12. The House on the Ancient Road (Part Two)

Passing the couple and their children, after a while longer, Wu Qingchen began to see houses appearing before him. Most of these dwellings were constructed from branches and turf, with only a few round logs visible at crucial points.

Naturally, there wasn’t a single exception among these houses—they were all dilapidated, seeming as though a mere gust of wind might reduce them to rubble. Whenever Wu Qingchen came upon a hut that looked as if it would collapse at the slightest breeze—a marvel of construction, he thought, surely never to be surpassed—he’d soon discover another that challenged the nerves of its inhabitants even further.

Beside these wooden shacks, or rather, these heaps of ruin, a few residents occasionally stood. Their faces were yellowed with malnutrition, their bodies gaunt and frail, their clothing as tattered as their dwellings, patched everywhere, with many lacking undergarments. Through the holes, pale skin and protruding bones were clearly visible.

Compared to these people, the family of four Wu Qingchen had just passed could hardly be considered “miserable” at all.

It was at this moment that Wu Qingchen at last deeply understood what a gray-haired professor had pointed out during a night training session: The “misery” of twenty-first century Earth and that of the medieval world were two entirely different concepts.

Moreover, faced with such scenes, Wu Qingchen’s feelings here were entirely different from what he would have felt on Earth.

He didn’t even notice that, as he walked, there was almost no communication between “Father,” “Elder Brother,” and the residents along the road.

----

French Ministry of Defense.

“The results are in!” The door to the Intelligence Bureau’s Administration Office was flung open as the secretary rushed in.

“Attire: The main subject, Subject One, Subject Two, and the current medieval world subjects are visibly distinct.”

“Physical health: The main subject, Subject One, Subject Two, and the current medieval world subjects are visibly distinct.”

“Exposed skin color: ...clear distinction.”

“Signs of manual labor: ...clear distinction.”

“Language: ...no communication yet.”

“...”

“In summary, the main subject, Subject One, and Subject Two, and the thirteen subjects identified in the medieval world do not belong to the same social class.”

“Excellent!” The director, already standing, quickly read the report and picked up a phone whose number he’d long since dialed. “Director-General, the results are in. Intelligence analysis indicates: Subjects A1–A13 of the medieval world belong to the serf class, while the main subject, Subject One, and Subject Two do not.”

“Excellent!”

On the other end, the Director-General hung up, his gaze sweeping over the synchronized fax. He swiftly picked up another phone: “Connect me to Military Intelligence... Mr. Andrew, our initial assessment concerning the main subject, Subject One, and Subject Two was incorrect. Their class and environmental risk need to be adjusted. Authorization granted: class elevated by one level, environmental danger downgraded by one level. Authorization code... document number... password... passphrase... year, month, day, hour, minute, second...”

----

Following behind his father and brother, Wu Qingchen continued forward, completely unaware that in the brief moments he’d spent glancing around, several thousand intelligence analysts had scrutinized countless details and had already begun to clear him of any suspicion of being a serf.

Following the muddy, filthy road, Wu Qingchen gradually made his way into the settlement’s interior, where the houses became denser.

In the medieval world, “dense” meant that wooden huts appeared every fifty meters instead of every hundred. On Earth, a fifty-meter gap between buildings would be enough to bankrupt any property developer.

These “dense” gaps were filled with groves, vegetable patches, high ground, even hillsides and streams. It was likely that the land was too difficult to level, so the houses stood in a bewildering variety of places; their sizes and shapes repeatedly challenged Wu Qingchen’s notion of what a “house” should be.

Here, at least, the houses looked a little more presentable. Most were still built from logs and turf, but it was apparent that they’d been tidied up; some even showed patches of paler new wood. The passersby, too, were more decently dressed, with fewer patches on their clothes; most wore wooden clogs, their hair was less tangled, and their faces showed occasional signs of washing. If one were to compare them to the twenty-first century, they might resemble destitute beggars in the less developed parts of the world—though only if those beggars also suffered from bouts of madness.

As for the even more ragged people Wu Qingchen had passed earlier, only forensic textbooks could provide images as harrowing, and Wu Qingchen’s imagination failed to find any twentieth-century equivalent.

Mad Beggar No. 1, Beggar No. 2... No—the father and brother occasionally greeted passersby, and occasionally, one of these unplaceable mad beggars—no, townsfolk—would call out “Los,” Wu Qingchen’s medieval-world name, and speak to him.

Wu Qingchen responded with vague mumbling or pretended not to hear.

Perhaps the hardships of life had worn away any surplus of curiosity. Wu Qingchen’s lack of response, and his unusual habit of stepping carefully to avoid the filth, were largely ignored by the beggars. Even when communication failed, no one pressed further.

