After contemplation, Zhou Zishu said, “At your speed we won’t be able to make it back tonight, so let’s sleep out here and I’ll return you to Sir Zhao in the early morning.”

Zhang Chengling’s eyes instantly dimmed. He said nothing, only staring at his shoes instead in dejected silence. Zhou Zishu’s easily-persuaded soul couldn’t stand this look from the boy, so he coughed and frowned. “What are you doing?”

Zhang Chengling, head still down, answered quietly. “Okay.”

The boy went silent once more, sneaking glances at Zhou Zishu. He turned away once caught, mouth quivering, eyes blinking with a single tear clinging on to his eyelashes.

Zhou Zishu leaned onto a tree and sat down. He had no idea how to treat this kid right; did he end up like this because Zhang Yusen raised him like how he would a daughter, since maybe he was fated to be unable to have one? As a result, he grimaced and faked irritation. “Stand up straight and raise your head!”

Zhang Chengling started, his back straightened immediately. The moment he raised his head, tears rolled down his face like a dam had burst open. Zhou Zishu got even more worried, his voice unknowingly softened. “Wipe your face and man up, why does this make you cry anyway?”

Zhang Chengling wiped his face with much effort and got even more sullen because he couldn’t get his face entirely cleaned. That seemed to be the last straw and he spoke between broken sobs, “Shifu… shi… I don’t, don’t cry all the time, I, I… It’s just that I saw you, I saw you and felt really sad… I, I… I…”

Zhou Zishu felt a terrible headache coming up, so he averted his gaze with an indifferent expression, no longer keen on facing the kid.

Wen Kexing returned with wood to this exact moment and was slightly stunned.

The sky had turned completely dark. The sunlight was gradually disappearing from the horizon, leaving the western sky a gloomy ash-gray shade. The evening star was hung up on a tree branch and the wind began to pick up, spreading the feeling of coolness.

Wen Kexing silently sharpened the wood and made a fire, putting up the hares that were carefully prepared by Zhou Zishu and roasting it patiently. Then he started to hum an unfamiliar tune that somewhat resembled “The Eighteen Touches2” and completely suited his manners. Zhou Zishu sat beside him wordlessly, one leg bent and hands on his knees. Zhang Chengling sat next to them, trying his best to stop his sobbings.

After a good while, the smell of meat started floating in the air, and Zhang Chengling’s stomach rumbled loudly, causing him to blush. Wen Kexing looked at him and smiled, “Gotta wait a bit more, it’s not fully cooked yet.”