A few hours had passed since the masked figure had left the decrepit hut behind.
The forest's shadows stretched long and deep, their footsteps faltering with each passing moment. Thirst cracked their lips, and their stomach's relentless growling echoed the emptiness within. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves, yet it offered no solace to their parched throat.
After wandering the forest's winding paths for what felt like an eternity, they stumbled upon the edge of civilisation. At last, a weathered sign came into view, its characters etched into the aged wood: Fengyuan Town.
The masked figure strode silently past the weathered sign, their steps deliberate yet lacking haste. Moments later, the quiet of the forest gave way to the clamour of civilisation—a symphony of merchants shouting their wares, children darting between stalls, and villagers lost in the rhythm of their daily lives.
They paused, their dark eyes wandering over the bustling market with an air of detachment.
The vibrant chaos of Fengyuan Town unfolded around them—merchants calling out, carts rumbling by, and chatter filling the air—but the sights and sounds barely broke through their haze. Instead, their attention was drawn to the tantalising scent of food wafting through the crowd, a sharp reminder of their gnawing hunger that tugged insistently at their resolve.
The masked figure approached a small cart, the aroma of freshly cooked congee wafting in the air. An elderly man stood by the pot, stirring it with practised ease.
He looked up as the figure drew closer and greeted them warmly, "What would you like? I have Plain Congee for 2 jade coins and Enhanced Congee for 4. Steamed buns are 3 or 5 jade coins, depending on the filling. Soybean milk with fried dough sticks is 7 jade coins together, or 3 for the milk and 4 for the dough sticks separately. Wheat noodles are 5 jade coins plain, or 8 with toppings. Wontons are 6 jade coins for a small portion and 10 for a larger one. Flatbreads are 4 jade coins, and tea eggs are just 2."
The masked figure remained silent; their gaze fixed on the food. Hunger clawed at their insides, yet they stood still, momentarily overwhelmed by the cacophony of scents and the old man's rapid listing of prices.
Oddly enough, the masked figure thought the prices were unusually cheap, though they couldn't fathom why. Their soft fingers brushed against the coins in their pocket, pulling out exactly eight jade coins. Placing them on the counter, they stepped back, silent as the old man counted the payment.
The old man chuckled softly, his weathered hands scooping up the coins. "Wheat noodles?" he asked, his voice warm and familiar, as though he'd served countless strangers before.
The masked figure nodded faintly, their mask obscuring their expression. The aroma of the broth filled the air, stirring something deep and unnamable within them.
A few minutes later, the masked figure wandered through the bustling streets, the bowl of steaming noodles cradled carefully in their hands. They ate as they walked, their dark eyes darting across the crowded market.
The sights before them—the vibrant colours of fabric stalls, the cheerful shouts of merchants—should have felt ordinary, yet an inexplicable unease settled in their chests. Something about the scene, about themselves, felt… wrong. But the memory that might explain it remained just out of reach.
They shook the thought away and continued forward, the warm broth soothing their hunger. Suddenly, a small figure dashed into them, and their grip faltered. The bowl tumbled from their hands, the noodles scattering across the dirt in a messy heap.
The masked figure stared at the spilt noodles on the dirt, a faint sorrow flickering behind their concealed expression. The meal barely tasted and now lay in ruins—another fleeting comfort lost.
The small figure who had collided with them scrambled to their feet; their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to," the child blurted, their voice high-pitched and brimming with sincerity. They couldn't have been more than ten years old.
"My father owns a food cart!" the child continued eagerly, eyes bright with determination. "I'll tell him to give you another bowl, free of charge! My father's cooking is the best in Fengyuan Town!"
The masked figure paused, silently gazing at the young boy for a few moments before turning to walk away. A trivial accident like this wasn't worth holding against a child.
Behind them, the boy froze, then panicked as the masked figure moved farther away. Sure, the "masked sir" looked strange, with their hair shrouding one side of their face and a mask hiding the other, but no malice lingered in their presence. If anything, the boy only felt guilt for ruining their breakfast.
