Xuanqing Guard-Chapter 60: Undercover Investigation

Li City, West Gate.

Leave through the West Gate and you’re heading toward Five Rams City. There are always trading caravans coming and going, from dawn to dusk, the traffic never stops.

Near halfway down the street by the West Gate, there’s a corner stall, run by a married couple selling steamed buns, soy milk, congee, and meat pies. Behind their stall is a half-residential, half-commercial storefront, where the couple lives.

There’s a little kid, about three years old, babbling away, tottering when walking, chubby little face with a bit of drool at the mouth. Oddly, the kid has a rope tied around his waist, about one and a half zhang long, with the other end tied to his mother’s waist as she bustles outside the storefront.

It’s almost noon now, and the couple is getting ready to close up shop.

"Two bowls of soy milk, five meat pies."

"Oh, having breakfast now?"

"I’m eating it as lunch. What’s wrong? Closing already?"

"Got it, got it, the pies are a little cold, I’ll heat them up for you, be right there."

A customer shows up unexpectedly, and the man grins widely—who cares if it’s time to close, they’ve been up since before dawn, working nonstop until now.

Since it’s the last bit of soy milk, he poured out two bowls with a bit of bean dregs at the bottom. The meat pies are decent but don’t look too pretty, though they’re hefty, at least two taels each.

"Hey, is that your kid? How old is he?"

The child wobbles over and hugs the idle man, babbling "Dad."

"Yep, just three years old."

"Your second or third kid?"

"Just... just the one."

"Just one? You two look over thirty, did you get married late?"

"No... hehe."

"Not late, so why only one kid? And so little? Haha, don’t mind me, I’m just curious, asking offhand."

The wife carries the kid away, and besides the customer’s table, she’s packed up everything else. The husband, free now, pulls up a stool and sits with the customer for a chat.

"Why tie a rope to your kid? What if you yank him by accident and he falls?"

"Heh, it’s just so the kid doesn’t get lost."

"Tsk, you talk like that, losing a kid in broad daylight? You’re just too cautious."

"..."

Three days in a row, this curious customer arrived right before lunch at the West Gate breakfast stall, same order: two bowls of soy milk and five meat pies.

With more visits, and happening to catch slow times, the stall owner husband chatted with him some more. Sometimes they’d debate what actually goes best with soy milk, sometimes he’d whisper gossip about the Flower House girls behind his wife’s back.

This customer sure could talk; even though he never stayed long, a few words always made for a pleasant chat.

"By the way, why’s your kid still tied to a rope? He’s not a dog, doesn’t it bother you?"

"Well..."

"What’s up? Every time we mention your kid, you get all gloomy. Don’t tell me you don’t want him anymore? He’s such a clever little thing!"

"Not at all, hey, big brother, I’ll tell you honestly: we tie the rope because before, the two of us lost a kid—a daughter, nine years old, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone...."

Once bitten by a snake, afraid of rope for ten years. Once you’ve lost a child, everyone looks like a kidnapper; is it really so hard to understand tying a rope to your kid? If they could, they’d just keep him home all day.

"A nine-year-old got lost? How did that happen?"

Maybe he just needed someone to confide in, and after these days the customer didn’t seem unreliable, the stall owner was silent for a moment, then spoke with a hint of darkness in his voice about the past.

The whole thing was painfully simple—like losing a child in a moment of distraction, he couldn’t even remember exactly when she went missing.

"She couldn’t have just wandered off! Your daughter was nine, not only would she know this street, she could go to the East Gate and back no problem."

She wasn’t some pampered rich girl; no way a nine-year-old wouldn’t know the roads, or get lured away so easily without anyone noticing.

"Exactly!" The stall owner’s eyes went wide, from friendly to suddenly fierce, squeezing his fists hard, words gritting through his teeth: "That’s what I think! My daughter was always sharp, went as far as the outskirts with the horse caravans, no way she’d get lost! Must’ve been some bastard who snatched her away!"

"Did you report it to the authorities?"

"Filed a report right away. Useless."

"How can that be?"

"They canvassed every shop on the street—not a soul saw my daughter. She’s a big kid, knows people, how could no one see her walking?"

"No one saw her? Didn’t see where she went, who she left with?"

"Nothing. Like everyone turned blind, sigh."

Maybe he was angry enough, the stall owner muttered curses under his breath but didn’t let his mood take over, wearing a bitter smile, eyes slightly red—the pain clearly not softened by time.

"My wife nearly cried herself stupid. I wanted to take her back home, but she said if, if the kid came back and we’d left, wouldn’t that be pitiful? So... we just suffered through. Luckily two years ago we had a second, gave her something else to focus on—otherwise she’d have broken down by now."

"The Government Office didn’t give any explanation?"

"What explanation could they give? Nobody saw my daughter, not a single clue. If those Lord Officials spend two or three days trying, you’re lucky. It’s been years now, sigh."

"Don’t get discouraged, there’s always hope. Even after so long, maybe the truth will come out? Try to recall the details—maybe you missed something before?"

The stall owner shook his head and fell silent. After all these years, how many times hadn’t he replayed that day? The hopeless part is, he remembers nothing useful.

"You still remember what shops were here back then? Any changes in the past years?"

"Of course I do. Which are old faces, which changed owners—I keep track, I asked around about people who left, even know where most of them are now."

"Wow! Looks like you put in a lot of effort."

"Sigh, what choice do I have? I can’t let it go!"

"The city’s Xuanqing Guard has those Copper Cabinets to help investigate cases, you tried them?"

"Heh, not gonna lie, I have tried. Just for peace of mind though—if you hope too much, the disappointment’s worse."

"This time it won’t be."

The customer finished his last sip of soy milk, stood to leave, and slapped a ten-tael chunk of broken silver onto the table.

"Hey, brother, I can’t make change for this much!"

"No need, leave it here. I’ll be back for breakfast tomorrow."

"Alright then, but tell me your name, so I can put it on the tab."

"I’m Shen Hao."