"Let's settle it that way. Village chief, I'd like to stay here for two months. I hope you can make that possible.
"No problem."
"Hold on, chief. That's it? Just like that?"
"Ah, right. The rule. We don't use real names here. From now on, Saintess can refer to us by our traits or professions. This village doesn't dig into the past, so please don't pry into the villagers' histories either."
"I'll follow your lead."
"Then it's settle. Stay in the sick kid's room for now."
The village chief stroked his beard and chuckled.
At his age, how could he not tell that Tô Mạc Tà had a soft spot for the sickly boy of the village of Sickos?
Tô Mạc Tà grinned and approached... Lam Tường Vi.
"Little one, what's your name?"
"Lam Tường Vi. You're the Saintess from Floral Valley, right? The young master told me about you the other day."
Lam Tường Vi clutched her doll, casting a sidelong glance, casually bringing up their earlier conversation in Gemstone River Village. For some reasons only known to her, Little Tathāgata and the gaunt Hoàng from Skeletal Mountain were conveniently left out of her retelling.
Tô Mạc Tà gently patted her head, then turned to Lạc Trần.
"Really?"
Before he could answer, the girl piped up.
"Really! The young master said that wherever you step, flowers bloom. And when you fight, you summon flowers too!"
Lạc Trần scratched his nose. "Don't get the wrong idea, Saintess. I was telling her about the battle over the celestial meridians on Godfell Ridge. Hoàng and Little Tathāgata were there too."
"I know. She's just a child being playful. I don't take it to heart."
Tô Mạc Tà gave Lạc Trần a look that said, Don't worry, I won't misunderstand. Then she flipped her hand, revealing small trinkets from Aparagodānī and handed them to Lam Tường Vi.
The girl, born in the dry sea and raised in the shadowy Ranch, had never seen such colorful toys. Clean, fragrant, and unfamiliar.
Tô Mạc Tà nudged her gently, signaling her to go play, then said:
"Still, if I could make this deep of an impression on you, I' must have been more than just a passing name in your life, right?"
Lam Tường Vi squealed in delight and ran off to show Mr. Garlic, letting those words lost to the wind.
---The separator line came to work early and lack sleep---
Tô Mạc Tà strolled through the village of Sickos, greeting everyone she passed.
She took over embroidery from the silent maiden. Her needlework was delicate, though she claimed to only know how to stitch flowers. For beasts or dragons, she'd still need lessons from Madame Mute.
Later, she stopped by the butcher's stall, choosing from several cuts. She brought them by the dozens pounds. The butcher, seeing her buy so much, asked why.
Half-joking, she said, "I've got quite the appetite," making him burst out laughing. Then, she traded a gourd of wine for a large haul meat. The gourd itself was a spatial item, capable of holding enough wine to fill five or six massive vats - the kind an adult could sit inside.
Next, she visited the blind woodworker and asked him to carve a statue. At first, he refused and told her to leave.
Without argument, she infused a thin palm-sized jade slip with chi. Immediately, music began playing, melodic and emotional.
Upon listening, it turned out to be a romantic audio novel - filled with sweet, saccharine drama.
The blind man was clearly fond of it and agreed to carve the statue.
Then she visited the bald winemaker's tavern.
The moment he saw her, he turned away with a scoff.
"No service. Scram as far as you can."
Tô Mạc Tà smiled. "Did I offend you somehow, elder?"
"A jackal strutting into a tiger's den for scraps. How do you think the tiger feels?"
"May I offer an explanation?"
"Speak."
"Your wine is far superior to the brew I gave the butcher - it's not even close. But sometimes... people drink not for taste or price, but for memories."
The winemaker's brow twitched. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it. When the butcher was young, could he afford your fine wine? Of course not. He probably only drank the cheapest rice liquor. Three coins a bowl, sour as vinegar. That drink might mean nothing to you, but to him, it could be the fire of youth, the dream of spring."
"Humbled," the bald man muttered.
Without further words, he bounced around the house, bringing out four types of wine and setting them on the table.
