"Returning to the Nest"
Fa Yinge casually opened the basket and began sampling the neatly packaged pastries inside, one by one. The boy, clearly hungry as well, waited for Fa Yinge to pick through the pastries before he started eating too.
"Not bad, not bad. What's this one called?" Fa Yinge asked, curious about the different flavors.
"That's eel cake, a famous delicacy here in Southport. It's even better when eaten hot," the boy explained.
"I think it's quite good as it is. What's this one? It tastes even better than the eel cake."
"That's the famous Southport crab meat bun, made with sea crab meat. It's incredibly delicious."
"You're right about that—delicious indeed. And this? It's as good as the crab bun."
"That's a curry beef roll. The beef isn't anything special, but the curry is a rare spice from the distant East. It's very expensive."
"Very expensive, huh? Well, it's worth it, definitely worth it. Even at seventeen or eighteen silver coins, it's worth every bit." Fa Yinge continued to praise the food as he ate, thinking that if he had known such a bargain existed, he would have feasted on these treats every day during his stay in Southport.
The basket of food, purchased for only two silver coins, was quite substantial. Before he was halfway through, Fa Yinge felt full. He forced down two more curry beef rolls before finally giving up, unable to eat another bite. The boy, with a much smaller appetite, had stopped eating long before.
Looking at the half-filled basket of pastries, Fa Yinge began to think about how he could keep it hidden from the ravenous crowd back at the hideout. Such a treat should be kept for himself, with perhaps a piece or two offered to the old man as a gesture of respect.
While Fa Yinge was pondering these things, the last two passengers boarded the coach, and it slowly began to move.
Relaxing in the coach, watching the scenery pass by through the window, Fa Yinge savored the experience. It was a new sensation for him, one of quiet enjoyment. As the evening darkened, the landscape outside became harder to discern, with only vague shapes visible in the distance. The nearby trees and fields were bathed in a dull, lifeless twilight. To be honest, the view wasn't particularly impressive.
But Fa Yinge was still captivated. When he used to travel by clinging to the back of a coach, the wind rushing past his ears made everything seem thrilling and dangerous. Now, sitting inside, he found that travel could be a leisurely, enjoyable experience.
The coach rolled gently over the countryside roads, rocking softly like a cradle. The sensation was comforting, almost like being rocked to sleep. The night breeze, filtered through the coach's mesh window, wasn't harsh like the wind outside. Instead, it carried the fresh scent of trees and grass. Fa Yinge found this kind of comfort immensely satisfying.
The distance from Southport to Laier wasn't far—only about two hours by coach. When the coach finally stopped at Laier's city gate, Fa Yinge was still lost in the enjoyment of the journey. It was the boy who had to nudge him, reminding him to disembark. As they stepped off the coach, night had already fallen, and they had to navigate the dimly lit streets by the pale light of the moon.
For Fa Yinge, the city of Laier was as familiar as the back of his hand. Even without any light, he wouldn't lose his way. But the boy was a different story—he stumbled along behind Fa Yinge, nearly tripping several times on the uneven cobblestones.
Fa Yinge was glad he hadn't let the boy carry the basket of pastries. Otherwise, who knows how many of the treats might have been ruined along the way?
Navigating the dark streets, Fa Yinge led the boy to the hideout. Before they entered the narrow alley leading to the hideout, Fa Yinge whispered to the boy, "It's quite late already. I'll take you to meet my boss tomorrow. Tonight, you'll stay in my room, and don't speak to anyone."
He heard a quiet acknowledgment from behind him in the darkness. Fa Yinge took off his coat and wrapped the remaining pastries in it, bundling them up securely. He then tossed the empty basket into the alley outside the hideout and led the boy through the narrow passage.
The golden fingers at the hideout greeted their leader as he walked in, but Fa Yinge ignored them, heading straight up to his room with the boy in tow. The golden fingers were puzzled by Fa Yinge's unusual behavior. Some of the quicker ones noticed the new face and began to piece together what might be happening. But there were always a few who didn't quite get it and tried to curry favor by approaching Fa Yinge.
Just as Fa Yinge was feeling uncomfortable and noticed the boy starting to look suspicious, a familiar voice called down from upstairs, "Fa Yinge, is that you?"
The old man shuffled down the stairs, taking in the sight of the boy following Fa Yinge. "You've had a long journey, haven't you? You must be tired. There's a lot of work to do tomorrow, so why don't you take your young friend and get some rest?"
"Yes, I need to rest. I have to report to my boss tomorrow morning," Fa Yinge replied.
The old man quickly caught on to the situation when Fa Yinge mentioned his "boss." Smiling, he said, "Yes, yes, your boss must be anxious to see you after such a long trip. Go ahead and get some sleep. As for your young friend, he can stay in my room tonight. Your room is too messy to host a guest."
Fa Yinge nodded and led the boy upstairs. Once they were out of sight, the old man turned to the golden fingers and said, "You've all worked hard today. Get some rest—we have a busy day tomorrow."
The quicker golden fingers immediately started tidying up and heading to bed, but a few still didn't catch on. As soon as the old man finished speaking, these clueless ones began to make noise again, playing and roughhousing.
The old man slowly approached the group, while the smarter golden fingers quietly backed away. In a flash, the old man's hand shot out, gripping the throat of the noisiest one with surprising strength and speed, belying his age.
His face still wore a gentle smile, but the bulging veins and wiry, powerful fingers told a different story. The unfortunate young man's face turned a deep shade of purple, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he struggled to breathe. No one could mistake the old man for a kind and gentle soul anymore.
"You young folks never learn moderation, never take care of your health. Getting to bed early is for your own good, for your health," the old man said, his tone that of a doting grandfather lecturing a mischievous grandchild.
With that, he loosened his grip just enough to let the blood flow back into the young man's head and air back into his lungs, avoiding a violent coughing fit. But the old man's eerie smile was enough to keep everyone silent, including the poor victim.
With a wave of his hand, the old man sent the golden fingers scurrying to their rooms. The hall quickly fell silent, the only sound a few muffled coughs buried under thick blankets. Satisfied with the result, the old man smiled to himself, pleased that his authority remained unchallenged. He cast a glance up at his room before heading upstairs.
When he entered Fa Yinge's room, he found the young man lounging on his bed, munching on a pastry, with a pile of them stacked on the table beside him.
"Crab meat buns, eh? You must have done well in Southport to afford such expensive treats," the old man remarked, eyeing the pastries with some surprise. "These must have cost you a gold coin."
Fa Yinge feigned ignorance, grabbing a piece of fish cake and offering it to the old man.
"Don't play dumb. Hand over your earnings from Southport," the old man said calmly, though his voice carried an unmistakable weight.
"I didn't make that much. You're overestimating things. These snacks didn't cost much—just two silver coins."
"Two silver coins? Even the crab meat buns alone are worth more than that. If you bought the whole basket and got a discount, you'd still be looking at twenty silver coins," the old man replied, his tone skeptical.
"So you knew about the basket deal all along, but you never told me, or even treated me to one," Fa Yinge said, sounding a bit resentful.
"Oh, so you did get a basket? How generous of you."
"I left the basket outside the alley, but it really only cost two silver coins. You can ask the new kid—he's the one who bought them. There's a trick to it," Fa Yinge boasted.
The old man studied Fa Yinge for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Next time you go to Southport, bring some back for me too. Now, about the new kid—tell me everything. I don't want to slip up and give anything away."