HNYWEF -Chapter 35 A Chubby Little Boy

Zhenguan Year One, the twenty-third day of the first month.

The sun was out today.

Most of the snow had melted, and the alleyways had dried up quite a bit. Only a few dirty piles of snow still remained in the shaded corners by the walls.

These past few days, Cheng Chumo and Cheng Chuliang had been coming by often to play with Zhou Yi. After seeing each other so much, the three boys had grown familiar with one another.

Zhou Yi had learned several new games—tile tossing, grass fighting, pebble grabbing—all things he had never played back when he lived outside the city.

Inside the smithy, the furnace burned fiercely.

Zhou Xiong stood before the long workbench, hammer in hand, striking down again and again.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Zhou Yi was not around.

Cheng Chumo and Cheng Chuliang had come early in the morning to drag him off somewhere, and no one knew where the three had run off to play.

Lady Pei had stopped by once, bringing a bowl of hot soup. She sat for a while, then left.

Only Zhou Xiong remained in the shop.

Outside, people passed by.

Footsteps. Voices. The rumbling of cart wheels rolling over the stone-paved road.

All of it sounded muffled through the door, indistinct and blurry.

Zhou Xiong never looked up.

He flipped the piece of iron over and continued hammering.

Then footsteps stopped at the entrance.

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused.

Just once.

Then he continued striking.

Clang.

Clang.

The door was pushed open.

Zhou Xiong did not turn around.

A shadow stretched across the floor, reaching all the way from the doorway to his feet.

Fat.

Very fat.

That shadow blocked out nearly half the light from the entrance.

Then a bright, ringing voice sounded out:

“Uncle Zhou! This junior has come to wish you a belated Happy New Year!”

Zhou Xiong’s hammer froze midair.

He did not move.

The voice sounded again:

“Uncle Zhou?”

Only then did Zhou Xiong slowly turn around.

Someone stood in the doorway.

No.

A child stood there.

Round as a ball, chubby cheeks wobbling with flesh, eyes squeezed into slits whenever he smiled.

He wore a brand-new robe. One glance was enough to tell the fabric was expensive, but stretched tight over his plump body, it somehow looked more like rough cloth than fine brocade.

Seeing Zhou Xiong turn around, the child called out once more:

“Greetings, Uncle Zhou!”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

He stared at that face.

The child stared back at him.

Grinning foolishly, carefree and empty-headed—exactly the same sort as Cheng Yaojin’s two boys.

Zhou Xiong looked at him for three breaths.

Then he spoke.

“Get out.”

The child froze.

Zhou Xiong offered no explanation.

He set down the hammer, walked over, and shut the door.

Bang.

The child stood outside, staring at the closed door, blinking.

What… was going on?

He turned his head and glanced toward the mouth of the alley.

It was empty.

No one was there.

He scratched his head.

He had no idea what had happened.

But before he came, someone had told him one thing—

“When you get there, don’t ask too many questions. If they let you in, then go in. If they don’t, then wait outside.”

He thought about it for a while.

Then he sat down on the stone step outside the door.

The step was a little cold. He shifted his backside around until he found a somewhat drier spot.

Then he simply sat there, looking at the closed door.

Waiting.

Inside the shop.

Zhou Xiong stood behind the door without moving.

He stared at it.

The wooden door was thick; he could see nothing through it.

But he knew the child was still outside.

He could hear him.

The faint rustling sound of clothes rubbing against the stone step.

The child had not left.

Zhou Xiong stood there, listening to that sound.

There was no expression on his face.

But in his mind—

something was turning.

That form of address.

Those clothes.

And—

his gaze flicked once toward the direction of the alley entrance.

Separated by a door, by walls, he could see nothing.

But he knew there might be someone there.

Or perhaps not.

Zhou Xiong withdrew his gaze.

He simply stood there.

Listening to the faint rustling outside.

The child was still waiting.

Zhou Xiong did not move.

Because he had suddenly remembered one thing—

The child had come alone.

That person would never make such a foolish decision.

Because that person knew exactly what the consequences of doing this would be.

Zhou Xiong narrowed his eyes slightly.

Just once.

Then he turned and walked toward the inner room.

After taking two steps, he stopped.

Without turning back.

He stood there for a moment.

Then continued walking inward.

The curtain fell behind him, swaying lightly before becoming still.

The room fell silent.

Leaving only the faint rustling sound from outside.