HNYWEF -Chapter 37 Apology

The next day.

Just as dawn was beginning to break, Zhou Xiong opened the door.

The forge’s furnace had not been lit yet. The chill of the early morning poured in, carrying the damp smell of the alley after the night’s moisture. He stood at the doorway and glanced outside—

Then he saw him.

Someone was standing at the door.

A child.

The child stood there ramrod straight. His clothes were neatly worn, though the collar sat a little crooked, as if he had dressed himself in a hurry.

The style of the clothes was more or less the same as that chubby boy from yesterday.

There was little expression on his face, only that his complexion looked pale and his lips slightly dry. No one knew how long he had been standing there.

When he saw Zhou Xiong open the door, he did not move.

Nor did he speak.

He simply stood there.

Zhou Xiong looked at him once.

As expected.

That man would never make such a foolish decision.

It was his son who had messed up the execution of it.

And now the boy was being punished.

Punished by being made to stand here in front of him.

He did not know when the child had arrived, but judging by the dampness on the tops of his shoes, he had been here for at least an hour.

Before sunrise, the dew was heavy. Standing outside would soak one’s shoes.

Zhou Xiong withdrew his gaze.

He pulled out a steamed bun from inside his robe.

It was left over from breakfast, still carrying a bit of warmth.

He walked over to Li Chengqian and held the bun out to him.

“Eat this, then go home.”

His voice was calm.

Then he pressed the bun into the boy’s hands and turned back into the forge.

Li Chengqian stood there, holding the steamed bun.

It was still warm.

He lowered his head and looked at it.

For a very long time.

Slowly, his eyes reddened.

But he did not cry.

He simply stood there, holding the bun at the doorway.

Not leaving.

Not eating.

After a while, he moved.

He walked into the forge.

Zhou Xiong was crouched before the furnace, starting the fire. The firewood was stuffed into the firebox, and he held a fire starter in his hand, blowing on it again and again. His back faced the door. Hearing footsteps, he did not turn around.

Li Chengqian stood behind him for the span of a breath.

Then he spoke.

His voice was a little hoarse.

“Uncle Zhou… what happened yesterday… was my fault.”

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused for a moment.

Just for a moment.

Then he continued blowing on the fire starter.

Li Chengqian waited a while. Seeing that he did not respond, he spoke again.

“I shouldn’t have called it… ‘that kind of place.’”

After saying that, he stopped.

As though he did not know how to continue.

Zhou Xiong finally got the fire lit. Flames sprang up and licked at the firewood, crackling noisily. He stood up, turned around, and looked at Li Chengqian.

The child stood there, still holding the steamed bun in his hands. His eyes were red, but he was not crying.

His lips were pressed tight, his jaw tense, as though he were waiting for something.

Zhou Xiong looked at him for two breaths.

This child could not hide what he was thinking.

But shouldn’t these words be said to his father?

Why say them to me?

Then he spoke.

His voice remained as calm as ever.

“You did nothing wrong.”

Li Chengqian froze.

He lifted his head and looked at Zhou Xiong.

His eyes were filled with confusion, bewilderment, and something indescribable.

Zhou Xiong did not look at him.

He turned around, walked to the long workbench, and picked up his hammer.

“Go home.”

Clang.

Li Chengqian did not move.

Clang.

Zhou Xiong flipped the iron over.

Clang.

Li Chengqian stood there, staring at that back.

He watched the man hammer down blow after blow. The hammer fell, the iron deformed, sparks flew out and scattered onto the ground, quickly dying away.

He wanted to say something.

He wanted to say that he had not meant it that way yesterday.

He wanted to say that his imperial father had slapped him.

He wanted to say that he had stood outside the door for two hours just to wait for it to open.

He wanted to say that he did not know what he was supposed to do.

But when he opened his mouth, not a single word came out.

As though these were not things he should say to the man before him.

The steamed bun was still in his hands, but its warmth had long since faded. The outer skin had hardened a little, rough against his fingers.

And so he simply stood there.

For a very long time.

The sound of hammering never stopped.

Zhou Xiong knew the child had not left.

He could hear it. There had been no footsteps heading out, and the breathing behind him was still there. The child simply stood there without saying a word, without taking a single step away.

He did not turn around.

He continued hammering the iron.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Outside the door, the sun slowly rose.

People began moving through the alley. Peddlers carrying shoulder poles, cart drivers, women with baskets on their arms, old men leading children by the hand. Some glanced into the forge, saw the child standing there, then looked away and continued on their own paths.

Li Chengqian still stood there.

Holding that steamed bun in his hands.

Without moving at all.

Zhou Xiong’s hammer fell once more.

Clang.

A thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.

This child was even more stubborn than his father.

And not by just a little.