The strange thing was that the man just glanced at the money Fang Zhiyi put down and grinned: "You are not a spy for the bandits."
Fang Zhiyi was puzzled: "Why do you suspect I'm a bandit? And how can you be sure I'm not a bandit?"
He leaned forward from the darkness, and Fang Zhiyi realized that the man in front of him also had only one eye.
"Those bandits would send out spies to snoop around, looking for people who are badmouthing them, or who have money, just like you, asking around." The man shook his head. "If it's you, the bandits won't give you money."
Some bandits have very strange personalities and cannot tolerate insults from the common people.
"I once had an uncle who was sitting on the kang with his aunt one night, chatting, and he accidentally said a few words of dissatisfaction with bandits. However, their conversation was overheard by a spy who was climbing over the wall."
"The next time the bandits came to rob, my uncle became their target. They skinned him alive in front of the villagers. The horrific screams lasted a whole day, and I still remember them."
This man also had his hand chopped off by bandits. He was just an ordinary woodcutter. One day, while cutting wood in the mountains, he ran into a group of bandits. The bandits forcibly took him to the mountain stronghold and made him do some odd jobs.
Once, because he was a little slow in his movements, he was beaten by the bandits and even his hands were brutally chopped off. When he recounted these experiences, his face was expressionless, as if it had nothing to do with him.
Finally, the man pointed at his own eye and said with a wry smile, "I just stole a peek at the bandit's concubine, and my eyeball was forcibly removed. If that woman hadn't kindly intervened, I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to save my life, let alone come back alive."
Fang Zhiyi paused for a moment. He couldn't think of anyone else who was so "kind".
"Do you hate them?"
The man's single eye gave Fang Zhiyi a strange look: "What are you saying? If I don't hate them, should I thank them? Look at my hands!"
He was a little emotional, but after a moment he seemed to have lost his mind: "What's the use of hatred? I'm just wondering why they didn't kill me. I wouldn't be living in such pain."
Fang Zhiyi looked at him for a moment: "Do you want revenge?"
The man didn't answer.
For ten whole days, Fang Zhiyi traveled all over Xicheng and its surrounding areas. Some people were wary of him, and some scolded him, but he didn't say anything. Those who had experienced death numbly recounted their experiences. They didn't believe that this ordinary person in front of them could avenge them. But at least there was such a learned person who could write down what they had experienced.
The landlord's family had their son's skin peeled off and used to write a ransom.
A poor family whose people were skinned and forced to drink tung oil to light lamps because they angered the bandits because they could not collect food.
A businessman whose daughter was tortured to death by bandits and whose house was burned down.
Fang Zhiyi's heart gradually began to feel numb, and his bag became increasingly bulging. When he arrived at his home, he met the couple at the door. Fu Yunshen still greeted him politely, and Shen Zhixia also smiled at him.
Fang Zhiyi nodded and went into the house.
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