Chapter Twelve: Outer Gu Village

Three days—three whole days. Except for brief moments of rest and eating, Tong Jin hardly paused for a moment, his mind consumed by a single thought: keep moving, keep going, the farther the better. The path was anything but smooth. Tong Jin’s feet were raw and bloody, each step sending sharp pain shooting through him. As the journey stretched on, his legs and feet grew numb, and he continued forward mechanically, one step after another.

During these three days, whenever he was thirsty, he drank from the river; if fortune smiled, he found wild fruit to stave off hunger. When exhaustion became unbearable, he curled up in crevices between large stones for a brief rest. At last, on the evening of the third day, Tong Jin emerged from the seemingly endless canyon.

His spirits lifted, he suppressed the urge to shout out in relief and chose a direction to press on with effort. As dusk deepened, he finally spotted flickering lights not far off. Summoning his last reserves of strength, Tong Jin slowly moved toward the glow.

“Thunk, thunk, thunk.” Approaching, he realized it was a small, remote village. The village was tiny and poor, evidenced by the absence of any decent houses. Tong Jin knocked on the worn wooden door of a home still lit by firelight.

“Who is it, so late at night? *Cough, cough, cough*,” came a frail, elderly voice.

“I’m just passing through. It’s getting late, and I hope to find a place to rest,” Tong Jin replied weakly, his voice no stronger than the occupant inside.

After a long moment, the door creaked open. The woman who appeared was the one who had spoken—a grandmotherly figure dressed worse than a beggar in Tai’an City, though her tattered clothes were surprisingly clean.

“Child, where have you come from?” she asked, her kind face tinged with caution.

“Grandmother, I’m originally from Tai’an City. I was on my way to visit relatives and passed through here. I only want to rest for one night and will leave tomorrow. Please, may I stay?” Tong Jin answered obediently.

The old woman hesitated, coughing again. “Our home is small. I’m afraid we can’t accommodate you.”

Tong Jin pleaded earnestly, “Grandmother, if you could just offer me a spot to shelter from the wind and rain, I’ll be grateful and promise not to trouble you.”

The old woman nodded. “Come in quickly; it’s cold outside now.” She stepped aside, allowing him to enter before gently closing the door behind him.

She retrieved a nearly worn-out straw mat. “Child, make do with this for one night. My grandson, who was about your age, used to sleep on this mat when he was home.” A flicker of sorrow crossed her eyes but went unnoticed in the firelight.

“Grandmother, please rest early,” Tong Jin said as he spread out the mat near the hearth and sat down heavily. His stomach growled loudly, and he glanced sheepishly at the old woman.

She was not stingy. Turning around, she fetched two flatbreads from a nearby basket and handed them to him, then poured a bowl of water before retreating shakily to the inner room to rest.

Tong Jin devoured the food greedily but didn’t have the strength to tend to the wounds on his feet. Fatigue overwhelmed him, and he soon fell into a deep sleep. These days had completely exhausted him in body and mind; once relaxed, he simply couldn’t hold on any longer.

The next morning, Tong Jin was roused by violent coughing. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see the unfamiliar, dilapidated thatched roof above him. Another fit of coughing came from the adjacent room, reminding him that he had spent the night in the kind old woman’s home.

Hearing such harsh coughing, Tong Jin wanted to check on her, but the intense pain coursing through his entire body forced him to moan softly.

“Ah, it seems my body has truly reached its limit after these days,” he muttered, struggling to move. “Without any inner strength, this journey wouldn’t have brought me to this point.”

“Grandmother, are you all right?” he called toward the inner room.

“*Cough, cough.* You’re awake, child. It’s just a bad coughing spell today, nothing serious. Sorry for disturbing your sleep,” the old woman replied weakly.

Tong Jin slowly entered the inner room.

The so-called house was more like a hastily built hut, so crude it lacked even one proper wall. The walls were a patchwork of crooked stones, mud, and uneven branches. The roof was simply covered with sticks and dry grass. Not just a strong wind, even a heavy rain could easily tear it down.

The interior was even more dilapidated. Three of the four mud walls were crumbling, and light filtered through gaps in a scattered pattern. The only furnishing was a low, flat mound of earth covered with a worn blanket where the old woman lay.

Stepping closer, Tong Jin asked, “Grandmother, are you sick?”

She propped herself up, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing serious, child. I’m just old. *Cough, cough.*” Suddenly, she coughed up a mouthful of blood and pus, which she couldn’t conceal as it splattered onto the floor.

Tong Jin frowned deeply. “Grandmother, you’re this ill? Have you not seen a doctor?”

He sat beside her and placed his hand on her forehead. “You have a fever. Wait here; I’ll find a doctor.”

“No need, child. There’s no doctor in the village,” she hastened to stop him.

Turning to her, Tong Jin asked, “Then how do people here get treated when they fall ill?”

The old woman smiled sadly. “This is Waigu Village. For dozens of miles around, there’s no other village. The people here fled here years ago to escape war. At first, over a hundred households lived here, but one by one, they died off. Now, only ten remain.”

Tong Jin was taken aback. “Could it be that they died because their illnesses couldn’t be treated?”

The old woman did not reply, her gaze dim as it fixed on the broken wall. “My grandson died of illness last year,” she said, her voice heavy with grief.

Feeling her sorrow, Tong Jin was at a loss for words. He stood and asked, “Grandmother, is there anything I can do?”

She recovered slightly from her sadness and smiled at him. “My illness has been with me for many years. When my grandson was alive, he often went to the mountain with this little basket to gather herbs. Back then, my coughing didn’t flare up.”

Following her gaze, Tong Jin looked at a black straw basket in the corner, containing a small bundle of dried herbs. He picked them up to examine.

“Grandmother, is this the medicine you mentioned?”

She nodded. “This herb is called roasted licorice. It helps my cough. It grows on the cliff south of the village.”

Studying the roasted licorice carefully, Tong Jin memorized its appearance before picking up the basket and preparing to leave.

“Child,” the grandmother called weakly. Tong Jin turned back, and she pointed to his feet, stained with dried blood. “Along your way, there’s a herb that can heal the wounds on your feet.” She then carefully described the herb’s appearance, and only then did Tong Jin set out once more.