Thousands of Boats Float Along the Narrow River (Part 4)

The next day, just after dawn, Meng Shizhuang went to the dock again.

The supervisor yawned and waved casually at Meng Shizhuang, telling him to get back to work. When Meng Shizhuang turned around, he snapped out of his half-dozed state and looked at her with raised eyebrows, awestruck. He'd seen quite a few people at the docks, young men and scholars alike, let alone someone as "old, weak, and disabled" as Meng Shizhuang, who was wobbling under the weight of the cargo, yet was still able to hold his back straight.

Meng Shizhuang really felt pain all over her body.

Not only the back and shoulders, but the pain in the palms that usually followed me everywhere was particularly intense today.

He tried to twitch his fingers, but all he saw was the veins in his forearm throbbing. He glanced upwards, and saw that the fingers on his right hand were swollen, thicker than carrots. Meng Shizhuang grabbed a strip of cloth and forcefully wrapped it around his fingers. Then, as usual, he ignored the pain and continued to work. After a night, he began to worry.

"Ill-gotten gains" are truly impeccable "wealth" except that he should not have used them.

It comes quickly and easily, without any pain or fatigue in taking money. One purse can provide the old man with medicine for a long time.

Meng Shizhuang felt a discomfort all over his body. As the sun gradually rose, even his head began to ache. He moved numbly, his mind wandering, forcing himself to ignore the discomfort. A copper coin thudded lightly against his hand, then landed crisply on the table. Meng Shizhuang was startled awake by the sound. The skinny supervisor before him glanced at him suspiciously.

"Hey kid?"

He looked up suddenly and found that it was sunset again.

The men around him gathered in groups of three or four, all waiting to be paid. Meng Shizhuang had spent the entire day like a puppet, carrying goods back and forth at the docks. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything, and even after regaining his composure, he still felt incredibly ill. He stuffed a couple of dozen copper coins into a purse he'd found. He couldn't feel the weight of the coins, but he felt heavy.

After receiving the money, he squeezed out of the crowd and saw from afar Lao Ju talking to the old doctor in front of the pharmacy.

Lao Ju's illness cannot be delayed. After listening to what the old doctor said yesterday, Meng Shizhuang urged him to come before Lao Ju finished taking the new dose of medicine.

While Lao Ju was talking to his friends, he would look back at Meng Shizhuang from time to time. When he saw that Meng Shizhuang had finished his work, he waved to him from a distance.

Meng Shizhuang stood there without moving.

He reached out and scratched his shrunken pouch.

He still can't pay back the money he owed yesterday, but Lao Ju needs new medicine and they still need to eat.

The evening breeze, already chilly at this time of year, blew waves of anxious sweat down his back. The headache from the morning still lingered, the pain so intense that his vision darkened, then faded to a faint red. It was a figure. He didn't know who he was thinking of, but a sudden realization struck him—a pressing anxiety that instantly brought him back to Sujian Mountain.

He began to feel scared and angry.

He covered his head, his thoughts fluctuating, and Lao Ju's words from last night echoed in his ears.

Only one night had passed, and the words no longer had much of an effect of comforting and motivating her, but Meng Shizhuang still told herself that she could calm down because of these words.

He took a few deep breaths, endured the darkness before his eyes and walked towards the place where he remembered the pharmacy was.

The sounds of people and things around me mixed together, turning into an ambiguous buzzing sound.

So, when the "dirty ball" that had a chance to hit him hit him, he staggered back a few steps without any preparation.

Meng Shizhuang finally couldn't help it. He doubled over in agony, vomiting a cloud of bitter water. Then, as if pulled out of water, he was able to breathe again, finally taking a deep breath. Coming to his senses, he looked at the fat kid still thrashing on the ground in front of him. It was the kid whose steamed bun he had stolen a few days ago.

But within a few days, the child had become noticeably thinner and dirtier. At least, in front of the group of little beggars who bullied him, there was no noticeable difference.

Meng Shizhuang's face did not look very good as he had just recovered from the physical discomfort. Although he usually had two expressions on his face, either numb and lifeless, or angry and lifeless, in short, neither of them was "pleasant", so he successfully scared away the group of beggars who were bullying the minority with just his expression.

He had no intention of helping the fat boy, and Lao Ju was still waiting for him, so he raised his leg and wanted to leave without saying a word.

Fatty Dumpling clearly remembered the man who had taken advantage of his fellow thieves and stolen his steamed bun. He raised his muddy hands and wiped his tears and snot from his muddy face, making himself even dirtier. He sobbed and backed away, limping as he walked.

Meng Shizhuang glanced at the child. The child's legs weren't injured, just his shoes were worn. He probably hadn't gotten used to shoes that didn't cover his toes, so his toes would stick out with every step, making his steps unnatural. His gaze didn't stop, but he looked up. He actually felt that the child's clothes were a little empty, and then he saw that his cheeks were already starting to sag.

He stopped walking.

The shadow of half of Gao's body stopped in front of him. Fatty didn't even dare to breathe and subconsciously held his breath.

Meng Shizhuang looked at him for a long time, said "tsk" in his heart, and grabbed the back of the child's collar and lifted him up in his hand.

The fat boy burst into tears and his two short legs struggled in a disorderly manner.

