BOUND BY A MORTAL FLAME

Market Day In Yangcun Village

Written By:

Authoress Racheal❤️

*Chapter 6A: 🏇Market Day in Yangcun🏇*

**{Mortal Realms - Yangcun Village}**

The market of Yangcun stretched from the village square all the way to the old stone bridge, spilling over with noise and color. It only happened three times a month, but when it did, the whole village came alive.

Vendors shouted their prices over each other. Fishermen from the Yang River laid out silver-scaled carp on beds of ice, the fish catching the morning light and glinting like coins. Farmers from the outer fields sold bundles of wheat, rice, and dried herbs that smelled sharp and earthy. Blacksmiths from the edge of town hammered out knives and sickles, the ring of metal mixing with the chatter. Children weaved between legs, chasing each other with toy drums and paper tigers. Old women sat on low stools, mending clothes and gossiping about whose son was courting whose daughter.

The air smelled like grilled fish, sweet rice cakes, wet earth from the river, and incense from the small shrine at the square. Red paper hung from stalls for Buddha’s Birthday, even though most people didn’t realize it yet.

A girl darted between the stalls, jumping up and down to see over the crowd.

“Ma’am, how much is the fish lantern?” she asked, holding up a red paper lantern shaped like a carp. It had glassy eyes and golden scales painted on, and when she moved it, the tail swayed.

“20 Yang, young miss,” the old woman replied, eyes crinkling as she smiled. Her hands were weathered from years of folding paper and tying string. A small basket of unsold lotus lanterns sat beside her feet.

Lian dug into the cloth pouch slung across her chest. She counted the coins carefully - three weeks of saving from helping her grandma sell vegetables at dawn.

“Here, Grandma.” She stretched the coins forward. The old woman took them, wrapped the lantern in oil paper, and tied it with red string.

“May it bring you luck,” the woman said softly. “And may Buddha hear your wishes tonight.”

Lian clutched it like treasure. “Thank you!”

She turned, and almost ran into a wall of people.

“Lian!” The voice cut through the crowd.

She spun around.

“Mei!!!” Lian waved, arm cutting through the air.

Mei pushed through the crowd, hair messy from the rush, stopping right in front of her with hands on her hips. Dust clung to her skirt from running all the way from the eastern fields.

“Tian Lian,” Mei said, brows lowered, “is this how you repay a friend who’s been worrying sick about you?”

Lian pouted, holding the lantern between them like a shield. “With that frown, people will think you’re actually mad. You’ve got that ‘village elder’ look on again.”

“Am I not supposed to be mad?” Mei grabbed Lian’s wrist, not harshly but firm. “What are you doing in the market today instead of packing for your trip to Binghe Village? It’s a two-day walk. You leave tomorrow at dawn. Your grandma’s been asking about you.”

“I’m here for Buddha’s Birthday lanterns,” Lian said, glancing down at the fish lantern. “And Binghe isn’t that far. I can pack tonight and leave tomorrow. Grandma said the roads are safe this season. The wheat’s been harvested early.”

Mei blinked. “Wait… today’s Buddha’s Birthday?”

“You didn’t know?” Lian asked, confused. She held up the lantern like it was proof.

“No, not at all.” Mei looked around - the stalls were decorated with red paper, kids were chasing each other with toy drums, and the air smelled like incense and fried dough. “The market’s so busy and noisy I thought it was just a normal market day. I’ve been too focused on your trip to notice.” She sighed. “You always notice these things before I do.”

Lian grinned and pressed a second lantern into Mei’s hands. This one was a lotus, white with pink edges.

“Here. I got one for you too. It’s not as pretty as the fish, but the old woman said lotus brings peace.”

Mei’s expression softened. She turned it over in her hands, fingers brushing the delicate paper petals. “Thanks, my friend. The celebration doesn’t start till nightfall though. Let’s grab something to eat first. I’m starving from running all the way here.”

Before they could move, a third voice cut in, deep and amused.