After several more twists and turns through unplanned alleys, Wu Qingchen finally came upon a building that was not made solely of turf and wood.

Or more precisely, not entirely made of turf and wood.

This building stood about five meters tall, its base built from squared stones. The middle was framed with carefully selected timber, and the roof was thatched with meticulously chosen straw.

Rough stone statues stood out front, and beyond the open doorway, a long dais was visible at the far end, with rows of wooden benches before it.

For the first time, the road in front was not a quagmire, but surfaced with a rare layer of gravel.

Wu Qingchen also noticed that, as they passed this building, “Father” and “Elder Brother” both softened their steps and made a strange gesture, muttering a sequence of syllables he’d never heard before in an odd tone.

At once, Wu Qingchen understood: this was the center of the village, a religious site.

Thanks to his nightly training, Wu Qingchen was prepared for the presence of religion. In a twenty-minute lesson on the subject, he’d learned that in addition to faith, fanaticism, heresy, cruelty, savagery, and the ever-popular auto-da-fé, religion in the medieval world also meant order and rules.

The lone religious structure at the heart of the village meant that these rules and order were firmly established, leaving little room for challenge or defiance.

With this presence, at least, Wu Qingchen did not have to fear coming-of-age rites such as barehanded combat with lions or leopards, nor would he need to perform feats of courage like climbing a hundred-meter rope bridge to prove his worth to the tribe.

Crossing the gravel path, Wu Qingchen mimicked the gesture his father and brother had made, mumbling a string of syllables and touching his chest on either side.

Not everything religion brought was beneficial; at the very least, this gesture was something he’d have to learn quickly.

Compared to the previous sections, the ring of houses around the religious building were noticeably better. But passing out of this area, the buildings and their residents once again grew more impoverished.

Following the reasoning taught by his instructors, Wu Qingchen surmised that when the village was first established, a few wealthy settlers had pooled their resources to build the religious site, then constructed their own homes around it. Their followers then built homes encircling those, seeking out the best ground they could find, while the dirtiest, most chaotic, and most dangerous outskirts were left to the lowest social classes to throw up their ramshackle huts.

“Sya ru? Los, Gres, Kondru Xinche...”

After about ten more minutes, in front of another wooden hut, a middle-aged woman with a wooden bucket in her right hand waved and called out to the three of them.

“Sya ru.”

Father, who was walking in front, replied. The elder brother behind him uttered two simple syllables as well. Before Wu Qingchen could even begin to guess the meaning of this exchange, they had already reached the hut.

Father led the way into the wooden house, Elder Brother following.

Have we arrived? Is this the home in the medieval world?

As these thoughts flickered through his mind, Wu Qingchen stepped up to the doorway, put one foot inside—and immediately recoiled in shock.

From the outside, Wu Qingchen had thought that, though the family’s wooden house was a bit run-down, it was at least sturdily built and neatly kept, its shape not particularly odd. He’d felt a quiet sense of relief.

But as he drew near and looked inside, Wu Qingchen couldn’t help but gasp.

Good heavens...

Could this even be called a house?

Was this really a place fit for human habitation?

The hut was low and squat, yet the interior felt surprisingly spacious, not cramped at all.

—Because it had no interior walls whatsoever!

Supported by a few rough-hewn logs, beds were scattered untidily across the center of the room. On one side of the beds was a jumble of tables and chairs; on the other, a heap of tools.

In the shadows at the edges of the room, recently harvested crops were piled in bunches.

At the entrance, the floor outside was dirt—and so was the floor inside. The ground was completely untreated. There was no window, yet it was not particularly dark, because several gaps in the roof let the smoke escape, and a fire was burning brightly in the middle of the room.

A fire?

Wu Qingchen rubbed his eyes in disbelief: a girl of about ten was crouched by the flames, pouring a bowl of beans into a large pot over the fire.

Wu Qingchen’s jaw dropped.

Well then... this house truly embraced an all-in-one design philosophy, serving as bedroom, living room, storeroom, and kitchen...

Smoke really is hazardous to your health...

Standing in the doorway, Wu Qingchen was nearly moved to tears—partly from the stinging smoke of half-burned firewood, just a few steps away, and partly because he hadn’t had a cigarette for almost five hours.

“Moo...”

A strange sound came from the right. Wu Qingchen turned his head and realized that the family’s “advanced design” did not end with human accommodations—it also took into account the needs of the other members of the household.

Sure enough, it included the livestock.

On Wu Qingchen’s right, a few hens, two sheep of indeterminate breed, a black cow, and a dairy cow speckled with black dots all stared at him with equally innocent, bewildered eyes.