Field and Aman chatted all night, getting a grasp of the basic situation of the various families in Owari Province, and incidentally obtained a distorted map mostly inaccurate in locations of mountains, rivers, and cities, but had all the necessary place names on it, titled "Map of Owari Province and Surrounding Regions in the Middle Ages".
Aman chattered all night, talking until his mouth was dry, feeling justified in his chicken stew and white rice, contentedly covering up with a small quilt, patting his small belly to sleep, snoring in satisfaction. On the other hand, Field spent some time looking at familiar or unfamiliar towns, family names, and family crests on the map, making notes in pinyin as he tried hard to recall relevant historical information.
A good memory is not as reliable as a bad pen; while the memory is still clear, he quickly jotted down his notes. Otherwise, if delayed too long, he might forget some things, and if they cost him his life, it would be a great injustice.
When it got late at night, unable to recall anything, he finally blew out the lamp to rest. Still, his mind was too full of information and couldn't sleep facing this era of Japan Warring States Period completely different from his stereotype, with all sorts of wild thoughts.
That bit of historical knowledge he knew didn't match at all with what Aman had said!
In this chaotic and bizarre era, could he, a foreigner, really survive safely?
As he was thinking and feeling uneasy, his sense of superiority from traveling through time began to waver when suddenly Aman shouted: "Who is it!?"
Immediately, in the pitch-black earthen chamber, the sounds of fists and feet, blocking and crashing, muffled grunts, and the shrill cry of some animal erupted, instantly throwing everything into chaos.
Instinctively, Field rolled to the side of his silly son, Meng Ziqi, and also picked up the signal gun and electric stick from under the quilt, his chaotic thoughts turning into a belly full of frustration.
He was really speechless. He only exchanged over ten strings of copper coins, equivalent to two or three thousand RMB at modern rice prices—not exactly a small amount, but not overly significant either. Was it worth attracting thieves two nights in a row?
However, before he finished complaining in his mind, and before he figured out how to help in the dark, the edge of the earthen chamber already decided the battle in several breaths. In the darkness, Aman let out a tragic cry, as if severely hit, with a "thud" sound and then fell silent, probably playing dead again after being unable to win.
Field's gaze sharpened, not daring to hesitate any longer. Judging by the sound, he was about to fire at the approximate location of the intruder, at least to stop him from pursuing Aman, or attract attention, giving Aman a chance to counterattack. But just as he lifted the gun, he heard a crisp, slightly hesitant voice calling out: "Sister?"
The darkness paused for a moment, then came Aman's moaning complaints: "Bastard, is that why it seemed like some little animal was digging at me? So it was you... Ugh, my eye... hurts like hell! Damn it, you still have the face to call me sister. Now you've grown wings, and even dare to hit me! I should have saved a dung beetle instead of you back then..."
Another moment of silence in the darkness before a voice responded: "You kicked me first, Sister."
"If you hadn't crept up on me, why would I kick you? Besides, I didn't even hit you, look what you did to me..."
No more noise came from the darkness; the intruder didn't continue to argue, seemingly unwilling to quarrel with Aman. Only Aman's moaning and complaints kept going, rambling about how the intruder was ungrateful and worse than a dung beetle.
Field took out a tinderbox and lit the oil lamp, revealing Aman had tumbled from the earthen seat to the ground. Disheveled and dusty, hair appearing clawed through by some animal, one eye beaten to a bruise, looking extremely pitiful and miserable. On the edge of where she originally lay stood a strange little girl, with a red-eyed little monkey perched on her shoulder.
The strange little girl, seeing the light, instinctively turned to face him, expressionless, gaze cold and focused, hand resting on the Shuriken at her waist, bending slightly into a defensive stance. On her shoulder, the little monkey bared its teeth at Field, showing sharp canine teeth, as if ready to leap and turn his head into a mess like a chicken coop at any moment.
"Alright, alright, stop being so tense." Aman crawled back into the earthen seat with difficulty, covering her bruised right eye in pain, "We're all on the same side, stop fighting. I'm the one ending up unlucky!"
Today was supposed to be a good day for her; she'd been particularly lucky, managing to not get killed during a betrayal among thieves, even getting to eat some chicken rice and drink Ming Country tea. Who would have expected another mishap at midnight, almost blind by some inexplicable reason? It's like bad luck for eight lifetimes.
She lamented and complained, but the strange little girl obediently relaxed her stance, lowering her gaze and not staring at Field anymore. The little monkey on her shoulder also calmed down, but still stared with wide eyes, looking curiously at Field—likely a Japanese macaque breed, with white hair, red face, and short tail, small in size, weighing about seven or eight pounds.
Aman sat there holding her eye for a while before painfully introducing them to each other, "Ugh, get to know each other. Ha, Aqing, this is Nozawa from the Western Country Samurai... Ugh, what's your full name again? Oh, Nozawa Saburo... Aqing, this is Mr. Nozawa Saburo, the Western Country Samurai, who just bought me a meal, considered a good person. And this, ugh, is my little sister Aqing, with her pet little critter, Rotten Little Ass."
Aqing looked about the same age as Aman, but was a head taller, only much thinner, even skinnier than Aman—Aman wasn't fat herself, but Aqing looked more slender and delicate.