It was the dead of a bitter winter night in the pitch-black mountain forest.
A rosy-lipped, white-toothed young man whistled as he strolled forward. Halfway along, he suddenly tripped, stumbling several paces before barely managing to regain his balance.
Every muscle in the youth’s body instantly tensed, ready to spring into action. His once languid gaze turned sharp as a blade, and his fingers darted to the short dagger at his waist.
He had walked this mountain path nearly a hundred and eighty times; he could have traversed it with his eyes closed. He was absolutely certain that nothing had been there when he headed up the mountain.
Only after his fingers gripped the cold hilt of the dagger did Zhongli Ting’s taut nerves ease slightly.
"Who’s there?" he barked.
The silent forest offered no reply—not even the sound of breathing. Zhongli Ting frowned, then relaxed and pulled a fire-starter from his robe. He blew on it, and by the faint, flickering light, he saw that the object that had tripped him appeared to be a person.
Zhongli Ting instinctively pulled his fox-fur cloak tighter around his back, knelt down, and brought the light closer. It really was a person—a little girl, it seemed, no more than ten years old. In the freezing depths of winter, she was curled into a small, huddled ball in the snow, covered in frost, her face smeared with grime. Her skin tone under the dirt matched the snow, and she wasn't even moving with the rhythm of breath. It was no wonder he hadn't noticed her.
"She isn't dead, is she?" With that thought, Zhongli Ting reached out, pressing two fingers to the pulse at her neck.
Her skin felt thin and cold, and her pulse was weak, but it was still fluttering. As he checked her pulse, the child shifted slightly, as if a flicker of consciousness still remained.
"You're quite the survivor," Zhongli Ting muttered to himself.
To be buried in this icy wilderness on a night this cold and still be alive was remarkable. However, given her current state of rigidity, if no one helped her, she wouldn't last until dawn.
Should he save her, or shouldn't he?
Zhongli Ting frowned, hesitating.
This place was not close to the camp. If not for his craving for the hot springs in the mountains, he wouldn't have traveled this far in such snowy weather.
The roads were slippery with packed snow, and it was night; bringing another person along was far too risky. Furthermore, she was a child of unknown origins.
Zhongli Ting stood up and put away the fire-starter. With one hand, he unfastened the strings of the cloak at his neck and tossed the thick garment over her. A soft sigh escaped his lips. "Good luck, little one."
He hoped the tiny thing could hold on until dawn.
Zhongli Ting turned to leave, but as soon as he took a step with his right leg, his left leg was suddenly held fast.
The little girl on the ground, possessing some unknown strength, had gripped his left leg with her remaining instinct for survival, even though her eyes were still closed.
Like a drowning person clutching at a final straw, her five fingers curled tight, holding on for dear life.
Her will to live was strong. Zhongli Ting moved his leg slightly, but he couldn't shake her off.
He bent down and tapped gently on her stiff, frozen hand. "Let go."
He had his principles; if he couldn't save her, he couldn't save her.
"Brother..." The childish whisper, light as a feather, drifted past the youth’s ear. Zhongli Ting froze.
He was the eldest son with many half-siblings, but he had never been called that by anyone.
"So you’re latching onto me, are you?" Zhongli Ting’s handsome brows arched with a flicker of compassion, and finally, he stooped down. "Fine. Consider this my good deed for the day."
***
"Mmm..."
Her fingers, itching with the pain of thawing, brought the little girl back to consciousness. She struggled to sit up on the hard cot, rubbing her tingling fingers. As her awareness returned, the dull aches in her body became clearer, though none compared to the burning, agonizing emptiness of her stomach.
She was famished and parched; her hollow stomach churned in protest.
She pressed a hand to her stomach and looked around, her eyes filled with clear bewilderment.
An entirely unfamiliar environment.
Where was this?
How did she get here?
The little girl licked her dry lips, trying to recall something, but in truth, she couldn't even remember her own name.
Suddenly, footsteps and voices came from outside.
Terrified, the girl shrank back into the quilt and pulled it over her head.
"Whew, that weight-bearing training killed me today. Those sandbags had to be at least forty catties, right?"
"Forty catties, nothing."
" 'Nothing'?! Brother Ting, that’s a bit much, even for you."
The little girl peeked out from a gap in the quilt, her large, round eyes fixed on the entrance. She saw the heavy felt curtain being pulled aside by a muddy hand.
Two youths in black training gear, their builds lean and agile, walked in one after the other.
Having clearly just finished intense training, they were covered in dust and dirt. Even in the bitter winter, beads of sweat the size of peas rolled down their chiseled faces, yet they could not hide the vibrant spirit in their eyes.
"You’re just too weak," Zhongli Ting said, his eyes scanning the mud-stained felt. "You dog, Wei Ling! Keep your paws away from my curtain!"
Wei Ling replied, "Wash it, and it’ll be fine. Whoa..." As he spoke, he noticed the little girl, who had been lying there for a day and a night, was awake and staring at them. His voice rose in surprise.
Immediately, Wei Ling spoke indignantly, "You carried that dirty little thing back here, but heaven forbid I touch your curtain!"
Zhongli Ting looked over. "Oh? You're awake?"
The girl stared at them blankly. "M-me?"
"Who else is here besides you?"
"Um," the girl answered, a beat behind. "I'm awake."
She looked dull-witted.
Zhongli Ting couldn't help but laugh. "Finally awake. You've occupied my bed for a whole day and night. Little girl, where is your family? How did you end up fainting on the mountain alone?"
His voice was as clear as a mountain spring, exceptionally pleasant to the ear, but the girl just froze and shook her head in confusion.
What mountain?
Zhongli Ting and Wei Ling exchanged a glance, both surprised.
Wei Ling scratched his head. "Was she traumatized? If you don't remember, that's fine. Where is your home? We can have someone send you back, or send word for your family to come get you."
Both of them could see that although the clothes she wore were filthy, the fabric was soft and delicate—not the kind of material commoners would buy.
The little girl felt nervous and didn't dare speak.
The tent fell silent. Wei Ling couldn't help but urge her, "We're asking you, girl..."
"Don't scare her." Zhongli Ting raised a hand to stop Wei Ling, his smile warm. "If you won't say, I'll have to hand you over to the authorities."
Wei Ling: "...???" Who exactly was the scary one here?
The little girl closed her eyes and tried hard to think, but the concept of "home" was a blank void in her mind. "I... I don't remember..."
Wei Ling: "Huh? You don't remember your own home? Are you playing us?"
The girl tried to think harder, then suddenly clutched her head. A sharp pain inside made her sob uncontrollably. "It hurts..."
Wei Ling blinked, unable to stop himself from scratching his head. "Brother Ting, is that girl crying? I... I didn't even say anything."
"She’s not mine, I just found her." Zhongli Ting tutted and raised an eyebrow. "What are you crying for? No crying. If you have something to say, say it properly."
The little girl bit her lip, forcing back the tears in her eyes. She gripped the quilt beneath her and said urgently, "I really don't know..."
Zhongli Ting plucked a pouch from Wei Ling’s belt, reached over to take the little girl’s hand, wiped it clean, and without blinking, poured half the bag of pine nut candies into her palm. "Here, have some candy... no crying."
Eating too many sweets caused cavities; many of the younger soldiers in the camp had ruined their teeth that way. Zhongli Ting thought for a moment, then took some back, leaving the girl with only two.
Wei Ling: "...Those were mine."
Zhongli Ting acted as if he hadn't heard and unceremoniously stuffed the rest into his own robe.