Request

“Los…”
“Brother…”

Opening his eyes and regaining his senses, Wu Qingchen realized he was still in the posture of requesting an emergency awakening.

“It’s begun.”

He quickly brought his feet together, withdrew his hands, and resumed a normal stance. Wiping the sweat from his face, his mind raced.

Just as it had been the first time he formally entered the medieval world, for this reentry into the dream, the invaluable half hour was seized: dozens of computers, dozens of projection screens, and dozens of soldiers had explained to Wu Qingchen a highly detailed action plan.

He tilted his head slightly, rapidly recalling and organizing everything.

The first step, as always, was self-preservation.

Taking a deep breath, he gestured to Grace and little Nina, whose faces were filled with concern, signaling that he was alright. Wu Qingchen turned to look at another plow cart parked far off in the field and trudged over.

“Father…”

The rain was so heavy that he had to shout to be barely heard as he reached the plow cart. “Father…”

Old William paused, listening intently.

Wu Qingchen moved closer. “It’s nearly time for morning prayers. There’s still work in the chapel—I need to head back first… I’ll return after I’m done…”

“Alright…” Glancing at the dark sky, Old William nodded, lifted the crossbar again, and prepared to continue working.

“Wait…”

Wu Qingchen held Old William back, pointing to a tree beside the field, violently swaying in the storm. “Father, with rain this heavy, we shouldn’t leave Pawel and Karma under the tree. Let me take them home with me.”

Looking at the two heaps of dry grass beneath the tree, tossed by wind and rain, Old William nodded vigorously again, then pointed to Nina, who was sitting directly in the muddy water, likely resting. “Take Nina with you. Once morning prayers are finished, if the rain eases, bring her back…”

He paused, then sighed deeply. “…Forget it. Let her stay home. Take good care of her siblings.”

“Yes, Father.”

Wu Qingchen turned to leave.

“Wait…”

Just as he was about to go, Old William suddenly grabbed his cloak.

Wu Qingchen turned back. Old William patted Idra, who was also catching his breath, leaned in to speak loudly for a moment, and then, together with Idra, took off their cloaks and handed them to Wu Qingchen. “Remember to wring them dry. Don’t let your siblings get soaked…”

“Yes, Father.”

Calling to little Nina, Wu Qingchen walked beneath the tree. The two gathered up Pawel and Karma, carefully wrapping the crying siblings in dry grass and freshly wrung cloaks.

When all was done, Wu Qingchen turned and saw, amid the storm-ravaged field, his father and Idra together, his mother and Grace together, all four bent lower, their steps more faltering, and the two plow carts swaying even more.

Whether it was rain, sweat, or something else, Wu Qingchen’s vision blurred rapidly.

He wiped his face once more, sighing deeply.

“Let’s go, Nina.”

----
The Chapel.

Page (1/3)

Setting down a small jar filled with stream water, arranging tender shoots, Playa extended his left hand and gently waved.

No response.

“Andre…”

Frowning slightly, Playa waved his left hand again.

Still no response.

“Andre!” Playa turned his head. Beside him, young Andre shuddered violently, quickly spinning around, his eyes filled with obvious concern.

Playa waved his left hand a third time and young Andre finally snapped back, hastily placing the sacred text he held into the priest’s hands.

“…Andre…”

Flipping open the sacred text, Playa glanced sideways. Young Andre had already resumed his dazed expression, staring intently at the torrential rain outside the door.

“…Still watching?” Playa patted Andre’s head. “Don’t worry, with rain this heavy, no one can walk the roads. Your friend must be at home now, perhaps even lying in bed…”

Just as he spoke, a sudden barrage of “pa-pa-pa” sounded outside. Andre and Playa both straightened and looked out.

A small figure quickly appeared within their view.

This little figure held a wooden shovel overhead, skin smeared with leaves and grass, water streaming from his robe, patches of deep yellow and dark brown marking where he’d fallen in the mud.

Leaving a trail of black footprints, the figure sprinted toward the chapel, stopping at the entrance in the downpour.

“Los!”

Smiling, Andre leaned forward, already stepping toward him.

