A bowl of soy milk

  Zhenming was bitter and dreamed of his uncle again.

  His uncle was sitting under an ancient pine tree rooted in the cliff, leaning against the tree, puffing on a dry tobacco pipe, wearing that high-end suit he had bought for him.

  Behind him, on the pine tree, hung down a few red thin ropes. Some of the ropes had one end tied to another rope, while others were tied together with several other ropes.

  Zhen Ming bitterly arrived in front of his uncle, and sat down without saying a word.

  "Kui Ding Er, how did you get up here?"

  Zhen Ming said with a bitter tone: "So you're allowed up here?"

  His uncle looked puzzled: "It's not time yet, how many wives have you married?"

  "Marrying a fart, just kissed the woman's thigh, and farted. What kind of matchmaker are you? No wonder you were punished by the Heavenly Emperor to come down to the mortal world."

  His uncle snapped his fingers and calculated, laughing: "Mistake, mistake, I was too impatient this time, it's correct this time, how about it, are you going back or not?"

  "Are you kidding me? I've been tortured like this and you still want me to go back, is that a place for humans to stay? I'll just stay here with you then."

  His uncle heard this and his face suddenly changed, looking a bit uneasy at the distant smoke curling up from afar, as if there was someone there that he dreaded.

  Zhen Ming was taken aback for a moment, then suddenly looked enlightened, smiled and stood up: "Is it my aunt? Let's go, take me to see her, I've never seen what my aunt looks like before. Hmm, smells good, is my aunt cooking soy milk? My stomach is really hungry now..."

  "Mind your own business, what's it to you? Go back and enjoy your good fortune. What are you doing here causing trouble?" He hastily stood up, his hand holding the duster lightly waving, Zhen Ling's body flew into the air, heading towards the cliff behind...

  After a cold sweat, Zhen Ming woke up fiercely, and a refreshing aroma of soy milk rushed into his nostrils.

  In a daze, he vaguely saw a blurry figure appear in front of him. Her black hair was disheveled, and her clothes were completely soaked, clinging to her slender yet curvaceous body, revealing every curve. The dim lighting in the room, combined with his slightly clouded consciousness, only allowed him to make out a rough outline - seemingly that of a young woman, sitting beside him with a steaming ceramic bowl in hand.

  He wanted to open his eyes, but found that he didn't even have the strength to lift his eyelids.

  Immediately afterwards, a ladle of hot soy milk was poured into his mouth.

  A warm current flowed down his throat, all the way to his lungs, and finally spread throughout his body. Having been in this strange world for over a year now, it was still the first time he felt such a warm feeling.

  After a long period of suffering and torment, even just a little bit of warmth made him feel an unprecedented sense of emotion.

  A bowl of hot soy milk was poured into his mouth, spoonful by spoonful, and his body finally regained a bit of warmth, but he still couldn't stop shivering.

  After drinking the soy milk, he felt that his body had a bit of warmth, and then, a pair of soft and warm hands gently searched his body, carefully removing the clothes that clung to his skin.

  Every time a strip of cloth was torn from his body, flesh and blood were pulled off together, causing him to break out in cold sweat.

  She found him clenching his teeth in pain, and fearing he would bite off his tongue, she got up from beside him, took a white cloth, balled it up, used chopsticks to pry open his mouth, and stuffed it inside.

  Half an hour later, she finally cleaned up the stains on his wounds all over his body. Next, she took a piece of white gauze used to filter bean paste from beside her, tore it into strips, and bandaged each of his wounds one by one.

  After bandaging him, she covered his body with a warm quilt. Only then did she straighten up, reached out to brush the messy wet hair on her forehead back behind her ears, and placed her hands on her waist, massaging the slender waist that had become slightly sore from bending over for too long.

  Perhaps it was when she lowered her head that she saw the wet clothes clinging to her body, the semi-transparent fabric making her look almost naked at this moment. The two bright red dots on her full and plump chest were faintly visible, and her face involuntarily flushed slightly. She stole a glance at Zhen Mingshu, who was lying on the bed in a state of unconsciousness, and saw that he had already lost consciousness, only then did she let out a slight sigh of relief.

  She squatted down, pulled out a wooden chest from under the bed, took out a few clothes, turned around and walked to a corner of the room, pulled up the curtain. Before long, she came out from behind the curtain, wearing a fresh and close-fitting set of clothes, her raven-black hair was casually coiled at the back of her head, and she went to the stove, busy with her own affairs.

  Zhen Ming lay miserably on the bed, vaguely seeing a slender figure standing not far away, busy with something in an orderly manner. His eyelids gradually grew heavy and he fell into a daze, drifting off to sleep.

  A burst of chirping bird calls woke Zhenming up from his deep sleep.

  When he opened his eyes again, what entered his vision was the eaves of a house with several broken tiles left, and that piece of sky which was blue to the point of being breathtaking.

  The warm sunlight shines through the broken roof and onto my body, making me feel cozy and extremely comfortable.

  He turned his head and looked around.

  On his left, there was a three-legged table and a wooden Buddha statue with peeling gold lacquer. The incense burner on the table had been smashed into several pieces scattered in different corners.

  The things around him were telling him that he was currently in a ruined temple.

  Could it be another dream? Where is that gentle woman now? I've been through so much, I can no longer distinguish what's a dream and what's reality.

  He struggled to sit up, and after a heart-wrenching effort, he finally managed to sit up.

  The stiffness spreading from his body made him involuntarily lower his head and take a glance at himself.

  His body was wrapped in a layer of white gauze, with fresh blood seeping through the gauze from his wounds. The bloodstains had dried and scabbed over.

  Someone helped him clean and carefully bandage his wounds. In addition to the neatly bandaged wound, he was wrapped in a layer of clean and tidy thin cotton blanket, with a faint scent of fragrance.

  He looked around in all directions at dawn, but didn't see a single person.

  Suddenly, his gaze stopped at a not-too-distant empty space where a set of clean and tidy clothes was neatly stacked, along with a bowl of already cooled soy milk and two dry steamed buns.

  Not a dream.

  He was stunned for a moment, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember how he ended up in this place. He crawled to the bowl of doufu fa, and with his two hands that had almost lost their ability to grasp things, he shakily picked up the bowl of white doufu fa that looked like cow's milk, and gulped it down in one breath.

  The soy milk didn't have any sugar, but it was the most memorable and delicious taste he had ever had in his life. The steamed buns were also the only food that hadn't gone bad that he had eaten in months.

  A bowl of soy milk and two dry and tasteless buns later, he felt a sense of satisfaction that he had never experienced before.

  Months of torture that was worse than death made him almost forget what it was like to have a day where he could drink a bowl of soy milk freely, without bamboo skewers piercing his fingernails, iron hooks piercing his shoulders, or red-hot irons branding his body.

  There is no food in this world that can compare with a bowl of fragrant soy milk.

  After drinking the soy milk, he picked up the clean and tidy but slightly worn-out clothes on the ground, and with great effort put them on. He held onto the incense burner table beside him and stood up shakily, carefully examining the clothes from top to bottom and left to right.

  Just by looking at the style of the clothes, it's impossible to tell which dynasty in Chinese history this attire belongs to. He majored in science and history isn't his strong suit. Besides, deducing the dynasty from just one piece of clothing is something only an archaeologist can do.

  The fabric is made of coarse hemp, slightly shorter than a long gown and slightly longer than an outer garment, between the two in length, roughly from the neck to the knee, with limited warmth retention. Additionally, there is also a hemp waistband that is quite exquisite in its craftsmanship.

  He put on his clothes and picked up the broken table leg from the ground, using it as a crutch to hobble out of the temple gate.