Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I think I finally understood what the chopstick the original owner had gone to such lengths to hide was really for.

From the very beginning, I had misunderstood her intent.

That chopstick was too thin-so thin that, if not for a stroke of luck, it could never have dealt a fatal wound to anyone except herself.

So it had not been meant to kill a patron and vent her hatred. Nor had it been meant to hold the madam hostage and escape.

The target of that desperate, brutal emotion had been herself.

That sharp wooden splinter was meant to end her own life.

But why should it be that way?

Why should the abusers go unpunished while the victim was forced to bear everything?

I was not her.

If anything, I had even less of a way out than she did.

For me, ending it all was more like an unbreakable curse, trapping me forever in this endless same day.

And so, I began to think.

What exactly could I do that would, at the very least, allow me to survive today?

Once again, the daylight dimmed.

From the mouth of the alley came the long, echoing sound of the night watchman’s clapper.

As expected, the old madam’s curses soon followed.

It was nothing more than scolding me for having ambitions higher than the sky and a life thinner than paper, for still failing to recognize my place even after ending up like this.

The memories of dying over and over mingled with fragments of the original owner’s recollections, gradually blurring my perception.

I could no longer even tell whether this was the beginning of another dream, or some illusion after death.

The old madam’s plump body squeezed onto the small earthen bed platform.

As for me, I had already tucked that little bamboo chopstick back into the shallow groove in the mud wall.

I couldn’t make a move.

This body was far too frail.

Even if I could kill the old madam, there was no way I could leave this alley by my own strength.

Besides, one thing she said was not wrong.

She had indeed given me a place of shelter. Even if poison was hidden under these roof tiles, I had no choice but to swallow it willingly.

I grabbed the hem of her clothes.

“Water.”

Borrowing that tiny bit of leverage, I struggled to prop myself up.

The foul-smelling bedding slid down, revealing the mottled bruises beneath.

I looked her straight in the eye without flinching or dodging, and for the first time, I spoke to her properly.

“I want water.”

The old madam’s astonished gaze swept over me.

Only after a long while did she turn and leave as if bestowing a favor, ladling half a gourd dipper of cold water before coming back and handing it to me.

The cool liquid slid down my parched throat, soothing my lungs and belly.

That earthy taste now seemed no different from sweet nectar to me.

I leaned over the edge of the bed and gulped it down, terrified of wasting even a single drop.

The old madam had long since seen enough not to be surprised.

“Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d cooperated like this from the start? You-”

I handed the emptied dipper back to her.

“It’s not enough.”

The old madam gave a cold laugh.

“What’s not enough? Who do you think you still are, some young mistress? Expecting clothes to be brought when you stretch out your hands and food when you open your mouth?”

I sat up straight.

“I mean, this much water isn’t enough for me to wash myself.”

I held up that half gourd dipper, keeping my arm level.

“Twenty coppers per man. Today alone, you must have earned at least a hundred or so coppers. Those men are coming now because I’m still a novelty. If they return tomorrow and see me this filthy, who knows? They might keep complaining to Madam and try to drive the price down.”

I tilted my head and forced out a smile.

“Madam doesn’t want to stop making money off me tomorrow, does she?”