allonlinenovel Chapter 275 Chang'an's Rotten Alley: The Leek Totem in Flesh and Blood
Chapter 275 Chang'an's Rotten Alley: The Leek Totem in Flesh and Blood
That day, Song Daqin and a coachman from Chang'an were drunk in a tavern: "Brother, in the West Market of Chang'an, there's a mute among the beggars, but he doesn't quite look like the boy in your portrait..."
The autumn rain tore the twilight into pieces, but it couldn't dampen Song Daqin's eagerness to set off for Chang'an immediately. With a cold, hard steamed bun in his pocket, Song Daqin squeezed onto a grain cart overnight. As he stepped onto Zhuque Street, the stench of rotting flesh from the autumn rain assaulted his senses. He trudged through puddles of vegetable leaves and filth, weaving through the shacks.
Finally, he saw the huddled figure on the tattered mat in the corner.
He trudged through the dark red grime that had congealed on the street, his hand gripping the missing person poster with sweat. The steamed bun remained untouched, crumbling into crumbs, a reminder of the life-saving rations his younger brother, Erjiu, had clutched tightly in his palm during that famine, refusing to swallow. ... The surrounding stench, mingled with the smell of rancid water, lingered in this area—the beggars' quarters. Daqin's wooden clogs, dragging along rotting vegetable leaves, stumbled into the puddles...
Suddenly, the sound of chains rattling came from the pile of tattered mats.
Song Daqin's clogs slipped on the moss, and he fell to his knees on the damp stone slab. The musty smell mixed with a foul stench hit him. Daqin saw a huddled figure, the iron ring around his neck gleaming coldly, dark red pus dripping from the chain onto the moldy straw mat. He was separated from his younger brother, a bright-eyed child in the painting in his arms, by a distance between life and death.
"Erjiu?" Daqin's throat felt like it was being choked by a razor blade, his voice breaking into a bloody sob and a rusty lament... The emaciated body tensed abruptly, the left eye, covered by a blood-stained cloth, turned towards the source of the sound, the exposed right eye as cloudy as a dry well filled with silt. As Daqin lunged forward, he knocked over a broken ceramic bowl, splashing swill onto his younger brother's frostbitten instep. He trembled as he grabbed the wrist, thin as a withered branch—when the sleeve slipped down, the scar resembling a leek leaf was revealed, the last concern their father had left them before his death. On Erjiu's wounded scar, their father had tattooed an orchid-like pattern, which now gleamed bluish-white in the rain.
Daqin's tears mingled with the rain, falling onto her younger brother's scar, and Song Erjiu suddenly convulsed violently. In the deep grooves carved by the iron rings, wriggling maggots were devouring the festering flesh, while the scar, still warm from her body, stubbornly shone with the faint light of blood in this darkness.
Song Erjiu's hair was covered with scabs of blood, and his left eye was covered with a strip of cloth soaked in pus and blood. His once delicate face was now covered with centipede-like scars, and his left ear was also mutilated, with charred scabs remaining. An iron ring around his neck was embedded in his flesh, and the festering wound oozed foul-smelling pus. The bloodstains from the hemp rope intertwined with the old scars.
At first, Daqin didn't recognize her younger brother. Although he was thin, he had grown taller and thinner. Daqin rushed over regardless of the smell, rolled up her brother's sleeve, and saw the scar, which was tattooed with an orchid in the shape of a chive leaf!
"Erjiu? Erjiu! It's me, your older brother!" Song Daqin cried and shook him, his coarse cloth clothes rubbing against the mud around him.
The deaf-mute younger brother convulsed violently, his empty right eye darting around in terror. His hunched body had long since adapted to being curled up for so long. But when Daqin rolled up her sleeve to show Erjiu the scars on her arm, covered with the shape of celery leaves, that familiar shape seemed to awaken a memory. Erjiu began to sob, and turbid tears mixed with pus rolled down onto Daqin's heart...
At this moment, five or six burly men wearing turbans surrounded him, the glint of short blades reflecting the scarred man's sinister grin: "This mute cripple is our West Market's money tree." Song Daqin clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He knew all too well that he was nothing more than an ant-like yamen runner in Luoyang, not even qualified to wear official robes. How could he possibly contend with these local bullies—who had more or less connections with the Jingzhao Prefecture?
As the drums sounded, the Imperial Guards rode in. The leader glanced at the "team" engaged in a brawl, then lazily cracked his whip: "We're all just trying to make a living, don't disturb the peace of the market!"
Song Daqin's back was pressed against the damp rammed earth wall, her younger brother shivering in her arms. His ribs were clearly visible under his thin linen shirt, and his swollen ankles still bore the bruises of iron chains.
When the opponent's short blade sliced through her sleeve for the third time, Daqin was already struggling to defend herself. The opponent's fists rained down on her, and Daqin closed her eyes, bracing herself for the pain, when she heard a wolf-like howl pierce the air...