CHAPTER 4 - Fateful Encounter in the Forest
[PART 4]
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Nearly half a day had passed. After tending to his own wounds and hanging the meat to dry, Yan Si finally had a moment to check on the other man.
When he saw that the food he had brought was still untouched, a wave of disappointment washed over him. He suddenly felt all his efforts had been in vain. He had endured so much pain—for what? Was accepting help from someone like him so unbearable for a man as proud as this? Was it truly better to die than to accept a favor?
With a scowl, Yan Si limped over and sat down beside the man, frowning as he asked, "Do you want to die?"
The man turned his face away in silence. Yan Si grumbled, "Should've just left you in the forest. What was the point of dragging you back here?"
He then pointed at the man, saying, "Look at yourself…"
The man's body was sturdy and muscular, a full head taller than Yan Si and nearly twice—no, three times—his weight. Yan Si furrowed his brows again. "You think it was easy for me to drag you back here?"
"And now you're sulking? You even know how to sulk?" He snorted. "Unbelievable…"
The man knew he owed the boy his life. He hadn't even said a word of thanks. After a long silence, he finally spoke: "Of course I don't want to die."
"You don't?" Yan Si's voice was cold. "Then what's with the hunger strike?"
He was genuinely furious now, tempted to just leave the man alone to fend for himself.
"Hunger strike?" That wasn't it at all.
The truth was—the man was starving. His body cried out with the raw ache of someone long denied food. He felt like he was going to die.
But still, he couldn't eat that piece of meat.
Because…
The child in front of him—how old could he be?
So thin, so ghostly pale, a breath away from vanishing. He was always asleep, and when awake, barely alive—only chewing on a few sour, bug-bitten wild fruits when hunger twisted too tight to bear. His body wasn't just weak. It was breakable.
So fragile it felt like the wind could knock him unconscious.
And now, for the sake of a complete stranger, this fragile boy had gotten himself severely injured, had carved into his own flesh, and cried silently while doing it…
It was enough to weigh down the heart. Enough to leave one completely speechless.
Being forced to accept such a heavy debt of gratitude—how could one possibly repay it all? He suddenly sighed and asked bluntly, "How exactly do you want me to repay you?"
"Repay me?" Only then did Yan Si seem to realize…
Of course. Y Thường Hoa had once said: A favor received must always be repaid.
So this was what the man feared—the burden of owing someone, hence his hesitation to accept the food.
Realizing this, Yan Si quickly shook his head. "No need! Just think of your savior as a wandering ghost in this forest. When you return home, light a few sticks of incense for me—that'll do."
He wouldn't be able to smell it, of course, but at least it would mean someone had cared about him once.
"That's ridiculous!" the other man said, clearly displeased. "How can you say something so absurd?"
Sensing his irritation, Yan Si grew flustered. "Then… what do you want me to do?"
He felt as though he'd been caught in the grip of someone proud and troublesome—someone who simply had to be repaid, no matter what.
"Oh, right…" Glancing at himself, bare and half-covered, he mumbled, "If possible, I'd like a new set of clothes."
"That's it?" The man looked at him skeptically. "What about gold or gems?"
"Gold and gems…? What for?"
What for? Was this boy really that naive, or just pretending to be? With patience, he explained, "You can use them to buy many clothes… even live a life of comfort and wealth. You wouldn't have to hide in a forest like this anymore."
"I see… I could get all of that?" Yan Si murmured, half in wonder. So I've rescued a walking treasure vault.
"Yes," the man nodded immediately. "If you accept it, I won't have to feel guilty anymore. Everything will be even between us."
But to his surprise, Yan Si simply said, "I don't need it. Just one set of clothes will do."
"…" Just how low had this boy's expectations been? The man shook his head. "I don't have anything with me right now."
Yan Si nodded as if that were obvious. "When you've recovered, go get it. I'll wait here."
Sure, gold could buy countless outfits and perhaps a life of ease—but accepting such a thing? Who knew what consequences might follow?
He was weak, alone—if something were to go wrong, he'd have no one to rely on. Better to stay here and survive.