"Consider these four my treat. Any more and you pay."
"Looks like I'm in luck today."
Tô Mạc Tà bowed and took the first cup.
The aroma was gentle, the taste smooth, without any burn. A light tang of apricot touched the tongue, followed by a faint scent of peach blossoms on the cheeks. It went down like a spring drizzle - mild and refreshing.
"Does this wine have a name?"
"Spring in Full Bloom."
---The separator line brewed itself a pot of coffee---
Tô Mạc Tà left the remaining cups with the winemaker, saving them for later.
That evening, she cooked a meal for the whole village, saying it was her way of paying for her stay.
The butcher, staring at the dishes, felt oddly touched.
He had once thought all outsiders could cook like Lạc Trần, but now it was clear: Tô Mạc Tà was on the same level as the villagers - birds of a feather.
The deaf man said nothing, picking up a bite and chewing in silence.
The Cripple widened his eyes. "Seriously? Deaf guy, you're risking your life for the sick kid's happiness now?"
The silent maiden held up a piece of three layers meat: a layer of raw meat sandwiched between a charred outside and an over-cooked core, stunned. Her facial expression read: how the hell did she manage to do this?
The village chief shook his head and, after a long pause, managed a somewhat gentle line:
"To cook meat like this... truly not something an ordinary person can do. It must be divine."
The mad healer slammed his forehead to the ground.
"Please accept me as your disciple!"
Tô Mạc Tà blushed, coughing awkwardly before pinching Lạc Trần.
"Hey, what was that for? Sudden burst of violence?"
He looked at her, thinking:
Must be hard pretending to be a lady all day. This must be her real self sneaking out.
She muttered, tugging at her sleeve:
"It's your fault. You ate like it was delicious that day. I thought I could really cook."
"Big sis, we were on Godfell Ridge back then. Having food at all was a blessing. Even Little Tathāgata broke his vows and that bony Hoàng ate meat. Why's it all on me?"
He shrugged, looking innocent.
Tô Mạc Tà stood, intending to clean up the culinary disaster, but the butcher stopped her.
"Don't worry about it. Before Sick Boy came, we ate like this all the time. We're used to it... really."
Even as he spoke, his foot subtly pulled Mr. Garlic - who was frothing at the mouth under the table - out of sight. In the corner, Mr. Onion took a bite, convulsed for minutes, recovered, and immediately went back for a second helping.
Lam Tường Vi snuck up to Lạc Trần, handing him a clam-shaped gemstone from Gemstone River.
The blind man scoffed. "How bad can it be? I've tasted Madame Mute's food. Let me try."
He picked up a piece the butcher served him, chewed slowly.
Sitting upright, face serene, unmoving as a mountain - he looked the part of a true master untouched by earthly calamities.
He chewed.
And chewed.
And chewed.
Finally, the butcher roared:
"Damn it, blind man! If you've got guts, swallow it! What are you trying to prove by chewing for five minutes?"
The blind man calmly turned to him, still chewing.
"Swallow? What is this... swallow you speak of?"
"You...!"
"I have lived two hundred ninety-four years. Never heard of that word."
Apparently, the line between master and rascal was just a thin, absurd veil.
"Screw this! Stick, let's take him down!"
"You go first. I'll follow. Today, we make him call us daddies!"
The winemaker nodded solemnly. Chaos erupted once again in the shared home of the village of Sickos.
The silent maiden pulled Lam Tường Vi to the back to cheer on the chaos. The deaf man and village chief nodded approvingly. Only the mad healer remained single-minded, banging his head to the ground with mechanical precision, chanting:
"Please accept me as your disciple!"
Even iron plowmen forged by the deaf man weren't that repetitive.
Lạc Trần glanced at Tô Mạc Tà, shaking his head with a sigh. Then they both burst out laughing - laughing until tears streamed down their cheeks.
In that moment, the burdens in Lạc Trần's heart - responsibility, revenge, grief, regret - all seemed to melt away with their laughter.