HPDBC 226. Pig Trotters?
226. Pig Trotters?
“Are you looking for a disciple?” Jiao asked. “Should I bow and call you Master?”The boy’s voice snapped Jin Shu out of his stupor. He quickly looked away from the mother and focused on the cheeky child instead.
“A disciple?” Jin Shu frowned. “No.”
“I see.” Jiao nodded solemnly, then grabbed his mother’s sleeve and tugged her forward. “I’m Zhujiao, and this is my mother, Lan. Neither of us has a family name.”
“Zhujiao…?” Jin Shu repeated.
The name struck him as odd since it meant Pig Trotters, and was used as a meme since it sounded dangerously close to Zhujue—which meant protagonist. He wondered if the kid was trying to make a joke, or if he got the pronunciation wrong…
Lan shook her head with a weary sigh. “I named him Jiao—as in lovable,” she said. “But sometimes I think I should’ve used the Jiao from sly.”
“What’s your name, big bro?” Jiao asked.
“Jin Shu.”
“Is that the Jin in gold?” Jiao asked thoughtfully. “And the Shu in virtuous? Isn’t Shu feminine?”
Jin Shu’s eye twitched. “It’s Shu as in book.”
His brow furrowed as a thought struck him. He had never actually seen his birth records—he’d always just assumed. But considering who his mother was…
…Yeah. She’d totally do that.
He shook his head. Forget it. Doesn’t matter.
Glancing between the boy and his mother, Jin Shu asked, “Where are you headed now?”
Lan opened her mouth to answer, but Jiao beat her to it.
“We’ll follow you!”
Jin Shu raised a brow. “You can’t follow where I’m going. But I can travel with you for a short while.”
“That’s fine!” Jiao nodded instantly, as if that had been the plan all along.
The mother and son fell in behind Jin Shu as he continued down the forest path. Jiao took the opportunity to kick each of the dead bandits once, shouting profanity at them as he did—earning himself a sharp scolding from Lan.
“Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother,” he replied obediently.
Jin Shu chuckled. The boy’s antics reminded him of his own troublemaking child—though, in his admittedly biased opinion, Yin’er was far cuter.
“Big bro,” Jiao said, hurrying up beside him. “How old are you?”
Jin Shu paused, thinking. His long coma had messed with his sense of time. “Mm… about twenty.”
“Oh.” Jiao blinked. “Do you like older women? How does a twelve-millennia gap sound?”
“A millennium is a thousand years. Twelve of them equals twelve thousand years… I'm pretty sure most Sage Realm cultivators can't even live that long.”
Jiao shrugged. “I'm not sure my mom's age, so I just guessed.”
Jin Shu frowned. Those were… extremely strange questions for a ten- or twelve-year-old.
“…Are you trying to set me up with your mother?” he asked.
He glanced back at Lan. She showed no outward reaction—but given what he’d seen earlier, he was fairly certain she could hear every word.
“If I were,” Jiao asked carefully, “would you be interested?”
Instead of answering, Jin Shu asked, “Where’s your father?”
“Never had one,” Jiao said, shrugging.
“Ah… sorry.”
Jiao waved it off, unconcerned. “I know my mom’s a mortal—and blind—but she’s really beautiful, right?” He leaned closer and whispered, “Plus, she’s never been with a man.”
Jin Shu very nearly smacked him on the spot.
Then where the hell do you think you came from?!
“Even shady dealers don’t sell goods like this,” Jin Shu sighed. “Yet here you are trying to sell your own mother.”
He glanced down at the boy. “Kid, I already have three wives.”
Jiao grit his teeth. “Fine… we’ll settle for a concubine position.”
Jin Shu stopped walking and stared at him blankly.
“What?” Jiao said, grinning shamelessly. “That’s the mark of a wealthy man, right? Three wives and four concubines.”
Jin Shu really wanted to smack this cheeky little brat.
“Where did you learn this stuff?” Jin Shu asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Just here and there,” Jiao answered vaguely.
“Do you even know anything about me before trying to sell your mom off?” Jin Shu continued. “What if I’m worse than those bandits?”
Jiao shook his head, suddenly serious. “You aren’t.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I can tell,” Jiao said confidently. “You were born with incredible luck. Only good people have luck like that.”
Jin Shu blinked. “You’re a fortune teller now?”
Jiao smiled mysteriously. “I’ll tell you one day, father.”
The corner of Jin Shu’s eyes twitched. He was this close to smacking the kid.
He turned to Lan instead. “Are you really okay with him saying all this?”
Lan smiled gently. “I’m sorry if he’s bothering you,” she said. “But I assure you—he doesn’t mean any harm.”
“Well… I’m not worried about him harming me,” Jin Shu replied. “It’s you he’s harming. You don’t actually want to be sold off by your own son to a stranger, right?”
Jiao tugged lightly on his mother’s sleeve. She patted his hand in reassurance.
“I’m not worried,” she said, laughing softly.
