HCAW 56

Chapter 56: Like Duckweed Adrift

A fierce wind lashed, torrential rain poured like a burst dike. On their way back from the Fenglin Ship, the group was caught in the midst of wind and waves. The floating bridge twisted and swayed like a writhing snake—they could barely keep their footing on it.

“Maybe we should… wait until the rain lets up?” Zheng Deli hesitated.

Xiao Jiao shouted, “Wait? Who knows if this rain will last until the next year of the donkey!”

Soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, they huddled in misery. Mule said apologetically, “Didn’t expect the storm to get this bad. If I’d known, I would’ve borrowed a sea eel boat from the Lei Ze Camp.”

Just then, a black-canopied boat approached from afar, a lone swaying lantern lighting its bow. Someone in a straw cape stood at the stern, waving them aboard and calling, “Get on!”

It was a girl in a straw hat and wide pants—her eyes slanted upward with a glint of irritation. It was Si Chen, whom they’d met once before at the Lei Ze camp. She tossed out an iron chain, hooking the iron ox-head at the end of the floating bridge, and they scrambled aboard into the canopy.

The rain beat down hard, drumming against the canopy like salt thrown into a hot pan. They dried off around the stove while Mule, taking the rudder, donned his cape and left again. Si Chen stepped inside, lips downturned like an upside-down crescent moon. The moment she opened her mouth, it was like a downpour of curses:

“A bunch of idiots—what’d you run off to see Ruyi Guard for?!”

Startled, they watched her arch her brows and ramble like pouring beans. “That old turtle hag Ruyi Guard—she just watches Yingzhou die without lifting a finger! What use is she?” She sighed again. “And my brother, too—useless softhead. Can’t accomplish anything. Yingzhou’s done for!”

Only then did Fang Jingyu and the others recall she was Yan Xin’s sister. On the Lei Ze ship, only she had sat quietly eating fish soup amid the laughter, like a cold stone.

Zheng Deli scratched his head with a sheepish smile. “Miss Si… what do you mean by ‘Yingzhou is done for’? Everyone at Lei Ze seemed full of morale.”

“Bullshit!” Si Chen snapped. “You have no idea how miserable the laborers of Yingzhou live!” She dragged Zheng Deli to the transparent shelter and pointed at distant lights. “You know what that is?”

“Wind lanterns? Or tallow-skin lamps?”

“Wrong. Fires fed with human bone.” Si Chen’s voice was cold. “Yingzhou lacks trees—wood’s used for shipbuilding. Firewood is scarce. Ever heard the phrase ‘fueling the fire with bones’? The bodies of dead laborers are broken down and used as fuel.”

They followed her out into the canopy. Hearing this, they were aghast. Si Chen pointed to the sea and sneered, “You know what that is?”

Xiao Jiao snapped, “Quit the riddles! Isn’t it just the pitch-black Ming Sea?”

“No. It’s the corpses of convicts. To steady ships against the storm, Yingzhou’s boats often hang weighted baskets beneath them. Stones are rare here—so criminals are used instead, bound hand and foot and packed into those baskets.”

To live like a dog or a pig was a mercy compared to this. A chill gripped them again. None could speak; their teeth rattled.

Finally, Si Chen pointed to a tattered houseboat on the sea and, a little calmer now, asked, “You know what that is?”

Zheng Deli saw its broken hull, barely held together, faint silhouettes within. He hesitated and said, “A refugee boat?”

“Finally got one right,” said Si Chen. “That’s the common life of a Yingzhou laborer—drifting in wind and waves, starving. In Yingzhou, you’re born with three paths and none lead to hope.”

No one spoke after that.

If Penglai was a prison, then Yingzhou was death row. To live here was to live without any shred of hope. Back by the stove, everyone sat in silence. Thinking of what they’d just seen, their hearts ached. Compared to the serene and tranquil Fenglin ship, Si Chen’s words about Ruyi Guard watching Yingzhou suffer without intervening began to ring true. That little girl didn’t seem like someone who concerned herself with the world’s suffering.

The storm roared on, the sea churned, but before long, they arrived at the Lei Ze Camp.

Now the drizzle was like smoke. Just as they were about to disembark, Si Chen caught hold of Fang Jingyu’s sleeve and quietly said, “Wait.”

Fang Jingyu turned back. She still wore that look, as if the whole world owed her gambling debts. She said, “Ling’er told me about you. You suspect that ‘King Yama’ might be your brother?”

Fang Jingyu’s heart skipped a beat. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Come with me,” said Si Chen. She ducked into the stern again, and though Fang Jingyu was confused, he followed. Si Chen steered the rudder slowly and said, “The first time I saw that ‘King Yama,’ I thought he looked familiar. Now I finally remember where I’ve seen that face.”

“Where?”

She didn’t answer directly but pouted and said, “The one who rules Yingzhou now—the Yu Ji Guard—he’s a vicious old bastard. Years ago, he had a male favorite. Loved his face to death. Started hunting for boys who looked like him. If they didn’t, he’d cut their faces, reshape them, graft human skin, and raise a whole batch of boys who looked like that favorite. It was disgusting.”