“If you two are heading for food, you’re gonna need someone to pay.”

They turned.

A tall boy leaned against a pole beside the cloth stall, arms crossed. He was about their age, with a scar cutting across his left eyebrow from a forge accident last spring. A sack of iron nails was slung over his shoulder, and his hands were stained with soot. His name was *Chen Hao*, Lian’s neighbor and the only one in their group who actually liked blacksmithing more than festivals.

“Chen Hao!” Lian’s face lit up. “When did you get back from the mountains?”

“Yesterday night,” he said, scratching his head and leaving a smudge of black across his temple. “Brought back a load of iron for Old Master Wu. He’s paying me in meat buns and coin.” He jangled the pouch at his belt, the sound heavy. “So, food’s on me. Where we eating?”

Mei gave him a suspicious look. “You just want free food and to hear village gossip.”

“And what if I do?” He grinned, falling into step with them. “You two always have the best stories. Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t spend all your coin on lanterns and forget to eat.”

The three of them headed for the little shop tucked between a cloth stall and a butcher’s stand. Smoke curled from the roof and the smell of hot oil filled the air. The shop was tiny, just three wooden tables and a big iron wok that hissed and popped.

Chen Hao ordered three bowls of noodle soup and a plate of fried fish cakes without asking, tossing coins on the counter before either girl could protest.

“You’re still the same,” Mei said, sitting down. “Bossy.”

“And you’re still broke,” Chen Hao shot back, grinning.

For a while the trip to Binghe and everything else was forgotten. They ate fast, burning their tongues on the hot broth, laughing about the time Lian fell into the rice paddy and came home covered in mud. Chen Hao told them about the mountain pass - how the wind was so strong it almost blew his nails away, and how he saw a pair of deer at dawn.

When the bowls were empty and the fish cakes were gone, Chen Hao wiped his mouth and his face grew serious.

“You’re really leaving for Binghe tomorrow, Lian?” he asked quietly.

Lian nodded, fingers tightening around her empty bowl. “Grandma’s brother sent word. She’s worse. I have to go.”

Chen Hao glanced around, then leaned in so his voice wouldn’t carry over the market noise. “Then you need to hear this before you go. I heard it from a merchant who came through from Binghe three days ago.”

Mei frowned. “What kind of thing?”

“There’s… something in Binghe.” Chen Hao lowered his voice even more. “People are calling it a demon. It comes at night, drinks from wells, and… takes heads.” He made a quick cutting motion at his neck. “Three men found dead last week. No heads. The village head’s locked everyone inside after dark. No lanterns, no fires, nothing.”

Lian’s face went pale. The fish lantern in her lap suddenly felt heavy, the red paper like blood.

“That’s just a rumor,” Mei said quickly, though her voice was tight. “Binghe’s small. People exaggerate. You know how it is.”

“Maybe,” Chen Hao said. “But the merchant had no reason to lie. He lost a cousin there.” He reached out and squeezed Lian’s shoulder. His hand was rough and warm from the forge. “I’m not saying don’t go. Your grandma needs you. Just… be careful. Don’t wander at night. And if things feel wrong, come back. I’ll come get you myself if I have to.”

Lian swallowed hard and nodded. She didn’t reply. The market noise suddenly felt far away.

Mei broke the silence by standing up, scraping her chair back. “Alright. Enough of that. Today’s Buddha’s Birthday. We’re not letting rumors ruin it.” She tossed a few coins on the table for her share. “Come on. Let’s enjoy the night while we can.”

Chen Hao grinned again, but his eyes were still worried. “I’ll walk you two to the square, but I’m not going to the river. Old Master Wu needs me back at the forge before midnight. He’s got an order for the town guard.”

“Coward,” Mei teased, elbowing him.

“Smart,” he shot back. “Someone has to stay alive to make your swords when you two get yourselves killed.”

They laughed, and for a moment the fear eased. The three of them left the shop together, stepping back into the chaos and color of the market.