novelhk Chapter 9: In the Snow
Chapter 9: In the Snow
The Southern Tang Dynasty was characterized by its many water towns.
The setting sun, like a gradually cooling branding iron, pressed heavily on the dark green mountain ridges to the west, dyeing the sky a gentle orange-red and purplish-red.
The winding waterway was gilded with fragments of gold by the afterglow, shimmering and flowing past white walls and black tiles, blue stone steps, and also past Zhou Xiaoxiao's anxiously looking eyes.
She leaned against the old willow tree by the water near her home, her bare feet touching the cool bluestone. Her skin, a healthy wheat color from years of sun exposure, now looked taut. At twelve or thirteen, she was still small, but her eyes already held the premature, mature worry typical of children from poor families. Her fingers unconsciously twisted the faded hem of her clothes, her gaze fixed on the bend in the waterway—from where the family's awning boat would row back every day.
Today is different. Today, for the first time, the older brother Zhou Yi is on the ship.
Thinking of her brother, Xiaoxiao felt a mix of emotions. Her simple-minded brother, who only ever drooled and grinned at people, seemed like only yesterday. The family was poor, and her father fished. She would go on the boat to help, casting nets and reeling in lines, her hands calloused from working in wind and rain. Her brother, with his simple mind, was carefully left with the old woman next door, afraid he would run off or fall into the water. But not long ago, without warning, her brother's eyes suddenly cleared, like dusty beads being polished. He could call out "Father," and "Xiaoxiao," though still a little slow and clumsy, but he had truly "woke up." Today was the first time he had begged to go out on the boat with their father.
"Xiaoxiao, waiting for the boat?" A voice, clearly mocking, came from the side. Without turning around, she knew it was Zhang Nian'an from next door. He leaned against his doorframe, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth. The twelve or thirteen-year-old boy always wore that enigmatic, ambiguous smile that infuriated Xiaoxiao. He was always like this; he used to laugh at her brother for being a fool, and now… now she wondered what strange thing he was about to say.
Xiaoxiao ignored him, simply raising her chin even higher and focusing her gaze more intently on the waterway.
"Hmph, quite stubborn." Zhang Nian'an clicked his tongue, took a few steps closer, and followed her gaze. "I heard your silly brother boarded the ship today too? Hopefully he doesn't capsize it!"
"You're the idiot! My brother's all better!" Xiaoxiao turned around abruptly, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her eyes wide open, her wheat-colored cheeks flushed red with anger.
"All done? A fool turned smart? I think it's just a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse..." Zhang Nian'an drawled out.
Just then, at the bend in the waterway, a familiar shadow of a small awning appeared. Xiaoxiao's heart leaped into her throat. Forgetting all about arguing with Zhang Nian'an, she stood on tiptoe.
The boat drew closer. At the stern, Father's familiar, slightly hunched back was steadily pulling in the fishing net. And at the bow—
Zhou Yi stood at the bow of the boat. He was even thinner than his father, wearing a patched old shirt, and holding an oar that seemed too long for him. He rowed clumsily and forcefully, stroke by stroke. His movements were stiff, causing the boat to veer slightly, but he pursed his lips, his eyes fixed on the direction of his own house, his focus bordering on stubbornness. The golden light of the setting sun fell on his face, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.
His father would occasionally whisper a few words of guidance from behind, and he would try his best to adjust his posture.
As Xiaoxiao watched, her nose suddenly felt a little sore.
"Wow!" Zhang Nian'an exclaimed exaggeratedly, "Look! Even an idiot can row a boat now! The way he rows it is like a water snake wiggling its butt!"
His voice was loud, with the sharpness and jerkiness characteristic of a young man, particularly jarring in the quiet twilight alley. People from a few nearby houses peeked out and could be heard whispering laughter.
Zhou Yi at the bow of the boat seemed to have heard this, his rowing motion paused for a moment, and he smiled.
This completely ignited the fire in Xiaoxiao's chest. What she couldn't stand the most was others bullying her brother like this, especially Zhang Nian'an!
"Zhang Nian'an! I'll tear your mouth apart!" Xiaoxiao exploded like a firecracker, turned around and rushed over, grabbing an old broom leaning against the willow tree.
Zhang Nian'an let out a strange cry of "Ouch!" but still had a smile on his face. He nimbly jumped back and said, "Did I guess right? Are you angry because you're embarrassed?" He knew exactly how to provoke Xiaoxiao. He ran along the riverbank while shouting.
"Stop right there!" Xiaoxiao chased after him barefoot on the smooth bluestone slabs, broom in hand, her braids clattering. She chased him through narrow alleyways, startling the hens foraging by the roadside, which scattered in a flurry.
On the waterway, the awning boat slowly approached the shore. Father shook his head and smiled bitterly, tying the rope to the wooden stake. Zhou Yi, at the bow, lowered the oar and looked in the direction where his sister had chased after Zhang Nian'an. His eyes, which had just regained their clarity, reflected the last rays of the setting sun.
