HNYWEF -Chapter 116 They Don’t Add Up

The night was deep.

Zhou Hong lay on the heated brick bed, eyes wide open, staring at the beams above his head.

He couldn’t sleep.

From the next room came a faint snoring—his older brother.

Zhou Xiong was sleeping soundly. He had been exhausted yesterday, then ran out again all morning today. After returning, he said nothing, just collapsed into bed.

Zhou Hong rolled over.

Then rolled again.

His mind was a mess.

Everything that happened today—he still couldn’t make sense of it from beginning to end.

Yesterday, that patrol general, Niu Jinda, barged in shouting “Bear Blind Man,” like he was calling out a sworn brother.

At the time, Zhou Hong thought: his brother used to be a soldier, knew a few generals. That made sense.

Later, when those men were taken away and Niu Jinda stayed behind to help stop his nephew’s bleeding, he became even more certain—this must be one of his brother’s old comrades. Otherwise, he wouldn’t care so much.

Then his brother came back, didn’t even look at him, and went straight into the inner room.

He was used to that.

His brother had always been like this—when something was on his mind, he didn’t talk to anyone.

But—

When his brother first came back, Zhou Hong had wanted to go in and ask if he needed help. At the doorway, he heard voices inside.

His brother’s voice. Very low, but through the door he could still catch a few words.

“…His Majesty…”

“…your mother’s death… was him…”

Zhou Hong froze at the door.

He thought he had misheard.

He listened again.

His nephew didn’t speak. The room fell quiet.

Then his brother said a few more words, even lower this time—too faint to make out.

After that, his brother came out, lifted the curtain, and almost bumped into him.

His brother glanced at him, said nothing, and walked past him into the room to sleep.

Zhou Hong stood there for a long time, not moving.

Those words kept spinning in his head.

His Majesty.

Your mother’s death.

Was him.

Each word made sense on its own. Together—they didn’t.

He tried forcing that man with the surname Li to match the phrase “His Majesty.”

That man had come to the workshop many times, dressed simply, speaking kindly. He walked in calling “Zhou Xiong” like they were old brothers. Once he even gave his nephew New Year’s money—Zhou Hong saw it himself.

That was the emperor?

Zhou Hong rolled over again on the heated bed.

Could the emperor just leave the palace like that?

Could the emperor wear plain clothes and walk into a blacksmith shop?

Could the emperor talk to a smith like he was a sworn brother?

A face appeared in his mind.

That smiling, gentle face.

Then another face—one he had never actually seen: wearing a bright yellow robe, sitting high on a throne, people kneeling beneath him.

The two faces overlapped.

They wouldn’t fit.

No matter how he tried, they wouldn’t fit.

Zhou Hong rolled again.

He remembered something his brother had once said.

That he had hit his head and couldn’t remember the past.

That he knew strange skills, said he learned them in dreams.

That he treated generals like brothers—Zhou Hong had assumed it just meant he had been a soldier.

But now—

His brother even knew the emperor.

And not just knew him.

His brother had gone out today to find the emperor.

And when he came back, he told his nephew that their sister-in-law had been killed because of the emperor.

Zhou Hong lay on the bed, staring at the beams.

The room was dark, no lamp lit. He couldn’t see clearly.

His mind kept circling one question.

What kind of life had his brother been living all these years?

He didn’t dare ask.

His brother never spoke of it.

And he never dared to ask.

Some things—if his brother didn’t say them, he wouldn’t ask.

That was the most important lesson he had learned in the past year.

But today—

Zhou Hong rolled again.

The mat creaked beneath him.

He closed his eyes.

Still couldn’t sleep.

He opened them again.

Still couldn’t sleep.

Outside, the night watch called out the time.

One beat. Two beats. Three beats.

The third watch of the night.

Zhou Hong lay there, eyes open, staring at the pitch-black beams.

His thoughts kept turning.

Spinning in circles, never breaking out of the loop—

His brother.

The emperor.

His sister-in-law.

Fourteen years.

Suddenly he remembered that moment when his brother had returned, standing at the doorway before entering the inner room.

At the time, he thought his brother was just tired.

Now that he thought about it—

How long had he stood there?

He didn’t know.

He only knew that his brother’s back had looked especially heavy then.

Zhou Hong rolled once more.

This time he faced the wall.

The wall was cool against his forehead, slightly comforting.

He closed his eyes.

The thoughts were still there.

But he stopped turning them over.

Let them be.

He couldn’t ask anyway.

His brother wouldn’t tell him anyway.

And besides—

When his brother had changed his nephew’s dressing today, his hands had been steady.

But after finishing, he had sat at the edge of the bed, head lowered, sitting there for a very long time.

Zhou Hong had seen that back through the curtain.

Just once.

He didn’t dare look again.

Zhou Hong opened his eyes.

Stared at the dark wall in front of him.

Nothing could be seen.

Then he whispered very softly:

“Brother…”

No answer.

Outside, it was quiet.

Only the snoring from the next room.

Steady.

Rhythmic.

Zhou Hong listened for a while.

Then he closed his eyes again.

This time, he didn’t turn over anymore.