Hot flashes

After walking for two days, we finally saw a village.

The village is small, with only a few dozen households scattered along both sides of a dirt road.

Mud-brick walls, thatched roofs, firewood piled up in front of every house, and a few skinny chickens pecking at food by the roadside. Smoke curled from the chimneys in the twilight, creating a scene of tranquility.

Zhou Heng was starving. Even though the two of them were extremely frugal, their dry rations were almost gone. Fearing they wouldn't have enough, they avoided eating whenever possible.

Sustaining on wild berries and stream water, Zhou Heng felt nauseous and his legs were weak. Xiao Jue was in slightly better shape, but his complexion was still quite pale.

"Go beg for food," Zhou Heng said.

Xiao Jue nodded.

The two walked towards the village. At the first house at the village entrance, an old man was chopping firewood in the courtyard.

His hair was gray, his face was etched with deep wrinkles, and he wore old clothes patched upon patched.

Xiao Jue stepped forward and cupped his hands in greeting.

"Old man, we're just passing through and are hoping to get some food. Could you please do us a favor?"

The old man stopped what he was doing, looked up, and sized them up.

Zhou Heng stood there, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under his gaze. Their clothes were dusty and torn in several places. Their faces were covered in mud, and their hair was a mess; they looked exactly like two refugees.

The old man stared at them for a long time, his gaze sweeping over their faces, before suddenly putting down his axe.

"Come in."

Zhou Heng breathed a sigh of relief.

The two followed the old man into the courtyard. The house was small, consisting of two rooms, one bright and one dark, separated by an earthen wall. The stove was in a corner of the main room, burning firewood, with steam rising from the pot and wafting a fragrant aroma.

Zhou Heng's stomach let out a disapproving growl.

The old man's wife came out from the inner room; she was a woman with gray hair and the same wrinkles etched on her face. She paused for a moment when she saw the two strangers.

The old man waved his hand.

"Passing by, begging for food."

The woman nodded, asked no further questions, turned around and added fuel to the fire at the stove, then took out two bowls.

Zhou Heng and Xiao Jue sat down by the stove. The woman ladled out two bowls of porridge and placed two grain cakes in front of them.

Zhou Heng picked up the bowl, the steam hitting his face and making his eyes sting. Ignoring the heat, he lowered his head and took a sip. The porridge was made from mixed grains, thick and with a slightly burnt aroma. He drank it down in large gulps, hissing from the heat, but unwilling to stop.

Xiao Jue also buried his head in his drink.

After finishing a bowl of porridge, Zhou Heng felt completely revived. He looked up at the elderly couple and sincerely thanked them.

"Thank you both very much. We will remember your kindness."

He thought for a moment, then took out a few pieces of silver from his pocket—those were given to him by Uncle Chen before he left, for emergencies. He placed the silver on the stove.

The old man's eyes lit up for a moment when he saw the silver.

"This, this is unacceptable..." he said, but his eyes remained fixed on the silver.

Zhou Heng said, "It's only right. The old man is kind enough to give us a meal; please accept this small token of our appreciation."

The old man glanced at the silver, then at Zhou Heng and Xiao Jue, and the wrinkles on his face twitched.

"Then, then you can stay here tonight," he said. "It's getting dark, and it's not safe outside."

Zhou Heng hesitated for a moment. They really needed to find a place to rest for the night. This village was remote and should be safe. He looked at Xiao Jue, who nodded.

"Then I'll have to trouble you, old man."

The woman tidied up a corner of the inner room, laid out some dry straw, and brought out an old quilt. The quilt was thin and stiff, but it was still better than being cold outside.

Zhou Heng and Xiao Jue lay on the dry grass, covered with the quilt, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The night is deep.

Zhou Heng's eyelashes fluttered, but he couldn't open his eyes. His head was spinning, and his eyelids felt like they were being pressed down by something.

Someone is talking.

The sound was very distant, as if it came from several layers of walls. He couldn't make out what it said, but he could vaguely make out that it was the old man's voice.

He struggled to move, but his limbs wouldn't obey him.

The door to the woodshed was pushed open.

An old man and his wife stood in the doorway, holding an oil lamp in their hands. The dim light shone in and fell on the two people who were tied to the wooden posts.

The old man walked over, squatted down, and patted Zhou Heng's body. He pulled out the bundle and opened it.

Inside were a few pieces of dry food, a crumpled flatbread, and—a few pieces of loose silver.

The old man picked up the silver, weighed it in his hand, and a smile appeared on his face.

"That's all?" he muttered, then patted Zhou Heng again. After he finished, he stood up, walked over to Xiao Jue, and continued patting him.

When his hand touched Xiao Jue's chest, he looked up and suddenly stopped.

He held up the oil lamp and squinted at it for a long time. Suddenly, the smile on his face froze.

"This...this is the one on the wanted poster..."

My wife's expression changed too.

"What? A wanted notice!"

"Shh!" The old man covered her mouth and whispered, "Don't shout!"

His wife, struggling to breathe from his suffocation, nodded vigorously. The old man released his grip, and the two exchanged a glance.