CH-027

10:43 in the morning.

Shu Li and Father Symeon met up in the town center.

There was no need to make a special trip to Symeon's church.

The Stonehollow church was up on the hill. Going up and back down would take far too much time and energy.

And so Father Symeon invited them to rest and eat at his former residence first, to recover their strength. Were it not for Shu Li saying they should wait until evening to act — telling Father Symeon not to be in such a hurry — Father Symeon would have been rushing about urgently at this very moment, without any thought of rest.

Father Symeon was visibly several years older than he'd been the day before, the color drained entirely from his face. When he wasn't in conversation, his eyes seemed to drift, as though his soul had already crawled out of his heavy body. On top of this, he was still wearing his wrinkled black cassock, which now seemed to drape over his gaunt frame like something a floating specter might wear.

Even so, whenever he encountered a townsperson, he still mustered his spirits to call out a greeting: "Good morning."

Shu Li noticed that when Father Symeon passed certain townspeople, some of them instinctively stepped around the path he had walked. Faced with such obvious resistance and rejection, Father Symeon didn't seem particularly bothered — he appeared almost habitually accustomed to it, not spending so much as a second's worth of energy or emotion on the matter.

Until Father Symeon noticed Shu Li staring off at the townspeople and pulled the corners of his mouth into an empty smile: "Some people simply dislike me — it's a very normal thing. My own influence isn't great enough, but these things take time, so I don't feel it matters."

Not wanting Father Symeon to read too deeply into it, Shu Li said offhandedly: "I rarely venture far from home — I was simply curious about the people here. Back in Savoie pastoral district, the things I bought were also priced higher than normal."

Father Symeon was unbothered by his own difficulties, but hearing that Shu Li had been treated unfairly made him ache with indignation. "That they treated you this way is far too much! How could they?"

Priests in remote areas were already without much money. If even their everyday purchases cost more than what ordinary people paid, how were they supposed to live?

Hearing his agitation, Shu Li smiled: "Even at a lower price, I couldn't afford things. In truth, Elder Yager has been supporting me the whole time."

Beside them, Raymond immediately straightened up, wearing an expression of rightful pride.

Father Symeon paused, then nodded along, settling slightly: "Good, good. Having people to help look after you is good." Honestly speaking, the reason he himself had managed to survive in Stonehollow, aside from his own ascetic lifestyle, was also because his relatives were here.

After reassuring Father Symeon, Shu Li turned to thinking about how to handle the whole affair. Having come all this way, making the trip worthwhile required producing some results. But his thinking had barely begun when he noticed beside him a child throwing a fit.

"Why didn't you ever tell me!" Finnian, who was standing nearby, hadn't known Shu Li couldn't afford food, and upon hearing Shu Li say so, his mood soured at once.

He blamed himself for not paying much attention to what Shu Li ate or drank all this time — he'd only seen him sometimes busy coming and going over various matters, and other times quite idle, sunning himself in the courtyard. It had never occurred to him that Shu Li couldn't afford to eat.

He delivered milk every day, but not because he knew Shu Li was short on food and drink — he'd done it purely as an excuse to come to the church. Now he had finally realized that Father Alistair's life was so difficult, and that he truly couldn't do without Finnian. His heart swelled with a sense of responsibility — the feeling of someone who'd stumbled upon a starving stray cat on the road and was absolutely going to take it home and keep it fed.

Shu Li was still chatting with the Father and was momentarily thrown off by the sudden outburst: "Tell you what?"

Finnian immediately patted Shu Li's arm to get his attention and leaned close to his ear, whispering: "Father Alistair, it's fine! From now on, I'll bring you food in addition to the milk. I'll tear my dad's bread in half for you to eat. He needs to lose weight anyway — he shouldn't be eating so much!"

Shu Li was caught between laughter and tears: "You unfilial child!"

"What?" Finnian didn't understand what Shu Li was saying. "What are you talking about?"

In this moment of bewilderment, Finnian looked truly no different from an ordinary child. Slightly endearing.

Because he was standing close, Finnian's earlobe was within convenient reach. Shu Li casually gave it a little pinch and then let go, saying: "This isn't the moment to be talking about such things. Behave yourself for now, stop overthinking — I'm handling something."

After his ear was pinched, Finnian stood dazed for a moment, yet he also felt like a cat that had been given a good belly rub — he'd been about to say more to make Alistair listen to him, but somehow he felt unexpectedly content staying quiet.

After three seconds of silence, Finnian felt he was being far too well-behaved, and that something was definitely off. So as they walked along, he deliberately bumped his shoulder into Shu Li's arm — and then, seeing Shu Li look over, deliberately kept half a step's distance and looked back with a smug grin.

