“I won’t be a fox, I want to be a tiger!”

Night fell.

There was a faint glow on the horizon, but it was gradually swallowed by the night. The stars hung densely in the sky like grains of sand.

“It really looks like a river!”

Thomas Reed looked up at the Milky Way. “I want to write a poem.”

“You know how to write poems?” Henry Clark waited eagerly.

Thomas Reed held it in for a long time, then finally stood up. “I’m going to take a dump.”

Henry Clark said expectantly, “You’ll think faster while squatting.”

Thomas Reed dashed off in a flash.

Henry Clark sat there in a daze, gazing at the starry sky, thinking of that home.

How would Edward Clark be? Most likely annoyed. And The Thompson Family? She would surely keep cursing him, calling him all sorts of things—short-lived brat, wretched dog slave...

Their three sons, the two older ones were about to start their own families, and would likely spend their lives farming; the youngest was spoiled and mischievous, bound to be trouble in the future.

But with that tiger, the county magistrate would agree to some of The Clark Family’s requests, so their days would probably be much better.

Shouldn’t I hate them? Why do I feel relieved?

Henry Clark suddenly felt lost.

Edward Clark and his wife raised him for money. Five hundred coins a year—almost like being rich in Xiahe Village. Over the years, they saved up a lot, enough to last for many years.

In the third month after Charles Clark disappeared, Edward Clark and his wife finally showed their true colors. From then on, he became like a bitter wildflower in the fields, or bitter herbal water in the pharmacy...

Do I hate them?

Thinking of those five years of torment, Henry Clark nodded, then shook his head slightly.

He wasn’t a saint, but he couldn’t forget those years of being raised, even if it was just for the money. Still, Edward Clark and his wife gave him a home during those years.

“Home.” Henry Clark rubbed his face with both hands, and when he looked up again, a sunny smile was on his face.

“Young people shouldn’t pretend to be deep!” The way the youth pretended to be carefree made the just-returned Thomas Reed laugh. He kicked him from behind. “Hurry up and get ready to sleep.”

Lying in the tent, surrounded by darkness with no starlight in sight, Henry Clark still felt a bit uneasy. He preferred sleeping under the stars, with the earth as his bed, drifting off to the sounds of birds and beasts.

Thomas Reed lay down and whispered, “When you sleep with others, remember to stay alert. It’s just me now, but if it were a thief, would you still want your life?”

“Yes.” Henry Clark replied, moving his bedding a bit to the side.

A string was stretched right beside him, one end tied to his finger. He lay on his side, right hand gripping a short knife. If startled, he would swing the knife without hesitation.

Henry Clark settled in, happily closing his eyes.

He had camped out in the wild countless times. Any beast that thought it had found a meal always ended up as his prey.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Henry Clark suddenly felt a tingling at the back of his head, the hairs on his back standing on end.

In the darkness, he opened his eyes.

Thomas Reed’s faint snoring came steadily.

Henry Clark listened carefully.

Snores rose and fell from all directions—some loud, some soft, some long, some short. The longest snore was intermittent, as if it might stop at any moment.

Other than that, the world was eerily quiet.

Henry Clark retracted the string and gently patted Thomas Reed.

“Who’s there?”

Thomas Reed sprang up, a knife somehow already in his hand.

In the darkness, his eyes were full of killing intent.

Henry Clark lowered his voice. “It’s me.”

“What is it?” Thomas Reed took a wary step back, then broke into a smile. Henry Clark had even saved the young lady—would he really want to kill him?

Henry Clark leaned against the tent, feeling the numbness at the back of his head and the chill down his spine. “Something feels off.”

“What feels off?” Thomas Reed listened carefully, puzzled. “Nothing’s wrong. Did you have a nightmare?”

Henry Clark gently lifted the tent flap. The cold wind blew in, making Thomas Reed shiver behind him.

“I don’t have nightmares.”

Henry Clark lied. He’d had nightmares from the age of ten. In those dreams, many people wanted him dead, led by Edward Clark and The Thompson Family.

Thomas Reed put on his clothes and followed him out.

“Don’t move around.” Thomas Reed warned, “There are people on watch at the entrance. If you go without warning, you’ll be shot full of arrows.”

Henry Clark squatted outside the tent, squinting ahead. He grabbed something with his right hand and brought it to his nose to sniff.

Thomas Reed was puzzled. “What did you grab?”

Henry Clark shook his head. “I caught a whiff of something unsettling.”

He hunched over, slowly moving forward.

“Be careful.” Thomas Reed bent down to follow. “Don’t cause trouble.”

Henry Clark didn’t look back. “I don’t want trouble. But it’s a long way to Chang’an from here. I don’t want to gnaw on dry biscuits.”

So he had to protect the sponsor of this trip, to ensure hot water, good food, and a warm tent.

Just for that?

Thomas Reed curled his lip.

Henry Clark seemed to know what he was thinking and added, “I won’t just stand by and watch you get ambushed and killed.”

Thomas Reed found it ridiculous. “With dozens of guards, do we still need your protection?”

Up ahead, Henry Clark nodded slightly. Thomas Reed really wanted to knock him out with a slap.

Suddenly, Henry Clark stopped moving.