The boy’s clothes were so tattered it was impossible to tell what they had once looked like. His small face was streaked with dirt, eyes wide and desperate as he tilted his head up to look at her. “Please, I’m begging you—have some mercy. My sister’s very sick. She won’t last much longer. Please, sister, I beg you.”

Bai Qingqing was at a loss, blocked by his little body and unsure how to respond. “Get up first. You can tell me everything standing.”

She glanced at Wen Jiang as she spoke. He gave her a warm smile. “Ask him what’s going on first. If it’s truly something serious, lending a hand doesn’t cost much.”

Bai Qingqing let out a quiet breath of relief. She had wanted to help—how could she not, faced with a child this small, pleading for his sister’s life? But she had also feared that her soft heart might invite trouble. With Wen Jiang’s reassurance, she finally reached out and helped the boy to his feet.

“Your sister’s sick? Have you seen a doctor? What exactly do you want me to do?”

The boy blinked at her, as if caught off guard by her patience. He had thought he’d be lucky to get a few copper coins, let alone anyone truly listening.

Overcome with joy, he immediately dropped to his knees and kowtowed twice before clambering back up, wiping at his eyes with the back of a filthy hand. “I don’t have money to see a doctor. My sister’s been barely conscious for two days now. She can only drink a little water. I—I’ll sell myself to you, just please save her!”

“Take us to see your sister first.”

The boy said they lived just a little further ahead. He came to this street every day to beg, but never dared stray far, afraid to leave his sister alone too long. When they arrived, Bai Qingqing finally understood why he had been so afraid.

To call it a place to live was generous—it was a crumbling temple tucked away in a forgotten alley, far removed from the bustling streets of Pingzhou. It was as if all the filth and ruin of the city had been swept into this one corner.

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Even before they entered, voices drifted out from inside.

“This girl’s not gonna make it, is she? Boss, we can’t let her die here. It’s bad luck. Maybe we should just toss her out while she’s still breathing. That way she won’t be taking up space.”

The boy’s eyes turned bloodshot as he charged inside. “Don’t you dare touch my sister!”

“Well, look who’s back early. What’s the matter, brat? Scored something today? Let’s see it. You think this temple lets you two little mongrels stay here for free?”

When Bai Qingqing stepped through the threshold, she saw the boy bristling like a hedgehog, every inch of him sharp and furious as he glared at the man. Behind him, curled into a motionless ball on the ground, was a tiny figure, swaddled in a grimy, tattered cloth of indiscernible color.

The sudden arrival of Bai Qingqing and Wen Jiang silenced the room. Especially Wen Jiang—refined and scholarly though he appeared, he was known to be one of Ning Yan’s men. Guilt by association had its power, and when Wen Jiang wanted to intimidate, he did so effortlessly.

He gave the room a slow, razor-thin smile as his eyes swept over everyone. The man facing the boy shrank back into the shadows at once, terrified of being remembered.

“Lanlan? Lanlan, it’s me. I’m back.” The boy’s voice softened as he called to his sister, but she didn’t stir. Panic filled his face, and tears spilled down as he turned to Bai Qingqing again, about to fall to his knees once more.

Wen Jiang crouched beside the girl, pressing a hand to her forehead, then taking her pulse. Without a word, he gently gathered her into his arms.

“She’s burning up. We need to get her to the clinic. Now.”

A fever that high was dangerous for a child. Without waiting, Wen Jiang strode out, carrying the girl in his arms. The boy followed close behind, wary, his face tight with mistrust. Could he really believe this man would help them?