Shu Li: "……"

Fine then, child. Shu Li forgave him.

*

Father Symeon's former residence.

The small living room was connected to the kitchen. The walls had yellowed, and the corners were thick with dust. One glance around was enough to see the nail holes covering all four walls, some with faded rectangular impressions left by the sun — clearly paintings had once hung there, all now removed.

Shu Li swept a light glance around and didn't linger, moving instead to stand beside someone in the room.

He told the two of them to go rest first.

They'd been awake all night, especially Father Symeon. He had traveled through the night two days ago and then been busy all of the day before, leaving him in a state of physical and mental exhaustion, fraught with anxiety.

If he didn't sleep soon, never mind fainting from low blood sugar — given his suppressed mental state, he might very well collapse again.

Shu Li appeared easygoing and spoke gently. But few people could change his decisions once made, and ordinary people could not persuade him.

And so the two of them were compelled to go rest.

Apparently truly exhausted, and trusting in Shu Li's judgment — now believing this matter shouldn't be too difficult to resolve — both of them had barely laid their heads on their pillows before they crashed out as though struck unconscious.

Before long, the steady rhythm of breathing, deep and shallow, filled the air.

Shu Li and Finnian busied themselves in the kitchen.

The kitchen had almost nothing to eat — only vegetables that could be kept for a while, things like garlic, potatoes, onions, and cabbage, plus the black rye bread commonly kept by commoners. It was clearly Father Symeon's last-minute purchase.

Because the back kitchen was noticeably dusty.

Shu Li handed the potatoes to Finnian.

Finnian looked mischievous, restless, and impatient. Yet faced with a pile of potatoes, he peeled them quickly and well. When he returned them to Shu Li, he had even collected the skins separately and said they could be thrown into the fields as compost.

Neat and efficient, no dawdling.

Shu Li was genuinely surprised. "You did that really well!"

Finnian was utterly without modesty: "Let me tell you — if I went to Carson City as an apprentice, there'd definitely be a lot of people fighting to have me." Though so far he hadn't actually tried a single day's work, he felt certain he could do it well.

Shu Li laughed: "But weren't you still planning to become the village elder? Can you manage both?"

Finnian usually didn't bring these things up voluntarily, and sometimes he was evasive about them. He felt that saying it aloud meant committing to a lifelong decision — so it wasn't something to be said carelessly.

But when Shu Li asked, Finnian found he could speak freely, felt he could change his mind at any time, and so he tended to say whatever came to mind.

"My dad says it's best if I go have a look at the city first — the child of a shepherd can't keep on being a shepherd forever."

Finnian vented a few of his frustrations: "Everyone says I'm smart and will definitely accomplish something different. But I don't feel at all like I can accomplish anything different. Think about it — if I went as an apprentice, whether carpentry or blacksmithing, it would feel like I'm just living out a life the same as everyone else. What kind of 'different thing' do they want me to accomplish? They don't say."

Shu Li had never thought about things this way. He chatted as he toasted flatbread: "They probably don't know either. They just feel that you're a bit different from them, so you don't really need to take it too seriously. After all, you're living for yourself, not for others. You can think about what you like."

"I don't have anything I particularly like."

Finnian truly had no particular liking for anything, which was exactly why he couldn't settle on anything. Or rather, the things he liked were all useless — like chatting and talking with people. Perhaps many people accepted fates arranged for them because it required no thought, and so they were willing to follow day after day in obedience?

As he went on talking, Finnian suddenly noticed something and asked curiously: "When you were my age, had you already decided to become a priest?"

Shu Li was quite candid: "I didn't have anything in particular I wanted to do either, but I thought about doing whatever I could as well as possible — perhaps that way I'd be able to seize a chance to change my own life."

"So you did everything well," Finnian thought — though becoming a city priest meant a decent life, becoming a rural priest sometimes meant being mistreated. That didn't really qualify as changing one's life. "And in the end you only came to Savoie pastoral district. Would you call that seizing a good opportunity?"

"It's quite good," Shu Li said.

When Shu Li had first come to Savoie pastoral district, he had actually done a tour of the town with the constable Raymond ahead of time, just to get a sense of the local environment and atmosphere. If he found the place disagreeable, he would simply leave. "Because I met kind people like you all."

Finnian, hearing those words spoken with a smile, was reminded that before their first meeting, he had come with the intention of bullying the priest... His eyes flickered, and before he could say anything, a skewered spiral of roasted potato chips appeared before him.