As dusk settled, the last rays of warm golden light faded behind the gray rooftops, and the sky turned a tranquil, crab-shell blue. Along the waterways, the dim glow of oil lamps flickered from the paper windows of each house, their light mingling with the hazy, fragmented reflections of stars in the water. Wisps of smoke rose from behind the rows of gabled walls, carrying the aroma of firewood and cooked food, softly permeating the damp air.
The girl's clear, angry "Stop right there!" and the boy's feigned panic but undisguised laughter as he begged for mercy intertwined in the background, sometimes near, sometimes far, before finally fading into the depths of the winding alley with a series of footsteps running away.
This vibrant, bustling, even slightly chaotic, atmosphere of daily life seeped through the doorway and into Zhou Yi's ears and heart as he stood quietly by the water. He took a deep breath of the air, a mixture of moisture, the aroma of food, and the faint scent of mud. The corner of his chest that had been shrouded in gloom for seventeen years seemed to be gently smoothed out by this genuine warmth of humanity.
It wasn't a dream. He really had awakened from his long "slumber" and been reborn in this strange world.
Zhou Yi wasn't born mentally challenged. He was born with memories of his past life. He was simply injured in the crossfire of two martial artists when he was young, which damaged his brain.
Speaking of martial artists, this world is different from the previous one. This world possesses extraordinary power. Just as Zhou Yi witnessed firsthand, a martial artist split a monument and shattered stone with a single palm strike.
Having been given a second chance at life, one naturally yearns for the Book of Changes.
Dinner was served at the old but gleaming octagonal table in the main room. An oil lamp sat in the center, illuminating a small, warm circle of light. Xiaoxiao deftly set out the bowls and chopsticks, and finally brought out a large earthenware pot of milky-white fish soup, steaming hot and fragrant. It was made with the fattest sea bass she had caught that day, along with tender tofu and a few slices of ginger, which she had carefully simmered.
"Brother, have some soup." Xiaoxiao first ladled a bowl for her father, then filled a full bowl and handed it to Zhou Yi, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. Her wheat-colored cheeks looked especially soft under the light. "You must be tired today, right? It's your first time on a ship, you're not used to it."
Mr. Zhou silently sipped his soup, the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes softening slightly under the lamplight. His gaze occasionally swept over his two children, revealing a calm and collected demeanor born from years of hardship.
Zhou Yi took the bowl, feeling its warm, comforting warmth. The fish soup was fresh, sweet, and mellow, soothing his stomach and his heart. He sipped it slowly, listening to Xiaoxiao chatter on about the day's events.
"By the way, brother," Xiaoxiao suddenly put down her chopsticks, her tone becoming serious, with a kind of mature consideration, "tomorrow... you should stay home and rest tomorrow. Dad and I can handle the boat trip. It's your first time rowing today, your arms must be sore, you need to rest."
She spoke so naturally, clearly a habit formed from long-term care for her "mentally challenged" brother, a love ingrained in her very being.
Zhou Yi felt a slight pang of sadness, followed by a surge of warmth.
"Xiaoxiao," he put down the soup bowl, his voice steady, "I'm fine, my arm isn't sore. Father," he turned to his father, "I've thought it through. Tomorrow I'll take a walk around the neighborhood and get familiar with the town. But the day after tomorrow, I'll still go on the boat with you, and from now on."
The education and values he received in his previous life made it impossible for him to accept a thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl taking on the burdens of life that should have been his with her still immature shoulders.
Xiaoxiao blinked, seemingly wanting to refute, but meeting her brother's clear, steady eyes, which were no longer filled with any confusion, she swallowed her words. She vaguely sensed that her brother was truly different; he was more than just someone who could speak and recognize people.
After a moment's hesitation, Mr. Zhou simply nodded and said, "Okay, let's do it together the day after tomorrow."
The oil lamp's light danced gently, casting the long, intertwined shadows of the family of three onto the mottled wall, creating a warm and tranquil atmosphere. Outside the window, the water murmured softly, occasionally punctuated by whispers from the neighbors. The night gently enveloped the small house by the water and the family inside, who were just beginning to truly "reunite."
The next morning, a thin mist, like gauze, had not yet completely dissipated from the blue tiles and the water's surface. Xiaoxiao and Zhou's father, carrying dry rations, had already disappeared into the misty waterways in their awning boat. Only Zhou Yi remained at home.
After washing up, he changed into his only clean, slightly worn linen shirt, which he had starched until it was crisp. Just as he was about to go out, a clear, resonant voice drifted from the open wooden window of his neighbor's house. The words were crisp and clear, especially distinct in the quiet morning.
It's Zhang Nian'an.
