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A big worm-eaten hole gaped in the roof beam. A string of a dozen white ants was crawling in and out as if up to something indecent. He Lingchuan stared at them for a long while before it clicked that he was dreaming again.
These days, if he was dreaming, that could only mean one thing:
He was back in Panlong City.
He tried to get up, but his arms and legs were stiff and uncooperative, like an old car that had been sitting out in the open for five or six years and was suddenly started.
He had only just pushed himself upright when he noticed a stool lying toppled at an odd angle.
A walk around his tiny house turned up more. The firewood pile had been stripped bare, and the two fat fish in the rainwater vat were gone. He hurried back to the bedroom, pried up two bricks in the corner, and took a quick look.
Thankfully, the medicine and silver hidden there were still in place.
In short, he had been burgled. The thief who had snuck in to “fish” might well have spat on the floor on the way out, disgusted by how dirt-poor the place was.
At least his saber was still propped blatantly against the bed; the thief had not dared touch it.
One glance could tell anyone that it was a military issue, complete...
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