Beneath the veil was an alluring and captivating face.

With almond-shaped eyes, a fine nose, and full, fair cheeks, she exuded elegance. A small crimson mole below the corner of her right lip added an extra layer of charm to her already stunning features.

She appeared no older than twenty-five or twenty-six, her brows radiating a subtle grace. Particularly striking were her eyes, like pools of autumn water, veiled with a hint of mist, brimming with an irresistible allure.

Although Wei Changle had expected Fu Wenjun to be beautiful, he was nonetheless momentarily entranced by her extraordinary appearance.

Fu Wenjun, however, had already lowered her veil. With a quick shake of the reins, she rode away on her horse. Her three subordinates followed closely behind, leading Song Kun and the two fine horses that were meant as gifts.

Gazing at Fu Wenjun's departing silhouette, Wei Changle murmured involuntarily, "In the north, there is a beauty, unmatched in her grace. A single glance could topple a city; another glance, an entire nation."

After taking Fu Wenjun’s advice, Wei Changle and his two companions turned from the southern gate and headed west. By the time they reached the west gate of the ancient city, it was already well past mealtime.

Having eaten their fill of dry rations along the way, Wei Changle decided to find a small eatery in the city to enjoy a proper meal.

Shanyin City appeared to have undergone fortification. The city walls bore clear signs of recent reconstruction—the newly built sections stood in stark contrast to the weathered, older portions.

Outside the city was a moat, with the drawbridge lowered for access.

Wei Changle knew that after the cession of Yunzhou, cities in the border regions like this one would have bolstered their defenses. Raising the walls and digging moats were likely measures taken in preparation after Yunzhou was lost.

"Second Master, beyond that gate lies a den of mice and wolves. Are you sure about this?" Old Wei, his gaze fixed on the city gate, gave a final warning.

"A den of mice and wolves?" Wei Changle laughed heartily. "Even if it were a dragon’s lair or a tiger’s den, do you think I’d turn back now?"

Old Wei grinned. "A perilous place lies ahead. Once we enter, we may never return."

"Then we won’t return!"

"Such boldness, Second Master!"

"What are you doing, quoting Gu Long novels at me?" Wei Changle sneered. He pointed toward the gate ahead and added, "Look over there... it’s pitch black. Let me charge ahead and clear them out completely!" With a flick of his reins, he urged his horse forward.

As they passed through the city gates, Zhinu’s voice rang out behind him. "Second Master, look… look over there!" He pointed ahead, his voice tinged with surprise.

Wei Changle looked up and was immediately taken aback.

Ahead of them lay a sprawl of tents and shacks, chaotic and dilapidated, as if carelessly thrown together. It resembled a massive garbage dump stretching endlessly in both directions.

In an instant, Wei Changle was reminded of the slums he had seen in his previous life.

But this scene was far worse.

The tents were tattered, and the shacks were in complete disrepair. The haphazard mix of tents and shacks made it nearly impossible to discern any clear paths through the area.

Before entering the city, Wei Changle had assumed the interior would at least boast orderly houses and streets. He was unprepared for such a scene of devastation and chaos.

His expression turned grim as he rode forward slowly.

Suddenly, a cart appeared in front of them. A man was pulling it, while two others pushed from behind. All three were dressed in filthy, tattered jackets, their clothes so grimy they appeared coated in grease.

The three men were scrawny and lifeless, their expressions vacant. They moved like walking corpses, dragging the cart along without a sound.

As they drew closer, Wei Changle moved aside to let them pass. But as the cart rolled by, he stole a glance at its contents—and his face immediately darkened.

On the cart were several corpses, piled haphazardly atop one another.

What shocked him even more was that these bodies were completely naked.

"Wait a moment," Wei Changle said sharply.

The men pulling the cart didn’t seem to hear him, but Zhinu reacted quickly, spurring his horse forward to block their path.

The cart-pullers froze, startled. One of them looked up, his face filled with fear.

"Don’t be afraid," Wei Changle reassured them. "Where are you taking these bodies? How did they die?"

The man, clearly intimidated by Wei Changle and his companions on their fine horses, hesitated before replying, "Two of them froze to death, and the other three starved. We’re taking them outside the city to bury them."

