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... worn canvas tent, crackling sharply.

Xie Jinhuan lay on a bedroll, his head foggy, his throat raw as if he'd swallowed a blade. He rasped out hoarsely:

“Dad... Dad~~... Old man?!”

“Where is everyone? Off on duty at the magistrate’s office?”

He called again for the house servants and maids, but no one responded. His mouth parched, he grit his teeth, propped himself up, and groped around for a teapot.

But the moment he stretched out his hand, he froze.

...

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