"Where are the bullets?" Fan Xian was like a young girl who had just awoken from a wonderful dream to find herself still sleeping on a heap of firewood in the kitchen. He asked Wu Zhu, slightly angry.
Wu Zhu answered honestly, although his answer was odd to hear in this world: "What’s a ‘bullet’?"
Fan Xian couldn't do anything about that, so he described to Wu Zhu the size and shape of a bullet, and how it was used. He then asked hopefully, "Uncle, you’ve seen my mother use them, right?"
Wu Zhu shook his head. "Like I said, I've forgotten certain things." Just as Fan Xian was about to despair, Wu Zhu suddenly said, "But I do recall the thing you described. Back then I thought they were useless, so when I took you away, I left them in the cellar of Taiping Courtyard."
Fan Xian had been trained to have an extremely steady disposition, but after hearing that, he almost wanted to embrace that lovable blind man and give him a kiss.
