Chapter 1#
No. 1 chapter#
He was a handsome man.
A genuinely handsome man with an unremarkable aesthetic sense.
Bai Wuyou crouched on a straw mat, tilting his head back to look up at the long-haired man in white robes standing before his stall.
Among the surrounding crowd of men—old and young alike, all with their hair tied into twin buns—this long-haired, brown-haired man before him stood out like the only great tree on a hundred li of barren wasteland, verdant and striking.
Not only was he exceptionally handsome, his eyes were also quite distinctive—scarlet pupils marked with three comma-shaped tomoe, like he was wearing colored contacts. How fashionable!
Even having seen him several times before, Bai Wuyou still felt his eyes had been blessed.
He lifted his smile, his gaze landing on the two plump fish the man carried. They weren’t quite dead yet, tails thrashing this way and that—they looked delicious.
It had rained last night, leaving the market path even muddier. The man’s white robes would normally be the most prone to dirt, yet there wasn’t a single speck of mud on them—clearly not an ordinary person.
“Fish and wolf pelt. For salt.” The man, who seemed taciturn at the best of times, spoke in brief terms.
“You have a wolf pelt?” Bai Wuyou’s eyes lit up.
“Mm. Already treated.”
Bai Wuyou’s eyes gleamed even brighter.
Last time this customer came by, he’d casually mentioned wanting a good pelt to make boots with, and unexpectedly, the man had brought one today.
The weather was getting colder by the day. He wouldn’t survive winter in these straw sandals—if his toes froze off, that would be the end of him.
Unfortunately, the only pelts available in this market were from small beasts, poorly processed and incomplete to boot. Made into boots, they’d look ragged with all the patching.
This man had even hunted a wild boar, and killed it with a single strike. Whatever wolf pelt he brought would surely be far better than the shabby scraps Wuyou could cobble together. Plus, it being already treated saved him the tanning cost.
He had no idea how to tan leather himself, so he’d naturally have to pay someone else to do it.
In this era, where even slavery was still in its infancy, everything was traded barter-style. Bai Wuyou’s stall sold salt and some simple ointments for wounds. His salt was better than what other stalls offered, but pricier—his wound salves, conversely, had more market appeal.
This customer, who’d visited several times, had essentially bought up all of his salt.
But business always meant inspecting the goods first. He took the fish and the empty clay pot from the man’s hands, set them down on his stall, and looked at his now-empty hands. “And the pelt?”
“It’s with me.” A childish voice spoke up.
From behind the customer stepped a boy and a girl, both with black hair. They looked like twins, no more than five or six years old, their handsome little faces held taut like jade carvings devoid of warmth.
In both bearing and features, they strongly resembled the customer.
The boy held a folded wolf pelt in his arms, while the girl clutched a bundle to her chest.
The wolf pelt wasn’t handed over. Instead, the girl untied the bundle, revealing a pair of already-made leather boots inside.
Customer: “You can pick one.”
Given the choice, Bai Wuyou naturally picked the finished boots. He took them and did a quick comparison—the size was right. After asking permission, he took off his straw sandals, wrapped his feet in a clean piece of white cloth, and slipped on the boots.
He tried a few steps. The fit was perfect.
He wasn’t shameless enough to think this had been made specially for him—he assumed the man had made them in advance, then found he had no use for them or felt trading them away was more worthwhile.
It was obvious Bai Wuyou loved these boots. His already bright eyes seemed to glow as he was reluctant to take them off, yet couldn’t help lamenting, “If only they were a bit bigger. My feet are still growing.”
Winter boots didn’t need to fit perfectly—too big and you could stuff something inside, but too small was a problem. Squeezing into them would be uncomfortable and deform your feet.
It was just a casual complaint; he hadn’t expected the man to take it seriously.
“Outgrow them, and I’ll trade you new ones.”
Bai Wuyou removed the boots, smiling. “Then I’ll have to work hard, and strive to get a new pair every year. I’ll take these boots, but I doubt my salt is enough.”
Customer: “You can make up the difference next time.”
Bai Wuyou breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he didn’t have to pay it all at once—his new batch of salt wasn’t ready yet anyway. “Alright. Convenient timing—I was planning to pack up after tomorrow’s last market day and head to the next town. You buying up all my salt saves me the trouble.”
