(4) Xi'er's Apology

Watching Yue Heng's retreating figure vanish so suddenly, Guo Huilian stood rooted to the spot for a good while before walking dejectedly back to Caixia Court. Seeing her downcast expression, Han Qian and Yueming hurried over to ask what was wrong. Guo Huilian told them the whole story from beginning to end, adding that her cooking must have simply been too terrible, and that this must be why she'd made Uncle Heng cry over it—and by the time she finished telling it, she looked ready to cry herself.

Hearing this, Yueming declared flatly, with total conviction: Master was a man among men through and through—word had it that back in his fiercest days, he hadn't so much as blinked while cutting down enemies on every side. There was no way he'd cry just because something tasted bad. There had to be something else going on.

Han Qian, beside her, nodded like a woodpecker in agreement. Given Uncle Heng's temperament, when had food that was hard to swallow ever counted for anything with him? Besides, every man at Yueyue Manor, from Uncle Heng himself right down to the hidden guards, was famously unfussy about food—hand them a fistful of dirt and they'd probably still choke it down without complaint. Since when did any of them care whether something tasted good?

Hearing Han Qian and Yueming's reassurances, Guo Huilian felt considerably better—but the question remained: why exactly had Uncle Heng ended up crying? He hadn't even finished his wine, practically fleeing the scene—all the way back to Songlan Court, no less?

Han Qian and Yueming exchanged a glance, and the same answer surfaced in both their minds at once—the only person in this world who could ever bring Uncle Heng (Master) to tears was Aunt Xi (Madam), Chu Mingxi. His low spirits these past two-plus years had been plain for everyone to see—who said a real man never sheds tears? It was only that he hadn't yet reached the place that truly wounded him. Chu Mingxi's death was precisely that wound. Exactly how those two little dishes could have brought Chu Mingxi to Yue Heng's mind, though, neither of them could say.

On the very evening that the sect leaders, having suffered their defeat, fled Yueyue Manor in a panic after begging for peace, Chu Mingxi had carried a food box over to Songlan Court, inside it a jug of wine and two dishes she'd made with her own hands—cherry biluo and juxingnu—to apologize to Yue Heng.

"Today I made peace with Great Master Yuanyi without asking Ah Heng's permission first, acting entirely on my own—Xi'er has made these two little dishes with her own hands to beg your forgiveness. I hope you'll be generous enough not to hold it against Xi'er." Chu Mingxi wore a coaxing smile as she set out both the wine and the food, laying out the chopsticks, and continued, "Back in my younger years, before I ever started traveling the country with Father, I was the one who managed all the cooking at home. It's simply been so long since then that I've grown rusty with kitchen work. Today I made two little dishes especially, ones quite popular in Chang'an, for Ah Heng to try—I'm afraid my old skills may have dulled, and they may not have turned out well, but this is my sincere effort, and you really must accept it."

Xi'er was always like this—soft persuasion and firm pressure in equal measure, coming to apologize in a way that left no room to refuse. Though the anger in his own heart had long since faded away entirely, he still felt he had to put on some show of resistance—otherwise, wouldn't it look as though he'd simply surrendered without even putting up a fight? Yue Heng had never once feared a fight in his life; if there was a battle to be had, he fought it, without the slightest hesitation—when had he ever done anything as spineless as surrender without resistance? And yet, somehow, in front of Xi'er alone, whatever manly bravado he might otherwise have claimed dissolved entirely, completely at her mercy—if he didn't at least put up some show of resistance now, he wouldn't even be able to respect himself. And so he kept his expression stony, turning his head away, refusing to look at Xi'er.

