Translator: CinderTL
Fatty noticed that the usually sharp-tongued Doctor remained uncharacteristically silent. He pocketed the money, took two steps back, and bowed slightly to the Boss. "Apologies for the disturbance."
"Hmph!" The Boss glared at them coldly, as if fearing they would try to steal the steamed buns. He stood beside the steamer, clutching a rolling pin.
Watching Jiang Cheng and his group walk away, he spat after their backs. "Bah! What a bunch of trash!"
Jiang Cheng and his companions encountered similar incidents three times in a row.
On the final occasion, an irascible Boss even charged out with several burly kitchen hands. The two groups nearly came to blows.
With no other choice, Jiang Cheng and his friends detoured to another street, avoiding any mention of the Japanese. They simply bought dozens of steamed buns.
This time, the Boss was exceptionally friendly. He even gave them a cloth bag to carry the buns and reminded them to eat them while they were hot, as they wouldn't taste as good cold.
The Boss was a simple, middle-aged man with a hunched back and a soft voice. As Jiang Cheng accepted the bag filled with steamed buns, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the Boss's pant leg.
At the bottom of his right trouser leg, there was no shoe, let alone a foot. The leg hung empty, with only a wooden stick protruding from it.
The end of the stick that touched the ground was severely worn, clearly from long use.
Noticing Jiang Cheng's gaze, the Boss awkwardly pulled his leg back and instinctively fiddled with his trouser leg, trying to conceal the exposed stick.
"How did this happen?" Jiang Cheng asked, looking up.
"Ah, it was just my bad luck," the Boss sighed. "Years ago, the Japs came to sweep through the area. I was dead asleep when I woke up to find myself surrounded. They were requisitioning grain, but we barely had enough to feed ourselves. How could we give them any? So..."
"Losing a leg doesn't bother me much. What I can't forgive is that they didn't spare even children and women. My youngest son didn't escape their search. They found him in a pile of firewood, and then... they just burned him alive."
The middle-aged man remained relatively calm while talking about his leg, but when he mentioned his son, tears the size of beans began to stream down his face. Fatty's eyes reddened, and he couldn't help but offer words of comfort. "My condolences, Boss."
The Boss wiped away his tears and raised his head, his gaze now filled with a chilling determination. "Though I've become a cripple, I sent my two remaining sons to join the resistance army. They're fighting the Japanese, fighting alongside them."
"Good on you, brother!" Zhao Xingguo gave him a thumbs-up. "We've finally won! We can finally live good lives. I think the shop you opened with your two sons is great. Keep working hard, and everything will be alright!"
It was clear the shop was doing brisk business. People came and went constantly. Behind the Boss stood two young men, one tall and one short, busy helping him knead dough.
Stacks of empty steamer baskets were lined up nearby, ready for steaming steamed buns.
Hearing this, the Boss smiled wryly. "Yes, we've finally won. But it's a pity..." He paused, then shook his head. "My two sons won't get to see it."
Fatty's eyes widened as he looked at the two young men working behind the Boss. Seeing this, the Boss gave a carefree laugh. "These two are orphans I adopted. My two sons died in battle shortly after joining the army."
"Their platoon commander came to see me. He said they were betrayed by a traitor and surrounded. To cover their comrades' escape, my two sons volunteered to stay behind and hold off the enemy."
"They fought to the last man, not a single one surrendered," the Boss said, his voice choked with emotion. "When they returned to collect the bodies, they found every bullet had struck them in the face." The mixture of pride and sorrow in his words was deeply moving.
As they were leaving, Jiang Cheng doubled the price.
The Boss initially refused to accept the extra money, but then offered to lend them his car to take them back. Jiang Cheng politely declined.
One could only imagine the Boss's reaction if he knew this bag of steamed buns was for the Japanese women—he'd probably faint on the spot.
In the end, Jiang Cheng and his group turned and twisted through the alleyways, changing direction and returning to the same street they had been on before.
The Japanese women were still gathered in their original spot. When they saw Jiang Cheng approaching, they all stood up simultaneously.
Jiang Cheng handed them the bag of steamed buns. Yangzi, the woman who had spoken earlier, cautiously reached out to take it. But when she tried to pull it, it wouldn't budge.
She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise, to find Jiang Cheng staring at her with a cold, expressionless face and icy eyes.
Yangzi's hand trembled, and she instinctively pulled back. Then, as if by reflex, she bowed deeply to Jiang Cheng. "I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I'm truly sorry."
Even though Jiang Cheng hadn't said a word, Yangzi clearly understood the suppressed anger in his eyes.
Just like everyone else on this street.
"Do you know why it took us so long to return?" Jiang Cheng asked, holding up a cloth bag of steamed buns. "Do you know how the shop owners reacted when they heard the buns were for you?"
Except for Yangzi, the other women huddled together, their faces frozen in fear as they stared at Jiang Cheng's group, terrified they might be harmed.
Now they finally understood why Yangzi only asked for food and not money.
Because money was useless to them. Even if they had money, they couldn't buy food in Grey Stone Town.
They weren't the masterminds, but they were far from innocent. Once caught in the quagmire of war, no one could escape unscathed.
Jiang Cheng's group placed the steamed buns at their feet and turned to leave. "Remember our agreement. If I return and don't find you here, you know the consequences."
Only after Jiang Cheng and his group had walked far away, their figures disappearing around the corner, did the timid women who had been cowering in the back rush forward to fight over the steamed buns in the cloth bag.
Only Yangzi remained standing, still bowed in a deep curtsy.
On the way back, the group's mood grew heavy. After the war, Grey Stone Town lay in ruins, making the opulent and intact Feng Family Mansion stand out starkly.
"Young man, wait a moment."
Hearing someone call from behind, Jiang Cheng and his companions turned around. It was a middle-aged woman in her forties, wearing an apron and with dark skin.
"Are you... calling us?" Pi Ruan glanced around, then back at the woman.
"Yes," the woman said, approaching and rubbing her hands together apologetically. "My husband's temper flared up earlier. I hope he didn't frighten you."
She gestured in a direction, and they followed her gaze to the shop where the near-fight over steamed buns had broken out.
"Actually, those Eastern women aren't so bad. The townspeople don't like them, but they wouldn't intentionally harm them. Sometimes, seeing how pitiful they are, people sneak them food under cover of darkness," the woman sighed. "Otherwise, how would they have survived until now?"
"Besides us, who else would give them food?" Fatty asked curiously.
"That's right. I heard it's people from the Feng Manor. They sneak out after dark to distribute food to them," the woman said with a sigh. "They say Master Feng has a kind heart and can't bear to see anyone suffer."
(End of the Chapter)
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