HNYWEF -Chapter 11 Facing It Again

The eleventh year of Daye.

Juxian Manor.

Zhou Xiong stood at the entrance, staring at the gate.

It was made of fresh wood, still carrying the scent of pine. A pair of couplets had been pasted onto it, the ink not yet fully dry—someone had just put them up.

“Gather heroes from across the land.”

“Bind brothers from the four seas.”

Zhou Xiong looked at those ten characters and grinned.

Three years.

From the day he rescued Shan Xiongxin on that mountain road in the eighth year of Daye, to standing here at the gates of Juxian Manor today—exactly three years had passed.

In those three years, he had followed Shan Xiongxin through Shandong, Henan, and Hebei. He had seen government troops suppress bandits, seen starving refugees rise in rebellion, seen people exchanging children for food, seen cannibalism. He had fought battles, killed men, and saved men too—saved more than he killed.

During those three years, he had dismantled that tactical vest piece by piece, hiding away everything concealed in its layers. The first-aid supplies had long since run out, so he began gathering herbs himself in the mountains, learning to compound medicines he already knew how to make. He always carried the knuckle-dusters with him. They had tasted blood countless times, and word spread through the outlaw world—that beside Second Brother Shan was a young man with an iron thing wrapped around his fist. His punches were vicious and fast, like a bear’s paw smashing into your face, beating people senseless.

That was how the nickname “Blind Bear” came about.

The first time Zhou Xiong heard that nickname, he had stared blankly for a long while before laughing like an idiot.

Blind Bear.

Yeah.

Fits perfectly.

Zhou Xiong stood outside Juxian Manor with a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, rocking on his heels as he waited for Shan Xiongxin to come out and fetch him.

Second Brother Shan had said today was an auspicious day. He was going to introduce Zhou Xiong to a few people.

Zhou Xiong had asked who.

Shan Xiongxin merely smiled and said nothing.

Zhou Xiong did not press further.

But he knew perfectly well.

At this time, in this place—who else could it be?

Qin Qiong.

Cheng Yaojin.

Xu Shiji.

And all the brothers he would one day drink with, fight alongside, and brag with around the fire.

The corners of Zhou Xiong’s lips curled upward around the grass stem.

He knew these people.

Knew their names, their tempers, and what they would go through in the future.

But right now, he could not say any of it aloud.

If he did, who would believe him?

All he could do was wait for Shan Xiongxin to introduce them one by one while pretending to act all “I’ve long admired your name.”

Honestly, the thought was pretty amusing.

Voices drifted from inside Juxian Manor—loud and chaotic, sounding like a drinking party in full swing. Some people were playing finger-guessing games, some were cursing, others laughing like thunder.

Listening to those sounds, Zhou Xiong suddenly felt dazed.

He knew exactly who those people inside were.

Knew what they would say, how much they would drink, what games they would play.

Knew what would happen over the next several decades.

And yet now he was standing here, waiting to walk in and meet them for the first time.

It was a strange feeling.

The gate opened.

Shan Xiongxin stood there and beckoned him.

“Come in.”

Zhou Xiong spat out the grass stem and stepped inside.

The moment he crossed through that gate, his vision suddenly blurred.

As if something were swaying before his eyes.

He rubbed them.

Didn’t think much of it.

And kept walking.

Several tables had been set up in the courtyard, with over a dozen men seated around them. Some he recognized, some he did not. Shan Xiongxin pointed them out one by one as he made introductions—

“This is Xu Shiji, courtesy name Maogong. You can call him Brother Xu from now on.”

“This is Qin Qiong, Qin Shubao, from Shandong. One of our own.”

“This is Cheng Yaojin, nicknamed the Demon King of Chaos. Don’t let his stupidity fool you—when he fights, the man fears nothing—”

Zhou Xiong looked at their faces.

Qin Qiong cupped his fists toward him, calm and steady-eyed.

Cheng Yaojin slapped him on the shoulder so hard Zhou Xiong staggered sideways, then burst into booming laughter.

Zhou Xiong laughed too.

He knew this man.

Knew that this rough brute, whose slap could probably kill someone, would one day become a brother dear enough to die for.

Knew that this fool, whose laughter sounded like thunder, would one day carry an unconscious man in his arms and knock on his door.

Knew—

Suddenly, darkness swallowed his vision.

The ninth year of Wude.

The ninth day of the sixth month.

Zhou Xiong opened his eyes.

He was lying on the kang bed, staring at the shabby little house he had lived in for nine years.

The ceiling beams were black, darkened by nine years of smoke until they gleamed with oil.

He lay there without moving.

His eyes were empty.

After a long while, he slowly sat up.

On the edge of the kang bed, Zhou Yi was curled into a ball, sleeping deeply. At some point, the child had climbed up beside him, hugging his arm, face buried in the crook of his elbow, breathing evenly.

Zhou Xiong lowered his head and looked at him.

That face.

It looked like her.

Zhou Xiong stared for a long time.

Then he gently pulled his arm free and climbed off the kang.

He walked into the outer room and stood in the middle of the main hall.

The door was shut. A faint sliver of light seeped through the crack beneath it; dawn had not fully broken yet.

He saw the gourd on the table.

The one Cheng Yaojin had returned to him.

He picked it up, raised it to his mouth, and took a long swallow.

The liquor burned its way down his throat and all the way into his stomach.

He closed his eyes and swallowed it down.

Then he opened them again and looked at the door.

He remembered the dream from just now.

Qin Qiong.

Cheng Yaojin.

Shan Xiongxin.

Back then, Cheng Yaojin had slapped a hand onto his shoulder so hard it nearly made him stumble.

Back then, he had laughed like a fool.

Back then, he still didn’t know what the future would bring.

Now he knew.

Cheng Yaojin had carried that man and knocked on this very door.

He had opened the door, taken one look, and shut it again.

Then he had opened it once more.

He had saved that man.

He stopped himself from thinking further.

He set the gourd back onto the table.

Soft footsteps sounded behind him.

Zhou Yi stood there rubbing his eyes, asking sleepily,

“Dad, why’re you up?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t turn around.

He looked at the door and said,

“I had a dream.”

Zhou Yi walked over and leaned against him.

“What’d you dream about?”

Zhou Xiong fell silent.

He didn’t answer.

He remembered the Cheng Yaojin from his dream, slapping him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger.

Back then, he had laughed without a care in the world.

Now he wanted to laugh too.

But he couldn’t.

So he simply stood there, staring at the door.

Outside, the sky grew brighter and brighter.

Birds were singing.

Suddenly, Zhou Yi leaned more heavily against him.

Zhou Xiong froze for a moment.

Zhou Yi tilted his head up and looked at the side of his father’s face.

Zhou Xiong lowered his head and looked at Zhou Yi.

That face looked so much like hers.

Without warning, he reached out and ruffled Zhou Yi’s hair.

Zhou Yi grinned.

Showing two little tiger teeth.

Zhou Xiong watched that smile for a long time.

Then he withdrew his hand and turned to look at the door again.

He knew someone would come today.

Cheng Yaojin would come.

Maybe Qin Qiong would come too.

Maybe all the old brothers from Wagang Stronghold would come.

He waited.

Waited for that door to be knocked on.

Waited to see whether those people still recognized him.

Waited to see whether he himself still recognized them.

Zhou Yi leaned against him, drifting back to sleep.

Zhou Xiong didn’t move.

He simply stood there, letting the child rest against him.

Outside, the birds sang even more cheerfully.

The sun had risen.

The light slipping through the crack in the door fell across the floor, bright and dazzling.