“Look! A flower just like in the picture!” Mingzhu gasped. “There are so many of them here!”

  “It’s a pity we don’t have a bigger basket,” Xue said, taking off her soft woven herb bag, already half-filled with different plants.

  “Let’s make a new one! Aunt Hong Shu taught us well. I’ll cut some twigs!”

  “We’d better get out of here! Did you see those animal tracks?”

  “Did we really suffer all that for nothing? We can’t just leave empty-handed! At least we’ll earn plenty of coins and never come back here again. All right?”

  “Ah… fine. Bring the leaves and twigs. We’ll make a basket.”

  “Hurray! We’ll have whole…,” Mingzhu spread her fingers, counting their future profit, then decided to round up, “lots of coins!” The girl stretched her arms wide. “This many!”

  “Hee-hee-hee,” Xue laughed.

  Throughout their short lives, they had faced many hardships and grown used to them, striving not to lose heart, not to dwell on misfortune, greeting each new day with a smile so as not to sink into the depths of despair. Fear and pain were always somewhere nearby, but it was better not to think about them, to leave them behind. The girls clung to life and to each other with all their strength, treasuring the small joys that sometimes flickered among the grayness of daily struggle. After a day of suffering, fate had finally granted them a good opportunity, and they had no intention of letting it slip away.

  The older sister wove the basket while the younger gathered food, and they satisfied their hunger to the gentle murmur of the stream. Vigilant little Mingzhu killed a snake among the rocks and slung its headless carcass over her neck, they would make snake soup once they got home. In the distance, among the greenery, a wild boar appeared. It paused for a few moments, sniffed the air, then wandered off about its own business.

  “It’s sense of smell is good, but its sight isn’t,” Xue shared her knowledge. “If we stay still, it won’t notice us from that distance. There, the basket’s ready.”

  “Let’s go gather more herbs!” Mingzhu said eagerly.

  “Don’t rush. Watch your step!” her older sister warned.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Despite its rough appearance, the basket turned out strong and roomy. The girls collected a large haul of medicinal herbs of unknown purpose and, very pleased with themselves, began following their tracks back toward the city. By afternoon, they had almost reached the place where they’d encountered those frightening men, but turned aside before getting too close. Through the gaps between the trees, they could see the road and beyond it, rice fields glimmering on the other side. The sisters sighed in relief, their steps growing lighter at once. They were getting closer to home.

  From time to time exchanging short remarks, Xue and Mingzhu made their way carefully through the forest, unaware that, behind the thick foliage, a man in a mask was watching them. Leaning against a tree, he was bandaging a wound on his stomach. His clothes were partly soaked with blood, and even on the dark fabric, the stains gleamed dully. Beside him lay a small vial of medicine and a sword. He heard the children’s voices, the rustling of branches, and lifted his head. Two familiar little figures walked carelessly through the forest, carrying a basket full of herbs.

  “They’re the ones!” he hissed through his teeth. “Little brats! They must’ve warned someone! Otherwise, where would that sixth-level body tempering warrior have come from?” Gripping the sword, he pushed himself off the tree. “Someone has to pay for my brothers’ deaths.”

  He was desperate to vent his rage and disappointment to ease his torment somehow and the two children were the perfect targets. Fearing to lose sight of them, he lifted his shirt, poured the medicine over the wound, and bound it tightly with trembling hands. To stop the bleeding, he pulled the fabric until it bit into his flesh, almost fainting from pain.

  After a moment, he spat out blood and peered from behind the tree. The two small figures hadn’t gone far. Staying at a distance but keeping them in sight, the man began to follow them silently. The girls’ voices carried clearly through the forest, making it easy to track them.

  Xue was limping, her leg still hadn’t fully recovered, so they walked slowly. Mingzhu, her face full of concern, kept glancing at her older sister, who forced a smile to keep her from worrying. The woven herb bag hung from Xue’s shoulder, while little Mingzhu clutched the large basket tightly, as if it were filled with gold.

  When they emerged from the forest onto a dirt road, walking became easier. People began to appear along the way, travelers and merchants, a sure sign that the city was near. Peasants were heading home after selling vegetables in the morning market, small traders drove donkeys loaded with goods, mercenaries and simple travelers walked to or from Baohe. Carts rattled over the stones, voices echoed, and in the distance, the outskirts of the city came into view.

  “We’ll be home soon!” Mingzhu exclaimed joyfully.

  “No, first we’ll sell the herbs,” Xue shook her head. “They’ll spoil otherwise.”

  “I don’t like that apothecary man,” the younger sister pouted.

  “But he buys our flowers!” The older sister gave the bag on her shoulder a light pat, and the stems of the herbs swayed, releasing a faint medicinal scent.

  Sometime after the sisters merged with the crowd on the road, a man emerged from the forest, clutching his bloody wound. With hatred burning in his eyes, he looked toward the distant outline of the city. His gaze lingered on its walls and the faint silhouettes of its towers.

  “So… you’re from Baohe!”