Fang Jingyu’s heart sank. His voice trembled. “That favorite… was…”

“The son of Emperor Bai,” Si Chen said with a shrug. “But you’re standing here fine, so it must’ve been some poor soul who got pushed out to take the blame.” She blinked, suddenly enlightened. “Oh… that must be the brother you’re looking for, huh? The one who’s not blood kin but still your brother…”

“Fang Minsheng…”

Fang Jingyu clenched his fists till blood welled in his palms. “Is that the name?”

“Likely. I’m not sure.”

“So what does the one you mention have to do with Chu Kuang?”

“You’ll see,” she said, staring out across the rain-blurred sea.

The skiff slid on, cutting the waves like scissors through silk. At the edge of Yingzhou they came to shabby house-boats stinking of mildew. Si Chen led him over twisting bridges to a particularly battered craft.

“Crab-Boy! You there?” she called.

A lanky man stepped out—thin as a crab-leg. Fang Jingyu started; the man’s jawline and nose recalled his brother’s features. His skin was darkened, his clothes bleached hemp. Yet he greeted Si Chen politely.

Inside, the cabin was dim; a sickly woman lay on a cot. Si Chen jabbed a thumb at Fang Jingyu. “Merchant from Penglai. Loaded with silver. Answer our questions and he’ll pay.”

She elbowed Fang Jingyu; he grudgingly produced a shard of silver. Crab-Boy beamed. “Ask away.”

“Used to be a catamote in the Qingyu Gao palace, right?” Si Chen cut straight in.

His face twitched—only for a moment—then he nodded. “The Yu Ji Guard’s men cut and peeled us to match his favorite’s looks.” He turned his head; a faint scar ran from brow to jaw.

“Did it hurt?” Fang Jingyu asked softly.

“Hurt like knives. A breeze felt like flaying. Many festered and died; those who lived were gifted to nobles—most were played to death.” Crab-Boy clenched his shirt. “Before Yu Jue Guard rescued us, we lived worse than pigs and dogs.”

“Why make you look like that favorite?” Si Chen pressed.

“Because the favorite was said to be the son of Emperor Bai. Everyone wanted him. They wouldn’t let go, so they sent us look-alikes for the nobles to toy with.”

Sickness rose in Fang Jingyu’s chest.

“We want to see if you recognize someone,” Si Chen said. She nudged him; Fang Jingyu handed over Chu Kuang’s portrait. Crab-Boy smiled.

“When Yu Jue Guard fought that villain, she broke our cells. The healthier among us joined her at the border. That lad? Yes—he was once a palace catamite. Looks like he followed Yu Jue Guard into battle.”

Fang Jingyu still grasped at hope. “But he bears no silk-thread scars. Couldn’t he be the real ‘son of Emperor Bai’?”

Crab-Boy shook his head. “Favored pets got the best salves—no scar remains. And the true one was guarded tighter than gold—how would he end up a border soldier?”

A hollow ache settled in Fang Jingyu’s chest. Perhaps Chu Kuang was merely another moulded slave. Even Ruyi Guard had said his brother was dead.

They asked a few more questions, then returned to the skiff. As Si Chen cheerfully rowed, Fang Jingyu glared. “Seeing me scurry like a headless fly amuses you?”

“Sure does.” She tossed the oar aside. “In Yingzhou, empty buckets are daily life. What would a gilded prince know of hardship?”

“What hardship? Tell me.”

“Why should I?” She stomped into the canopy, leaving him staring after her. In that prickly girl he saw a shadow of his younger self—hard-headed and alone, hiding all pain.

After dropping him off, Si Chen hugged her knees beneath the black canopy. Night pressed down like a thick quilt, covering sea and sky. In the vast world it felt as though she were utterly alone.

Since meeting “King Yama,” unease had gnawed at her. Someone so talented—why had he fled Yingzhou in the first place? The crashing of the tide, like memories, surged in.

She thought of the past.

Si Chen had been born a slave.

The Ming Sea was black as ink; the sky forever clouded. From her first sight, her world had been dim and lightless. Parentless, branded from birth, she grew up in the slave barracks. Each dawn she dragged her tiny body to haul stones for the floating bridges…

The stone and timber were heavy and coarse. Si Chen’s shoulders and back were often rubbed raw, the flesh torn and bloody. If she tripped while carrying the load, the stone could shatter her ribs. Each day ended with her whole skeleton aching as though disjointed, her skin crusted with thick scabs.

For a full day’s labor, a worker earned twenty coins. She, being just a child, received only ten. Word had it that paying the Yingzhou office two hundred taels of silver would erase a slave brand and buy freedom. Si Chen, unable to count, once asked a bald slave she knew, “How long does it take to save up two hundred taels?”

The bald man replied, “Thirty years.”

She couldn’t grasp how long thirty years was, only that the slaves around her dropped one after another. Some were swept away by waves; some, caught fleeing, were beaten to death and tossed into furnaces as firewood. Thirty years was far too long—few made it to the end.

