The Night His Tail Brushed Mine - Chapter 3

When I woke the next morning, he was gone.

The door stood slightly ajar.

I sat on the bed in a daze for a while, feeling a small emptiness inside me.

But I soon came to terms with it.

He had always been free.

Perhaps leaving was for the best.

With me, he would only go hungry and have to live beneath a leaking roof.

I folded the thin blanket he had left behind and noticed two wrinkled fruits on the table.

They looked as though they had been picked from a nearby wild tree.

Their skins were not pretty, but they had been washed very clean.

I held them in my hands for a long time, then could not help smiling.

At least he had left me breakfast before he went.

I had to hurry to the bakery for work.

As I passed downstairs, my landlady called out to me. “Where’s the one you bought?”

“He left.”

“Left?”

Her eyes widened. “You spent all your money on him, and you just let him walk away? Has the rain soaked your brains?”

I said softly, “He isn’t a thing.”

Grumbling and cursing, my landlady shoved a roasted potato into my hands.

“Take it. All you ate yesterday was half a piece of bread. Don’t faint on the road and then blame it on my house.”

I held the warm potato and thanked her earnestly.

She waved me away in disgust and told me to get going.

Work at the bakery began at dawn.

I kneaded dough, washed trays, and sorted whatever bread had not sold that day.

Intact loaves were kept and discounted the next day.

Only the squashed ones, the burnt ones, and those that fell on the floor could be taken home by helpers like us.

The proprietress was in a foul mood today.

She had just received notice that the city’s taxes had risen again, and the bakery might have to let one worker go.

All three helpers were nervous.

So was I.

Of my three jobs, the bakery paid the most.

If I lost it, I would not only be unable to pay next month’s rent—I would not even have enough to eat.

After the noon rush, the proprietress called us together.

“The shop can only keep two people.”

As she spoke, she glanced at me.

The other two helpers both had families to support, and one woman’s child was ill.

I clutched my apron and understood.

Sure enough, the proprietress sighed.

“Sang Ning, you’re young. You can still find other work.”

I nodded.

“All right.”

She blinked, as though she had not expected me to agree so quickly.

In truth, I was sad too.

But crying would not improve the bakery’s business.

I took off my apron and voluntarily deducted half a day’s pay from my wages.

The proprietress felt guilty and pressed a bag of misshapen bread into my arms.

“Take it home and eat it.”

I walked out carrying the paper bag.

The sunlight outside was beautiful.

But I had no idea where to go.

My shift at the restaurant would not begin until dusk, and the money for copying the ledgers would not be paid for another three days.

I counted the money I had. It was nowhere near enough for the rent.

The system appeared once more.

【Do you regret it now?】

【The true mission target was still at the black market.】

【Last night’s auction is over. He was bought by the City Lord’s residence.】

【If only you had found a way to win the bid, you would never have to worry about losing a job in the future.】

I hugged the bread tighter.

“I couldn’t afford him in the first place.”

【You could have borrowed money.】

“What if I couldn’t pay it back?”

【The mission target would have repaid it for you later.】

I lowered my head and kicked a pebble from the roadside.

“But I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me. Saving him now just so he’ll repay me someday feels… strange.”

The system said nothing more.

I wandered the streets and found two shops looking for workers.

The first thought I was too thin to move their goods.

At the second, they looked at my hands and said the light calluses on my fingertips came from writing, so I might try asking at a bookshop.

I thanked them. I had just entered a narrow alley when someone snatched the paper bag from my arms.

A scrawny child ran off clutching the bread.

I froze for a moment, then hurried after him.

He did not get far before falling to the ground.

The paper bag tore, scattering bread everywhere.

The child went deathly pale and covered his head. “Don’t hit me!”

I stopped in front of him.

He looked even thinner than I was, and his clothes were flimsy.

I bent down, picked up the bread that had stayed clean, and gave him half.

“Don’t steal next time. You can ask first.”

The child stared at me blankly.

I put the rest back into the torn bag. Just as I was about to leave, a shadow fell over me.

Someone stood at the mouth of the alley.

His silver-gray hair had been washed clean, though it remained somewhat disheveled.

The ear with a piece missing showed through it, and the bandage I had wrapped the night before was still around his tail.

It was the beastman.

He was holding a wild rabbit he had just caught.

When he saw me giving the bread to someone else, he somehow looked even fiercer than yesterday.

I ran over in delight. “You didn’t leave!”

He did not answer.

He merely dropped the wild rabbit at my feet.

Then he walked past me to the child who had stolen the bread.

The child trembled in fear.

The beastman extended a hand, his face cold. “Give it back.”

The child hurriedly offered back the half bag of bread.

I caught the beastman’s sleeve. “I gave it to him.”

He turned to look at me, incomprehension filling his eyes.

As if asking why I would give food away when I did not even have enough for myself.

I stuffed the bread back into the child’s arms. After he ran off, I explained, “He’s younger than I am. He’s still growing.”

The beastman’s brow furrowed even more deeply.

A moment later, he picked up the rabbit and thrust it into my arms.

“Eat this.”

“Did you catch it?”

“Mm.”

“Your leg is still injured.”

He fell silent.

I looked down and saw that blood had soaked through the fabric over his right leg.

He must have gone out to find food early that morning and refused to return even after his wound reopened—not until he had caught the rabbit.

My nose stung.

I caught hold of him. “Let’s go home first.”

This time, he did not follow three paces behind me.

He walked beside me.

As we neared the old district, he suddenly spoke.

“He Ye.”

I did not catch it. “What?”

His ears lowered slightly in discomfort.

“My name.”

“My name is He Ye.”