HNYWEF -Chapter 174 The Lingering Echo

The seventh day of the fourth month, fifth year of Zhenguan.

Bianzhou, Yellow River ferry crossing.

The wind swept in from the river, carrying dampness and the muddy smell of silt.

The ferry crossing was livelier than it had been three years ago. Seven or eight large ships were docked there. Goods were piled high along the shore. Porters carried sacks back and forth, and the shouts, calls, and boatmen’s chants blended into one noisy wave.

Zhou Xiong stood by the riverbank, staring at the muddy yellow river for a long time.

Zhou Yi stood beside him without urging him.

Li Lizhi stood on Zhou Yi’s other side, wrapped in a light cloak. The wind whipped her sleeves and hems loudly, but she did not urge him either.

The three of them stood there for a while before Zhou Yi finally could not help asking,

“Dad, are we taking the river route or the land route?”

Zhou Xiong did not answer.

He looked toward the opposite bank. That was Hebei Circuit.

Once across the river, heading north would lead to Xiangzhou. Wagang Stronghold was not far from here—one day on horseback at most.

Standing there, two routes turned over in his mind.

One was direct: cross the river and head north, reaching Xiangzhou in a few days.

The other curved a little westward first, passing by Wagang Stronghold before turning north again.

It was not much of a detour. Just two extra days.

What was he thinking about?

Even he could not explain it clearly.

Suddenly, a shout exploded behind him.

“Hey! Isn’t that the opera storyteller?!”

Zhou Xiong’s brows twitched, his thoughts interrupted.

“The storyteller! The one who played the qin and sang stories by the Bian River three years ago! Him! It’s him!”

The voice came closer and louder.

Zhou Xiong turned around. A middle-aged man was running toward them, robes flapping from how fast he moved, several others following behind him.

The man stopped in front of Zhou Xiong, looked him up and down once, and his face immediately lit up.

“That’s right! It’s him! The one by the Bian River three years ago, singing stories about Bao Qingtian and the Five Rats! I remember clearly! It’s definitely him!”

Zhou Xiong stood there, his expression stiffening for a moment.

It was the kind of stiffness that came when someone suddenly shouted at you from behind and you had not yet figured out what expression you were supposed to make.

The others behind the man crowded over too, all talking at once.

“Right, right, I remember now too!”

“Storyteller! You’re back again? Sing another piece for us!”

The corner of Zhou Xiong’s mouth twitched.

He glanced at them, then around the area, only to realize more and more people were starting to look this way.

His throat bobbed as if he wanted to say something, but could not decide what to say.

Li Lizhi stood beside Zhou Yi, looking at the crowd, then at Zhou Xiong, then back at Zhou Yi.

She leaned closer to Zhou Yi and lowered her voice.

“When did our dad get a title like that?”

The corner of Zhou Yi’s mouth moved. He wanted to laugh but held it in.

“Last time we traveled through Bianzhou, he played a tune here and sang a few stories. The common folk gave him the nickname.”

Li Lizhi blinked.

“Our dad can play the qin too?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“And sing?”

Another nod.

“What did he sing?”

Zhou Yi thought for a moment.

“Bao Qingtian. The Five Rats. Stuff like that.”

Li Lizhi’s eyes brightened. Just as she was about to ask more questions, the crowd had already grown even larger.

Some people ran down from the ships. Others came from the cargo piles. Porters abandoned their carrying poles. Boatmen poked their heads out from the cabins.

The middle-aged man who recognized Zhou Xiong first had already squeezed to the very front, his face flushed red with excitement.

“Storyteller, I still remember the part you sang three years ago! My son keeps pestering me every day asking what happened afterward!”

Someone beside him chimed in.

“Yeah, yeah! What happened afterward? What happened to Bao Qingtian? What happened to the Five Rats?”

Someone else pushed forward.

“Where’s your qin? Did you bring it? Play another tune for us!”

“That’s right! Sing another part! We’ve all been waiting!”

Voices overlapped noisily, growing louder and louder.

Zhou Xiong stood in the middle of the crowd, and the stiffness on his face gradually turned into another expression—

The sort of awkwardness that came from being roasted over a fire: wanting to leave but feeling too embarrassed to just turn and run.

His hand hanging at his side twitched once, then quickly stopped.

He looked at Zhou Yi.

There was meaning in that glance—not a plea for help, but more like:

Say something already.

Zhou Yi saw it.

But he did not move.

He stood there with his lips pressed tightly together, suppressing his laughter with great effort.

Zhou Xiong shot him another look.

This time the meaning changed.

You brat, just wait until later.

Zhou Yi immediately lowered his head and pretended not to notice.

Standing beside them, Li Lizhi looked at Zhou Xiong’s expression, then at Zhou Yi trying desperately not to laugh, and suddenly understood something.

Covering her mouth, she let out a soft laugh.

Zhou Xiong heard it.

He turned and glanced at her.

That small face was smiling brightly, eyes curved into crescents, one hand over her mouth while her shoulders trembled lightly.

He froze for a moment.

But suddenly, it did not feel quite so embarrassing anymore.

He turned back to the crowd still waiting expectantly.

Then he spoke, his voice rough and awkward.

“Out on business today. Another time.”

The crowd paused.

Zhou Xiong repeated himself.

“Another time.”

After saying that, he turned around and walked toward the carriage.

After two steps, he hesitated briefly, as though debating something.

Then he quickened his pace, practically fleeing.

The crowd remained where they were. Some stood there with mouths open. Others scratched their heads or exchanged looks with those nearby.

The middle-aged man who recognized him first stood stunned for a moment before suddenly laughing.

“This storyteller’s still got the same temperament. Last time too—he left right after singing, wouldn’t say one extra word. Thin-skinned fellow, gets embarrassed easily.”

Zhou Yi pulled Li Lizhi around the edge of the crowd and hurried after Zhou Xiong.

As Li Lizhi walked beside him, she kept glancing at him from time to time.

That face showed no expression at all.

But the tips of his ears were red.

They climbed into the carriage, and the curtain fell shut.

Inside the carriage, Li Lizhi looked out through the curtain once.

Those people still had not dispersed. They remained at the ferry crossing, craning their necks to look this way.

She withdrew her gaze and looked at Zhou Yi sitting across from her, her lips still curved upward.

“Our dad can blush too?”

Zhou Yi thought about it.

“First time I’ve ever seen it.”

Li Lizhi laughed again.

This time she did not cover her mouth. The laugh escaped audibly—a tiny sound, but perfectly clear within the carriage.

Outside, Zhou Xiong rode ahead on horseback, his back facing the carriage.

The wind from the river blew across him, making the tips of his ears even redder.

He urged his horse forward, speeding up a little.

The carriage rumbled along after him as the voices from the ferry crossing gradually faded into the distance.