Zhou Yi paused slightly. This boy, who always loved to tease Xiao Xiao, was one of the few people who never truly bullied him during his foolish years, and sometimes even took him, his "tail," with him when they wandered around town.
He walked to the window. Inside, Zhang Nian'an was holding a book and nodding his head. He looked up and suddenly saw Zhou Yi standing outside the window. His voice stopped abruptly, and a clear look of embarrassment flashed across his face.
"Foolish..." The word habitually slipped to his lips, but he swallowed it back. Zhou Yi before him had clear eyes and a peaceful expression, showing no trace of his former muddled state. Zhang Nian'an's face flushed slightly, and after stammering for a moment, he awkwardly changed his address: "Brother Zhou... Brother Zhou." Even he himself felt that the way he addressed him was a little strange.
"What are you reading? May I take a look?" Zhou Yi asked gently, his gaze falling on the thread-bound book in his hands.
Zhang Nian'an was a little stunned, and subconsciously handed over the book: "Here, it's 'Exhortation to Learning'."
Zhou Yi took the book, his fingers brushing against the rough pages. The characters were in traditional Chinese script, the same as in his previous life, which he could roughly recognize. The content seemed familiar; it was a master admonishing his disciples to study diligently, and the principles between the lines echoed the "Preface to Sending Ma Sheng of Dongyang" from another time. He quickly glanced through a few lines and handed the book back.
"Nian'an," Zhou Yi asked casually, leaning against the window, "where exactly is this place?"
"Huh?" Zhang Nian'an didn't understand the point of the question. "Nanxun Town? Haven't we been here all along?"
"And further up the chain? Which department is responsible for that?"
"It belongs to Huzhou Prefecture, which is part of Jiangnan Circuit," Zhang Nian'an answered more smoothly.
"What is the name of the state along the Jiangnan Road?"
"Naturally, it's the Tang Dynasty," the boy replied matter-of-factly.
"Besides Tang, are there any other countries?"
Zhang Nian'an frowned, trying hard to recall the fragmented information he had heard from storytellers or passing merchants: "It seems... Song Kingdom, Shu Kingdom... that's all I know, the storyteller hasn't mentioned these yet."
Zhou Yi nodded; the world's格局 (geju, a concept encompassing both social and economic aspects) was indeed different now. He then changed the subject, asking the question that concerned him most: "Do you understand martial artists? Do you know martial arts?"
"Martial artists?" Zhang Nian'an's eyes widened slightly, then he shook his head. "I've heard of them. They're often mentioned in plays and by storytellers. They can split a stone tablet with a single palm strike, or leap across rooftops. But those are all high and mighty figures. How could we possibly see a real one in our little town?" He paused, then looked at Zhou Yi curiously. "Brother Zhou, why are you asking about this?"
"Just curious. Have you ever heard of who the most powerful martial artist in the world is?"
This time, Zhang Nian'an didn't hesitate; his face even showed a hint of excitement, as if discussing a legend: "The number one in the world! I've heard of that! The storyteller told me about it; it was the nameless swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty!"
"Southern Tang?" Zhou Yi caught this name.
"That's our Tang Dynasty. That's what storytellers call it when they talk about martial arts rankings; it sounds impressive." Zhang Nian'an scratched his head. "Martial arts rankings are about ranking the ten most powerful martial artists in the world. I heard that the rankings change every few years, but the number one swordsman in the world, the nameless swordsman of Southern Tang, has never changed! He's a martial artist from our Tang Dynasty!"
"Martial arts rankings?" Zhou Yi's heart skipped a beat. "Then who are the other nine?"
Zhang Nian'an's face immediately fell, somewhat annoyed: "This...it's been too long. I...I can't remember clearly either. Besides, that Mr. Huang hasn't come to our town for several years."
Seeing Zhou Yi's thoughtful expression, Zhang Nian'an couldn't help but ask, "Brother Zhou, are you inquiring about these things because you want to...?"
"Learn martial arts?" Zhou Yi picked up the conversation, frankly admitting, "I have indeed considered that. Do you know where around here I can learn real kung fu?"
Zhang Nian'an gasped, looked Zhou Yi up and down at his faded clothes, and lowered his voice: "Martial arts? That's incredible! I've heard that it takes a lot of money to become an apprentice, and the daily training and medicine purchases are bottomless pits... Brother Zhou, how can a family like ours afford that?" He was telling the truth, and there was no contempt in his tone.
"I was just asking, it's not certain." Zhou Yi said calmly. After all, he was a reborn person, and he already had ideas for making money.
Zhou Yi believes that as long as he has some time, money will not be a problem.
Zhang Nian'an thought for a moment, then pointed to the east end of the town: "At the end of Xinglong Street in the east of the town, there is a Weiyuan Martial Arts School. The owner's surname is Liu, and he has a few disciples. It's the only place around here that can be associated with the word 'martial arts.' However..." He hesitated, clearly not thinking that was a place Zhou Yi should go.