This tower-like food, with just one look, was obviously crispy and fragrant.

Finnian was startled: "What! What's this?!"

"Roasted potato chips — they're your reward. Eat one quickly." Shu Li urged him.

So Finnian took a bite and found the edges had been roasted perfectly crisp — a texture unlike anything he'd tasted before. "Delicious!"

Shu Li smiled softly. His cooking was always slow and deliberate — just preparing ingredients took a lot of time — so he had thought there would be enough time for the two of them to rest. But Finnian was so efficient that Shu Li found himself unhurried, even finding time to make a more labor-intensive onion sauce.

Peel the onions and cut them into rings. Put butter in a hot pan, deep-fry the onions first, then switch to a low flame and sauté. Once the onions softened, the butter and onions together could already produce a wonderful flavor on their own, and the room quickly filled with fragrance. But Shu Li went further, adding a small amount of grape wine that hadn't spoiled, some bay leaves and dried thyme he hadn't yet used, plus a pinch of salt for seasoning and aroma — stirring, stirring, stirring again.

Smelling it and finding it acceptable, Shu Li closed the stove door and let the residual heat continue to braise it.

"The potato chips can be dipped in the sauce," Shu Li said. "The sauce tastes a bit like barbecue sauce — quite nice."

In another pot, he melted butter with garlic and various herbs. After the fragrance had been coaxed out, Shu Li spread the mixture over slices of rye bread.

Even though Finnian had long grown tired of rye bread, that smell alone was enough to make his mouth water.

"What are you making?"

"A rustic version of garlic bread," Shu Li said.

"Will it taste good?"

Shu Li said with casual ease: "I'm making it by feel — it shouldn't taste bad." Prompted by Finnian's question, he confirmed the flavor once more and paused. "Theoretically speaking, it shouldn't taste bad."

After all, bread spread with butter was already hard to make taste bad — this was just an extra step of refinement. Shu Li thought to himself.

"But there's garlic in it," Finnian protested on reasonable grounds.

Shu Li was unhurried: "The raw garlic has been minced into a paste and thoroughly cooked through. If you don't say anything, no one will notice there's garlic in it." With that, he handed Finnian a slice of garlic bread to try.

Finnian was skeptical but still gave Shu Li face by immediately taking a bite.

The outside of the rye bread had been toasted to a golden crisp, while the inside, soaked in the herbed butter, had turned soft and yielding.

Finnian's eyes lit up at once: "This is incredible! This is the first time I've actually thought rye bread tasted good!"

Satisfied with the response, Shu Li said quietly: "They still need to rest. Let's go eat outside."

Finnian nodded obediently.

*

The various rich and enticing aromas drifting out of Father Symeon's house had already drawn passersby to a halt long before the meal was ready. To say nothing of the onion sauce that made mouths water — even the warm, sweet fragrance of herbed butter alone had children's mouths watering and adults perking up.

Yet the adults all knew the identity of the people living in that house, and no one approached on their own initiative.

Not so the children, for whom food was paramount.

Seeing a young boy and girl come out of Father Symeon's residence each carrying a skewer of spiral fries, the children who had been drawn by the smell all circled around them, swallowing desperately.

"Hello, we haven't seen you before. Are you new here?"

Before that basic greeting had even gotten a response, the children could no longer contain their thoughts, and one after another they broke in.

"What's that? Is it good?"

"Can you let me watch while you eat it?"

"It smells so good! I'll give you a toy to play with — can I have one bite?"

As he left, Finnian had been instructed by Shu Li to chat with the local children and gather information.

Their time in Stonehollow was short, their energy limited, and they needed someone who could help complete the piecemeal but crucial work of gathering information. Local children were both the most capable helpers for expanding his range of action and improving efficiency — and the easiest group to sway and win over.

Finnian sat on the fence railing, looking down at the children younger than himself — like a cluster of baby chicks waiting to be fed — and held up the spiral potatoes, deliberately putting on an air as he said: "Do you want to eat this that badly?"

"Big brother, I want some."

The children couldn't resist even the slightest temptation.

"Then if you tell me stories, I'll graciously let you eat."

"Stories? What kind of stories?"

The children looked at each other, unsure what content Finnian was after.

Finnian tossed out a hook: "I heard there are children here who cry at night — is that true or not?"

"I don't know?" one child piped up.

"Oh, my little brother cries — just suddenly, and he's normally so well-behaved. He's been crying continuously since last week. Mom and Dad thought he was sick and even went to get a doctor! He cried especially long yesterday." Another child quickly raised her hand.

