Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Daoist
Ling Jin Sui had barely stepped away when something tugged her sleeve.
She looked down.
The man’s lashes trembled.
His right hand—strong as iron—had clamped around her torn sleeve and wouldn’t let go.
Grandpa Ling’s voice came from outside the reeds, urgent and low.
“Hurry! The hoofbeats are close.”
Ling Jin Sui tried to pull free.
Once.
Twice.
No use.
Her heart went hard.
She tore the remaining half sleeve clean off at the shoulder.
Then she leaned close and spoke quietly—not unkind.
“Take care.”
And because in front of Grandpa Ling, if she seemed too cold compared to the original owner, suspicion would bloom, she didn’t add anything more.
She didn’t see it—how the moment she slipped out of the reeds, the man’s eyes opened a thin slit.
In his right hand he held the half sleeve.
In his left, a soft, sticky pastry and the weight of her words.
Believe in yourself.
You’ll live.
As Ling Jin Sui and Grandpa Ling crept along the reed belt under the riverbank, the pursuing constables reached the area.
By cruel chance, they arrived just as sunrise warmed the water and a flock of wild ducks burst from the reeds.
The constables took it as proof.
If someone were hiding, the ducks would have gone wild long ago.
They mounted up and rode on along the official road.
When the hoofbeats faded, Ling Jin Sui and Grandpa Ling finally released their breath.
Luck stayed mixed.
They walked the riverbank for a long time and didn’t see a single boat.
But in the reeds Ling Jin Sui found wild duck eggs.
They roasted them and ate until their stomachs stopped clawing.
As they walked, she told Grandpa Ling what had happened after she fled Jiang family village.
When she finished, she sighed, blunt as a knife.
“Why is it that this world has no good people?”
Grandpa Ling’s eyes were tired.
“These years haven’t been peaceful. Bandits roam even this close to towns. Merchants and constables collude to squeeze the common folk.”
“Taxes and levies grow heavier. Look around—it’s spring plowing season, but there aren’t many farmers in the fields. You see abandoned land everywhere.”
He lifted his chin toward the south.
“We avoid big prefecture cities. We reach Jiang Nan as fast as we can.”
A small fishing boat appeared on the river.
Both of them dropped low into the reeds.
Grandpa Ling peeked. Only one old fisherman sat aboard, casting a net.
He murmured to Ling Jin Sui, “Stay hidden. I’ll go ask the way.”
He straightened his robe, adjusted his posture, and stepped out.
Ling Jin Sui kept her eyes on Grandpa Ling’s back—and pressed her palm.
Heat.
Light.
The laboratory opened.
This time she didn’t run straight for supplies.
She looked around and tested the rules.
The doors and windows wouldn’t open. The space was sealed.
But the items she had taken before—the medicine, the water, the energy bars—were all back in their places, as if untouched.
Joy hit so hard it stole her breath.
She drank a full bottle of water without guilt, then chose an ordinary thermos cup and wrapped it in a plastic sleeve.
From now on, she would carry water in that.
She ate more energy bars and cursed herself for not stocking snacks earlier.
Remembering her lab assistant’s love of junk food, she rummaged the break room and found a whole box: instant noodles, chocolate, and more.
Then she found something even better.
In the cleaning room, among the supplies, sat groceries the cleaning auntie must have bought before work to take home later: potatoes, sweet potatoes, fresh peanuts still caked with dirt, two tomatoes, and a cabbage.
No meat.
But Ling Jin Sui wasn’t thrilled just because she could eat vegetables.
She was thrilled because these could become seeds.
Once she settled the original owner’s obsession and could finally stop running, she and Grandpa Ling could plant crops and live.
To test the restoration, she took one potato from the six.
She was thinking of finding a restroom for a quick wash when a rainbow ring flashed before her eyes.
She blinked—
And she was back in the reeds, belly-down, staring at Grandpa Ling’s retreating back.
In one hand was the thermos cup.
In the other, a dirt-caked potato.
Ling Jin Sui counted silently.
Ten minutes.
At most.
She tried pressing her palm again.
No heat came this time—only the sting of her own skin.
So there was a limit.
She didn’t panic.
She could test later.
Time was on her side, if she lived long enough.
And the biggest discovery still stood: the laboratory replenished its own supplies.
In this era, infection-fighting medicine was worth more than gold.
Grandpa Ling returned a moment later with a bundle of old clothes that stank faintly of fish.
“Change,” he told her. “Dress as a boy. When we reach town, I’ll buy you Daoist novice clothes.”
Ling Jin Sui blinked.
Grandpa Ling’s acceptance came so easily it almost startled her.
She’d been planning it, but she thought she would need to persuade him.
She didn’t fuss.
She slipped into the reeds, stripped off her outer robe, and tore Madam Zheng’s old clothing into strips to bind her chest over her inner shirt.
Then she pulled on the coarse brown men’s outfit and tied her hair into a high ponytail.
Grandpa Ling had already started a small fire.
He roasted the potato and two fish, which he said he’d bought from the fisherman.
He handed Ling Jin Sui a pinch of plant ash.
“Smear your face and neck. Thicken your brows. Don’t stare wide-eyed at people. Drop your voice rough. Stand behind me when we meet others. That’ll fool most eyes.”
Ling Jin Sui smiled.
“Grandpa really knows the road.”
Grandpa Ling’s pride returned, bright as sunlight.
“Of course. Before I met your grandmother, I roamed the world for years.”
Ling Jin Sui gave him another pill and made him rub medicine on his wounds.
They ate roasted fish and potato, and for the first time in days, their bodies stopped shaking from hunger.
Grandpa Ling took a bite of potato and looked startled.
“I thought this was kudzu root. This tastes far better. Where did you get it?”
Ling Jin Sui lied without blinking.
“Found it in the reeds. Only one. The fisherman must’ve dropped it.”
When they finished eating, she finally asked the question that had been burning in her throat.
“Grandpa… do you know what my father was convicted of?”
Grandpa Ling’s expression collapsed into grief.
A white-haired man burying his only son carried a pain so sharp it felt wrong to look at directly.
He drew a breath that trembled.
“Once we find your mother and brother, we’ll ask them.”
So even Grandpa Ling didn’t know the truth.
Which meant there was more she had to do.
What the little miss clung to was family.
They needed to find the mother and the brother.
After resting, they erased their traces in the reeds and walked toward the town.
Along the road, farmers looked yellow-faced and thin, worry carved into their skin. Their clothes hung in rags.
An old Daoist and a young Daoist novice, both dusty and travel-worn, drew a few glances but no words.