Chapter Eight: Daoist Town

“Fatty, what are you waiting for?” Dao Sansheng gave Fatty a kick.

“You… you want me to smear all this on my face and body? Do you really want to go through with this?” Fatty was so angry he could barely speak.

“Hurry up, time is tight. If it gets dark, we'll waste our time inside and won't even find a place to stay,” Dao Sansheng urged.

Pinching his nose, Fatty jumped in. The flies that had been neatly crawling over the dung now buzzed about in a frenzied swarm. Fatty, now covered head to toe in dung—thankfully, somewhat dry—kept one hand over his nose and used the other to smear the filth across his face, eyes tightly shut, smearing it all over in a mess.

Soon, Fatty began retching. He dashed out, vomiting as he ran, a cloud of flies trailing after him. The stench was so potent it could be smelled from miles away. Dao Sansheng hurried after him.

Fatty staggered into an orchard, clutching a fruit tree as he vomited. Catching sight of an apple, he picked it and started eating, motioning to Dao Sansheng.

“The apple’s good, come try it. Really, try some,” he said, offering the apple.

Dao Sansheng recoiled. “Get lost! How can you still eat?”

“I just threw up a bit, need to eat something to recover,” Fatty retorted, rolling his eyes.

The two of them continued toward the town, less than half a mile away. Up ahead, they saw a pavilion where two bailiffs sat drinking tea, looking thoroughly relaxed. Their uniforms were thick, both men sweating profusely with their sleeves rolled up.

The older bailiff, his beard streaked with white, puffed on a dry pipe, smoke curling as he blew rings. The younger one was absorbed in studying two wanted posters.

“Uncle, do you think we’ll meet those two fugitives today? If we do, we’ll be heroes! The Dao Clan’s Elder will surely reward us handsomely,” the young bailiff said.

The elder took two puffs, picked up a fan, and waved it lazily, looking utterly unconcerned. He sipped his tea and replied, “No need for us to worry about that. Let’s just do our jobs. Don’t get carried away by a few words from the man who brought the notices. Just enjoy your tea and keep me company. Do you know what kind of background those men have? They dare offend the Dao Clan’s Elder! Think about that.”

The younger nodded repeatedly, refilling his uncle’s cup.

Just then, two filthy children approached. The stench hit them long before they arrived, making the young bailiff spit out his tea in disgust.

“Stop right there, you little thieves! Time for a search!” the young bailiff shouted, his voice clear and piercing.

Fatty cowered against Dao Sansheng, whose heart pounded so loudly both could hear each other’s racing pulses and ragged breaths.

“You two brats, whose children are you? Go home and find your parents—don’t loiter here!” the elder bailiff barked, slapping the table as he stood.

Without a word, Dao Sansheng dragged Fatty toward Dao Town, not daring to look back, as if afraid the bailiff might change his mind.

The young bailiff turned to his uncle in confusion. “Those two children could be the wanted fugitives.”

“Who said they were fugitives? I didn’t see anything, what children? Did you see anyone?” the elder replied.

The young man grinned. “Didn’t see a thing, didn’t see a thing…” They both burst into laughter.

Dao Sansheng and Fatty reached the town’s main street. People on either side held their noses and gave them a wide berth. The two looked like a pair of flies, eliciting disgust wherever they went.

The street was broad and paved with blue bricks, clean and tidy, lined with shops. Some two-story houses could be seen, rare in Dao Village except for the Elder’s home.

Food and wares were displayed outside the shops. The boys ignored the sidelong glances, eyes brimming with curiosity at their surroundings. It was Dao Sansheng’s second visit to town; Fatty, an orphan, had never been before.

Spotting a shop with bolts of cloth at the entrance and clothes for men and women hanging outside, Dao Sansheng noticed a large banner with the word “Cloth” written boldly. He pulled Fatty over, and in an instant, the area cleared out.

Above the door hung a modest signboard: “Red Silk Cloth Shop,” black with silver script. Dao Sansheng strode inside, where a woman in her twenties was bent over her accounts. Finished clothes hung on the wall with prices labeled. Without looking up, the woman called out, “Browse as you like—our shop only sells quality fabrics. If you see something you like, call me.”

Then she looked up, clamped her nose, and shrieked, “Get out! Get out of here!” Striding from behind the counter, she advanced on them.

Fatty, startled, tried to flee, but Dao Sansheng, more composed, stepped forward and placed half a spirit stone on the counter.

Spirit stones were the basic currency here. Cultivators used whole stones; common folk, mostly at the Qi Refining stage, dealt in fragments—half a stone was already rare.

At the sight of money, the shopkeeper’s manner changed instantly. Smiling sweetly, she pocketed the stone. “Honored guests, what kind of clothes do you need? I’ll fetch them at once.” She even threw Dao Sansheng a flirtatious wink.

“Prepare a place for us to bathe and give us two sets of clothes—anything that fits. We need to change,” Dao Sansheng said directly.

“Such adorable little brothers! Come with me.” She locked the shop door, leading them through to the back.

Past the inner room, they found a courtyard with several side rooms. She guided them into the largest. The whole room was awash in pink—bed, bedding, and all the furniture.

“Come here,” she said, drawing back a pink curtain to reveal a bathing room carved from a single slab of smooth green stone.

Fatty leapt into the bath first. After washing and draining the water, Dao Sansheng carefully set his bundle aside and joined him. The woman watched through the curtain.

“Here are your clothes,” she announced, passing them through the curtain and placing them on the stone floor.

Dao Sansheng rapped Fatty on the head. “Stop bathing, let’s go!”

Fatty didn’t argue. They scrambled out, dressed quickly, and Dao Sansheng tucked the bundle into his arms. “Madam, keep the change—we’re leaving.” Without waiting for a response, they hurried out.

They crossed from the back courtyard to the front hall. Dao Sansheng pushed open the shop door. Just as they stepped outside, someone gave chase. Dao Sansheng dove into the crowd as a voice called from behind:

“Little brother, you forgot your underwear in the bath! Little brother, you forgot your underwear!”

The whole street turned to look. The shopkeeper stood at the door, waving a pair of small pink underpants high overhead, calling out in a sweet, coquettish voice. The street fell silent.

Fatty nudged Dao Sansheng. “Sansheng, those aren’t yours—I’ve seen your underwear.”

Fatty’s conviction made Dao Sansheng’s face flush scarlet. He covered his cheeks with both hands, muttering to himself, “Didn’t see anything, didn’t see anything…”

A pair of large hands pulled his hands away from his face.

“Little brother, why run? I’m not going to eat you. Here, your underwear. Remember to come again,” the shopkeeper said before turning back inside.