He had intended to lead the way, but glancing at the unfinished homework on the table, he hesitated. Zhou Yi understood, thanked him, and then walked alone towards the east of the town.
The entrance to Weiyuan Martial Arts School was much more ordinary than Zhou Yi had imagined. The brick walls were dusty, the wooden doors were black, and the lettering on the plaque above the door was somewhat faded. There were no fierce disciples or guards at the entrance as Zhou Yi had expected. Instead, there were only two or three young men in short-sleeved shirts practicing their stances loudly in the open space in front of the door. Their movements were neat but somewhat rigid, lacking a certain spirit.
Zhou Yi paused at the door for a moment, straightened his clothes, and stepped forward to bow to a young man who seemed to be the leader, saying, "Brother, is Master Liu here? I am interested in martial arts and have come to ask for your guidance."
The young man stopped what he was doing and sized up Zhou Yi. Seeing that he was dressed simply, he didn't pay much attention to him.
"The master is currently instructing his inner disciples and does not receive outsiders," the young man said calmly. "You want to learn martial arts? Our martial arts school is not a charity. There is a ten-tael initiation fee, followed by a monthly allowance of two taels, with room and board at your own expense. If you wish to learn advanced techniques, use weapons, or purchase the school's secret medicinal bath recipe, that will be charged separately." He rattled off the price in one breath, devoid of emotion, knowing that Zhou Yi could not afford it and was merely completing the task assigned by the master.
Ten taels of silver… Zhou Yi calculated silently in his mind. The Zhou family father and son fished, and after deducting their own firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, tea, clothing, food, housing, transportation, and medical care, they might not be able to save even one tael in half a year on a good basis. And this was just the entry threshold.
"May I ask, sir, what is the martial arts skill level of the master or the instructors? Perhaps... they can shatter stone with their palms?"
The young man scoffed as if he'd heard a joke: "Splitting stone with a palm? That's a skill only true martial artists who've reached the highest level can do! Our master's skills are solid; seven or eight ordinary men can't get close to him. He's a well-known figure in Nanxun Town. But splitting stone tablets? Young man, you've been reading too many storybooks. That's not something a local martial arts school like ours can teach."
The meaning couldn't be clearer. What's being taught here are mostly rudimentary techniques for physical fitness and home defense, far removed from the extraordinary martial arts that Zhou Yi pursues. And even these "rudimentary techniques" come at a price that the Zhou family cannot afford at present.
Zhou Yi remained silent for a moment, then cupped his hands in thanks again: "Thank you for informing me, brother." Then, under the young man's dismissive gaze, he turned and left.
Walking along the cobblestone path on the way back, the sunlight gradually dispelled the morning mist, and the market began to bustle. The sounds of vendors hawking their wares, haggling, and children playing blended together into a vibrant scene of everyday life. Zhou Yi's heart, however, remained as calm as still water.
The path to a martial arts school is temporarily blocked. But this did not extinguish the flame in his heart; instead, it made him more clearly aware of the social hierarchy and rules of this world. Power and knowledge are not easily acquired anywhere. This was true in his past life, and it is true in this one.
"The Nameless Swordsman of Southern Tang..." he murmured the title. The title of "Number One Under Heaven" meant that the existence of the pinnacle of martial arts was undeniable. Since the pinnacle existed, the path must be there.
However, his first priority is to solve the basic problems of survival and establishing himself.
Zhou Yi wandered aimlessly along the cobblestone path, his thoughts a jumble of emotions. The town was small, its familiar daily scene a tapestry of wine flags, shop signs, and hawkers' cries. His gaze swept over the sparks flying from the blacksmith's shop, the bitter aroma wafting from the pharmacy, and the colorful fabrics in the cloth store… Finally, at a relatively quiet corner, he stopped.
Before me was an unassuming shop, with an old wooden plaque hanging above the door, bearing the four characters "Guyun Bookstore," the ink faded somewhat. The shop was bright and clean, and through the open door, one could glimpse rows of wooden bookshelves reaching the ceiling, piled high with books, both new and old, the air seemingly filled with the unique, slightly damp fragrance of aged paper and ink.
A book? A thought flashed into Zhou Yi's mind like lightning.
Perhaps, you don't necessarily have to go to a martial arts school to learn martial arts.
The Book of Changes crosses the threshold.
Behind the counter, a figure came into view. It was a young girl, about his age, dressed in an elegant ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), lazily propping her head up with one hand, while unconsciously twirling a strand of hair that fell over her shoulder with the other. She wasn't looking at the books in the shop, but rather her face was slightly turned to the side, her gaze fixed blankly on the street scene outside, her eyes somewhat vacant.
She seemed to sense the subtle change in the light at the doorway and that fixed gaze, and casually turned her face.