The Four-Sided Table of Human Bustle - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I was driving my ox cart up the mountain to chop firewood when I ran into an extraordinarily handsome monster at the foot of the hill.

He was dressed all in red, most of his body soaked through with blood. He was dragging himself forward with great effort, leaving a long smear of blood across the ground.

I said, “Come with me. I’ll treat your wounds.”

He lifted his bewitching peach-blossom eyes to look at me, his gaze rippling with charm.

“You’ve fallen for me? Let me make one thing clear first: I don’t date women uglier than me.”

I nodded as I hoisted him up and tossed him onto the ox cart.

“Got it. No one’s lusting after you.”

The creature sprang up in a fury, only to collapse back down halfway through when the pain hit his waist.

He could only glare at me in disbelief and roar, “You don’t even think I’m good enough for you? The women who like me line up from the Underworld all the way to the Heavenly Realm!”

I narrowed my eyes, annoyed by how noisy he was, grabbed a steamed bun from my cloth sack, and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Too much nonsense. Say one more word and I’ll throw you off.”

He went quiet for a few seconds, his eyes filled with shock, confusion, humiliation, and the tiniest hint of grievance at being so unwanted.

He took a bite of the bun and mumbled indistinctly, “Crude woman. No appreciation for beauty and frag… Tch. This bun is oddly good.”

Halfway up the mountain, I ran into a Demon Lord.

One of the demonic horns on his head had snapped off, leaving only a short stump.

Dressed all in black, it was hard to tell where he was injured. He was lying on the ground, though, looking like he had lost all will to live.

I crouched down and patted his face.

“Want me to save you? If you can move, get on the cart yourself.”

He turned his head to look at me and gave a cold laugh. “A mere mortal. Truly overestimating yourself.”

I sighed. “You said all that, but can you answer my question?”

He was about to say something when his gaze suddenly shifted behind me, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Are you with him?”

I glanced back.

Uh… I had a rough idea now.

“You two have a grudge, right? Fine, then. You’re coming together.”

With that, I picked up the Demon Lord and threw him onto the cart.

The monster said, “Is there something wrong with your head, woman? I just finished fighting him, and you throw us together?”

The Demon Lord said, “Who wants to be together with you? If I could move right now, you would have shut your mouth already.”

The monster said, “Was I talking to you? Dead Demon Lord. One-horned demon. Ugly as sin!”

The Demon Lord said, “Stinky Fox, you’re asking to die.”

I cleaned out my ear with one finger, then pulled two more steamed buns from my cloth sack and stuffed one into each of their mouths.

“Shut up. If you want to fight or kill each other, wait until your wounds heal.”

The Demon Lord, humiliated, pulled the bun from his mouth and was about to throw it away, only to see the monster happily hugging his bun and gnawing on it.

He hesitated, then took a bite too.

Then another bite.

Mm. Peace and quiet.

In the end, after I finally made it to the mountaintop and my old ox was panting from exhaustion, I ran into an immortal.

He lay on the ground in a sorry state, yet looked at me without joy or sorrow, then at the two men on the ox cart behind me.

He fell silent.

…

I fell into deep thought.

I said, “Don’t tell me the ones fighting just now were the three of you?”

He asked me, “Who might you be, miss?”

“A stranger. A good person.”

With difficulty, he lifted a finger and pointed at my ox cart. “Why would a good person save such wicked creatures as demons, devils, ghosts, and monsters?”

I smacked his hand down and lectured him. “Don’t point at people. It’s rude. Besides, good, evil, and wickedness come from one’s nature. They have nothing to do with whether someone is a demon, devil, ghost, monster, beastman, immortal, or Buddha.”

He still wanted to argue with me, so I stuffed a steamed bun into his mouth, picked him up around the waist, and set him on the ox cart.

The monster was unconvinced. “Woman, why does he get carried like a princess while I got hauled and thrown? Don’t tell me you like this pretty boy. Are you blind? Am I not better-looking than him?”

I took out the last steamed bun from my cloth sack, hesitated for a moment, then stuffed it into his mouth.

“Because his mouth was stuffed with a bun. I was afraid he’d choke.”

The monster snorted, accepted my explanation with surprising ease, and went back to eating his bun.

…Why did I feel like he had tricked me out of another bun on purpose?

Then I looked again at the cart full of tall, long-legged men.

I sighed and patted the old ox, who was still huffing and puffing.

“You’ve worked hard. Let’s go home.”