Chapter Fourteen: The Card of Kindness

“Brother Fang~”

A timid voice called out, pulling Fang Xiao from his deep focus on practicing boxing. He looked up and saw Sophora, carrying a bamboo basket, standing at the entrance of the Daoist temple.

“Sophora, little sister!”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Fang Xiao waved in greeting. “It’s you delivering food again today?”

“Yes,” Sophora replied shyly, smiling as she walked over and handed the basket to him. She explained softly, “Mother went to the county to buy medicine for Grandma, so she asked me to bring vegetable buns.”

With that, the young girl lifted the linen cloth covering the basket, revealing it was filled with plump, steaming buns. After vigorous training, Fang Xiao was ravenous. Without hesitation, he reached for one, devouring it in a few quick bites.

“Not bad,” he praised. “Very tasty.”

The vegetable buns were made from white flour mixed with wild greens, freshly steamed and still warm, soft to the touch and fragrant. Fang Xiao grabbed another. Noticing the little girl watching him with eager eyes, he assumed she wanted one too.

“Have some yourself,” he said.

But Sophora shook her head vigorously, like a little rattle. “Brother Fang, I’ve already eaten!”

Fang Xiao’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Wait here.”

He rummaged through his military satchel and pulled out a White Rabbit milk candy, peeling off the wrapper and offering it to her. A faint blush appeared on Sophora’s cheeks, a hint of delicate charm reminiscent of Lady Qin. She pressed her lips together, unable to resist the temptation of the sweet. Obediently, she opened her mouth and gently bit into the candy.

“Let’s eat over there,” Fang Xiao suggested, inviting her to sit under the shade of a nearby tree. “Finish before you go home, so your sister won’t snatch it away.”

Sophora couldn’t help but smile. The summer cicadas sang, a gentle breeze drifted by, and time seemed tranquil in the Little Jing Mountain Daoist Temple.

Having polished off half the basket of vegetable buns, Fang Xiao unscrewed the canteen hanging from his satchel and took a refreshing sip of mountain spring water. His heart was filled with contentment.

He glanced at the well-behaved girl beside him and gave her another milk candy.

Fang Xiao’s military satchel was regarded as a treasure by Daoist Pang. Anything he brought—from lunchboxes filled with buns, dumplings, and braised pork, to cigarettes, matches, and White Rabbit candies—would reappear, refreshed, the next day after use.

But the cash and ration coupons he kept in the bag, used for barter, had been depleted days ago, not a single note remained. Through experimentation, Fang Xiao discovered that the silver and copper coins borrowed from Daoist Pang, once placed in the satchel, couldn’t substitute for cash or ration coupons. Not even gold leaves worked!

However, the satchel’s function hadn’t failed. Daoist Pang suggested Fang Xiao put the monster crystals he’d obtained from slaying little grass creatures into the bag—and it worked! Not only that, Fang Xiao found he could control the satchel’s “refresh” ability. Items he no longer wanted, like buns he’d grown tired of, would not appear the next day. But two White Rabbit milk candies a day—he’d never tire of those.

“No, I don’t want any more,” Sophora protested, flustered as Fang Xiao offered her another candy. “Brother, you should eat it!”

Candy was a precious treat. Even malt candies, sold by peddlers and full of impurities, were rare delights she’d hardly tasted. She knew their value well. Two candies were more than enough for her. Sophora didn’t want Fang Xiao to think she was greedy, and most importantly, if her mother found out, she’d surely be punished—her sister was a notorious tattletale!

Fang Xiao, oblivious to her worries, pushed the candy into her hand. “I have plenty. Take it, just hide it so your sister doesn’t see.” He advised, “You’re still little; if your sister bullies you, just avoid her. When you grow up, you won’t have to be afraid!”

He assumed she was refusing because she feared her sister would snatch it away again. What a wicked sister!

Sophora blushed, lowered her head, and stole a glance at Fang Xiao. After a few days apart, she noticed he had grown taller and stronger.

“Thank you, brother,” she said shyly, clutching the candy in her palm. “I—I’m thirteen this year.”

Thirteen?

Fang Xiao was shocked. Sophora was so small and thin, she looked no older than eight or nine, ten at most. He never imagined she was already thirteen. A surge of sympathy and pity flooded him. He guessed she must often go hungry, suffering from chronic malnutrition.

In fact, several of Fang Xiao’s female classmates had similar circumstances, but none as extreme as Sophora.

“Brother Fang, I have to go back now,” Sophora said.

“Wait!” Fang Xiao grabbed his satchel and hurried to the kitchen. He pulled out an aluminum lunchbox, poured the half box of braised pork he’d saved from lunch into a bowl, and brought it out.

“Take this meat with you,” he said, placing the bowl alongside the vegetable buns in the bamboo basket.

Sophora hurriedly refused. “No, I don’t want it!”

But she was no match for Fang Xiao’s persistence. In the end, she obediently carried the bamboo basket and set off for home.

Fang Xiao accompanied her down the mountain. As they parted, Sophora blinked her big eyes and whispered, “Brother Fang, you’re a good person.”

Fang Xiao scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.

Having received a “good person card,” Fang Xiao watched the little girl enter the village before turning back to the Daoist temple.

He hadn’t expected that, as the sun was about to set, another visitor would arrive.

“Master Pang, is the temple master here?”

The newcomer was an elderly man in homespun clothes, his face deeply wrinkled and sorrowful, trembling as he leaned on a wooden staff.

Fang Xiao, preparing a bath in the kitchen, hurried out when he heard the voice. “Grandpa, are you looking for the Daoist master?”

“He’s not here,” Fang Xiao explained. “He’s gone out on business and won’t be back for some time.”

During Fang Xiao’s stay at the Little Jing Mountain Daoist Temple, aside from Lady Qin and Sophora’s family, he hadn’t seen anyone else. The Zhen family village below was sizable, with many farmers working in the fields nearby, yet none came to the temple to offer incense or pray. The temple’s incense offerings were truly pitiful.

So encountering this unfamiliar old man piqued Fang Xiao’s curiosity.

“The temple master isn’t here?” The old man paused, the lines of his face deepening, his sorrow growing heavier. “What should I do? What should I do?”

He sighed mournfully, his lips trembling, looking as if he might collapse from despair.

Fang Xiao couldn’t help but ask again, “Grandpa, what happened?”