Chapter 44: Compromise

Duoluosa’s expression at that moment: 😑

“Are you all serious?”

The question wasn’t a threat—just pure exasperation.

“Going out for a stroll sounds great—good for everyone’s health, right?” Liang Lai asked the kids behind her.

Even just to humor Liang Lai, to win her favor, the children would chime along with her words.

“Mm-hmm~ We wanna go out and play with Mom too~” Delucia jumped in most eagerly.

Duoluosa: “…”

“Fine, whatever makes you happy.”

The helpless eldest daughter /.

Duoluosa, burned out.

She even started consoling herself: “It can’t be that coincidental every time—picking up a kid on every outing. As long as I stick close, diligent, solving problems for them… that should cover it.”

With that thought, Duoluosa caved.

Liang Lai bounced like a kid herself, tugging the children into an impromptu circle-jump right there.

Duoluosa watched the scene, utterly baffled—how could someone so grown-up be this childish?

Whatever—let her be…

In that instant, Duoluosa felt a decade older in her soul.

The next day.

Though Liang Lai desperately wanted to swap into plain clothes, the church had this unwritten rule: saintesses couldn’t wear commoner garb outside special cases (pope-approved), or it’d mean those bizarre punishments if caught.

So Liang Lai stuck to her lifeless white saintess robes as always.

Liang Lai spun a circle before the mirror.

She’d always wondered what she’d look like as a woman—figured it’d be some burly Northeast type, since she could belt out “Da Dongbei shi wo de jiaxiang~.”

But actually turning woman? Stunning—enough to leave her mesmerized, sighing wistfully that she wished she could be a narcissist.

“Mom.”

From the door, Iluci peeked in timidly, clutching the stuffed white bunny Liang Lai had sewn her yesterday.

Liang Lai whipped around at once, done admiring her mirror-perfect features; she grinned and took Iluci’s hand.

“Let’s go—I’m dressed. You all must be getting antsy by now?”

Iluci shook her head obediently. “No, Mom… We’d wait on you forever…”

Such a good child—love her~

Liang Lai’s mood soared today, so she rewarded Iluci with a cheek kiss.

Iluci cupped her kissed cheek, head dipping low as a sunset blush crept up her face.

“Hee hee~”

She giggled like a fool.

Liang Lai led the pack of children in grand procession from the church, drawing baffled stares from the staff as they headed dustfolk-ward.

“The third saintess is getting weirder…”

Church folk heading out solo wasn’t odd—but en masse, chattering merry, kids in tow? Bizarre.

Whispers trailed from behind.

Liang Lai paid it no mind, but Duoluosa and Asteris whipped around in sync, sweeping the gossipers with bone-chilling stares.

“Disgusting.” Duoluosa ground her teeth.

Among the kids, she hated the church most—likely thanks to Claudius’s prior brainwashing and gaslighting.

They’d barely hit the market when Duoluosa yanked Liang Lai’s sleeve.

“Mom,” Duoluosa whispered low, “Sugar-preserved fruits over there.”

Her eyes pleaded puppy-like.

Delucia had already dragged Asteris to elbow through to the stall; Iluci craned and poked behind them.

The fruit-seller was a one-eyed granny, who quavered the clay jar’s lid off—sweet-cloying scent wafting free.

Iluci pinched a plum careful, offering it first to Liang Lai’s lips.

“Mom eats first.”

Liang Lai bit in; tart-sweet juice burst on her tongue.

She fished out her coin pouch, buying a share for each child.

Iluci cradled her oil-paper wrap, then suddenly shoved the biggest plum into Duoluosa’s hand, eyes all fawning.

“Sister, eat too.”

Duoluosa blinked, then took it awkward; she nibbled in tiny bites.

From the corner drifted fresh-baked bread’s aroma.

Liang Lai snagged a hot rye loaf from the oven, tearing it to share among the kids.

The steaming crumb scalded Delucia’s puffs, but she crammed it in anyway.

Iluci halved her piece, slipping the bigger back to Liang Lai on the sly.

“I can’t eat this much…”

Liang Lai chuckled, tousling her golden locks—then spotted a honey stall nearby.

She bought a small jar, dabbing a finger-dip onto each child’s bread.

Duoluosa feigned nonchalance, but flipped her slice honey-side up—sneaking two extra chomps.

Distant pipes wailed; a wandering minstrel led a flower-garlanded goat, and the four little ones swarmed at once.

The minstrel bowed solemn to Liang Lai; she waved it off, unconcerned.

Liang Lai dug out coppers; Delucia took them, dropping them grave into the hat.

The goat nosed in sudden, sniffing Iluci’s skirt—sending her scurrying behind Liang Lai, though she couldn’t resist peeking.

“Wanna ride?” the minstrel grinned.

Iluci shook her head, but hoisted her cloth bunny to the goat’s face.

It nipped the ear gentle; laughter rippled ’round.

Once the minstrel wandered off, Liang Lai eyed a spot not far, then opted to venture deeper into dustfolk turf.

Before, they’d skimmed church-dustfolk fringe—churchgoers aplenty.

But farther in? Church folk never strayed; Liang Lai hadn’t either—just glimpsed it distant a month back.

The market crammed tight and raucous, flagstones puddled with last night’s rain, sloshed with wilted veg and muck.

Liang Lai’s white robes ghosted the street mouth; nearby hawkers fell mute on the spot.

A pottery-peddling old man fumbled to pack his stall, rough fingers abrading his apron over and over.

Shoddy booths jammed the waysides; a pickle-woman shrouded half her face in jaundiced kerchief, barrel-leaves gone black in brine.

Her barefoot girl beside, toes caked in grime, ogled the neighbor’s limp apples with raw hunger.

“Saintess…”

Most couldn’t fathom why one’d slum it here.

Blacksmith-shop workers scattered to the walls in haste, soot-smeared faces etched in terror.

Their coarse tunics shone threadbare at elbows, knees patched all askew.

Liang Lai clocked a wood-carver girl sweeping her wares frantic into a sack.

Among the crude figurines, one traced a church angel’s vague lines—but wings whittled all cockeyed.

Commotion stirred at market’s end.

Liang Lai and the rest turned toward the noise: two green-robed priests seizing goods from a stall, the owner a hunched old man clutching a light-honey jar for dear life.