Hearing the answer, Finnian broke off a piece of potato chip, dipped it in the onion sauce, and handed it over.

The child popped it straight into her mouth. The freshly made roasted potato was hot and puffy, and with the rich sauce, the child ate with an expression of utter contentment. Several other children around watched with dry-mouthed envy.

After that child finished eating, another immediately raised a hand: "I know! The house next door also has a child crying."

Finnian refused outright: "I already heard that. I want to hear something different."

"Something different... something different..."

The children exchanged glances again, and then the child who'd already eaten the potato chip raised a hand once more: "I slept quite soundly last night and didn't hear anything. But in the morning at breakfast, my father and mother said someone had come to knock on the door last night. They were too lazy to get up, and when they heard no second knock, they didn't bother. But apparently some people who heard the sound did get up, and found nobody outside."

Finnian gave him a new piece of potato chip without a second thought. That child even made a request: "I want more sauce." So Finnian obliged, giving a good dollop of the sauce, with crispy fried onion strands still clinging to it.

The child ate the thick fragrant sauce carefully, like licking candy.

One person had now eaten twice, and the other children grew anxious, racking their brains to think of what had happened recently.

"I have a story!" a child raised her hand. "The clock in the middle of the square was taken down, because the Stonehollow church priest said there was a demon inside it making the children cry when they heard it at midnight. But after the clock was taken down last night, we heard even louder noises — like someone 'thudding' on the ceiling. My father and mother said it must be because the priest angered the demon and dragged all the innocent people like them into it. Today they're going to find the mayor to hold the priest accountable!"

These words struck a chord.

"My dad said he'd go find the mayor too, to make the priest take responsibility!"

"Us too!!"

The child who had shared the news looked at Finnian with sparkling eyes: "Can I have something to eat?"

Finnian tilted his chin up, guarding his food, and refused: "No."

"Why not!"

"Because this story wasn't good."

The child was dumbfounded. How could he do that! But he recovered quickly, remembering that Finnian had come out of the priest's place, and immediately said: "Oh, I see! You're one of those church people, aren't you! Then you're a bad guy too!"

Finnian didn't take the accusation to heart in the slightest. He was more than capable of handling adults — dealing with a child's accusations was even more of a minor matter.

Finnian said unhurriedly: "Why are you in such a rush? Even after you insulted me, I haven't gotten upset. Look — I haven't even finished explaining my reason, and you've already called me a bad person. That's defamation, you know! Defamation is a crime — I've heard that in big cities they fine you for it, ten copper coins. Just wait until you're crying."

The child, who considered even one copper coin to be real money, immediately shut up with a grieved look.

Finnian then said: "That story was terrible. Don't you all think so?"

The children didn't dare say a word, entirely dominated by Finnian's "tyranny."

Finnian said: "Let me be clear first — I'm not a bad person."

"But I find this story completely unreasonable, because Father Symeon came here precisely to help drive out the demon for you. He did a good deed, but because he didn't immediately succeed, people are blaming him — even wanting to punish him. Isn't that strange? People see a villain becoming even more arrogant, but instead of focusing their strength to resolve the problem, they bully the good person who's easier to pick on. This kind of story is called 'bullying the weak and fearing the strong'!"

"Is a story about bullying good people worth hearing?" Finnian argued his case firmly. "I certainly don't think so."

The group of children listened in bewilderment, yet felt they somehow understood something. "So fathers and mothers did something wrong? But adults can't make mistakes, right? How can they be wrong?"

Finnian said: "Who says adults can't make mistakes? The 'bad people' in your storybooks are all adults who make mistakes! When did they ever say that children couldn't be bad? They only said that about bad children."

The children all looked enlightened. "You're so smart!"

Finnian made a dismissive sound and said with smug satisfaction: "What's smart about this? Think about it for a moment and you'd know."

He reset the scene: "All right, what other stories are there?"

At that point, a voice emerged from within the cluster of children: "Do you know the story about the priest who lives here and how he killed his daughter?"

"Oh, I heard about that too. That poor girl!"

A flash of bewilderment crossed Finnian's eyes — along with curiosity — and he instinctively leaned forward.

Whispering voices rose among the children: "They say before the priest became a priest, he left his sick young daughter alone at home without caring for her. The girl was only about four years old? One night the child got up to get water by herself, and while feeling her way in the dark she hit her temple on the corner of a table..."

Before the story could finish, the door was knocked — like the ringing of a bell calling someone from sleep, brief and clear.

The children instinctively fell silent and looked up to see a young black-haired man standing in the doorway. His eyes were clear and cool, and merely slightly relaxed, they conveyed an indescribable warmth and gentleness that won immediate goodwill.