Ignoring the child's current shambles, Meng Shizhuang deduced that his clothes and shoes were all silk and satin, suggesting he had been wandering for quite some time. His uninjured arm was aching, but he could easily handle a seemingly fleshy, fake fighter. The plump boy struggled a few times, freeing himself from his increasingly loose clothing and sliding down. However, the flesh around his neck still held firm, catching on the collar Meng Shizhuang had grasped.

He kicked a few more times, suspecting the bandit was going to strangle him to death, like Grandma had said, to separate his heart, liver, spleen, lungs, flesh, and bones for food. Suddenly, grief washed over him, tears streaming down his face in quiet despair. Then, stimulated by a burst of steaming, sweet white vapor, his eyes closed, and his feet landed firmly on the ground.

Meng Shizhuang took out a few copper coins from her purse and said to the boss, "Two steamed buns."

Fatty raised his face, which was covered in mud and snot and could no longer be seen, and stared blankly at a steamed bun being handed to him. He stared at Meng Shizhuang with two big eyes, looking at her in doubt. Seeing Meng Shizhuang's half-hearted tone, he said, "Here, I'll give it back to you."

He carefully caught the steamed bun, his body shook violently and he burped very loudly. Before he could ask the reason, Meng Shizhuang turned and left.

Meng Shizhuang stuffed the steamed bun wrapped in clean oil paper into her arms, planning to give it to Lao Ju later.

He couldn't explain why, but he felt a little choked up.

But he only owed the child a steamed bun, and now he has paid it back. Even if the child becomes skinny in the future, it has nothing to do with him.

In front of the drugstore, the old doctor stroked his beard and had a pleasant chat with Lao Ju.

Meng Shizhuang had no words to be polite. He poured out the remaining copper coins and handed them to the medicine apprentice, "I will pay you the remaining money tomorrow."

Then he asked the old doctor, "How is the old man's condition? Has he gotten any better after taking the medicine for so many days?"

The old doctor's smile faded, and he shook his head, saying, "How can a few doses of medicine cure a chronic illness like this?"

"The injury to his lungs has been accumulating for years. The medicine he's taking now is only treating the symptoms, not the root cause. No matter how much he takes, his condition will only get worse day by day. Daohai City's climate is too cold for him to live in for a long time. If possible, he should go to the south where it's warmer."

Meng Shizhuang lowered her eyes and nodded decisively, "I understand."

Lao Ju placed a hand on his shoulder, with a soothing look.

He was aware of his own physical condition, but he didn't stop Meng Shizhuang from asking for medicine for him. People always have selfish motives, and he probably wanted to see Meng Shizhuang grow up a little bit.

If possible, he would like to see Lao Hu again.

Sujian Mountain was in chaos, and he wondered what was happening now. He and Meng Shizhuang took advantage of the chaos to leave, and he wondered how Lao Hu would deal with Luo Shun. He concentrated for a moment, and surprisingly, he could only recall Lao Hu's high-spirited self from more than a decade ago. All these years, living a miserable life on Sujian Mountain, he had forgotten to even visit Lao Hu, besides Meng Shizhuang.

Now that I have escaped, all I have left is regret.

Meng Shizhuang didn't know what Lao Ju was thinking, but even if she did, she would probably be more helpless than he was about his own serious illness.

This was a fact he could not express to Lao Ju. This love and hate, like the injury on his right hand, was something he would never be able to shake off.

He half-supported Lao Ju as he walked toward the dilapidated temple. Though he hadn't spoken yet, he had already decided to leave Daohai City. He didn't feel like he was about to embark on a journey of wandering. He had no hometown, and he didn't know what hometown was. Lao Ju was still by his side, so perhaps there was nothing in this place he could still miss. But he didn't notice that his broken right hand was twitching unconsciously.

It's like a special sword-drawing action.

Even Lao Ju didn't know about it, and those who knew about his habit were left in the mountains.

At night, Meng Shizhuang, who repeatedly promised Lao Ju that she would not "return to her old ways", left the dilapidated temple.

He walked around the city for most of the day, recalling the scenes during the day, but still couldn't find another place where he could make money.

But leaving Daohai City is easy.

There are countless small boats parked on the river, and a person can get on board for only three copper coins.

Meng Shizhuang didn't know what this price meant, but he was very anxious.

Summer was about to pass, and the autumn in Daohai City would pass quickly, and Lao Ju would have to endure another difficult winter. He didn't want to delay any longer, and he would take Lao Ju away after paying off the money he owed for the medicine.

Meng Shizhuang made up his mind, let out a long breath, and was about to go back to the dilapidated temple to rest.

At this moment, a "moon" floated past his eyes. He was distracted slightly and then noticed the sneaky mouse behind the "moon".

Meng Shizhuang's eyes narrowed, and she moved faster than she thought, quietly following.

The rat was slower than he'd imagined, waiting several blocks from the river before making its move. Meng Shizhuang was wary of the rat's caution, but he hadn't expected it to be so easily defeated.

The mouse covered its stomach and screamed. Under the bright moonlight, Meng Shizhuang saw clearly that she had mistakenly seen the "moon".

The moment she saw the pink butterfly's face clearly, Meng Shizhuang cursed herself for meddling in other people's business.