HNYWEF -Chapter 191 Overestimating Oneself

Zhenguan Year Five, May Twenty-First.

The plank road at Jianmen Pass.

After walking for two days, Zhou Xiong finally finished crossing the section where the planks had recently been replaced and stepped onto the old road.

The old road was even narrower. On one side was the mountain wall; on the other, a sheer cliff. The stones underfoot had been tread on for who knew how many years, worn smooth and slick. Some places had cracked open, with grass growing from the crevices.

He walked neither fast nor slow, but he never stopped.

After turning a bend, he found the way blocked.

A caravan stretched across the plank road. One of the carts had tilted sideways, a wheel fallen off, the carriage leaning crookedly against the mountain wall.

Goods were scattered everywhere—crates, bolts of cloth, jars and pots. Several had shattered, and dark liquid was spreading across the ground, impossible to tell whether it was sauce or wine.

Several people were scrambling around, some lifting the wheel, others picking things up, the whole scene a complete mess.

There was also a steward-looking man standing nearby with his hands on his hips, cursing nonstop.

The road was completely blocked.

Zhou Xiong stopped and waited for a while.

The people ahead kept rushing back and forth, ignoring him entirely.

He waited a bit longer.

Still no one paid him any attention.

He stepped forward a few paces, stopped in front of the pile of goods, and spoke.

“Move aside.”

His voice was not loud, but the plank road was quiet, and every word carried clearly.

The people paused briefly, looked up at him once, then lowered their heads and continued working.

The steward turned around and sized him up from head to toe.

At the moment, Zhou Xiong was dressed in coarse short clothes and straw sandals. His clothes were torn beyond recognition, his face covered in dust, his beard overgrown. He looked like a refugee fleeing famine.

The steward frowned immediately, disgust written all over his face.

“Move aside for what? Can’t you see the cart’s broken? Wait there!”

Zhou Xiong did not move. He simply stood there, looking at the steward.

The steward grew uncomfortable under that stare, and his voice rose.

“What are you staring at? I said wait, so wait! You lowborn wretch, what’s the hurry?”

Zhou Xiong narrowed his eyes slightly.

He had been on the road for nearly a month now, crossing mountains from Chang’an to Hanzhong, then from Hanzhong to Jianmen Pass.

His clothes had been shredded by branches, his shoes worn through, his face covered in dust, his beard grown so wild that even he barely recognized himself anymore.

He did not care about any of that.

What he cared about was that after waiting there for so long, the only thing he got in return was the word “lowborn wretch.”

He spoke.

“Who are you calling lowborn?”

His voice remained calm, but every word was crystal clear.

The steward froze for a moment, clearly not expecting this ragged refugee-looking man to talk back.

“I’m talking about you! What of it? Dressed like that, if you’re not lowborn then what are you? Just look at yourself—your clothes are more tattered than a beggar’s, your face is covered in dirt, who knows what disaster you crawled out of. Let me tell you, this cart is carrying goods from the Li Clan of Nanzheng. If there’s any delay, can you afford the consequences?”

Zhou Xiong looked at him, his face completely expressionless.

“Nanzheng’s Li clan? Never heard of them.”

The steward’s face flushed red.

“You’ve never heard of them? The Li family of Nanzheng in Hanzhong deals in the grain trade! Half the shops in Hanzhong belong to the Lis! Of course a lowborn outsider like you wouldn’t know them!”

Zhou Xiong said, “What does whether I’ve heard of them have to do with you blocking the road? If the cart’s broken, fix the cart. If the cargo spilled, pick it up. You’re standing here blocking the way and cursing people—after you’re done cursing, will the road magically clear itself?”

The steward choked on those words for a moment, but quickly stiffened his neck and shouted again, “So what if I curse at you? Who’s blocking the road here? Me, or the cart? Are you blind? Can’t you see the cart’s broken? If you’re in such a hurry, then fly over it!”

Zhou Xiong replied, “If the cart’s broken, fix it. If the cargo spilled, pick it up. You stand here yelling at me—will the cart repair itself?”

The steward’s face turned scarlet. Pointing at Zhou Xiong, his voice rose sharp and shrill.

“You filthy peasant—what right do you have to tell me how to do my job? Matters of the Li family of Nanzheng—since when is it your place to butt in? What the hell are you supposed to be?”

The corner of Zhou Xiong’s mouth twitched. Not a smile—more the cold expression of so you insist on acting like this, huh.

“I’m nothing important. Just a traveler passing through. What about you? What are you supposed to be?”

The steward grew even angrier at that. He stepped forward aggressively.

“Me? I’m the head steward of the Li family of Nanzheng! I manage dozens of men under me! Even the officials of the Hanzhong prefectural office treat me politely when they see me! And you—”

He looked Zhou Xiong up and down.

“You, wearing straw sandals, dare put yourself on equal footing with me?”

Zhou Xiong said, “What’s wrong with straw sandals? Did your ancestors for eight generations never wear them?”

The steward froze from being blocked by that sentence. His lips trembled twice before he finally spat out:

“Y-you insolent dog!”

“Insolent?”

Zhou Xiong’s voice still wasn’t loud, but every word landed like a nail.

“You block the road and won’t let people pass. Every other word out of your mouth is ‘lowborn peasant.’ I answer you with two sentences and that’s called insolence? Are the rules of your Nanzheng Li family something you made yourself?”

The steward’s chest heaved violently. His finger pointed at Zhou Xiong, trembling.

“You—you believe I won’t have someone throw you off the cliff?”

Zhou Xiong looked at him for two breaths.

His gaze wasn’t fierce, nor cold, but the steward felt unbearably uncomfortable under it, as though something had peeled him inside out.

“Go ahead and try.”

The steward stood there with his mouth open, but didn’t move.

The workers behind him also stopped what they were doing and stood there watching. No one dared make a move.

Zhou Xiong waited a moment. Seeing that he said nothing, he spoke again.

“If the cart’s broken, fix the cart. If the cargo spilled, pick it up. You’ve been standing here arguing with me all this time, and the road’s still blocked. Even if you win the argument, will the cart repair itself?”

The steward fell silent.

But the stubborn anger in him still hadn’t gone away. Neck stiff, he glared at Zhou Xiong and muttered something under his breath.

Zhou Xiong didn’t hear it clearly, and couldn’t be bothered to listen.

He gave the steward one last glance, then turned around. Planting a hand against the mountain wall and pushing off with one foot, he vaulted over the pile of cargo.

The movement was clean and agile—not like someone his age at all.

His voice drifted back from ahead. Not loud, but the plank road was quiet enough that every word came through clearly.

“My daughter-in-law is from the Longxi Li clan. If you don’t believe me, go ask around in Chang’an.”

The steward stood rooted in place, watching that figure walk farther and farther down the plank road. Suddenly coming back to himself, he shouted after him.

“Hey—wait! What did you just say? The Longxi Li clan? Your daughter-in-law? What kind of nobody are you to marry into the Longxi Li family?!”

The steward stood there with his mouth hanging open, staring as the figure disappeared around the bend in the plank road.

One of the workers beside him leaned over and quietly asked,

“Steward… who was that guy?”

The steward said nothing.

He stood there as the wind rose from beneath the cliff, cold and damp, making his back feel chilly.

His throat bobbed once. When he finally spoke again, his voice was much quieter than before.

“How would I know.”