HNYWEF -Chapter 22 Rebirth

Wude Year 9, Ninth Month, Eleventh Day.

At the first hint of dawn, Cheng Yaojin arrived on horseback.

A thin layer of mist still hung over the alley. The stone pavement was damp, and the horse’s hooves made dull sounds against it. He swung down from the saddle, tied the horse to the old locust tree outside the door, and raised a hand to knock.

The door opened.

Zhou Yi stood inside, fully dressed, his hair neatly combed flat. It was obvious he’d been up early.

“Uncle Cheng!”

Cheng Yaojin rubbed his head.

“Where’s your father?”

“In the back courtyard cleaning up.” Zhou Yi pointed inside. “He said he’s going to get the shop ready today.”

Cheng Yaojin nodded and walked in.

Past the main room and through the back door was the storefront.

Calling it a storefront was generous—it wasn’t big. Just a single room with a street-facing window. Beneath the window stood a long workbench. A few shelves lined the wall, and unfinished odds and ends were still piled in the corners.

Zhou Xiong stood in front of the bench with his back to the door. He held a piece of iron in his hand, measuring it against the shelves.

Cheng Yaojin didn’t speak.

He simply stood in the doorway, looking at that back.

This was the same man who had once crouched in a corner with his head buried in his arms, motionless like a clay statue.

Qin Qiong had once carried in two jars of wine, then come back out saying, “He cursed me for bringing terrible wine.”

Before that, Cheng Yaojin himself had stood in the courtyard staring at the hanging curtain, not knowing what to do.

And now this man was standing there.

Standing there, holding iron in his hand, comparing it against the shelf.

Suddenly, Cheng Yaojin felt his eyes sting a little.

Without saying anything, he walked in and dropped heavily onto a wooden bench nearby.

The bench creaked loudly.

Zhou Xiong turned and glanced at him.

He said nothing.

Then turned back and continued measuring the iron.

Cheng Yaojin didn’t mind.

He just sat there, looking around.

The workbench was newly made, the wood still pale. Several tools sat on top—hammer, tongs, anvil—all iron, polished bright.

The shelves against the wall were stacked with iron bars and plates, along with several finished kitchen knives and sickles, their edges gleaming coldly.

That gourd sat on the windowsill.

Cheng Yaojin’s gaze paused on it.

He remembered that gourd.

Remembered the bitter, harsh wine inside it.

Now the gourd rested there openly on the windowsill, facing the morning light.

Cheng Yaojin looked away.

Watching Zhou Xiong’s back, he suddenly asked,

“What are you planning to call this shop?”

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused briefly.

He didn’t turn around.

“Haven’t thought about it.”

Cheng Yaojin waited for a moment. Seeing no follow-up, he asked again,

“What about a signboard? You hanging one or not?”

Zhou Xiong stayed silent.

He set the piece of iron onto the shelf, turned around, and walked to the corner. From a pile of clutter, he pulled something out.

Cheng Yaojin focused his eyes.

It was a signboard.

An iron sign.

Zhou Xiong carried the iron plate to the doorway, tilted his head up, and held it against the lintel to measure it.

Cheng Yaojin stood and followed over.

“I’ll do it.”

Zhou Xiong didn’t argue.

Cheng Yaojin took the iron plate, rose onto his toes, and hooked it onto the lintel. The iron hooks caught with a loud clang and settled firmly into place.

He stepped back two paces and looked up.

The sun had already risen in the east, its light falling across the iron plate.

Zhou Family Ironworks

Cheng Yaojin stared at it for a long time.

Then he turned around to look at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong was also looking at the iron sign.

His face held no expression at all.

But Cheng Yaojin saw it.

He saw those eyes.

Now—

They weren’t empty anymore.

Not full.

Just… no longer empty.

Like a layer of fog slowly dispersing. Whatever lay beneath still couldn’t be clearly seen, but at least now it could finally be glimpsed.

Cheng Yaojin opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But in the end, he said nothing.

He simply stood there beside Zhou Xiong, both of them looking at the iron sign together.

At some point, Zhou Yi came running over too. He stood beside them, head tipped back as he stared upward.

“Dad, did you write that?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Zhou Yi grinned, revealing two little tiger teeth.

“It looks great!”

Cheng Yaojin suddenly laughed.

Turning around, he slapped a heavy hand onto Zhou Xiong’s shoulder.

The blow nearly made Zhou Xiong stumble. He turned back to look at him.

Cheng Yaojin only grinned, saying nothing.

Zhou Xiong glanced at him once.

Then lowered his head and walked past him, back into the shop.

Cheng Yaojin stood at the doorway, watching his back.

Zhou Xiong returned to the workbench, picked up the hammer, and struck the anvil once.

Clang.

A crisp sound.

Suddenly, Cheng Yaojin thought of more than ten years ago—Wagang Fortress, a blacksmith shop, another morning exactly like this, the same ringing sound.

He stood at the doorway watching that back.

That back was no longer curled inward.

It was standing upright.

All at once, Cheng Yaojin wanted to go find Qin Qiong.

To tell him—

The fog had cleared.

Zhou Yi ran into the shop and leaned against the workbench, tilting his face up at his father.

“Dad, are we opening today?”

Without looking up, Zhou Xiong answered,

“Mm.”

Zhou Yi asked again, “Will people come?”

Still without looking up:

“Don’t know.”

Zhou Yi waited for a bit. Seeing that his father wasn’t going to say anything else, he ran back outside and stood in the doorway peering down the street.

More people gradually appeared—peddlers carrying shoulder poles, carts rolling past, women with baskets on their arms, parents leading children by the hand.

Some glanced this way briefly before looking away and continuing on.

Zhou Yi stood at the doorway with both hands clasped behind his back, watching them.

He wasn’t anxious.

He knew someone would come.

Cheng Yaojin walked over and stood beside him.

“Bear cub, what’re you standing here for?”

Zhou Yi lifted his face to look at him.

“Waiting for my dad’s first customer.”

Cheng Yaojin froze for a second.

Then he laughed.

He bent down, scooped Zhou Yi up, and settled him onto his shoulders.

Startled at first, Zhou Yi quickly burst into laughter, gripping Cheng Yaojin’s head with both hands as he looked into the distance.

What he was looking at, even Zhou Yi himself didn’t know.

Inside the shop, Zhou Xiong already stood at the workbench again, the hammer in his hand rising and falling.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Cheng Yaojin withdrew his gaze and started walking forward.

The sun had fully risen now, shining across the stone pavement, shining across the newly hung iron sign.

Zhou Family Ironworks

Bright and dazzling.

Riding on Cheng Yaojin’s shoulders, Zhou Yi suddenly asked,

“Uncle Cheng, isn’t my dad different today?”

Cheng Yaojin’s steps paused slightly.

“How’s he different?”

Zhou Yi thought for a moment.

“He looked at me just now.”

Cheng Yaojin said nothing.

He kept walking.

After a few more steps, he suddenly let out a laugh.

Zhou Yi lowered his head to look at him.

“Uncle Cheng, what are you laughing at?”

Cheng Yaojin didn’t answer.

He just kept laughing.

Laughing like a fool.