Vol. 2 - Ch. 60 - Chen Ying and Chen Yi

Orphanage.

Chen Ye reclined in a bamboo lounge chair, and with a thought, closed the system interface.

“A stint in prison, huh...”

“Let him suffer a little. It’ll do him good.”

He murmured quietly to himself.

Raising his eyes to the clear, vivid blue sky, he rose from the chair and stretched his limbs.

“Haven’t made a move in over two years.”

“Guess it’s about time I loosen up a little...”

Chen Ye stood tall, with a strikingly handsome face and calm, deep-set eyes.

He did miss those days roaming the martial world.

Gazing at the sky, a trace of nostalgia surfaced in his heart.

“Xiao Yi... Xiao Yi...!”

“Look what I found!”

A clear, lively voice rang out from the courtyard.

Chen Ye turned his head.

A girl of about ten came running over, holding a small yellow flower in her hand, calling out to a boy nearby.

The girl was quite tall—almost a head taller than other children her age.

Her round cheeks were dotted with freckles, and her face lit up with an unfiltered joy.

The boy she ran toward looked to be around eight or nine, his complexion pale and slightly sickly.

Though thin and frail, his features were proper and symmetrical.

He was crouched on the ground before a flowerpot, in which bloomed a vibrant red peony in the shape of a lotus.

At his feet sat a small bowl filled with clean water.

The boy was carefully tending to the peony.

Hearing the girl’s shout, he looked up. When he saw the flower in her hand, a soft smile rose on his lips.

“That’s a dandelion. Where’d you find it, Xiao Wu?”

At the name "Xiao Wu", the girl puffed up her cheeks in protest.

“My name is Chen Ying! Call me Xiao Ying, or just Ah Ying.”

“Don’t call me Xiao Wu anymore…”

“I don’t call you Xiao Liu—I call you Chen Yi—so you can’t call me Xiao Wu either!”

She grumbled, clearly displeased.

The boy, Chen Yi, shrugged and let out a soft chuckle.

“What’s the difference?”

After the new year, Chen Ye had given names to the older children.

“Xiao Wu” was the girl—Chen Ying, and “Xiao Liu” was the boy—Chen Yi.

“Of course there’s a difference!”

Chen Ying squatted down next to Chen Yi, holding the dandelion between her small fingers.

Her bright eyes flicked between the peony blooming in the pot and the yellow dandelion in her hand.

A bit nervously, she asked:

“Hey, Chen Yi… do you think this flower can still be planted and survive?”

Chen Yi glanced at the dandelion in her hand and shook his head.

“You’ve pinched the stem clean off. It won’t make it.”

“Besides…”

“Even if you could grow a dandelion, it won’t last. It’ll wither fast and just leave a bare stem.”

Hearing that, Chen Ying’s face fell.

“Oh…”

She puffed her cheeks again, visibly sulking.

“I thought I could plant it…”

Chen Yi smiled faintly and said nothing more, turning his attention back to tending the peony.

There was a maturity and steadiness in his demeanor far beyond his years.

Two years ago, Head Constable Song of the local yamen had found him collapsed on the street—burning with fever, ghost-pale, half-dead.

Moved by pity—his own son being around the same age—Constable Song had bought some medicine out of pocket and brought Chen Yi to the orphanage.

He’d stayed ever since.

At first, the boy was silent and withdrawn, not talking to anyone.

He was younger than Da Ming and Sun Sheng, and had little to say to them.

Back then, Chen Ye had just taken in Xiao Wu—a lively, outgoing girl.

She chattered endlessly to Chen Yi every day.

Eventually, the two grew close. Now, they were inseparable.

Watching the two children squat together, tending to the flowerpot, Chen Ye smiled faintly.

In a way, wasn’t this what people called childhood sweethearts? Innocent companions?

His gaze lingered on Chen Yi, focused and delicate in his care of the peony.

This boy was calm by nature. He liked quiet over chaos.

He liked working with plants.

Every time Chen Ye held lessons, Chen Yi would always raise questions about herbs and medicine.

Once he got a bit older, it might be worth sending him to study at the Yuhang Medical Hall.

To become a physician who saves lives—not a bad path.

And with that particular system trait...

He might even make something of himself one day.

Chen Ye’s gaze shifted to Chen Ying.

Her nature was the opposite—lively, restless, always in motion.

Which... actually matched her system trait quite well.

With a thought, Chen Ye summoned the system map to check on the positions of three children.

Da Ming, Sun Sheng, and Xiao Lian.

Da Ming was still in Jiangling, in Jingzhou.

Sun Sheng had already left Wuchang Prefecture and was heading slowly northward.

Judging by his direction, he seemed to be headed toward Bianliang.

The red marker for Xiao Lian was stationary.

Its location: Jinhua Prefecture, Zhejiang.

…

Zhejiang, Jinhua Prefecture.

The rain had passed, and the sky was as clear as polished jade.

The official road was still slick with mud.

Creak... creak...

Several horse-drawn carts rolled slowly down the highway, their wheels groaning.

From a distance, you could hear them before you saw them.

Looking closer—

A modest convoy moved steadily down the main road.

There were four carts in total.

But unlike ordinary carriages, these were hitched to wooden prison cages instead of cargo holds.

Inside, over a dozen prisoners sat in chains, wearing white prison robes.

Surrounding the carts were several mounted riders.

Each man sat astride a chestnut warhorse, clad in black brocade, golden daggers at their belts—officers of the Six Doors.

At the very end of the convoy:

A single man was locked alone in one cage.

He was burly, middle-aged, with iron chains piercing straight through his shoulder blades.

His long hair hung loose, and his solemn eyes carried an unmistakable weariness.

Next to his cage was a white horse.

On its back sat a guard with a long, narrow face and sallow skin, arms crossed and head bowed—

Sleeping.

This man was one of the Three Great Catchers of Six Doors.

Nicknamed “Death Ring” Lu Nuo.

His weapon was uncommon—a solid iron ring the width of a rice bowl.

They said he struck fast—too fast to see.

Whenever the ring flew, someone died.

It never missed. It only struck vital points.

His name alone terrorized the underworld.

Among the bandits of Taihang Mountain, Lu Nuo was the one enforcer they feared most.

Compared to the other two Great Catchers—Murong Longyuan the Iron Spear and Lei Zhengyang the Golden Blade—

Lu Nuo’s reputation was even more dreadful.

The martial world had a saying:

“If Lu Nuo makes a move, someone dies.”

Thankfully—he rarely did.

He didn’t like killing.

Because… the iron rings were expensive.

…

“Mama… mama…”

“My hand really hurts…”

A childish voice whimpered from the front prison cart.

Lu Nuo’s ears twitched.

Still half-asleep, he yawned and opened his bleary eyes.

Up ahead—

In the first cage sat a woman in her thirties, elegant and graceful, her figure soft and full.

Next to her was a chubby little boy, no more than eight or nine.

He was quite round—so much so that his cheeks nearly swallowed his eyes into thin slits.

Hearing his cry, the woman glanced down at his wrist.

The tender skin was already worn raw by the heavy manacles.

A look of pained concern flashed across her face.

She turned to one of the Six Doors officers riding alongside the cage.

With a gentle voice, she said:

“Officer, my son is just a child... Could you perhaps remove his shackles?”

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