"Frozen to death, starved to death?" Wei Changle froze for a moment, frowning as he asked, "Then why aren’t they wearing clothes?"

One of the men pushing the cart sighed. "The living can barely keep warm—why waste clothes on the dead? The clothes are left for the living to survive the winter. It’s the only way a few more people can make it."

"What about funerals? Don’t they hold any?" Zhinu asked.

The cart-puller let out a bitter laugh. "Funerals? If they had the money for funerals, do you think they’d freeze or starve to death? We’re lucky the White Bodhisattva shows mercy and finds them a place to be buried. That’s already a blessing."

"White Bodhisattva?" Wei Changle asked, puzzled.

The cart-puller’s expression suddenly turned reverent. "The Bodhisattva is, well, the Bodhisattva—a great immortal of Shanyin. Without the White Bodhisattva, even more people would die."

The two men pushing the cart immediately clasped their hands together in a gesture of devotion, their faces showing the same reverence.

Wei Changle grew even more curious. Casting a glance at the seemingly endless slums, he asked, "With the people living in such hardship, doesn’t the government do anything?"

"The government?" The cart-puller seemed about to say something but stopped himself. Instead, he replied, "Please step aside, sirs. We need to bury these bodies outside the city. If we’re delayed and the gates close at nightfall, we won’t be able to get back."

Old Wei suddenly asked, "Do people die this often?"

"We leave the city with bodies every three days," the cart-puller replied. "By the end of the winter, at least a hundred will have died. Right now, we’re just waiting for the cold season to pass. When spring comes, even if people starve, at least they won’t freeze to death."

"Is this your job?"

"The three of us are corpse-bearers," the cart-puller explained. "Doing this work is the only way we’ll survive the winter ourselves."

Wei Changle thought for a moment and then pointed toward the slums. "Why is it like this? Living in those conditions, how could they not be cold?"

"It’s been this way for years," the cart-puller sighed. "But in the past two years, more and more people have moved here. There will be even more in the future."

With a heavy expression, Wei Changle waved for Zhinu to let them pass. Watching the three corpse-bearers gradually disappear into the distance, he couldn’t shake a suffocating feeling in his chest.

"Looks like a lot more people will die this winter," Old Wei murmured with a sigh. "I never thought Shanyin City would become like this."

Zhinu’s eyes turned red as he choked out, "A hundred people dead in one winter… How… how could this be allowed?"

Urging his horse forward, Wei Changle slowly approached the slums.

The narrow path led them into an area that didn’t feel like part of a county town at all. It was more like a refugee camp for people fleeing the ravages of war.

The area was crowded with low, ramshackle huts and tattered, yellowing tents. Everywhere they looked, there was nothing but decay and poverty.

The narrow paths saw little foot traffic. Most people huddled inside their crude shelters. As the three horses passed slowly through, the people along the way merely looked up with blank expressions—faces hollow and gaunt, their bodies skeletal.

They were like soulless husks, stripped of emotion, waiting for time and decay to claim them.

The wind howled through the slums, but there was little sound of human life.

If not for the daylight, walking through this place might have felt like wandering the underworld, where everything was devoid of vitality.

Suddenly, the faint sound of sobbing reached Wei Changle’s ears. His brows furrowed, and he followed the sound. It came from a crumbling hut nearby.

"Mother, I’m hungry…!"

As Wei Changle moved closer to the hut, the sobbing grew clearer. Even the crying sounded weak and faint.

Peeking through a gap in the broken structure, he saw two children squatting on the ground. They wore thin, tattered clothes, their small bodies trembling from the cold.

A woman approached with a wooden bucket, reaching in to grab a handful of something. Turning to the children, she handed a small snowball to one of them and said gently, "Don’t cry, Gou’er. Eat this."

"I don’t want it. Eating it won’t make me full," the child muttered.

"Be good, Gou’er. Look, your sister isn’t crying," the woman coaxed. "Tonight, I’ll cook porridge for you. We only have a few grains of rice left. Just hold on a few more days. Your father is working outside the city. Once he comes back with some flour, I’ll make you pancakes. Doesn’t that sound good?"

She pressed the snowball into Gou’er’s hand and then grabbed another from the bucket, handing it to the little girl next to him.

[--------------------------------------------]

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