Damian's kitchen was at the very back of the yard, a simple shed built with thatch. Ethan was pulled by the two brothers to the earthen stove. It was basic, with just one large iron pot and a smaller ceramic jar behind it.
Ethan lifted the lid of the iron pot. Inside sat a bowl of the same dark vegetable mush as last night, along with a slightly yellowish steamed bun. Seeing the bun, both Finn and Maeve visibly swallowed hard.
"Have you two had lunch?" Ethan asked out of habit.
"Lunch?" The brothers shook their heads. "We don't eat lunch. Only breakfast and dinner."
"Only two meals a day?" Ethan's mouth dropped open in surprise. Just how poor were they?
"Yeah, everyone in the village does," Finn tilted his head, looking at him curiously. Wasn't everyone the same? Had Papa hit his head so hard he forgot this too?
"..." Great. So it wasn't just Damian's family; the whole village was dirt poor. No wonder they had to buy wives – and male wives at that. Maybe because men couldn't have children, they were cheaper than women?
"So what did you have for breakfast?" Ethan asked casually.
"Porridge."
"Vegetable porridge."
The brothers answered, their eyes still glued to the bun, swallowing again.
"Just porridge? No steamed bun?" Ethan looked at them, utterly astonished. Could a single bowl of vegetable porridge really sustain them until evening?
"Just porridge. Dad specially went to Grandma Chen's house to borrow the bun for Papa to eat."
"Yeah, Dad said Papa wanted a white flour bun."
The brothers looked at Ethan with envy. "Dad is really good to Papa~"
"..." Ethan's mouth twitched. Was Damian being so nice because he was afraid Ethan would run away? Then again, having to borrow even a single steamed bun... just how poor were they?
"Papa, aren't you going to eat?" Seeing Ethan holding the bowl motionless, Finn tugged at his sleeve. "The bun will get cold."
"Eating, eating right now!" Ethan was genuinely starving. Even though the vegetable porridge tasted bad, he gulped it down anyway. As for the bun, under the covetous gazes of the two children, Ethan couldn't bring himself to eat it alone. He broke it into three pieces, handing one to each child. "Here, eat."
"Thank you, Papa!"
"Thank you, Papa!"
The two children happily took the pieces of bun and stuffed them into their mouths in a couple of bites, perfectly demonstrating what it meant to wolf down food.
After finishing the bun, the two children, eager to show their gratitude, fought over who would wash the bowl for Ethan. He didn't let them, instead scooping water from the large jar in the corner of the kitchen and quickly rinsing it himself.
Once done, he led the brothers back out into the courtyard and sat down on a small stool. A bowl of mush and a small piece of bun weren't nearly enough to fill an adult man, but at least he had regained some strength. Now, it was time to plan his escape.
"Finn, Maeve, do you know which road leads to the town?" Only by reaching a town or city could he catch a ride or call the police.
"Town? What's that?" The two children tilted their heads, looking at him curiously.
"It's a place bigger than the village." Miscalculation. He hadn't expected Damian wouldn't have even taken the kids to a town.
"Bigger than the village? You mean Blackstone Mountain? It's right over there!" Finn pointed towards the towering Blackstone Ridge in the distance.
"No, a place with lots of houses and lots of people," Ethan shook his head, trying to be more specific.
"Houses and people? Does Papa mean White Village and Huang Village? There are only three villages in Blackstone Ridge: ours, Huang Village next door, and Papa's family's village, White Village," Finn said, counting on his fingers.
"My family's village? Since when do I have a family village?" Ethan was surprised. Wasn't he sold here? How did he suddenly acquire a 'family village'?
"Papa, you do have a family village. You're from the Evans family in White Village. You're their younger son, and you have an older brother who just married our Aunt Chloe a few days ago."
Finn spoke with such conviction that Ethan's eyes widened slightly. He asked tentatively, "Have you seen me before?"
"Of course! Papa, you love running off into the mountains. Every time, it was Dad who carried you back," Maeve said proudly.
Holy crap! They had seen him before? And according to the kids, more than once...
Could he really have transmigrated?
Ethan shot up from the stool, stumbled back into the kitchen, and leaned close to the water jar, carefully examining his reflection. His facial features were the same familiar ones, the mole near the corner of his eye was still there, but his hair... when had it gotten so long? And these clothes – he hadn't noticed before, but now he saw that while it was a top and pants, they clearly weren't modern style. They looked more like the coarse linen clothes worn by peasants in ancient times.
"Papa, are you okay?" The two children followed him worriedly.
"I'm fine." Ethan turned and looked at them carefully. Finn and Maeve's hair wasn't long; it hung naturally short around their heads. Their tops and pants were too short for them, the style vaguely resembling the trendy neo-traditional children's wear popular in recent years, just with more patches. That was probably why Ethan hadn't noticed anything amiss earlier. But he'd forgotten – in ancient times, boys under eight usually had their hair cut short in a style called 'chuí tiáo' (naturally hanging short hair), rarely growing it long. As for the often-quoted "body, hair, and skin are received from parents," ancient people did cut their hair, they were just more cautious and respectful about it, usually only trimming it slightly.
"Do you... know what year it is now?" Ethan asked, his voice hoarse.
"What year?"
"I know, I know!" Maeve jumped up and down, raising her hand. "Dad said it's now Desolate Antiquity Year 3021! We were born in Desolate Antiquity Year 3017, so we're exactly four years old this year!"
Desolate Antiquity? He had never heard of such a dating system. A wave of confusion and unease washed over him. "Have you heard of Aldoria? Or the Ming Dynasty? Yuan Dynasty? Qing Dynasty?"
"No." The two children shook their heads in unison, asking curiously, "Papa, what are those places?"
Ethan stared blankly ahead, muttering hoarsely, "A great, beautiful place."
Where on earth was this place? Could it really be like in those novels – transmigration to an alternate world? But their accent was ninety percent similar to his old hometown dialect; otherwise, he wouldn't understand them. How could this possibly be a different time or space?
Ethan's mind was a chaotic mess. He bypassed the two children and stumbled towards the courtyard gate. Ignoring their calls from behind, he opened the gate without looking back and walked out...