"Ah Heng, I'm sorry... don't be angry..." Xi'er sat down beside him, gave him a gentle nudge, and continued, "In truth, the Great Master really came for your sake, not your father's. I know your temper well enough—did you think you'd forgive him so easily? But we both have to keep moving forward; we can't stay forever mired in who we used to be. That's true for Ah Heng, and it's true for Xi'er too. There's so much we still need to accomplish—one more ally, one fewer enemy, that can only be a good thing. Those so-called righteous sects of the martial world are shrewd above all else, the type to trim their sails to whichever way the wind blows. You may not fear them, but this crowd constantly setting up little snares for us isn't exactly a good thing either. Wiping the slate clean means you won't have to waste your attention dealing with them going forward, and when we actually need their help, they'll be able to offer something in return too. As we travel back and forth across the land, both the righteous and the underworld sides of the martial world will make way for us, no trouble at all—doesn't that sound better? You give them a thorough beating today, and tomorrow it's their turn to come clamoring for revenge instead—just thinking about that cycle is exhausting."

Xi'er let out a sigh, looking at him, waiting for his response. He deliberately ignored her.

"Everything in this world is linked, one thing to the next. If your mother hadn't been the daughter of the greatest boat owner on the canal, how would she ever have had the chance to gather martial arts manuals from every school and sect in the first place? Those figures of the martial world, knowing the great boat owner's daughter was utterly obsessed with martial arts, some of them hoped to win her favor, to court her goodwill, in the hope that the boat owner might marry his daughter off to them—imagine having a wealthy father-in-law like that, and never having to struggle through the martial world on your own again! Others, driven to the brink by even the smallest debts, penniless, had no choice but to offer up their own family's martial arts manuals in place of passage fees. Some even scribbled down some fake manual or other just to pass off as payment, purely to dodge the fare. Your mother, being simple and pure of heart, never suspecting how treacherous people's hearts could be, accepted almost anything anyone offered her. Your grandfather doted on her so completely that a bit of lost passage fare here and there meant nothing to him at all—he simply let your mother do as she pleased. Who could have guessed she'd actually grow serious about it, and, feeling it a real shame that she was missing Shaolin's own techniques in particular, would slip out of the house in secret and make her way to Shaolin Temple, hoping to obtain them there? Had that never happened, how would she ever have come to know your father at all?"

"Your father, though he felt your mother was far too naive, believed all the same that she had never obtained those martial arts manuals through any improper means, and spoke up on her behalf out of a sense of justice—and it was precisely for that reason that he was surrounded and hounded by every sect, accused of colluding with your mother to steal their secret techniques, even accused, at times, of having sold off Shaolin's own martial arts himself, though he could never quite explain how."

Hearing Xi'er speak of this old history, he couldn't help but cross his arms and turn to look directly at her, wondering privately what exactly she was getting at. As for his own past, though he himself had never spoken of it to anyone, between Xi'er's own abilities and Cheng Siyuan's, uncovering old matters like these would have been child's play for either of them. Back in the great hall, when she'd sparred verbally with Great Master Yuanyi, Xi'er had already shown her hand—she clearly knew his past in considerable detail; she simply never spoke of it in ordinary times, though her heart, all the while, had held it as clear and bright as a mirror.

"Those so-called righteous sects of the martial world—how could they possibly stand to see their own sects' secret techniques fall into the hands of a mere young woman? Beyond scheming every way they could to reclaim their own property, some of them even planned to seize everything else along with it. As the saying goes, 'know yourself and know your enemy, and you'll never lose a hundred battles'—studying multiple schools side by side might well inspire fresh breakthroughs in one's own martial arts. On the surface, they claimed it was all in defense of the martial world's righteousness; in truth, every single one of them harbored their own private schemes."

Hearing Xi'er's incisive analysis, laid out so precisely it struck right at the heart of the matter, he had to admit she was entirely right. Those so-called righteous sects, devouring people without so much as spitting out the bones, had clearly known the truth of the matter perfectly well all along, and yet, purely out of self-interest, had spun their own fabricated story instead, ruthlessly forcing an innocent woman to hand over those manuals, sparing not even her own father who had spoken up for justice on her behalf. Had it not been for that, there would have been no later expulsion from Shaolin, and his mother would never have felt such guilt at seeing his father unable to return home, with nowhere left to go, that she took him in and gave him shelter in her own household.

But why was Xi'er bringing all this up now? She would never mention such things without good reason.

