Taboo Mage - Chapter 57 - Village within the City

I sat there, at my wit’s end, searching endlessly on my phone for train and plane schedules. As expected, there were still no services heading to Shenyang.

Just as I was about to lose my temper, Auntie suddenly approached, followed by a young man whose face was ashen.

Standing up, I asked Auntie what had happened, while my gaze quickly swept over the young man’s face. His complexion was dark, and he looked frail-clearly, he wasn’t doing well.

With a warm smile, Auntie told me her son had come to pick her up. Remembering how we had helped her on the train, she specifically asked if we had time to join them for a meal.

I smiled and declined, saying it was no big deal.

The young man grabbed my hand, thanking me repeatedly, and insisted that we stay with them for a few days.

Considering I had nowhere else to go, and since Auntie’s son was a local, he might even help us find transportation to Shenyang, I agreed.

Jue Chi stood by silently the whole time. When I looked at him questioning, he gently nodded, agreeing with my decision.

Thus, we got into Auntie’s son’s car. When I saw the tricycle parked by the roadside, my heart skipped a beat, and I let out a wry smile at Jue Chi.

I had thought we could finally enjoy a comfortable ride, not expecting that after a tiring night on the train, we wouldn’t be able to rest during the day either.

Jue Chi seemed unfazed. With one hand, he leaped into the back of the tricycle.

The tricycle wobbled along, moving westward from the bustling main road, passing through dense Poplar forests and bumpy dirt tracks, until it eventually stopped outside a tube-shaped building.

This was a typical village within the city, commonly seen in major cities. Even though the government had begun forcibly demolishing such eyesores, the city’s laborers, who could seldom afford to buy homes or live in proper residential areas, relied on such places.

Despite the government’s efforts to tear them down, these types of buildings stubbornly remained, like a malignant tumor in society.

The tricycle stopped in front of one of the many tube-shaped buildings. Auntie swiftly climbed out from the passenger seat and apologetically told us that they hadn’t managed to buy a house yet and had to squeeze in with others for now.

I waved off her apology, saying it was fine-we were all struggling, and the place we lived in wasn’t much better than this.

The young man parked the tricycle next to a pile of bicycles and led us upstairs.

It seems that outsiders frequently enter this place and the traffic of people is high, so no one expressed any suspicion or curiosity about the sudden appearance of us two strangers. Everyone just glanced up and then continued with their own busy tasks.

Auntie’s son led us up the stairs, greeting everyone he met with a smile, indicating that he had lived here for quite some time.

After climbing to the fifth floor, we finally arrived. Auntie’s son stopped at a door cluttered with garbage bags and took out his keys to unlock it.

“Sorry, my wife has been in the hospital recently, and I’ve been too busy at work to clean up the house,” the young man said, scratching his head with an embarrassed smile as I eyed the pile of garbage bags.

“Having a wife really does make a difference. My bachelor pad is practically like a dog’s den,” I joked.

I slapped him on the shoulder, and we all laughed.

Inside the apartment, it was as cramped and narrow as I had imagined but well-furnished. Auntie’s son led me and Jue Chi to a room, telling us it was specially reserved for guests.

He had many friends and often hosted visitors, so he had specifically partitioned off a room for them.

Jue Chi and I brought our luggage into the room, while Auntie and her son went out to tidy up. I flopped down on the bed and took a deep breath, pondering our next steps.

Jue Chi, who had been silent since meeting Auntie’s son and hadn’t spoken a word the entire way, suddenly closed the door and looked at me with a profound gaze.

Instinctively, I pulled at the collar of my shirt. Jue Chi had been eating and sleeping with me these past few days; I hoped he hadn’t developed any inappropriate ideas…

Ever since Jue Chi changed his clothes, it became inconvenient for him to always carry the Buddhist prayer beads in his hands. I was worried he might not get used to it, so I bought him a walnut bead bracelet to fiddle with.

Jue Chi rotated the bracelet in his hands a few times and said, “Did you notice that something seemed off about that auntie’s son?”

“Yes, I did. What about it? Are you scared?” I teased with a smile.

Jue Chi shook his head, took out his Kasaya, and lit some sandalwood to perfume it, “His wife might lose this baby.”

“What?” I frowned, sitting up from the bed.

Jue Chi didn’t say anything more. He simply folded the Kasaya neatly and placed it on the bedside, then walked around the room clutching the bracelet. He stopped by the southeast corner window and hung the bracelet on a protruding piece of wire.

There was a knock at the door. I got up to open it, and it turned out to be the auntie’s son, calling us to come eat.

I nodded and signaled for Jue Chi to come out. In less than an hour, the auntie had cooked a full table of dishes. While they were just simple home-cooked meals, my stomach was growling so much that even the bok choy looked as appetizing as abalone.

Jue Chi was also famished from the journey and, dropping all pretense, thanked her and began eating voraciously.

We hadn’t finished half our meal when the auntie’s son’s phone suddenly rang. He answered, muttered a few sounds of agreement, then his face changed color. He hung up without saying a word, got up from his chair, and hurried out.

The auntie anxiously grabbed him, asking what was wrong.

The young man’s brows were tightly furrowed as he explained that the hospital had called. His wife had gone into premature labor and was now being rushed to the delivery room.

The auntie panicked, insisting on going with him. Seeing them at an impasse, I suggested that Jue Chi and I could come along to look after the auntie and possibly help out.

The young man nodded. Tricycles weren’t allowed in the city center, so the four of us took a taxi straight to the hospital.

Upon reaching the delivery room, the auntie’s son grabbed a nurse to ask how long his wife had been inside.

The nurse, her hands covered in blood, told him it would be a little longer and that he should wait by the door.

I reassured the auntie, who seemed very distressed, by pulling her into a seat in the corridor, soothing her with a few words. I then turned to look at Jue Chi.

In his hands, the bracelet had somehow been replaced by prayer beads. His eyebrows were tightly knotted, his body rigid, and his eyes unblinkingly fixed on the direction of the delivery room at the end of the corridor.