Jin Shu could only sigh inwardly. This mother–son duo are trouble…
***
The sun gradually sank toward the horizon. They were still deep within the forest and far from the nearest safe city, leaving them no choice but to make camp in a small clearing.
Jin Shu had only brought a single tent. The mother and son, having fled their village in haste, had nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“Here,” Jin Shu said, handing the tent over. “Set this up.”
Jiao nodded enthusiastically and got to work while Jin Shu gathered firewood. With a flicker of fire energy, he lit a small campfire, both to keep them warm and to cook a simple meal using ingredients he’d bought in the last city.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Lan asked, kneeling beside him as he stoked the flames.
He froze for half a heartbeat, distracted by the way her posture tugged at her robes. He quickly shook his head, mentally scolding himself. She’s someone’s mother. Get it together.
“Just sit and rest,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot. You must be exhausted.”
She smirked faintly, as if she’d sensed his gaze, then withdrew without comment. Smoothing her robes, she sat on a flat stone Jin Shu had set aside earlier.
The way she moved—calm, composed, effortlessly graceful—reminded him of a noblewoman.
…A fallen noble, maybe?
It almost made too much sense. A destitute, blind woman falls in love with a noble—like something straight out of a fantasy tale—only for him to die before their son is even born. Widowed and alone, unable to uphold the noble house due to her disability, she’s forced to flee with her child to a remote village, hiding from the enemies of her late husband. Then fate, cruel as ever, sacrifices that village in a demonic ritual.
Yet somehow, fate leaves them one final sliver of hope.
Me. The immortal hero.
…Or so he fantasized.
Listen to me, writing a drama in my head.
Shaking the thought away, Jin Shu stood and set a pot over the flames. He summoned water from the air to fill it, then waited for it to come to a boil.
“Your mastery over the elements is impressive,” Jiao said as he finished setting up the tent. “Will you teach me once I become your son?”
Jin Shu tuned him out, adding ingredients and spices to the boiling water. Before long, a rich fragrance spread through the clearing, making Jiao’s stomach growl audibly.
Jin Shu took out three bowls and ladled stew into each. He handed one to Jiao, then paused before passing the other to Lan.
“Careful—it’s hot,” he said. “Do you need help?”
He worried she might burn herself because of her blindness, but she smiled and accepted the bowl smoothly, without hesitation.
He’d noticed it before, but she really didn’t act blind. The confidence in her movements was unmistakable.
“I may not be able to see,” Lan said lightly, “but I still have my other senses to rely on.”
“My mom’s amazing,” Jiao said proudly. “She can hear for miles, feel her surroundings through the wind, smell danger in the air, and taste the world on her tongue!”
Jin Shu blinked. “Is she a bat–snake hybrid or something?”
Lan laughed softly while Jiao stared at him in disbelief.
“Big bro… can’t you just let me exaggerate a little?” Jiao protested. “I’m trying to hype my mom up here!”
Ignoring him, Jin Shu blew on his stew to cool it and took a spoonful. He nodded in quiet approval. The cooking skills weren’t technically his—they belonged to Gold, honed during his military days—but they were useful all the same.
After the meal, they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the forest settle around them. Owls hooted in the distance, leaves rustled softly, crickets chirped, and somewhere far off, a predator howled.
Jin Shu tossed a beast-repellent pill into the fire. The smoke turned faintly green as it rose, and he guided it with wind qi, keeping it away from the others while spreading it around the camp’s perimeter.
“It’s getting late,” Jin Shu said. “You two should turn in—before you catch a chill.”
“I’m fine!” Jiao declared, thumping his chest. “Why don’t you and Mom take the tent? I’ll stand guard!”
“No.” Jin Shu shook his head without hesitation.
No matter how beautiful Lan was, she was still a mortal woman. That fact alone was enough to shut down any stray thoughts.
For cultivators, marrying mortals was an unspoken taboo—an invitation to inevitable heartbreak. Watching someone you loved grow old and die while you remained unchanged was cruel to both parties. Distance was kinder.
Jiao opened his mouth to argue, but Lan gently pushed him toward the tent before he could say a word. She turned back and bowed slightly.
“Thank you,” she said softly, before following her son inside.
Jin Shu sighed. Mortals had it the toughest—doomed to age and die without power. Even cultivators met early ends through conflict or cultivation mishaps, but at least they were granted a chance at immortality. At the very least, they could live for centuries and experience far more than the handful of fleeting years the heavens allotted to mortals.
His plan was simple: escort them safely to the nearest city and provide enough welfare for them to live comfortably. There was nothing more he could do for the mother and son beyond that.
He snorted softly. Marriage was certainly out of the question. Even if she somehow turned out to be a hidden immortal, his answer would be the same. He already had his hands full with the other three… and Liu Hua. That situation, in particular, required serious thought.
Perhaps he’d been a little impulsive when he decided to marry them after the journey to the hidden realm. But what was done was done.
He wouldn’t regret his decision now.