Chapter 47: Midnight Terror

Even so, Shaoqiu still did not dare to pull open the door. Instead, he simply sat blankly before the table, staring at the already tattered book. Opening the door randomly was out of the question, as rumors had it that bandits were roaming about. If something went wrong, it was a matter of life and death—who wouldn't be afraid?

After a long while, the knocking stopped. Stranded here in the quiet room once again, he was accompanied only by his own slender shadow.

Just as he was drowning in this listless boredom, someone outside began to speak. The moment he heard the voice, Shaoqiu knew who it belonged to. Wasn't this Aunt Hua? What on earth could bring her out here at this hour?

Aunt Hua was talking to her daughter, Xiaohua, using a tone of reproach. Hearing this, Shaoqiu's mood lifted immensely. At that instant, he truly wished to rush outside and have a pleasant, leisurely chat with them, yet for some reason he felt reluctant to move. Perhaps the heavens simply did not allow him to step outside?

When Xiaohua walked past the door of Shaoqiu's hut, for some unknown reason, her steps came to a halt. She just stood right outside his door and smiled. Hearing that laughter, Shaoqiu felt as though his heart was blooming with joy. It had been far too long since a woman's laughter had graced his ears, and upon hearing it, the world suddenly seemed wonderfully beautiful.

Nor was that all. Xiaohua then appeared to relieve herself right outside his door. Hearing the sound, Shaoqiu lost all inclination to read. Pricking up his ears, he abandoned any thought of the book, intent only on listening to that delightful sound. However, Xiaohua did not enter the room; after relieving herself out there, she continued chatting with her mother as they walked away.

"What sort of business is this?" Shaoqiu thought to himself, though it was merely a passing thought—what else could he do?

After Xiaohua and her mother departed, absolute silence descended once more upon the exterior of Shaoqiu's hut, save for the wind rustling a solitary tree leaf before blowing it off to some unknown destination. Meanwhile, the heavy snow continued to fall unceasingly. The night in this desolate village felt bitterly cold, yet despite the freezing temperature, Shaoqiu had no fire to warm himself. He could only sit in his room, letting the wind whistle through the broken window and tease his frail body.

Suddenly, however, another sound emerged from outside. It was a low noise, yet felt with absolute distinctness. Someone was undoubtedly standing right outside his door, for the entire room instantly grew chilled with a gloomy aura. A wave of unease washed over him. If he didn't open the door now, what if the person out there was a ruffian? Wouldn't sleeping in this house be entirely unsafe?

He pulled open the door. Sure enough, a man was standing outside—none other than the legendary bandit. Yet for some reason, the villagers of this desolate place did not regard him as a common bandit; eloquent folks viewed him as a chivalrous hero of the wasteland, and consequently, many held him in high esteem, Shaoqiu included.

True, he had killed people, but he only killed scoundrels—wasn't that ridding the people of a menace? Yet the moment Shaoqiu laid eyes on this man, for reasons unknown, his mood soured, and he no longer dared to let his mind wander lewdly about women. After all, rumor had it that this bandit had earned his famed status as a chivalrous hero of the wasteland precisely by executing a man who had bullied a woman. Still, upon beholding this hero, Shaoqiu felt far from at ease. He dared not speak to him, nor dared he linger in his presence, so he could only stare from a distance before hastily shutting the door after a single glance.

The wind outside was terribly cold, mixed with snow, and the sound of the eastern-flowing river drifted over continuously, echoing through the dilapidated shack and rendering the already lifeless dwelling even more desolate.

Even with the door bolted, however, Shaoqiu remained anxious: had that man outside left yet? It would be best if he had, but if he hadn't, what could Shaoqiu possibly do to him?

"Open the door!" The hero began pounding on the door. It seemed that with the heavy snow offering nowhere to go, he intended to seek shelter and spend the night in Shaoqiu's hut.

Shaoqiu did not dare refuse to open the door, so he had no choice but to pull it open. The bandit immediately forced his way in amidst a gust of wind, brushed the snowflakes from his shoulders, and sat down to smoke in silence. In an instant, the room was filled with choking smoke, sending the already ailing Shaoqiu into a fit of coughing.

The bandit sat quietly to one side, looking as though he were deep in thought. He neither looked at Shaoqiu nor spoke to him, merely smoking incessantly. Presently, he drew a blade from behind his back and began twirling it in his hands, seemingly contemplating killing someone, though he apparently hadn't decided on a victim yet.

As for reading his book, that was undoubtedly out of the question for Shaoqiu now. Yet he was forced to stay put, as the bandit would certainly not permit him to leave—fearing that if he ran off to report the authorities, things would turn ugly. The bandit was well aware of this.

