Battle Through the Heaven: Purple Heaven

At eleven or twelve, the little girl stood with a touch of awkwardness, visibly uncertain. Under the black-robed youth's gaze, her clear, pure eyes flickered with unease. Clutching a paper bag tightly, her head dipped lower.

"No need to be nervous. What's your name?" Xiao Bai asked, his voice gentle.

Emboldened slightly, she answered softly, "Qing… Qing Lin."

"Good, Qing Lin. Look at him." Xiao Bai pointed to the brute, drenched in cold sweat, rooted in place.

Qing Lin raised her head, but spotting the man, she flinched and dropped her gaze. "No lowering your head. Look up!" Xiao Bai's tone, once soft, turned stern.

Her heart quaked, fearful, but she mustered the courage to lift her head, eyes squeezing shut at the sight of the brute. "No closing your eyes. Open them!" His voice remained firm.

On the verge of tears, Qing Lin didn't understand what her savior wanted. Battling fear, she cracked her eyes open a sliver. "Do you hate him?" Xiao Bai asked, unconcerned with how wide her eyes were, as long as she looked.

She shook her head vehemently. Hate? She didn't dare. Her mother had taught her to endure, to yield, to survive here. And so she had, taking beatings and curses in silence. Early on, she'd begged, but it only egged them on, prolonging the abuse. She'd stopped pleading.

"Want to kill him?" Xiao Bai's voice was light, but it jolted her. Kill? She'd never considered it. Glancing at the brute, she saw his pleading eyes—a look she knew well, one she'd cast at her tormentors and onlookers, met with indifference. She understood that despair.

Biting her lip, Qing Lin grappled with her feelings. Hate? Empathy? She didn't know. At eleven, with only her mother's lessons of endurance, she lacked guidance. "Qing Lin doesn't know, but Qing Lin doesn't want to kill!" she shouted, her first bold defiance to anyone but her mother, fueled by unknown courage.

Shrinking back, she peeked anxiously at the youth. "Good. Then we won't kill," Xiao Bai said, smiling and nodding.

The brute's fate didn't matter—Xiao Bai's goal was to lift this pitiful girl from her trembling fear. "Scram!" he barked at the man, soul force amplifying his voice.

The brute staggered as if struck, spitting blood and tumbling backward. Ignoring the pain, he scrambled up, kowtowing. "Thank you, lord! Thank you!" Stumbling, he fled.

Xiao Bai surveyed the area, then walked to a nearby stone step, heedless of the sand, and sat. He beckoned Qing Lin, pointing beside him. Hesitant but trusting—he was the first to shield her from a beating—she shuffled over.

"Sit next to me. Why stand there?" Xiao Bai urged.

Qing Lin settled on the step, and Xiao Bai studied her. Her patched green dress, though simple, was meticulously mended, reflecting care. "What's in your hands? You held on even when beaten," he asked, curious about the bag.

"Buns," she murmured, head low.

The bag was dusted with sand, yet she gripped it fiercely, hinting at the buns' importance. Xiao Bai sighed inwardly. Qing Lin, a human-Snake-People hybrid, was a rarity. Such unions rarely produced viable offspring, and those born typically died young. At eleven, Qing Lin was an anomaly, branded a cursed outcast, shunned by both races in this borderland of enmity. A blameless child, caught in prejudice.

"Can I have one?" Xiao Bai asked, smiling.

Seeing no response, he teased, "What, too stingy?"

Panicked, Qing Lin shook her head, afraid of misunderstanding. "It's dirty!"

"No matter. The outside may be dirty, but a clean heart inside is enough," Xiao Bai said, his words layered with meaning.

Qing Lin blinked, half-grasping his intent. Seeing his insistence, she carefully opened the bag, picking the least dusty of three buns and offering it shyly. She had no money for fresh ones, wishing she could give this kind youth better.

After handing it to Xiao Bai, she glanced at Hai Bodong, hesitated, then chose the next-cleanest bun, offering it timidly. "Grandpa, want one?"

Hai Bodong sighed, puzzled by Xiao Bai's actions, glancing at him for a cue. Xiao Bai, ignoring him, brushed sand off his bun, thinking, A freely offered kindness—let's see if you seize it, old man.

Reluctantly, Hai Bodong took the bun and sat on the step. An ordinary girl's offering he'd dismiss, but Xiao Bai's clear interest in Qing Lin nudged him to follow suit.

The trio sat on the roadside steps, eating, heedless of passersby. Xiao Bai and Hai Bodong ignored the stares; Qing Lin kept her head down. Today, she was elated—someone shared her meal without disdain, a first since her mother's passing. The sand-dusted buns tasted sweeter than ever.

Despite losing two days' rations, with hunger looming, she didn't care. Xiao Bai, sensing her livelier spirit, smiled faintly. "You treated me to buns. How about I treat you to a meal?" he offered, grinning.

Qing Lin shook her head. This youth was the kindest she'd met, but she couldn't accept more. Her buns were precious to her, but to him, they were beneath notice. His willingness to eat them was kindness enough—she dared not ask for more.