HNYWEF -Chapter 1 The Stormy Night

Third day of the sixth month, ninth year of Wude.

The rain poured as if the heavens had split open. Heavy black clouds hung low over the rooftops, so low it felt like one could reach up and scoop a handful of wet lead-gray sky.

Cheng Yaojin had fought countless battles in his life and seen more corpses than he could remember, but never—not once—had he panicked like this.

The horse galloped wildly through the rain, its hooves crashing into mud pits and splashing muck waist-high into the air. He paid it no mind.

There was someone in his arms.

That person was burning with fever, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth. Mixed with rainwater, it streamed down Cheng Yaojin’s entire arm.

“Shimin! Shimin, hang on!”

The man in his arms didn’t respond.

Cheng Yaojin tightened his grip around him and dug his heels hard into the horse’s sides. The horse cried out in pain and ran even faster.

He didn’t dare head for the city.

The Crown Prince’s men would definitely be waiting at the gates, ready to finish the job with one final strike. He could only flee farther out, toward places even he himself didn’t know.

Anywhere was fine.

Until he couldn’t run anymore.

The rain grew heavier and heavier, so fierce he could barely keep his eyes open.

Suddenly, the horse slowed, snorting uneasily. No matter how much he kicked, it refused to move forward.

Cheng Yaojin looked up.

Ahead was nothing but darkness. He couldn’t tell whether it was a forest or a mountain.

He cursed under his breath, jumped off the horse, and carried Shimin forward step by step through the mud.

He had no idea where he was going.

He just kept walking.

After what felt like an eternity, his foot slipped and he nearly fell. Catching himself, he raised his head—

Through the curtain of rain, there was a house ahead.

A solitary house standing alone in the wilderness, like a crouching shadow in the dark.

Without a second thought, Cheng Yaojin rushed toward it with Shimin in his arms.

The door was wooden, old and blackened with age. He slammed his shoulder into it once, but it didn’t budge. Freeing one hand, he pounded on it.

“Open up! Open the door!”

The rain swallowed half his shout.

He pounded again.

“Open up! Is anyone there?!”

No response came from inside.

He struck the door once more with all his strength, making the entire wooden panel shake violently.

Then the door opened.

A bolt of lightning exploded overhead, illuminating heaven and earth in blinding white.

Cheng Yaojin saw the person standing inside.

Saw that face clearly.

He stood there with his mouth open, rainwater pouring down his face and into his mouth, yet he didn’t even notice.

The thunder rolled away into the distance, and darkness swallowed the world once more. Only the rain remained.

The person inside said nothing.

He glanced at Cheng Yaojin, then at the unconscious man in Cheng Yaojin’s arms.

And then—he shut the door.

Bang.

Cheng Yaojin stood outside in the rain, water streaming down his face as he froze in place, motionless.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

Suddenly, he snapped back to himself.

He looked down at Li Shimin in his arms, then up at the tightly closed door.

“Hey—!”

Carefully lowering Li Shimin to the ground, he braced himself against the wall, drew back his fist, and slammed it against the door.

“Open the door! Open up!”

No answer.

He pounded again.

“Open up!”

Still no answer.

Inside was deathly silent except for the sound of rain.

Cheng Yaojin hammered on the door over a dozen times until his hand throbbed with pain, but the broken old door remained unmoving.

He stepped back once. Rain plastered across his face, but he didn’t bother wiping it away.

He stared at the door, chest heaving violently.

Then he roared at the top of his lungs—

“Bear Blindman!”

Thunder rolled overhead, yet his shout overpowered even the storm.

“I know it’s you!”

Rain lashed down around him, but he ignored it.

“Open the damn door for me right now!”

After shouting, he stood there in the rain, breathing heavily.

The rain kept falling.

There was still no movement inside.

And so he stood there, waiting.

Waiting for that door to open.

Waiting for that bastard to come out.

Waiting to punch him in the face.

And also waiting—he didn’t know what he was waiting for.

The door never opened.

The rain fell on and on.