Dusting off the dirt clinging to his patched brown clothes, the boy scrambled to his feet and ran after them. "I mean it, sir! My father will give you a fresh meal for free, so don't worry about me scamming you," he called, his voice high with desperation as he caught up to the masked figure.
The masked figure stopped momentarily, their forehead twitching faintly at the boy's repeated "sir." Beneath the mask, they were certain of their own identity: they were a she. But the boy, oblivious to her internal frustration, pressed on.
"Please, sir! If I don't replace your meal, it'll haunt me until I'm as old as my grandfather!"
The masked figure's lips curved ever so slightly, the hint of a smile threatening to form as the boy's exaggerated plea echoed around them.
Letting out a faint sigh in her heart, she nodded to the boy's suggestion.
"Yeah, you will not regret it!" The little boy said in excitement as he ran to the opposite side, gesturing for the 'masked sir' to follow after him.
***
It only took a few minutes to reach the food cart.
"Dad, Dad! I'm back!" the little one called out, his voice bright with excitement.
A lean, slightly good-looking man looked up from his work and smiled gently at his son. "Chen Yu, if you keep running like that, you're bound to bump into someone," he said with a knowing glance.
The boy's excitement deflated instantly as the memory of what had happened rushed back. The change in his demeanour didn't escape his father's notice. Concern softened the man's expression as he knelt slightly to meet his son's gaze. "What happened?" he asked gently.
Eyes downcast, Chen Yu explained the earlier mishap in hushed tones. His father's gaze shifted to the masked figure standing silently nearby, observing them with an air of quiet detachment. Sighing, the man straightened and bowed slightly toward the stranger. "I'm sorry for my son. He can be quite absent-minded," he said with sincerity.
As he wiped his hands on a cloth, he continued, "What would you like?" His tone was welcoming, his hands moving in a habitual rhythm as he busied himself.
The masked figure lowered their gaze thoughtfully, their silence stretching on. Chen Liang scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his slightly long hair falling into his face. "My name is Chen Liang. What is yours?" he asked kindly, adding, "Take your time. Just let me know what you want whenever you're ready."
But the masked figure said nothing, staring at him with calm, inscrutable eyes. Chen Yu tugged at his father's sleeve and leaned in close, whispering,
"Dad, I don't think he can talk."
A look of understanding flashed in Chen Liang's eyes, his gentle smile never faltering. "Would you like some noodles?" he asked kindly.
The masked figure's eyes brightened, a flicker of gratitude passing through them as they nodded silently. Chen Liang excused himself to prepare the noodles, leaving his son and the stranger in an odd quiet.
Chen Yu's gaze darted around until he spotted a stick lying nearby. Picking it up eagerly, he turned to the masked figure and said, "I know a few characters since I'm going to school. You can write your name on the ground if you want!" His chest puffed slightly with pride at the mention of his education.
The masked figure tilted her head briefly before taking the stick from him. Her grip was steady, but as she stared at the ground, her hand moved instinctively, the motions swift and fluid. Chen Yu crouched beside her, his eyes wide with curiosity as two complex characters emerged in the dirt.
"Dad! Dad, do you know this character?" he called out, his voice full of youthful excitement mixed with puzzlement.
Chen Liang returned with a fresh bowl of noodles in his hands. He passed the bowl to the masked figure, who bowed slightly in silent thanks before settling onto a nearby chair.
"What characters?" Chen Liang asked, noticing the bewilderment on his son's face.
Chen Yu pointed at the ground, his small finger gesturing at the intricate writing. Chen Liang leaned down, his light-coloured eyes narrowing slightly as he examined it. Surprise flickered across his face.
Few people in Fengyuan Town could write at all, let alone produce such complex characters.
"Hengxiu…" he murmured under his breath, his tone almost reverent. His gaze shifted to the masked figure, now seated and eating quietly. There was something in the way his eyes lingered—a deep curiosity, a quiet recognition he couldn't yet place.