The Sickly Girl and the Border Town Fool - Chapter 3

Zhao Heng had something wrong with his head.

He wanted to hold a banquet in Apricot Blossom Alley and announce before the City God that we were becoming sworn siblings.

I sat on a stool, drinking medicine and reading a medical text, too lazy to answer him.

Mountains crumbled and trees fell. No one could be relied upon forever.

Zhao Heng was willing to spend money keeping me alive, but I could not eat his food for nothing. I needed a trade.

I had been a forensic pathologist in my previous life. In this one, I might as well try to become a coroner at the county office.

As Zhao Heng scrubbed my clothes, he prattled without pause.

“You’re twelve and I’m seventeen. A child bride? Utter nonsense.”

“But I saved your life. You could be my little sister. If we make a life together, we’ll both have a home.”

The word *home* animated his whole body.

I looked up at him.

When I had opened my eyes in this life many years ago, my heart had been just as eager. I had been an orphan before. Given parents in this life, I had wanted to live well with them.

Fate enjoyed toying with people like us.

It gave me a family but no love. Even the warmest heart eventually went cold.

Zhao Heng had been aptly named. His heart truly did endure.

Yang Jiaoyue had shattered his dream of marriage, so he had picked up a younger sister instead. One way or another, he was determined to have a home.

His enthusiasm mounted.

“No. I need the caravan to carry a letter to your parents and demand a deed transferring you to me. Otherwise they might decide they want you back, and I’ll have lost my entire investment.”

Zhao Heng had once resolved to spend all his savings to save me because of one thing I said: Yang Jiaoyue would return.

To be honest, after transmigrating into this world before birth, my memories of it were hazy.

In my previous life, as I lay in a hospital bed waiting to die, what interested me most about the novel was the gossip in Apricot Blossom Alley.

Jin Buhuan was having an affair with a rich merchant’s concubine. Zhao Heng’s aunt liked hiding money in her rice crock. The miser who owned the tofu shop squatted in the privy at midnight to count his silver.

That was why I could so easily frighten Jin Buhuan into returning Zhao Heng’s money.

The neighbors now said I was an immortal child reborn and knew everything beneath heaven.

Zhao Heng believed it too. He had saved me so I could tell him what would happen between him and Yang Jiaoyue.

Strangely, he had never once asked.

I smiled at myself. Perhaps neither of us had truly meant to die when we lay in those graves.

One sentence from me had saved Zhao Heng—and me as well.

He snapped out the garment and hung it on the line. Then he brought out our meal and passed me a pair of chopsticks.

I expertly found the egg and chicken leg hidden beneath my rice, split them in half, and tossed half into his bowl.

With his head lowered, he mumbled around a mouthful of rice, “I’m leaving with the caravan tomorrow. Your medicine costs five taels every month, and we can’t miss a dose. Once I return, we’ll hold a grand banquet and become sworn siblings in proper style.”

Lunatic. People held grand weddings, not grand sibling-swearing ceremonies.

Something bubbled on the stove. Zhao Heng’s medicine was ready.

I poured it into a bowl and ordered him to drink.

He swallowed it with obvious disgust, then threatened, “Don’t buy me any more medicine, or I’ll never borrow books for you again.”

I pointed at the roof. “Patch that. It leaks.”

This was how we had lived for months. He said his piece, I said mine, and neither of us got in the other’s way.

His shabby little courtyard had only one main room. At night he slept on the floor and I took the bed. By day, sunlight shone through the holes in the roof and irritated me.

How had he endured this place all these years?

The roof leaked, the tables and chairs limped, and the stove was collapsing. From the moment Zhao Heng opened his eyes every morning, all he did was earn money. He had never lived a single comfortable day.

After the meal, he repaired the roof, then noisily dragged home a cart of lumber and began making furniture for me in the courtyard.

The man seemed to know every trade.

I poured him sugar water, crouched nearby to pass him tools, and said, “You’re rather capable.”

“Of course! I spent six months fetching tea and water for my master to learn this craft. Back then, Jiaoyue wanted a dressing table. I couldn’t afford one, so I…”

His voice faded. He said no more.