Chapter 4: The Butcher

“It’s just a person! You scared me to death.” The burly man across the way let out a voice still tinged with fright, clearly startled by Chu Danqing.

“I thought it was some mountain demon or monster. I was wondering why it wasn’t dark yet.”

Only then did Chu Danqing get a clear look at him.

He was a butcher, wearing a short shirt and a coarse cloth tied around his waist, with a carrying pole resting nearby.

Apparently, the butcher had noticed movement in the haystack while Chu Danqing was gathering the remains and had come over wielding a butcher’s knife.

“Whoa, two wolves.” The butcher approached curiously and, upon seeing the wolf carcasses on Chu Danqing’s shoulder, began to appraise them. “The quality isn’t great.”

“Quite bold though. Serves them right for dying here.”

The butcher naturally bore no goodwill toward wolves; the best fate for them was to end up in a pot of meat.

Then he noticed Chu Danqing’s appearance and asked, “Young man, you’re not from around here, are you?”

“Just passing through.” Chu Danqing didn’t engage in friendly chatter, instead observing the butcher carefully.

Though the man seemed rough and casual, one shouldn’t judge him by appearance alone.

“Don’t worry, young man. I’m no villain. I live just ahead in Xianghua Village.”

“People who know me call me Jiang Tu. I kill pigs and sell meat. Anyone in the nearby villages who’s tasted my meat will tell you it’s good.” The butcher introduced himself without excessive enthusiasm.

Chu Danqing sized him up, suspicion flickering in his eyes. “You killed the wolves here. Didn’t you come across them when you set out to sell your meat?”

It was strange that, as a butcher, he would carry meat out this way, yet hadn’t encountered the wolves.

“What? Here?!” Jiang Tu’s reaction surprised Chu Danqing. “I only rested here today and took a detour. Usually, few people walk this path.”

So it was a spur-of-the-moment route, not a usual one.

If the man wasn’t an actor, his words were likely true.

“Wait, what’s that at your waist?” Jiang Tu noticed something odd about Chu Danqing and grew wary of this stranger.

In ancient times, when people rarely traveled far, strangers didn’t go unnoticed.

Even someone like Jiang Tu, who roamed the streets and alleys, stuck to fixed routes.

“It’s a boy, a child eaten by wolves.”

“I wrapped him up to prepare the body and plan to take him to Xianghua Village to ask around.”

“You say you’re from Xianghua Village, so you must know something.” Chu Danqing fixed his gaze on Jiang Tu, ready to act if the man made any suspicious moves.

Jiang Tu’s expression shifted appropriately, though he couldn’t simply trust a stranger’s words in the wilderness.

Their conversation also had an element of probing on his part.

“I do know. The village chief’s little grandson, Sanniu, went missing seven days ago.” Jiang Tu looked at the cloth Chu Danqing had taken out—it was indeed the chief’s child.

“We searched the back river for two days, but…” His voice faltered, and he stopped speaking.

Still, his attitude toward Chu Danqing softened, losing the earlier forced warmth.

“You must be weary from travel, and it’s getting late. Why don’t we rest at Xianghua Village?”

“If you find the village chief’s grandson’s remains, he’ll surely reward you handsomely.”

“Let’s hurry—only a moment more and we’ll be there.” Jiang Tu put away his butcher’s knife, hoisted his carrying pole, and led the way.

“What’s your name, young man?” Jiang Tu suddenly remembered to ask.

Before death, Chu Danqing wasn’t bothered to reveal his real name; if asked, he’d answer, but better safe than sorry.

He preferred an alias while traveling—no ill intent, but caution was necessary.

“My surname’s Chu, given name Wusheng.” Chu Danqing said.

Danqing means ‘red and blue’ and is associated with painting; an elegant way to say ‘silent poetry.’

Like Jiang Tu, who only gave his nickname, not his real name.

The two reached a tacit understanding.

“That’s quite a unique name,” Jiang Tu said without overthinking, simply offering a polite compliment.

In business, one spoke as suited the listener.

He quickly found a new topic, as Chu Danqing mostly listened quietly, rarely interrupting.

Being a modern man, Chu Danqing knew speaking too much could lead to mistakes.

Listening also allowed him to gather tidbits about Xianghua Village, even if trivial.

Chu Danqing’s silence truly matched his name.

Before dark, they arrived smoothly at Xianghua Village.

At the village entrance stood a large banyan tree, its sprawling branches catching the eye.

But what stood out most was the figure sitting beneath it.

A man even larger than Jiang Tu, at least two meters tall, robust and strong.

Yet his appearance was scruffy and dirty, clothes ragged and mismatched.

What intrigued Chu Danqing was not the man’s looks but the contrast in his demeanor—rough exterior but a different inner spirit.

Chu Danqing wasn’t one to judge by appearance, but upon seeing him, his mind couldn't help but think, though impolitely, that the man’s intelligence seemed incomplete.

‘One of the three scenic guardians of the village?’ Chu Danqing recalled the mission briefing about the three sights of Xianghua.

Jiang Tu saw the man too and called out loudly, “Dabao, whose house are you eating at tonight?”

After that, he turned to explain to Chu Danqing, “Dabao is the village guardian. Not very bright, but kind-hearted.”

His words were a warning: don’t provoke the fool, or you’ll get hurt and won’t have the right to complain.

Dabao, hearing Jiang Tu, mumbled in a slow voice, “Village chief’s house. Da Dezi hasn’t called yet.”

“Don’t wait for him. I’m heading to the chief’s house too. Come with me.” Jiang Tu beckoned and pulled a handful of pork cracklings from his pouch, handing them to Dabao.

Without hesitation, Dabao grabbed them and began chewing.

Then he slurred, “Da Jiang, should we chase out the stranger you brought?”

“Let him eat. Chu is the village chief’s guest.” Jiang Tu laughed ruefully. “If you chased him away, you’d go hungry tonight and have to sleep with me.”

“I won’t! You snore and fart in your sleep.” Dabao complained after swallowing the pork cracklings.

Chu Danqing secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

His beginning had gone smoothly.

Without meeting Jiang Tu, a native of Xianghua Village, the village guardian Dabao surely wouldn’t have let him in.

With Dabao’s logic, reason wouldn’t work.

And starting a fight would only alienate the villagers, leading to a vicious cycle.