"I'm sorry — someone is resting inside."

The children instinctively covered their mouths, silently keeping quiet: "......"

The black-haired young man said gently: "Let the stories end here for today."

Even so, the children sensed something irresistible in his manner — a strange, inexplicable fear of disobedience — and their feet began to move of their own accord. They ran off from where they stood, and within four or five seconds, only the empty doorway remained.

Finnian still stood in place, watching their retreating backs, a vague unease rising in his heart.

He obviously hadn't done the job well, and hadn't gathered nearly enough clues. And the fact that Shu Li had abruptly interrupted meant Shu Li was definitely displeased with him.

Thinking this, Finnian cautiously glanced at Shu Li, not daring to speak, his hands unconsciously clasped behind his back.

Shu Li caught his gaze and bent down to speak with him: "I'm sorry — I disturbed you."

Hearing those words, Finnian looked up in surprise.

Shu Li simply watched Finnian's still-anxious expression and continued in a calm, gentle undertone: "I only thought it wasn't right to discuss his painful past right at Father Symeon's doorway. What do you think?"

The moment those words landed, Finnian stared into Shu Li's eyes, and the heat rushed from his ears all the way down to his neck.

He had never felt so burning hot in his entire life. Not even the first time he'd been caught in a lie by Shu Li had it been this bad. He felt as though he was bursting into blazing flames under Shu Li's gaze.

"It's my fault for not paying attention. My fault for being careless. When they brought it up, I forgot to stop them."

After saying this, Finnian hurriedly shifted his gaze away from Shu Li's face and looked toward the square.

He felt he should keep talking, but when he opened his mouth, his voice trembled beyond his control.

So he made an effort to steady himself and said: "I— I'll go listen to stories over by the square, shall I? The rumors I've heard aren't all consistent — it might be related to distance, or maybe they're just different... That— that— I can also talk to adults."

Finnian felt like his brain was on fire too, and he'd started rambling. To avoid embarrassing himself further, he took a step back. Without waiting for Shu Li to stop him, he turned and ran — running farther and farther away.

From a distance, Shu Li could still hear Finnian's sudden shriek of mortified indignation.

If only Finnian had looked back into the room at that moment, he might have seen Father Symeon sitting at the dining table — having been woken by the food's fragrance.

Shu Li felt there was no need to let Finnian see that.

Had Finnian been about to turn back toward the room, Shu Li would have stopped him without fail.

Because for someone as young as he was, that sight might have been an unbearable psychological wound.

At this moment, Father Symeon's fingers were trembling uncontrollably. His fingertips dug into his own palms, as though using pain to jolt himself awake. His sleeves slid down from the arms covering his face, revealing old, jagged scars — crisscrossing one another, like a diary of penance etched into skin.

Father Symeon had no need of anyone else's apology — let alone for something that was an innocent mistake. He himself was simply the person who least deserved to be forgiven.

Shu Li couldn't leave. He didn't dare leave. He feared that if he gave Father Symeon space to quietly compose his emotions, Father Symeon might do something to hurt himself again — especially now, in a state of exhaustion both physical and mental. In such a state, any act would not be surprising.

Shu Li didn't keep staring at Father Symeon. He raised his gaze instead to the rusted nails on the walls of the room — once anchors for warm memories, once the hanging places for paintings of happiness and wholeness. He stood in the doorway without moving, feeling like a sentinel standing at a forking path of fate.

On one side — young Finnian, running forward with all his might, about to open the chapter of his life.

On the other — Father Symeon, trapped in the ruins of the past, with no escape.

After a long silence, Shu Li's low voice broke through the stagnant air.

The voice fell like something from a distant, solemn altar — carrying an irresistible weight.

"Father Symeon, the Lord has heard your prayers in your suffering. Will you keep it hidden for the rest of your life? Or... will you make your confession to me now? You must know you are already on the verge of collapse — you are exhausted, unable to hold on any longer."

Father Symeon's body gave a violent shudder. His throat seemed to have something lodged in it. His vision struggled to focus through burning tears, the world reduced to shifting light and shadow.

He couldn't make out Shu Li's face clearly — only a silhouette standing against the light, like a distant and solemn deity, reaching out a hand toward him from within boundless darkness. It was unmistakably a hand in which salvation and judgment coexisted.

Lord God,

This sinner Symeon's evil is beyond pardon.

I beseech You!

Judge me — and I beseech You also to save me!

The tears that had pooled in Father Symeon's eyes finally rolled free and fell.