At the first mark of the mao hour, a faint blue light began to tinge the horizon. Xiao Bangchui pushed open the wooden gate, and the first thing she did was glance toward the eastern hut—the cloth strip tied to the door remained untouched. It seemed her Master had once again stayed out all night, probably drinking and gambling somewhere.
She sighed, shaking her head as she headed to the earthen well behind the yard to fetch water.
Summer dawns came early, and in no time, sunlight pierced through the white mist in the woods, scattering over the small courtyard. The yard wasn’t large—three wooden huts stood side by side, enclosed by a fence. Behind them lay a few small vegetable plots haphazardly planted with radishes and greens. Nearby was the earthen well, its pulley tied with two wooden buckets where a few larks perched, chirping incessantly.
Xiao Bangchui was small and weak, taking ages to haul a single bucket of water. It took several shaky trips to fill the water vat. This chore used to be her Master’s, but one day, he led her to the well, measured her height against it, and said, “Xiao Bangchui, you’re taller than this well now. From now on, fetching water is your job.”
Ah, taller than the well—was she six or seven back then? Never mind. Her Master had always been an irresponsible old man, and she was long used to it.
There wasn’t much to eat at home. After rummaging through the kitchen, Xiao Bangchui managed to dig out two nearly dried-up sweet potatoes. She dragged a bamboo chair to the doorway, peeling and gnawing on them.
The sky gradually brightened, and the forest birds grew lively, their chirps rising and falling. The woodland breeze was cool and damp—a pleasant morning, made even more so if she could forget about her messy, carefree Master.
It didn’t take much thought to guess that the little silver they’d painstakingly earned last month had likely been gambled away by her Master. His luck was notoriously terrible, yet he was hopelessly addicted to gambling. For most of the year, the two of them wandered far from home, swindling people by posing as exorcists. They worked hard for meager earnings, only for him to squander it all on drink and bets. Life was always tight—new clothes and good meals remained out of reach. At ten years old, she still wore an old robe her Master had altered for her years ago, now patched all over and nearly beyond repair.
Her Master liked to call himself a living immortal. He’d picked up some scattered arcane arts somewhere and often swindled people under the pretense of vanquishing demons, scribbling talisman papers to “purify” impurities. When she was younger, he left her behind. But by age five, once she could speak fluently, she began accompanying him on his scams. He’d play the grand immortal, and she’d act as his herb-gathering attendant; he’d pose as an enlightened sage, and she’d be his little disciple. Over the years, they’d traveled north and south, with barely any days spent at home.
After finishing the two sweet potatoes, Xiao Bangchui still felt hungry. Lately, it seemed she might be hitting another growth spurt—she was always ravenous. But with no ready-made food at home, she could only rub her half-full belly and head to water the radishes and greens, loosening the soil while she was at it.
The moment her hoe hit the ground, a large black centipede scurried out in panic. Xiao Bangchui couldn’t help but recall the centipede demon they’d subdued in Yun City last month. A true monstrous creature, it was hundreds of times larger than an ordinary centipede—taller than a person when standing—and could spew black smoke. Her Master had thrown ten cinnabar talisman papers before finally destroying it.Speaking of which, Master did have some genuine skills. Occasionally, he could even subdue minor demons causing trouble, like the Centipede demon last month. But there weren’t that many demons wreaking havoc in the world, so to make ends meet, most of the time, they resorted to deception.
Xiao Bangchui took out a few yellow Talisman Papers from her sleeve, already inscribed with cinnabar Talismanic incantations. Mimicking Master’s posture, she focused her mind and steadied her breath before flicking the talismans with a whoosh—only for them to be blown away by the wind the moment they left her hand. Still not good enough, she shook her head.
Over the years, she had been learning the Arcane arts from Master. It was said that one had to channel the Five Elements Aura of heaven and earth for personal use, only then could the talismans be firmly shot out and stick to the Monstrous creatures to subdue them. But she had never been able to sense any Spiritual energy, no matter how she meditated or entered deep concentration. She simply couldn’t grasp what it felt like to have Spiritual energy flow into her body.
Perhaps, as Master said, she lacked talent and wasn’t cut out for this line of work.
But if she couldn’t master the Arcane arts, what would she do in the future? Master was getting old, and unlike others who lived in bustling groups in the town, the two of them had always dwelled in this remote mountain forest estate to avoid trouble—since they made a living by swindling people with supernatural tricks. Once Master passed away someday, how would she survive? Would she just grow vegetables in the deep mountains and live alone?
Ah, though there were many people in this world, only the two of them relied on each other.
