HNYWEF -Chapter 107 Standoff

Zhou Yi sat on a bench. Just sitting there, watching the three men.

The envoy stood in the middle of the workshop, with two guards flanking him left and right. The three of them stood straight like stakes driven into the ground, not moving at all.

But Zhou Yi could tell—the envoy’s patience was wearing thin.

Every so often, he glanced toward the entrance. Each time he looked, his brows tightened. After frowning, he forced it back down and kept standing.

Zhou Yi didn’t speak.

He just sat there, watching them.

Then, suddenly, footsteps came from the alley.

Not hurried, not frantic—just ordinary, unhurried footsteps. Step by step, echoing on the blue stone pavement, drawing closer from far away.

The envoy’s ears twitched. He snapped his head toward the entrance.

Zhou Yi also looked.

A figure appeared in the alley, carrying an empty sack over his shoulder, sweat streaming down his face.

Zhou Hong.

Zhou Yi’s heart sank slightly.

His father hadn’t returned—but his second uncle had come back first.

The envoy’s eyes lit up. He strode quickly toward the entrance.

“You must be Master Zhou! I’ve long admired you, long admired you!”

Zhou Hong had just reached the doorway when he was blocked.

He looked at the overly enthusiastic face, then at the two guards inside gripping their swords. He froze slightly.

“You are…?”

The envoy smiled broadly, switching smoothly into fluent Han speech.

“I am an envoy of the Great Wa Kingdom, specially here to pay a visit to Master Zhou! I’ve long heard of your extraordinary craftsmanship. To finally meet you today—it is truly an honor beyond words!”

As he spoke, he reached out to shake Zhou Hong’s hand.

Zhou Hong took a step back.

He didn’t look at the envoy. Instead, his gaze passed over the man’s shoulder toward Zhou Yi inside the shop.

Zhou Yi was still sitting on the bench, holding the empty bowl. He looked at Zhou Hong and gently shook his head.

Just once.

Zhou Hong saw it.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at the smiling man in front of him.

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

The envoy’s smile froze.

“What?”

Zhou Hong said calmly, “I’m not Zhou Xiong. I’m his younger brother.”

The envoy’s expression changed.

He turned back and glanced at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi was still sitting there, face unreadable.

The envoy turned back again, staring at Zhou Hong.

All the warmth in his eyes vanished instantly.

“You’re not him?”

Zhou Hong shook his head.

“No.”

The envoy stepped back.

He stared at Zhou Hong for two breaths.

Then he suddenly let out a cold laugh.

“Then go inside.”

Zhou Hong didn’t move.

He stood at the doorway, still holding the empty sack.

After a moment of silence, the envoy frowned.

“Didn’t you hear me? I told you to go in.”

Zhou Hong still didn’t move.

He looked at the man, at the face that changed so quickly, and suddenly smiled faintly.

“It’s my shop. Since when do you get to tell me what to do?”

The envoy’s face flushed red.

Before he could speak, the two guards behind him moved.

With a shing, swords were drawn.

Two blades, gleaming coldly under the sun.

Zhou Hong reacted faster than the blades.

He swung the sack straight into the man’s face. While the guard flinched and turned his head, Zhou Hong slipped sideways into the shop.

Clang!

He grabbed the wooden staff leaning by the door and held it horizontally in front of him.

At the same time, Zhou Yi jumped up from the bench, rushed to the workbench in two steps, and grabbed the long iron tongs used for forging.

The tongs were heavy. He gripped them with both hands, pointing the jaws toward the doorway.

Two men—one wooden staff, one iron tongs—stood inside the workshop.

At the entrance, two guards stood with swords drawn, blades aimed inward.

Behind them, the envoy stood with a completely cold expression.

He looked at the two inside, at the wooden staff, at the iron tongs.

Then he smiled.

“Just these?”

Zhou Hong said nothing.

Zhou Yi said nothing either.

But his grip tightened on the tongs.

The four of them stood locked in a standoff, separated by only a few steps.

Sunlight poured into the doorway, glinting off the two swords.

Inside the shop, the furnace had long gone cold, but the lingering heat made the air heavy and suffocating.

The envoy spoke again.

“I’ll say it one more time—step aside.”

Zhou Hong didn’t move.

Zhou Yi didn’t move either.

The envoy looked at them and nodded slowly.

“Fine.”

He raised his hand.

The two guards stepped forward.

The tips of their swords were now only three feet from the doorway.

Zhou Hong’s palms began to sweat. He tightened his grip on the wooden staff until his knuckles went white.

Zhou Yi stood beside him, holding the iron tongs so tightly his fingers had lost color.

But neither of them stepped back.

Looking at the three men outside, Zhou Yi suddenly remembered what Li Shimin had once said after he learned court etiquette:

“You are a son-in-law of the imperial family. From now on, every person you meet, every word you speak, every action you take—someone will be watching.”

Someone was watching.

He knew that.

His father wasn’t here.

But he couldn’t retreat.

The envoy looked at them both, the corner of his mouth curling slightly.

“When polite persuasion fails, force it is.”

His hand dropped.

The two guards lunged forward—

—and charged.