Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

"Uh... this..."

Zhou Wenqing suddenly realized that to explain this matter clearly, he had to start with the fact that he, Han Fei, and Yao Jia had suddenly decided to stay up late and inexplicably "race walk" in a quiet, deserted alley.

Hmm, no! Strictly speaking, it was Han Fei who had a brain fart and risked his life to accompany the gentleman. As for Yao Keqing... he was probably driven mad with anger.

But now, in front of Physician Lü, if Zhou Wenqing dared to say that he, the "key protected person" whom Lü had been watching over every day to drink medicine and taking his pulse and conditioning him every day, and who was hoping to recover his health as soon as possible, was not sleeping properly in the middle of the night and was running around chasing the northwest wind to drink.

hiss--

I'm afraid that in a fit of anger, Physician Lü will stuff him and his medicine into that little medicine pot and boil them into dregs!

Although the late spring breeze wasn't actually cold, the empty street scene only made them look somewhat desolate; it wasn't enough to give him a cold. But if he dared to make such a defense of himself...

Zhou Wenqing vaguely recalled that Physician Lü had recently acquired a new medicine grinder, made of solid and heavy materials, with great power; it could grind even tortoise shells into powder with a single stroke.

He doesn't want to try it!

Zhou Wenqing's eyes darted around for a moment, then he forced a smile and mumbled:

"This is a long story."

"Zhou, you can speak slowly. It's still early, so we're not in a hurry," said Physician Lü with great patience.

Zhou Wenqing: "..."

Shouldn't the next thing be, "Then get to the point"? Why aren't you following the script?

------

Meanwhile, several streets away, the other two main characters of the "empty alleyway race" had already swiftly and decisively ended an interrogation.

A person lay sprawled on the ground, still breathing, but... their breathing was unstable, as if they might stop breathing at any moment.

But Yao Jia and Han Fei no longer wasted any attention on him.

Because he has no value anymore.

In just a quarter of an hour, the two of them had completely emptied the man's stomach.

He did have accomplices, or more accurately, he was just a lowly pawn, not even worthy of the title of accomplice.

Han Fei's fingers clenched slightly, a cold and solemn expression settling over his brows. Yao Jia's usual smile vanished completely. The two exchanged a silent glance, their hearts sinking in unison.

Luoyang was a vital city, controlling the trade routes between east and west and the passage between north and south. Wine flags fluttered on the city walls, and carriages and horses came and went in an endless stream, creating a bustling and prosperous scene. However, beneath this prosperity, there was also a dark and corrupt side.

Although the Qin laws were strict, they could not control all the merchants, travelers, and wanderers who came from all over the country without a fixed place of residence. People from all walks of life were mixed together, and all sorts of people gathered and dispersed like the tide. There were so many people and so many different kinds that no one would care if one was missing. They had nowhere to turn for help, and if someone really needed to be arrested, they could just run away. It was perfect for these thugs to make a living.

Therefore, the evil of child trafficking is like weeds in the wilderness, which can be cut down and then grow back, and it is impossible to stop it.

Han Fei and Yao Jia exchanged a glance, then quickly separated, tacitly guarding both ends of the alleyway, not daring to rush in for the time being, lest they alert the enemy.

Perhaps... we've already alerted them.

This man should have returned to his hideout to report long ago.

The reason he appeared alone in the alley was because his accomplices thought he was incompetent and that the girl had taken advantage of the situation. They kicked him out and cursed at him, telling him to go and bring the girl back.

There's no need for so many people to chase after one child; he can manage on his own. If nothing unexpected happens—unless he runs into Zhou Wenqing and the others—this man would have already caught the child and taken him back.

These thugs were certain that the little child in their hands would not escape.

How can a starving, weak child outrun a well-fed, strong adult man?

If today weren't the day these thugs were transferring their "goods," opening and closing the exits, picking and choosing the quality, and trying to keep the more "pleasing" and valuable children in their own hands, this accident wouldn't have happened.

It was an extremely well-hidden cellar, with the exit located under the dilapidated stove of an abandoned house. Thick stone slabs blocked most of it, leaving only a narrow crack through which some air could pass by, preventing people from suffocating. Even light could not get through.

The darkness was like a thick cocoon, enveloping the children, keeping them from seeing the sun and hearing human voices. Occasionally, footsteps would pass overhead, sending dust falling and making them cough.

The girl has been locked in this dark and gloomy cellar for three days.

Three days ago, she went to the market with her parents and brother. The market was bustling with people.

Her father bought two large, round oven-baked flatbreads. She and her mother ate one, and she and her brother ate the other.

The older brother took the pancake, turned around and smiled at her, then broke it in half and handed her the larger half.

It's crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, and it smells so good!

Holding her half-eaten oven-baked flatbread in one hand and clutching her brother's clothes tightly with the other, she smiled sweetly and took small steps forward with the crowd.

Suddenly someone bumped into her from behind, and she stumbled and let go of her hand.

In the blink of an eye, the oven-baked bread fell to the ground and was stepped on by someone behind; in another blink, the hem of his brother's shirt slipped out from between his fingers; in yet another blink—

She was already in this cellar.

Endless darkness...

It's not that I haven't cried; when my vision is clouded, my other senses become exceptionally sharp.

When she woke up, she heard someone crying loudly, someone calling out "Mother" softly, and someone covering their mouth and sobbing quietly.

The air around her nose was thick with the pungent, musty smell of earth, a sour and foul odor that brought tears to her eyes.

She huddled in the corner, hugging her knees, burying her face in her arms, and sobbing softly.

"Mother, I'm so scared, waaaah... Brother, Father, where are you... waaaah, please come and save me..."

She didn't know how long she had been crying, only that the fabric of her clothes above her knees was soaked with tears, her eyes were swollen and sore, and the cries of the children around her gradually became hoarse and weak.

A sharp shout suddenly came from above:

"Stop crying! If you cry again, I'll cut your tongues out!"

As soon as they finished speaking, they dragged away the child who was crying the loudest. The muffled thuds of punches and kicks and cries of pain and pleas for mercy could be heard until the child could no longer make a sound and could only breathe weakly. Then they poured a few mouthfuls of cold water down his throat and threw him back into the corner of the cellar like trash.

A chill crept up the cold earthen wall, and the children fell silent instantly; no one dared to cry anymore.

The youngest child covered his mouth, swallowing back the sob that almost escaped his lips.

Only then did she realize that she could no longer cry.

The youngest child wiped away his tears, his eyes fixed on the faint light above his head.

She can't stay here.

She longed for her mother to braid her hair, for sharing baked cakes with her brother, for her father to lift her high above his head so she could reach the highest mulberry on the branch, and she longed for…

Come back home!

She must find a way to escape.

The youngest child conserved his energy as much as possible, neither crying nor making a fuss, but simply kept his head up and stared intently at that narrow slit.

They didn't give us food, only occasionally pouring some water through the cracks into the stone trough below; it was murky and dirty.

The youngest child dared not drink too much, but could not not drink at all; he could only swallow small sips to save his strength.

Perhaps the pancake was too sweet, allowing her to gather her strength for a very long time, or perhaps her youngest child was so eager to go home that she mustered even more strength. In any case, she finally seized the opportunity.