515: Chapter 515 Daily Life

Qin Wangchuan walked down the street as the sun had already risen high into the sky.

His stomach growled twice, so he turned his steps and headed toward the eastern end of town.

Turning the corner, he indeed spotted that familiar figure.

Uncle Lu was bending over to add firewood into the stove, wearing an apron that had been washed until it was pale white.

The stall was located at the intersection of the town's eastern end, consisting of two long tables, several benches, and a stove built from bricks with a large iron pot resting on top.

The water in the pot hadn't boiled yet, but white steam was already beginning to rise.

During that period of rapid progress, Qin Chuan often came here to eat noodles.

The noodles were hand-rolled, and the diced meat in the sauce was cut into large chunks; he never skimped on ingredients.

He didn't know how they tasted.

Now, he wanted to give them a try as well.

Qin Wangchuan walked over and sat down on a bench.

The wooden bench let out a creaking sound.

Seeing someone had arrived, Uncle Lu stirred the boiling water with his long chopsticks, then looked up and gave him a smile.

“Qin Chuan is here.”

“Mm.” Qin Wangchuan nodded. “Uncle Lu, I’ve changed my name. I’m called Qin Wangchuan now.”

“Changed your name?”

Uncle Lu rested the long chopsticks on the rim of a bowl and turned around. “Qin Wangchuan... that name sounds grand.”

“If your father knew, he would surely be happy.”

As he spoke, he let out a sigh, his tone becoming somber.

“That father of yours... he was just stuck too deep.”

“If back then...”

Just as he started the sentence, a woman carrying a bamboo basket stepped out from behind and nudged him with her elbow.

Uncle Lu paused.

He glanced at her, then at Qin Wangchuan, swallowed the rest of his words, and turned back to scoop out the noodles.

“It’s nothing, let’s not mention it.”

Qin Wangchuan took the noodle bowl, the heat wafting onto his face.

He lowered his head, took a slurp, chewed a couple of times, and then looked up at the two of them.

“It’s fine.”

His voice wasn't loud, and his tone was steady.

“The past should be remembered.”

“Regarding my father's matters, Uncle Lu can mention them if he wishes. I won’t hide, nor will I forget.”

“But I will also walk the path of the future.”

Uncle Lu was stunned for a moment, then he broke into a grin, though his eyes were slightly red.

“Good. Good.”

He patted Qin Wangchuan on the shoulder and turned back to the stove, his voice a bit muffled. “Then eat more. You need a full stomach to have the strength to walk your path.”

Aunt Lu watched from the side and didn't say anything else.

She simply picked out a few tender stalks of green vegetables from the bamboo basket and set them by the stove to use when she prepared his noodles.

Qin Wangchuan finished the bowl of noodles; they were indeed delicious.

The noodles were chewy, the broth was thick and white, and the diced meat in the sauce was fried to a fragrant crisp.

He wiped his mouth and looked up.

Uncle Lu was busy attending to a new customer.

“Old Lu, give me a bowl of noodles.”

“Coming right up!”

Qin Wangchuan didn't say much more; he laid down twenty-five copper coins and stood up to leave.

By the time Uncle Lu turned back from the stove with a bowl of noodles, Qin Wangchuan was already over a dozen steps away.

He looked down and saw the copper coins on the table, froze for a moment, then frowned. He took the money to Aunt Lu and spoke with a hint of reproach:

“Didn't I tell you not to take his money?”

Aunt Lu was sorting vegetables and didn't even look up. “Did I take it?”

“Then who took it?”

“He left it himself.”

Aunt Lu put the vegetables in her hand into the basket, brushed the dirt off her hands, and grumbled:

“I didn't even notice when he left.”

Uncle Lu opened his mouth to say something more, but Aunt Lu sighed and cut him off. “Besides, stop poking your nose where it doesn't belong.”

“That child just lost both parents. What's wrong with looking after him a bit?”

“What I mean is—” Aunt Lu looked up, “does he look like someone who needs looking after?”

Uncle Lu fell silent.

“That child has been sensible since he was small.”

Aunt Lu picked up the bamboo basket and turned to walk behind the stove. “If you force things on him, he’ll feel like he owes you instead.”

Uncle Lu looked down at the copper coins in his hand and sighed as well.

“No matter how sensible, he’s still a child. He still needs to eat...”

While the two were arguing, Qin Wangchuan had already walked far away.

He strolled slowly along the town's bluestone-paved road.

