Chapter 8: The Beggar

…Daybreak?

Shiyue curled her fingers and grabbed a handful of dirt. She looked up at the sky—thick clouds smeared the heavens in the pale gray of an old black-and-white film. The water’s surface, the bushes, the shade of the trees… everything seemed washed over with a faint ink-like filter, unreal and distant.

The moment she lifted her head, the streetlamp on the bridge in the distance dazzled her so hard she had to squint. It took a while before her eyes adjusted.

“…Those people? They’re gone, right?”

The three guys who had gone crazy and thrown stones at her seemed to have left. Shiyue let out a long breath—when a sudden cold breeze swept over her, sending a chill to her bones. Her whole body shivered; her soaked clothes clung tightly to her skin. As she calmed down, the wounds on her forehead and arms changed from a dull ache to sharp pain.

“Just my damn luck today.”

She cursed under her breath. Seeing no one around, she hid under a tree, took off her clothes to wring out the water. The friction between cloth and wounds hurt so much she sucked in cold air through her teeth. She then cursed those three guys and their entire families several more times, before checking her pouch. Wonderful—her backpack, wallet, phone, student ID… everything had sunk into the lake with her.

She was furious.

…Just because she’d glanced at those three people, she was now inexplicably unable to return home, all her belongings wiped clean, stranded in the middle of nowhere. And today was Monday—she probably wouldn’t even make it to school tomorrow… The more Shiyue thought, the angrier she got. She punched the ground in rage, imagining catching those guys and tearing them limb from limb, her trembling fists clenching harder and harder.

After squatting there thinking for a long while, she sighed and looked around. She could only follow the road first and see whether she could find a police station or something.

The sky was shrouded in misty gray, yet she could see clearly—only the streetlights still hurt her eyes a little. She wondered at first: if it was already morning, why were the streetlights still on? But then she thought, it had been the middle of the night just moments ago. She couldn’t have been soaking in the water all night, right? It must still be late at night. But then why could she see everything so clearly, colors aside?

“Did I grow cat eyes?”

As she walked, she kept glancing left and right, blinking hard. The calm water’s surface, mottled tree shadows, the rising arch of the bridge… The scenery by the water wasn’t quite bright as day, but every edge was crisp.

“…Seriously, like cat eyes.”

Everything that had happened—running into a fight, nearly getting killed, her strange body, being unable to return home—none of it made sense. Her mind was a mess; she simply stopped thinking and walked, heading toward somewhere with more people.

Soon enough, following the road, she saw buildings multiply in the distance, lights brightening. On the hillside opposite, a villa district came into view. Shops, supermarkets, clinics, and apartment buildings appeared along the road—this must be the city area of Mochang Lake.

Mochang Lake lay far from the center of Huangzhou, but it wasn’t all wilderness. Huangzhou’s most famous wealthy district was here—like a steel island rising out of the wilderness. Walk a bit further inward and it was no different from downtown, clean and safe despite being the suburbs.

Shiyue walked quickly along the road, eyes scanning for a police station or patrol officer. Even though it was still late at night, people still passed by here and there—yet she didn’t see a single officer, nor could she find a police station. Anxious, she stopped several passersby to ask for directions, but people here were unexpectedly cold, and she couldn’t get a straight answer.

“Well, yeah. Who actually remembers where the police station is…”

Seeing she couldn’t find a police station or any police, and her clothes still soaked and clinging cold to her body, Shiyue shivered violently. She looked up at the dark, cloud-choked sky, irritation raging through her with nowhere to vent, escaping only as a frustrated sigh.

“Hmph…”

Leaning against a streetlamp, she wondered if she should just spend the night on the street like a beggar… when she suddenly noticed there was someone lying under the overpass.

A person lay on the flowerbed under the pedestrian bridge, a metal basin by his feet with a few scattered coins inside. He was wrapped in a filthy blanket—he looked the part, at least.

This beggar probably knew the area well. Delighted, Shiyue went up to ask:

“Hey, uncle, do you know how to get to the police station?” She trotted over and made a limp little bow with her hands. “Sorry to bother you, I got lost… I don’t have any money on me and I want to ask the police for help. Could you point me the way? Thank you!”

The beggar had been half–squinting, staring at something in a daze. Shiyue’s sudden approach made him whip his head toward her, eyes fixed sharply on her. “Oh, I know… I know how to go.”

He stood up quickly and pointed toward a building. “Police station… right across from that building. If you follow the main road, you gotta go alllll the way around… but if you cut through this neighborhood it’s just a few steps. I’ll take you.”

“Thank you so much!!”

Shiyue was overjoyed, thanking him again and again, even promising she’d bring him some money over the weekend. The beggar waved it off, saying he could tell she’d been through something—so he just wanted to help.

“Uh, I heard this is a wealthy district, right? There are beggars here too?”

“Plenty. This place is rich—trash cans here can keep people fed. And over there, that street? Folks dance every night. The bottles and cans there are worth more than working a job, and sometimes you pick up something valuable. Lots of people quit working to pick up junk instead.”

He spoke a little sloppily, but Shiyue understood the gist—picking scrap here made a better living than working; sleeping under the sky was freer anyway. Only idiots looked for proper jobs.

Following him, she arrived at a dusty little warehouse. Under the streetlamp were some piles of scrap metal. Another beggar dressed much like him waved at him. Shiyue heard that man call him Lao Jin: “Got any money?”

“Got your mom’s funeral money.”

Lao Jin waved again and led Shiyue toward them. Another beggar sprang out to greet them and, together with Lao Jin, subtly boxed her in. Lao Jin crossed his arms and grinned:

“The police station’s still far. Why don’t you stay here for the night and go tomorrow—”

Before he finished, Shiyue punched him squarely on the nose.

“These guys must be the kind you see on the news—human traffickers!”

Shiyue thought bitterly that today was absolutely cursed—one disaster after another.

Fortunately, she was no delicate girl, but someone with blood-hungry instincts built in. Provoked, and seeing the beggars were thin and small compared to her, she felt no fear—in fact, she welcomed the chance to vent.

Lao Jin took her punch full on the nose and instantly froze in pain. Another man hesitated at first, then seeing two more of his buddies rush out of the warehouse, he opened his arms to grab her. Shiyue caught them first, kicked him in the upper abdomen so hard it felt like a bullet had passed through him. Her grip was iron; he couldn’t break free. She yanked him down to his knees and kneed his chin—the blow knocking him out like his head had been pierced through.

Lao Jin was still holding his nose when Shiyue kicked him over. She turned, seeing the other two clawing through the trash pile for sticks, raising them as they shouted and rushed toward her.