Outside, the heavy snow continued to fall without letup. In the desolate village, all sounds were swallowed up, save for the distant, lonely, and mournful bark of a dog drifting in from afar. Someone hurried past on the road, their footsteps rushed. They likely never imagined that such perilous drama was unfolding inside this dilapidated shack; leaving behind the sound of crunching snow, they vanished into the vast, hazy night.

After that person passed, almost complete silence fell once more outside the ruined hut. The soft rustle of falling snow, heard in the dead of night, carried a certain poetic quality. Yet of what use was that? Shaoqiu was in no mood to appreciate it. With his life hanging in the balance, who could possibly possess such elegant leisure?

The bandit suddenly stood up, strode over to Shaoqiu, and fixed him with a ferocious glare, as if he intended to swallow Shaoqiu alive with his eyes alone. Faltering beneath that terrifying gaze, Shaoqiu dared not speak, nor did he dare hold eye contact for long, fearing that pushing the bandit too far would endanger his precious life.

"Reading?" the bandit asked softly.

"Yes," Shaoqiu replied, having little choice.

"Would you mind lending me that book?" the bandit demanded in a tone that brooked no refusal.

"Read whatever you like," Shaoqiu said.

The bandit stayed in Shaoqiu's room for a long time, reading the book. By now the night was growing late, and Shaoqiu was yawning repeatedly; if he didn't get some sleep soon, he simply wouldn't be able to endure it.

"Believe it or not, I'll slash you with this blade," the bandit remarked.

"I believe it," Shaoqiu answered, feeling a profound sense of despair. It seemed tonight might very well be his time to die.

At that, the bandit rested the blade against Shaoqiu's neck. Holding the book, Shaoqiu naturally could no longer read it, and facing this terrifying ruffian, he had no earthly idea what to do.

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Someone appeared to be standing outside, wishing to enter—did they want to come in and watch the commotion as well? But Shaoqiu did not open the door; he simply stayed put, pretending to know nothing as he faced the blade-wielding criminal. Plunged into total despair, he only wondered precisely when his end would come.

The door was not particularly sturdy. After a few knocks from the person outside, it swung open on its own. The person who stepped inside was none other than Aunt Gu. Upon witnessing the scene, she realized she shouldn't have entered and tried to slip away. But the bandit was quick-handed; knowing that letting Aunt Gu escape would spell his own doom, he lunged forward, grabbed her, and trapped her so she could not possibly get away.

Next, the bandit shut the door, leaving three people confined within the dilapidated room. Catching sight of Aunt Gu, the bandit's eyes lit up with predatory greed, as though he hadn't touched a woman in ages. Seeing the blade pressed against Shaoqiu's neck, Aunt Gu burst into tears, but she was powerless to help and could only stare helplessly. What else could she do?

The bandit lowered his knife, sat back down, and resumed reading his book, while forbidding Aunt Gu to leave on pain of being flayed alive. Having issued this threat, he settled back into silence, smoking his pipe with one hand while turning the pages with the other.

"You two commit shameful acts all the time! I want to watch," the bandit said, breaking into a chuckle as he leaned back.

Shaoqiu understood what was expected. His thoughts drifted to Xiaohua, whose lovely face emerged so delicately in his mind that Shaoqiu felt nearly intoxicated. At that exact moment, he heard Xiaohua and her mother passing right outside the door of the ruined hut. As they walked by, Xiaohua babbled on with spoiled, coquettish remarks, while her mother offered earnest and grave admonishments.

"Hurry up," the bandit commanded, casting a sidelong glance at them.

Compelled by helplessness, Aunt Gu began to lower her trousers. Right at that moment, countless torches flared up outside, instantly turning the desolate village as bright as day. Seized by panic, the bandit bolted for the door, not daring to linger in the ruined hut a moment longer.

Seeing the bandit flee, Aunt Gu pulled up her trousers and looked at Shaoqiu, seemingly seeking his opinion on whether they should continue. Shaoqiu, too terrified to stay in the house, bolted outside and merged with the crowd, feeling as though he would never dare set foot inside his own room again. Seeing Shaoqiu leave, Aunt Gu likewise dared not stay a moment longer. She hurried out and headed toward her own home.

In the desolate village, silence reigned once more. Brandishing their weapons, the villagers pursued the fleeing bandit, who, not daring to remain in the village a second longer, fled desperately into the shelter of the night.

Shaoqiu returned to his room, switched on the light, and resumed reading his book.

Outside, Xiaohua's voice drifted in once again. She cast a glance toward Shaoqiu's direction, seemingly checking to ensure he was safe. Upon seeing that Shaoqiu was safe and sound, she skipped away happily.