse."

The boy's expression was a bit strange, but he didn't argue.

"From now on, when we're in front of others, you call me Master. Got it?"

The boy nodded.

Little Mouse followed Wang Qianyue toward Banshiji. As houses began to line the road, the area gradually grew livelier.

Wang Qianyue also dropped his earlier shabby demeanor, and with every step, he wore a look of profound mystery.

Problem was, no one paid him any attention.

However, when they reached a certain house, the person at the gate spotted him and quickly sent someone inside to announce their arrival. Soon, a butler-looking figure came out and invited him in.

"Daoist, you've finally arrived. Please, hurry," the butler said politely, yet there was a hint of contempt in his tone.

Wang Qianyue paid it no mind and strode inside, with Little Mouse carrying his odds and ends alongside him.

The butler didn't seem to find it unusual that there was suddenly an extra person with him.

They came to a small courtyard. Wang Qianyue first frowned and began to count on his fingers as if calculating something, then set up a ritual altar, and directed Little Mouse to lay out the prepared tools.

A cut paper figure, a bundle of talismans, and a bowl of some dark, murky liquid.

Once Little Mouse had done all that, Wang Qianyue suddenly began to chant without any warning. Nobody could make sense of what he was singing—it just sounded eerie. As the chanting continued, step by step, he walked toward the tightly shut door.

Then, all of a sudden, he let out a thunderous shout.

"Sword, come!"

Little Mouse took a moment to react, then threw the wooden sword that had been handed to him earlier. Wang Qianyue caught it in one move, twirled it in a few flourishes, then smacked it down on the altar, and drank the dark liquid from the bowl.

As his eyes snapped open, Little Mouse immediately placed the cut paper figure in front of him.

Wang Qianyue gave a forceful spit, spraying the liquid onto the paper figure, then shouted again and brought the peachwood sword down with a slicing strike.

A moment later, blood seeped from the cut paper figure!

The butler and the others watching from nearby were stunned. The butler had already received several other occultists before, yet none of them had been able to cure the young lady. When it came to Wang Qianyue, the butler had simply assumed he was another charlatan.

But now, it seemed this Daoist actually had some real skill!

"Talisman, here!" Wang Qianyue's hands didn't stop moving. He pulled out a gourd of wine from somewhere, and Little Mouse hurriedly handed him a talisman. Something was done—Wang Qianyue worked with it so that the talisman caught fire on its own. He stuffed the burning talisman into the gourd, raised two fingers upright, muttered something under his breath, and then pointed sharply.

Nothing happened.