This answer amused the man greatly. He chuckled, nodding. "Alright then."
And only then did he finally pick up the now-cold piece of roasted meat… and begin to eat.
From this moment on, it could be said that he had accepted the debt of gratitude from the boy—and that debt, astonishingly, was to be repaid with nothing more than a new set of clothes. So cheap, so insignificant it barely held any value. Yet… was his life truly worth so little?
Seeing that the man had finished eating, Yan Si quietly began tending to his wounds. The man, clearly exhausted, had let his guard down completely, his body relaxed and still. After a long silence, he asked, "What's your name? Why are you living here?"
"…Shi Yan Si," the boy replied without thinking. But the moment the name slipped out, he realized his mistake—and fell silent.
The man immediately sat up and grabbed his wrist. "Shi Yan Si? Are you from the Shi Clan?"
"S-Shi… Shi…" Yan Si stammered, startled by the man's sudden intensity. "Shi Clan? I… I don't know them…"
"You don't know?" the man frowned. "Didn't you just say your name is Shi Yan Si? Isn't 'Shi' your surname?"
"I… I don't know," Yan Si pulled back his hand, shaking his head. "I only know that's my name. I really don't know anything about the Shi Clan…"
His evasive tone only deepened the man's suspicion, but seeing the boy so lost and defensive, he let go and changed the question. "Then what about your parents? Who are they? Where are they?"
"I… I don't have any parents," Yan Si answered softly.
"No parents?" The man gave a cold laugh. "What, did you crawl up from a crack in the earth?"
Every word from him struck deeper than a thousand arrows through the heart. Yan Si clutched his chest tightly... From a crack in the earth, was it? Wasn't that exactly what he was? Thinking so, he immediately nodded, "That's right! If I had parents, why would they let me live like this?"
Yes… if he truly had parents, why had he ended up in such a wretched state? Hearing the mention of the Shi clan, he really had lost his head for a moment.
Realizing his harshness, the man sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cruel."
Relieved to be spared from further interrogation, Yan Si waved his hand. "Forget it."
After all, it was the truth. What was there to be offended by?
After a moment of quiet, Yan Si looked up at him and asked, "Then what about you? What's your name? Why were you hurt so badly?"
The man hesitated before answering, "It's… RongCheng."
"Your surname is Rong, and your name is Cheng?" Yan Si blinked in confusion. Was that even a real surname?
How did he even come to that conclusion? The man suddenly felt a dull ache in his temples. "My surname is Song. My full name is Song RongCheng."
That name alone—RongCheng—was renowned across the land. The name of a prince. Elders, children, anyone who walked the world would recognize it… except for him.
"Song?" Yan Si paused, then suddenly caught on. "You're from the imperial family?"
RongCheng nodded, "That's right."
Of all places, fate somehow led Shi Yan Si to cross paths with a member of the royal family in distress—no wonder the man reacted so strongly upon hearing the name "Shi clan."
Feeling as though he'd just dodged a disaster, Shi Yan Si finally relaxed a little, then asked, "Then… how did you get injured?"
Recalling that day, RongCheng's expression grew slightly grave. "While out hunting," he said, "I was ambushed by assassins."
"An ambush?" Yan Si clearly hadn't grasped the gravity of the situation. "Why would someone want to kill you?"
"…You…" RongCheng gave him a long look. Was this child truly that naive? Or just pretending to be? Rubbing his temples again with mild irritation, he muttered, "You'd best stop asking questions."
Yan Si, ever obedient, immediately fell silent. After cleaning and dressing RongCheng's wounds, he quietly excused himself.
He really might've been just that simple—someone who had lived in seclusion so long he no longer understood the ways of the world. Y Thường Hoa, his supposed teacher, rarely spoke to him beyond giving occasional lessons. The visitors who came for healing never lingered either, and even then, all their exchanges were under Y Thường Hoa's watchful eyes.
With so little interaction, Yan Si's ability to communicate, to understand people, had long dulled.
Returning to his little cave, Yan Si began checking his own wounds again with care…