There were only a few scattered villages nearby, and even the market was tiny. The best place he could rent was a thatched hut that couldn’t withstand ice and snow.
He’d been planning to trade for more supplies for the road anyway.
Houses in the city should be better at keeping out the cold.
As he spoke, he picked up the man’s empty clay pot and began pouring his stall’s salt into it, chatting as he did: “Are these your kids? They look just like you. You don’t seem much older than me, but your kids are already this big.”
The customer glanced at the two children and said, “Twenty-one. You?”
“Sixteen.” Already a legal adult by this era’s standards.
Those quick about it would already have kids old enough to run errands.
The customer fell silent, taking the filled pot from Bai Wuyou and holding it in his hand. He stood frozen in front of the stall, and Bai Wuyou looked at him curiously.
Didn’t he always leave as soon as the trade was done?
The man stood there for a long while. When their eyes met, the tomoe in his pupils trembled faintly, as if deep in thought.
“Customer?” Being stared at so directly made Bai Wuyou feel a bit awkward, so he spoke up.
“Indra.” The customer said. “And you?”
Bai Wuyou blinked, slow on the uptake. “Bai Wuyou. Just call me Wuyou.”
“Bai is your surname?”
Bai Wuyou smiled again. “Commoners don’t have surnames. Anyway, Wuyou rolls off the tongue easier than Bai Wuyou.”
Indra nodded, then said, “These are Sheye and Nala.” He pointed at the two children. “Sheye is the older sister.”
Bai Wuyou: …
He understood instantly.
He hurriedly fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a crudely made little pouch and shaking out two pieces of candy, holding them out.
Sheye and Nala didn’t take them. Instead, they looked up at Indra, and only after receiving his silent approval did they each take one.
Their hands were fast, and the pain in Bai Wuyou’s eyes was almost overflowing. If they’d been any slower, the candy probably would have been confiscated.
After they took them, Bai Wuyou popped one into his own mouth to steady his nerves.
The candy wasn’t pure—it had sweetness but also a faint bitterness. He’d barely tasted it when he felt a scorching gaze that nearly burned through the top of his head.
He looked over cautiously. Indra was staring at him intensely, the tomoe in his eyes seeming to quiver even more noticeably.
Feeling disheartened, Bai Wuyou stood up, fished another piece of candy from his pouch, and offered it to him. Indra didn’t stand on ceremony either, popping it straight into his mouth.
That wasn’t candy he’d eaten—it was Bai Wuyou’s heart and liver.
He’d inexplicably ended up in this backward era, had to learn even the language from scratch, and finding something sweet to eat wasn’t easy. The few pieces of candy in his pouch had been traded for just the day before yesterday. He’d given away three pieces in one go, and his pouch was nearly flat.
Fortunately, Indra wasn’t actually there to take advantage of him. He said, “The candy I have at home is sweeter. And there’s plenty.”
Bai Wuyou let out a listless “oh.”
What did it matter if the customer had it at home? It wasn’t like he’d get to eat it.
Indra continued. “There’s plenty of food and supplies too.”
Bai Wuyou looked at the clothes the man was wearing—the fabric looked exceptionally soft—and then at the clothes of Sheye and Nala.
The two children were even dressed in deep blue. Dyed clothing was far more expensive than plain white.
Indra had traded for salt several times, each time in amounts enough for a family of five to last a whole year. Cloth was also a hard currency at the market, and the fabric of these three’s outfits was clearly not something an ordinary family could afford.
So Bai Wuyou didn’t doubt him—he was just even more sullen, the corners of his mouth drooping as he tried to figure out how to send off this man who was flaunting his wealth in front of him.
Even if he was a handsome man good for the eyes, it couldn’t make up for his cold, desolate little heart.
You can know a person’s face but not their heart—he never would have guessed Indra was the type to show off his riches.
If his ability hadn’t acted up again, he wouldn’t have been stuck in this bone-bare, poverty-stricken era living such a miserable life, with bed boards hard enough to bruise his bones.
How easy did he have it, trading his goods for food and drink? At sixteen, he was still at an age where he could grow. If he didn’t work hard, he’d worry about never getting taller.