He passed the general store and the meat stall.

When he passed Butcher Zhang's shop, where half a pig was hanging, Qin Wangchuan slowed his pace.

He thought it would be better to go over and say hello.

Butcher Zhang was bending over deboning meat. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, and seeing it was Qin Wangchuan, he grinned. His voice was loud enough to be heard halfway down the street:

“Qin Chuan! Want a piece of meat? Just slaughtered, fresh!”

Qin Wangchuan shook his head. “No thanks, Uncle Zhang. It’s just me at home, I can’t eat much.”

“Then how about a small piece? It’s good for making soup.”

“Really, no need.” He paused. “By the way, Uncle Zhang, I’ve changed my name. I’m Qin Wangchuan from now on.”

“Changed your name?” Butcher Zhang put down his knife and wiped his hands on his apron. “I still think the old one sounded better, more catchy!”

“But changing it is fine too. If you want meat in the future, come find your Uncle Zhang.”

Qin Wangchuan nodded, said no more, and continued walking.

Perhaps it was because of Uncle Zhang’s warmth, or perhaps because of the weather.

The sun shone on him, feeling warm and cozy.

He didn't walk fast and had no particular destination; he was just walking.

Several women were sitting on doorsteps chatting. When they saw Qin Wangchuan walking over, their voices lowered, and their gazes fell on him before shifting away.

Needless to say, they were definitely discussing him.

He pretended not to see and walked past them.

As he walked, he encountered two girls walking together.

They were acquaintances from when he used to attend the private school.

Their faces were familiar, but he hadn't spoken to them much.

One of them saw Qin Wangchuan, slowed her pace, her eyes brightening as she took the initiative to approach him:

“Qin Chuan, I heard about... what happened at your home. My condolences.”

Her tone carried pity, but the end of her sentence rose slightly, as if hiding something else.

The girl beside her kept her head down and didn't speak, only casting a glance his way from time to time.

Qin Wangchuan's face and build were rare sights in this small town.

He was tall and thin, with clear and handsome features.

He usually had a gentle demeanor, and no one had ever seen him lose his temper.

Such a person might not seem popular on the surface, but secretly, everyone wanted to get close to him.

But he had no such inclinations.

The two exchanged a few more idle words, nothing more than “what are your plans for the future” and “are you used to living alone” and the like.

Qin Wangchuan answered each one, his tone gentle and polite, yet maintaining a proper distance.

Seeing that he remained indifferent despite being polite, the girl gradually stopped talking.

After all, she was a young lady and thin-skinned; it would be improper to say any more.

She lowered her eyes, whispered “take care of yourself,” and pulled her companion away.

Qin Wangchuan cupped his hands in a bow and watched them walk away.

Just a moment ago, he had felt the sun was just right, shining warmly and comfortably on him.

But now, the wind suddenly picked up, making him feel a bit irritable.

He turned around and continued walking.

Since he was annoyed, he would stop strolling and go find Materials for drawing Talismans.

Following his memory, he went to the town's paper shop.

Liuxi Town had produced many scholars, so the paper shop was not small.

It had three storefronts, and above the counter hung various specifications of Xuan paper, Mian paper, and yellow ritual paper, all neatly stacked.

After entering, Qin Wangchuan looked around, not in a hurry to make a purchase.

For other Talismans, the paper and pigments had to be top-tier; even a slight deficiency would affect the success rate of the Talisman.

But the Spirit Gathering Talisman was different.

It possessed no great power of its own.

It merely drew in the scattered Spiritual Qi from between heaven and earth, so it didn't require overly precious Materials.

Of course, precious ones would be better, as the range would be larger.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any now.

He had brushes and ink at home, so he selected ten sheets of relatively stiff yellow ritual paper and went to check out.

The shop owner wasn't there; a shop assistant sat behind the counter, looking down while clicking an abacus.

Seeing Qin Wangchuan approach, he looked up and flicked a few abacus beads:

“Seventy copper coins.”

So expensive!

But there was nothing he could do.

Qin Wangchuan nodded, counted out the copper coins from his sleeve, and placed them on the counter.

Just as he was about to leave, the nearby curtain was lifted.

“Qin Chuan?”

Turning his head, he saw Shopkeeper Li—the one who had collected money last night.

He was wearing a grey cloth robe with his sleeves rolled up, holding a brush in his hand, with ink stains on his fingertips.

“You’ve come at just the right time. Help me write some characters.”