When Xue Chou led them out of the underground pits, Xiaoliu was grinning, Xiaoqi was sobbing, and Xiaoba's fac…
When Xue Chou led them out of the underground pits, Xiaoliu was grinning, Xiaoqi was sobbing, and Xiaoba's face remained blank.
His sleight of hand had spared their father's pride and their lives. But a weapon with exposed flaws would never be taken back.
As they knelt in a row before their father, awaiting their fate, Xue Chou barged in, swinging a tattered cloth bundle.
He'd traded a year's worth of liquor for their freedom.
"We have nowhere to go," Xiaoqi hiccuped between tears.
"We want to follow you," Xiaoliu simpered, her smile ingratiating.
"We can be the sharpest blade in your hand," Xiaoba declared solemnly.
Xue Chou eyed them one by one, three girls no older than nine, with hastily given names and threadbare clothes, not a single unbruised patch of skin between them.
"Fine, you can stay... I've got a grand plan brewing anyway."
Just then, New Year's fireworks erupted behind them, their booms mingling with distant cheers of celebration. Xue Chou spun the now-empty bundle on his finger.
"But first, let's pick auspicious names... how about Fu, Lu, and Shou?" Fortune. Prosperity. Longevity.