Chapter 59: Catching Wild Rabbits, Senior Brother Is Missing

Before long, Cen Song staggered out, his legs trembling, clutching the railing as he gasped for breath.

Chu Junhan, afraid of being scolded by the old man, hurried over to help him up, his face full of shame. “Teacher, are you feeling better?”

Cen Song leaned against the wall, clutching his stomach. He was in too much pain to answer the child, only feeling a sharp ache in his lower abdomen. He turned and stumbled away, making for the privy.

Chu Junhan shrugged, consoling himself in his heart: This isn’t my fault—it’s Teacher’s own greed.

After several trips to the latrine, Cen Song finally emerged looking like a withered, dehydrated radish, his body drooping and his steps unsteady.

The stench from the privy had seeped into him, leaving a foul odor clinging to his body. Chu Junhan pinched his nose with one hand while pouring tea with the other. “Teacher, are you feeling any better?”

Cen Song took the tea and drained it in one gulp. His voice was weak, and his hand trembled. “A bit better.”

The little one obediently fanned him, afraid of being scolded, lips pursed. “I learned that from Senior Brother.”

Senior Brother? She’d been back for a while now—why hadn’t that little rascal shown up yet?

“Teacher, do you know where Senior Brother has gone?”

Cen Song sipped his tea and rubbed his belly. “Didn’t you go out to play with him?”

“He hasn’t come back?” Chu Junhan’s brows knit, unease creeping into his heart. Could something have happened to the little scamp?

Cen Song saw the worry in Chu Junhan’s eyes, gently set down his teacup, and replied calmly, “He’s probably just distracted by play. He’ll be back soon.”

“Distracted by play?” Chu Junhan looked toward the slanting rays of the setting sun. In less than an hour, night would fall. No matter how clever Zimo was, he was still just a child.

Cen Song’s stomach was still upset, and in his exhausted state, it was clear he couldn’t go searching. She would have to go herself.

“Teacher, I’ll go look for Senior Brother,” she said, and with that, the little one dashed outside.

“He’ll be fine…” Cen Song shook his head helplessly. His young disciple’s temperament was still too impetuous—she needed more tempering.

Still, perhaps such a temperament was not entirely a bad thing.

The old man’s gaze grew deep and complicated as he watched the child disappear into the mountain forest.

“Senior Brother—”

“Zimo—”

…

The childish cries echoed through the woods, each call louder than the last.

Night descended swiftly, and before she knew it, Chu Junhan had reached the end of the path she’d traveled before.

She glanced at a smoldering fire not long extinguished, a slight frown tugging at her brow as she hesitated about pressing on.

Ahead, the light grew dimmer and dimmer. From the depths of the woods came the howls of wolves, making the little one instinctively clutch her clothes tighter and shrink into herself.

Chu Junhan felt the hairs on her body stand on end. Even the lightest brush of wind sent a chill through her.

Silence.

Cold.

Darkness.

“If it comes down to it, better you than me. Just a little farther—if I still can’t find you, I’m heading back. Senior Brother, may fortune favor you.” In the end, the little one bit her lip and made a crucial decision, setting off on her small feet into the darkness.

Suddenly, the stillness of the forest was broken by a rustling sound. The trees ahead began to shake violently.

Chu Junhan swallowed hard, clenched her fists, and assumed a defensive stance, eyes fixed ahead.

“Awooo—” The howl of a wolf echoed through the woods.

The little one instinctively retreated, snatching up a half-burned stick, holding it defensively toward the trees.

“Awooo—” Another wolf’s howl.

Hmm?

Suspicion flickered across Chu Junhan’s face. She detected something odd in the howl—it had the unmistakable timbre of a child’s voice. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Once she was certain someone was playing tricks, a faint smile curved at her lips.

Lightly on her feet, she crept around, keeping her peripheral vision on the woods so the mischief-maker hiding within would have no chance to escape.