“Wait…”

Seeing young Los stopped at the door, Playa thoughtfully held Andre back.

The two watched as the small figure—young Los—first washed leaves and grass from his hands and feet in a puddle, then grabbed his wooden shoes, dunking them vigorously in another puddle. Lastly, he lifted his robe and scrubbed at the mud stains on his clothes.

After a long while, carefully inspecting himself and pressing his wooden shoes to mark the chapel steps, Los finally wiped his face, showed a hint of satisfaction, and stepped into the chapel, approaching the priest and apprentice by the altar.

All along the way, except for the water marks, the stone floor of the chapel remained spotless.

Habitually clenching his fists, Playa nodded slightly, smiling faintly, and withdrew his gaze.

“Los, you…”

The dripping Los had just approached when Andre quickly moved over.

“Ahem…” Playa’s cough pinned Andre in place. “Andre, stand at your position… Morning prayers are beginning…”

Immediately, Wu Qingchen and Andre brought their feet together, right hand over heart, eyes fixed on the altar.

At the same moment, Priest Playa touched the open sacred text.

The third year of the Dawn, morning prayers began.

Ten minutes passed; prayers ended. Playa signaled Andre to sit, then opened a parchment for the daily lesson.

Compared to usual, this time Playa took a little longer to finish the routine.

Because, once again, whether during prayers or lessons, Playa devoted part of his attention to young Los standing nearby.

Page (2/3)

Indeed, young Los had not moved, his prayer posture always precise.

Yes, even at the end of morning prayers, Los performed the sacred rites meticulously.

Excellent—Los frowned, noticing where I likely misspoke. He is still focused on my teaching.

Doing his tasks while observing Los, Playa clenched his fists again, nodded slightly.

“All right…” Closing the parchment, Playa stopped Andre for a third time from speaking to Los.

“Los, you came in quite dirty—did you fall on the way?”

“Yes, Father.” Wu Qingchen bowed gently.—Yes, at least it appeared so, Father.

“You seem troubled. What’s the matter?”

“Father, our cow was injured. It’ll be hard to plow our field this year…”

“The cow was injured? What happened?” Knowing how crucial draft animals were to a family, Playa immediately frowned.

“Yesterday…”

Young Los bowed again and began recounting how the cow was hurt.

Playa’s frown deepened, sighing now and then.

He frowned because Los’s family’s cow was hurt at the worst time—humans replacing animals for plowing was exhausting.

He sighed because as Los spoke, he remained calmly bowed, his tone steady and measured, neither angry nor agitated, with no trace of hatred or reproach—only when mentioning Nina’s injured shoulder did his voice tremble faintly.

It was then that Playa noticed: from morning prayers to lessons and his questioning, Los had stood steadily in place all along, his constantly dripping robe forming a large water stain on the stone floor.

“The path the saint walked was covered in thorns, flames burning everywhere…” Suddenly, Playa’s lips moved, whispering a sacred phrase he once tested Los with.

After Los finished his account, the chapel was silent for a long moment before Playa spoke softly, “And now? Los, what do you wish to do?”

“Father…” Los slowly raised his head, striving to hold back the mist in his eyes. “I have a request…”

“Speak…” Playa sighed quietly.

Would it be to borrow a draft animal? Or perhaps to ask for relief from summer labor?

Before asking, Playa had already anticipated Los’s possible needs.

To borrow a draft animal? Or ask for exemption from several days’ summer labor?

Both matters touched either the villagers’ most precious livestock, or a relative’s crucial labor in the castle. Even for Playa, neither was easy.

But on this day, from Los’s careful cleaning before entering, to his upright seriousness in the chapel, and his calm recounting of hardship, Playa had already decided to help this pitiable, clever, well-behaved, and deeply devout child through this ordeal.

Yet, as this ever-devout, upright Los stood in the sacred place, finally preparing to ask for help, merging his devotion with worldly needs, Playa couldn’t help but sigh deeply again.

Looks like I’ll have to seek out the steward again… and he’s not easy to deal with…

In the midst of his sighs, Playa suddenly paused, stunned to hear Los’s actual request:

“Father, I want to ask you to teach me how to treat the cow’s injury.”