"Though the three of you suffered such a cruel fate as a family, if things hadn't unfolded exactly as they did, how could Yue Heng—a martial arts genius the likes of which comes along once in an age—have ever come to be? And how could you ever have met Ah Yuan, met Xi'er? Meeting you is a blessing Xi'er must have earned across three lifetimes—Xi'er is truly, deeply grateful..."

Hearing Xi'er say this, his heart suddenly leapt with unexpected joy—that "blessing earned across three lifetimes," was she really talking about him? Surely he hadn't misheard? Ever since avenging his parents' blood debt, his life had already lost all meaning; when Cheng Siyuan had first insisted on saving him, he'd felt not the slightest bit grateful for it at the time—he was a man abandoned by heaven and earth alike, and beyond revenge, he had never once considered what else there might possibly be left to live for.

Once Zhou Mengda had healed him, with nowhere else to go, he had simply drifted along after Cheng Siyuan with no particular destination in mind—wherever Cheng Siyuan went east, he went east; wherever Cheng Siyuan went west, he went west—and it was in this way that he and Cheng Siyuan had happened upon bandits attacking one of the Splendid Silk Shop's caravans. The Splendid Silk Shop's escort at the time had only slightly better skills than an ordinary household guard, entirely useless against bandits who had made their living for years, in some numbers, out in the wilds. Seeing the bandits engaged in murder and robbery, Cheng Siyuan hadn't given it a second thought, charging straight in without hesitation to save them; his young attendant Xiaoba, seeing his master rush forward, hardly dared to hang back either, spurring his own horse forward to help, leaving Yue Heng alone behind them, ambling along on his own horse at a leisurely pace. He had watched the fight unfold from a distance for a good while before he finally heard Cheng Siyuan calling out to him.

"Don't just stand there watching—come lend a hand, won't you?"

"You're the one who wanted to save them. What's it got to do with me?"

"Saving a life earns more merit than building seven pagodas. Hurry up, now."

Though the bandits before them numbered no fewer than twenty or thirty, Cheng Siyuan spoke even as he fought, entirely at ease—what need did he have of any help from Yue Heng at all? The bandit gang did have some skill to their name, but set against Cheng Siyuan and Xiaoba, the gap was considerable; Cheng Siyuan had called out for him to join in purely to clear things up faster, not because he genuinely needed rescuing—which was exactly why Yue Heng hadn't bothered to get involved.

"You can keep every one of those pagodas for yourself. Not interested."

"Young Master Yue, standing there making snide little comments from the sidelines." Xiaoba, only fifteen and still quite young, might not have matched Cheng Siyuan in skill, but he could more or less hold his own, and still had spare attention left to needle Yue Heng a bit.

In the end, Cheng Siyuan and Xiaoba together felled more than a dozen bandits between them, and only then did the rest finally break and flee in terror, scattering in every direction—the fat, easy prey they'd thought they'd cornered had turned around and forced them to spit it right back out, leaving them scattered and demoralized, like dogs that had lost their home.

Cheng Siyuan had been twenty that year, he himself twenty-two, and Xi'er sixteen. Because of the An Lushan Rebellion, Chang'an had already fallen years before, and with the various territories of Longyou also seized by the Tibetan Empire besides, the Chu family had, early on, relocated the Splendid Silk Shop's Chang'an operations to Yangzhou and Yangcheng, shipping Shu brocade downstream along the Yangtze from Chengdu all the way to Yangzhou, then overland to Yangcheng—part of it kept for sale through the Splendid Silk Shop itself, the rest sold to foreign merchants for export overseas. But they had never forgotten the old overland trade route running from Chang'an through Longyou to the various lands of the Western Regions, and on this particular occasion, father and daughter had decided to head north from Chengdu, to see whether they might find some other way to reopen that route. This region was thick with towering mountains and treacherous terrain, the roads difficult to travel—and it was there, on that unlucky day, that they'd run into the bandits. Had Cheng Siyuan not stepped in to help, there might never have been today's Xi'er, nor today's Yueyue Manor at all.

Time slipped by, and the years had quietly passed—a decade and more, without anyone quite noticing...