Chapter Seven: Wanted

Daosheng’s eyes rolled in their sockets, suddenly stopping as he broke off the chase. Instead, he grinned broadly at Chubby, his smile growing stranger by the moment, so wide it seemed almost crooked.

"Chubby, stop running, I promise I won’t hit you. I vow to the organization and the Party—I won’t hit you. Come here, I have something to tell you." He waved, beckoning as he spoke.

But I wouldn’t listen. "I’m not listening! Daosheng, you’re nothing but a liar. Don’t try to trick me again. If I stop, you’ll grab me and beat me half to death. You’ve fooled me too many times before—do you think I’m a three-year-old? Don’t waste your breath. I won’t fall for your tricks."

Chubby ran even faster—and with a thud, collided into someone. He toppled to the ground, but the man didn’t even spare him a glance, simply stepped past and pulled two portraits from his chest.

"Have you seen these two?" the man asked, unfolding the papers.

His gaze was fierce, his tone menacing as he glared at Daosheng.

The portraits showed two people. One had a slender face with bright eyes and thick brows, a delicate chin—a classic oval face. Wasn’t this himself? Daosheng’s heart skipped a beat. The other face was as round as a plate, with tiny eyes and a flat nose, though the mouth was nicely drawn; the whole face was exaggerated yet striking, like a painted dish—yes, strikingly beautiful.

It was unmistakably Chubby’s likeness.

The artist had captured them perfectly—Daosheng praised the work aloud, though inwardly he was tense as a wire.

"I am a constable of this town, acting under orders from the magistrate, Lord Dao Ming, to apprehend wanted criminals. Those who conceal their knowledge will be punished as accomplices. If you recognize these faces, report immediately and you will be handsomely rewarded."

Without hesitation, Daosheng threw himself beside the fallen Chubby, slapping the ground and chanting:

"Heavens above, don’t turn a blind eye! My brother, don’t die! Father and mother are gone, only the two of us remain. Don’t leave me—I’m so afraid, so afraid… sob… sob…"

"Brother! My poor brother! Heavens, save him!"

The constable, seeing this spectacle, didn’t dare linger. He barked over his shoulder, "Insolent peasants! How dare you slander an imperial officer! Leave now if you know what’s good for you, or you’ll taste prison food before long!"

Daosheng’s wailing ceased, though he still choked out little sobs, his head bowed, lost in a daze.

"Get out before I drag you off myself!" the constable bellowed.

Dragging Chubby by the leg, Daosheng pulled him along with difficulty. The fellow was heavy—no wonder, with all he ate. Daosheng cursed him in his heart as he struggled.

Once the constable saw them leave, he turned away, muttering, "A pair of orphans, daring to challenge me! It was nothing to brush off that little rascal."

When the constable had gone, Chubby scrambled up, rubbing his face and then his nose. "Daosheng, my nose was never high, but now you’ve almost flattened it. You’d better repay me for my handsome looks, or I’ll make you pay one way or another."

Daosheng patted his shoulder. "All right, Chubby, don’t be upset. I did it for both of us. Otherwise, we’d be behind bars now. Just bear with it a little longer—later I’ll introduce you to my cousin as a wife, how’s that?"

Chubby’s spirits rose, but then he frowned, "You don’t have a cousin. Where are you going to find one for me?"

Caught out, Daosheng changed the subject, "Chubby, did you notice? That constable didn’t recognize me just now. Thanks to you—if you hadn’t made me look like this, he’d have caught me for sure."

Chubby, pleased by the compliment, nodded vigorously.

But then Daosheng’s tone shifted. "Chubby, shouldn’t you disguise yourself too? That way we can enter town without being noticed. Once inside, we’ll buy new clothes." He looked at Chubby with interest.

Chubby glanced at Daosheng, then at the wide road, then at the fields of wheat beside them.

This was the main road to town, lined with tall white cherry trees, their canopies arching overhead. The road was over ten meters wide, but empty—most people only came to town on market days, so it was usually deserted. Wide enough for three carriages to run abreast, the road was flanked by red-leaved cherry trees, with golden wheat fields stretching behind.

It was June—the time for harvesting wheat. The fields were so dry the earth had cracked, and as Daosheng spoke, Chubby looked around.

"Daosheng, there’s no water here. Why don’t we go back to the pond and smear some mud on me? There’s no water to be found around here." He gestured at the fields to make his point.

"Chubby, do you want that constable to catch you? I don’t. He’s looking for us just up ahead. If you go back, he’ll spot you with the wanted poster for sure. Don’t believe me? Try it yourself."

Frightened, Chubby hurried forward, not even replying.

"Chubby, I have a good idea and I know a place that can help you. Trust me—you’ll thank me later. Will you come? It’s just ahead."

Daosheng gazed at Chubby sincerely, patiently.

"All right, I trust you. Hurry up and take me there."

The two lonely figures seemed so small on the vast road, like two little specks, stopping and supporting each other as they went—one filthy and black all over, the other waddling unsteadily, still a bit dazed. They leaned on each other as they walked.

"Daosheng, are we there yet? We’re almost at the town. You’re not planning to turn me in for a reward and run off, are you?" Chubby said, teeth gritted, as though he truly believed it.

"We’re almost there. Just follow me."

Suddenly, the wheat fields ended and a new road appeared, lined with lush vegetable patches and orchards. Occasionally a laborer worked in the fields. Chubby had never been here before; his eyes lit up at the sight of the edible bounty, and he wished he could stop to eat something.

They walked on, and soon the buzzing of countless flies filled the air.

"We’re here, Chubby," Daosheng said, patting his back.

Chubby hurried forward, searching in vain for water, then turned to Daosheng, puzzled.

Without a word, Daosheng led him into a patch of grass.

Before them lay a vast, blackened heap, swarming with flies—dancing joyfully around a massive pile of animal dung.

The buzzing was deafening.

The heap stretched beyond sight, the stench overwhelming. In the distance, two laborers dumped another cartload and hurried off, pinching their noses.

Chubby gazed at the scene before him, speechless, lost in thought.