Early in the morning was really not the time to dwell on such gloomy thoughts. Xiao Bangchui rolled up her sleeves. She was still hungry—might as well dig up some radishes and cook them.
Just as she turned around, slow footsteps sounded outside the courtyard, followed by the pungent smell of tobacco. Master returned, beaming with a ruddy face, his pipe clenched between his teeth.
"...Master, you're back." Xiao Bangchui stared at him expressionlessly, her voice cold.
"Tsk, the moment I come back, I’m greeted by your zombie face," Master said, looking particularly cheerful as he reclined in his usual old rattan chair, grinning from ear to ear. "A little girl who doesn’t laugh or make noise, always wearing a stern face—just looking at you is annoying. Forget it, today’s luck was good, I won a lot. As your master, I won’t argue with you."
As he spoke, he fished out an oil-paper package from his patched, wide sleeve and tossed it over. "Bought you a new dress. Hurry up and change into it, let me see."
Xiao Bangchui was finally shocked. Master bought new clothes? For her? Even the stones in the courtyard knew how stingy Master was. When he won money, he never admitted it, let alone bought new clothes—in the past ten years, he hadn’t even spared her a piece of candy.
Was she dreaming? She secretly pinched herself.
"Even after buying you new clothes, you don’t react? Can’t even say ‘thank you, Master’?" Master tapped his pipe against a stone, clearly displeased.
"This... this..." She hesitated, glancing down at the dress, then up at Master, back and forth for a long while before finally asking suspiciously, "Are you sure this is for me? Master, are you drunk? Do you even remember my name?"
"Xiao Bangchui," Master exhaled a puff of smoke, rather impatient. "Just wear it, stop nagging."
The oil-paper package felt oddly heavy in her hands. Slowly, she unwrapped it—inside lay a folded pink silk skirt, delicate and beautiful, with orchids embroidered at the hem. The kind of pretty dress she had only ever glimpsed from afar now rested in her palms.A pink silk skirt... She hadn't worn girls' clothes since she was ten, let alone something so delicate and pretty. Turning the garment over in her hands, she couldn't quite figure out how to put it on. The dress was beautiful, yet it felt completely foreign to her.
"Hurry up and put it on!" her Master urged impatiently.
Xiao Bangchui took a deep breath and immediately started removing her old patched-up clothes when her Master rapped her forehead with his pipe: "You're a girl! Ten years old and still acting like a wild boy? Go inside to change!"
Wearing the skirt made her feel completely different, as if she wasn't Xiao Bangchui anymore—maybe Medium Bangchui or Big Bangchui now. Holding up the overly long hem, she stumbled awkwardly. The new clothes were too big, the skirt covering her feet entirely. Carefully lifting it, she pushed open the wooden door and stepped outside.
"All dressed." The light, floating skirt made her wonder—how could she possibly work or do anything practical in this? Wouldn't it just get dirty?
Her Master studied her intently before bursting into laughter: "Even in a skirt, you're still a wild boy! Thick skin, bushy brows, and that sun-darkened face—when will you ever look like a proper girl?"
Xiao Bangchui touched her hair, tied up in a boyish style for practicality, which probably looked ridiculous with the delicate skirt. She remembered those beautifully dressed little girls she'd seen in town, adorned with hairpins and colorful earrings, their wooden shoes filled with fragrant powder, walking with such graceful swaying steps—they seemed to belong to a different world entirely.
"Why did you decide to buy me a skirt?" she couldn't help asking.
Her Master smiled. "Thought you're ten now, grown enough to have some girlish things. Time flies—ten years since I fished you out of the river, your tiny face smaller than half my palm, now all lively and bouncing around."
Huh? Xiao Bangchui froze, staring at her unusually talkative Master in surprise. This was the first time he'd mentioned her origins—previously just saying she was found. So she'd been abandoned in a river?
Seeming in high spirits today, her Master puffed on his pipe and continued: "It was the river down the mountain. Early morning, on my way to get Talisman Paper and cinnabar, when I saw you floating downstream, wrapped in swaddling clothes. No letter or token with you, umbilical cord freshly cut. Thought some heartless family upstream had abandoned their child. Carried you around asking everyone, but no answers came. You were so small, never cried even when hungry. Those first few days, you were quite the pretty little thing—who'd have thought you'd grow to look more like me? Figured it must be fate, so I kept you."
As he spoke, he watched her expression—but there was none, as if she were listening to someone else's story without reaction. This child was always like this at home, so different from the cheerful young acolyte she pretended to be outside. Did she only smile when deceiving people?
"Ahem, Xiao Bangchui..." her Master cleared his throat. "Don't you have any questions about your origins?"
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