Indra saw he wasn’t paying attention, frowned slightly, and a hint of inner conflict flickered in his eyes. He went on. “Sheye and Nala aren’t my biological children. I’m not married yet.”
Bai Wuyou let out a confused “huh,” glancing at Indra, then at the two children.
The children’s eyes were especially clear, their large black pupils glossy like glass beads as they both looked up at Indra, mouths slightly open.
Sheye was the first to snap out of it. “That’s right, Uncle.”
Indra glanced at her. “Call me Father.”
Sheye: “Yes, Father.”
Nala quietly took two steps back, hiding his cold little face behind his sister, and parrot-fashion also called out “Father” in a small voice.
Bai Wuyou: ???
He had no idea what these three were playing at, then heard Indra say again, “There are five more at home. There should be more in the future… None of them are my biological children.”
Bai Wuyou gave an “oh.” Thinking about how chaotic the world was these days, these children might be the kids of Indra’s siblings, or other clan members.
Could it be that they’d been entrusted to him? But what did “there should be more” mean?
And anyway… what did it have to do with him?
In fact, it probably did have something to do with him.
Indra, whose chin had always been held high, lowered his head for the first time, looking at Bai Wuyou, who was a good half-head shorter than him, and said, “So, will you come home with me?”
As he spoke, his lips pressed tight, then relaxed again. “The world is too chaotic, unsafe. I’m strong. I can protect you.”
The look and tone he said this with was as earnest as if he were swearing an oath on his life.
Another world, Yokohama.
“Of course they’re not his biological kids—he’s a man, he obviously can’t give birth himself!” A young man reeking of alcohol clutched a bottle of red wine, one arm slung around the shoulder of the person beside him, waving the bottle around as he ground his teeth. “Indra is a scumbag, a bastard. I curse him to impotence, so he can’t trick anyone else!”
With that, he tilted his head back and took a big gulp. Seeing that the person in his arms was just staring at him with wide eyes, Bai Wuyou hiccupped and asked, puzzled, “Whatcha looking at me for, buddy? Not gonna drink?”
The buddy tapped the brim of his hat with a gloved finger and said in a low voice, “Is that wine you’re holding any good?”
Bai Wuyou: “It’s alright, I guess. First time drinking, to be honest—doesn’t taste as good as juice.”
“Is that so…” The buddy’s voice got even lower. “That bottle of ‘alright’ wine is something I brought myself. I just opened it, and you snatched it before I got a single sip.”
Bai Wuyou: …
Slow on the uptake, he looked at the now-less-than-half-full bottle of red wine and handed it over. The buddy actually took it, but he didn’t drink. Instead he just stared at him darkly.
Right on cue, the men in suits at the two tables behind him also stood up, their gazes at Bai Wuyou enough to burn a few holes through his body.
Seeing the murderous aura thickening, the customers and the bartender had long since crouched down, packing the toilets and under the tables.
Bai Wuyou, as though completely oblivious to the atmosphere, stared at the buddy for a long while, then tears burst from his eyes as he sobbed, “Why are you so mean? I’m already so miserable, and you’re being mean to me on top of it. If only Indra were here.”
The corner of the buddy’s mouth twitched. “Didn’t you just say he’s a scumbag? Now you want him to come find you?”
Bai Wuyou shook his head in horror, his hands waving so fast they left afterimages. “No way! I don’t chew my cud! He’s too terrifying—don’t jinx me!”
The buddy fixed him with a look for a moment, then eventually sighed, muttering “bad luck” under his breath as he raised his hand to signal his men to sit down. “Forget it. I won’t argue with a drunk. You can go.”
Bai Wuyou made an “oh” sound but didn’t leave. Instead, he stared at the bottle in the buddy’s hand, smacking his lips. “How much do I owe you? Might as well let me finish the rest.”
The veins on the buddy’s forehead finally couldn’t hold back, throbbing crazily as he ground out, word by word, “Do you think I’m short on your measly money?! This is a wine I’ve been aging for years!”
And you’re still bringing it up! What’s there to bring up!
If this guy weren’t so pathetic, duped body and soul by some scumbag, he’d have long since pressed this kid into the floor tiles!