Could she survive that long? Si Chen didn’t know. She simply worked as hard as she could, stuffing every coin into a pouch sewn from rags. She believed that once she had enough silver, she could leave this lightless Yingzhou.

But the pouch never filled. One day, when she opened it to count, she found most of the coins were gone. Panic gripped her heart like claws. Then she spotted that same bald slave happily squatting by his junk-boat, counting coppers.

During work, he’d always stuck close to her, occasionally helping her adjust the timber on her shoulders. She’d thought he was kind—now she realized he’d stolen from her under the guise of kindness.

Si Chen charged over and snatched the coins from him. The bald man barked, “What’re you doing?”

She said nothing. Holding the coins to the firelight, she saw her faint scratch marks—her secret notches.

“These are mine!” she shouted. “You’ve got no shame, stealing from me!”

The man lunged forward, shoving her down and seizing the coins back. The sheepish face he’d always worn now twisted into a snarl. “What’re you screaming about, brat? You stole my money!”

Si Chen clambered up, blood streaking her face. “They’ve got my marks! They’re mine!”

The man grabbed her by the collar, slapped her across the face until her cheeks swelled red. “Talk again, and I’ll beat your teeth out!”

She bit his hand. Furious, he slammed her to the ground, making her bleed. Then he kicked her, yanked her pouch off her waist, spat on it, and stormed away.

Si Chen lay in the rain, barely breathing. Blood and mud rinsed from her body. She was penniless again. Her thirty-year sentence reset to day one.

For days, she survived on raw fish and rainwater, stomach bloated and twisted. The slave barracks were cramped and filthy. Many had soft bones disease from malnutrition, their teeth falling out, mouths bleeding. In the morning, the overseer’s whip would rouse her back into brutal labor.

Her wounds from the beating hadn’t healed when another accident tore her skin open again. Feverish and weak, the cuts oozed. She was assigned to haul lumber from Qingyu Gao Mountain, up a steep path flanked by cliffs where others had fallen to their deaths.

One day, while struggling to push her loaded wheelbarrow, her vision blurred. The world tilted. Suddenly, arms caught her.

“You okay?” someone asked.

She looked up into the earnest face of a dark-skinned, broad-browed boy.

“You’re just a kid,” he said. “Why are you hauling lumber?”

“Because I need to eat. You gonna feed me?” she snapped, still panting. After what the bald man did, she trusted no one.

The boy hesitated. “Your wounds are rotting. You’ll die like this.” He offered some powdered herbs. “Apply this. It’ll help.”

She slapped it away. “Why would a weasel wish a chicken Happy New Year?”

“I was just being nice,” the boy sighed. “But you’re all thorns. Listen—stop hauling wood. You fall here, and you’re dead. I heard Ruyi Guard’s looking for quick-footed attendants. Try your luck. On her Fenglin ship, at least you’ll eat.”

Si Chen didn’t answer, just turned away.

But she remembered what he said.

On the day of Ruyi Guard’s recruitment, she put on her cleanest shirt and washed her face in seawater before heading to the Fenglin barge.

As expected, crowds gathered. People ascended the plank, only to return in dejection. When it was her turn, her heart pounded.

A girl no older than ten stood on deck, wearing a tiger-eared hat, hands on her hips, eyes as cold as jade. Si Chen hesitated—but saw others instantly kneel and quickly followed.

The girl paced, her silk slippers spotless. “You—poor and dumb. You—greasy and stinky. You—little thief. Out.”

Cries broke out. Some begged on their knees, only to be kicked down the plank with startling strength.

Si Chen froze. The girl stopped in front of her and stared. “Not bad… but cursed.”

“Cursed…?” Si Chen had never heard the term.

“Yes. A harbinger of death. Wherever you go, people die.” The girl turned away. “I don’t need a jinx.”

It was as if Si Chen had fallen into an abyss.

Her world reeled. Was she really cursed? She’d known no kindness, only misfortune. Did that mean her very existence brought death?

She trembled. Others around her scrambled away, screaming:

“Jinx!” “Stay back!”

People ran. Even below deck, chaos broke out. Only one old woman knelt. The girl looked at her.

“You’re not afraid?”

The woman replied, “Even if I am, what good would running do? I’m old, can’t haul stone anymore. Out there I’ll die. A jinx is nothing compared to the world out there.”

The girl laughed. “You’re wise. You’ll serve me. When I tire of people, you can deal with them for me.”

And so Ruyi Guard made her choice.

Si Chen left in drizzle. Each raindrop pierced like a needle. People parted before her in fear. Murmurs rose—

“Jinx!” “Stay away!”

She realized then: not only had she failed, she would always be alone.

The next day, she returned to Qingyu Gao Mountain. The overseer whipped her back. “Out of my sight, jinx!”

She wasn’t even allowed to work. Even beggars refused to speak to her.

No one gave her even the filthiest job. She tried talking to others—they turned away. She had nowhere to sleep.

Like being cast into the lowest hell, she wandered in the pouring rain.

The world vast and cold—before her, only darkness.