HNYWEF -Chapter 60 Seeking Confirmation

Fifth day of the third month, second year of Zhenguan.

More than half a month had passed since Qingming.

Zhou Yi never asked again.

Zhou Xiong never brought it up again either.

The father and son went on as usual—smithing when it was time to smith, training when it was time to train. Every morning they still woke at the same hour: stance training, straight punches, hammering iron.

Zhou Xiong still didn’t talk much, but he taught what needed teaching and said what needed saying.

As if nothing had happened.

But Zhou Yi knew something had changed.

He couldn’t explain what.

Only that sometimes, in the middle of hammering iron, he would suddenly stop and stare blankly at his father’s back.

Zhou Xiong never turned around.

But Zhou Yi knew his father knew he was looking.

What happened that day was like a stone lodged between them.

Not heavy.

But impossible to move.

On the fifth day of the third month, the sun was bright.

Early that morning, Zhou Xiong went outside the city. Someone had ordered a batch of farm tools, and he was delivering them. Before leaving, he glanced at Zhou Yi without saying a word.

Zhou Yi understood the meaning in that look—

Handle yourself.

He stood in the shop for a while.

Then untied his apron and headed out.

Toward the Duke Su Residence.

The alley was long. The bluestone pavement had been bleached pale by the sun, and stepping on it felt faintly hot beneath his feet. The locust trees by the roadside had only just sprouted buds, fresh green and tender, the kind that made people feel at ease just looking at them.

Zhou Yi walked slowly.

Thinking as he walked.

Thinking about what he should say when he saw Uncle Cheng.

Thinking about how Uncle Cheng would answer.

Thinking about what he should do if Uncle Cheng’s words differed from his father’s.

He thought about it the whole way.

And still couldn’t figure it out.

The gatekeeper at the Duke Su Residence recognized him.

The last time he came, he had been with his father. Back then, the gatekeeper had run inside at top speed to announce them, and when he came back out, Cheng Yaojin had personally come to greet them at the entrance.

This time, Zhou Yi was alone.

The gatekeeper froze for a moment when he saw him.

“Young Master Zhou?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“Is Uncle Cheng here?”

“He is, he is. Please wait a moment while I announce—”

“No need,” Zhou Yi said. “I can go in myself.”

The gatekeeper hesitated briefly, then nodded.

Zhou Yi walked inside.

He passed the screen wall and rounded the corridor. Before he even reached the main hall, someone shouted his name from behind.

“Zhou Yi!”

He turned around.

Cheng Chumo and Cheng Chuliang came running out through the moon gate, one fast, one slow.

The fast one was Cheng Chumo, charging forward like a gust of wind.

The slow one was Cheng Chuliang, panting every few steps.

Cheng Chumo rushed over and grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing here? Looking for me to play?”

Cheng Chuliang caught up behind them, gasping for breath.

“Brother, slow down…”

Zhou Yi looked at the two of them and suddenly didn’t know how to answer.

He had come to find Uncle Cheng.

Not to play with them.

But he opened his mouth and couldn’t say it.

By then Cheng Chumo was already dragging him farther inside.

“Come on, come on! I got a new bow—lemme show you!”

Pulled along helplessly, Zhou Yi followed him forward.

They passed through the moon gate into the rear courtyard.

The courtyard wasn’t large, but it was neat and orderly. Several pomegranate trees had been planted in the corner, just beginning to sprout. In the middle sat a stone lock for strength training and a wooden dummy full of dents and marks, obviously used countless times.

Cheng Chumo ran into the room and came back out carrying a bow.

It was new. The wood was still pale, and the bowstring was stretched taut.

He handed it to Zhou Yi.

“Look! My father had this made for me!”

Zhou Yi took it and weighed it in his hand.

Not heavy.

He drew the string to test it.

Beside him, Cheng Chumo said, “Can you even pull it open? I can barely draw it myself—”

Before he finished speaking, Zhou Yi had already pulled the bow to its full draw.

The bow curved into a perfect arc, the string stretched so tight it looked ready to snap.

Cheng Chumo stared with his mouth hanging open.

Cheng Chuliang did too.

Zhou Yi relaxed the bow and handed it back.

“Good bow.”

Cheng Chumo accepted it blankly and stood there stunned for quite a while.

Then he scratched his head.

“H-how did you do that?”

Zhou Yi didn’t answer.

He didn’t know either.

He could just pull it open.

Ever since his father started making him practice those things—stance training, straight punches, horse stance—his strength had steadily grown. Even he didn’t know how strong he’d become.

Cheng Chuliang shuffled closer and looked up at him with shining eyes on his round little face.

“Brother Zhou Yi, can you teach me?”

Zhou Yi looked at him and suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Just then, footsteps sounded from the corridor.

Zhou Yi looked up.

Madam Pei was walking toward them.

She wore simple home clothes and carried a tray with several pieces of pastry on it. She walked quickly enough that the hem of her skirt fluttered.

When she reached them, she set the tray onto the stone table.

“I thought I heard shouting from the front. Zhou Yi’s here? Why aren’t you inside? It’s so sunny out here.”

As she spoke, she was already stuffing pastries into Zhou Yi’s hands.

“Eat. They were just made.”

Holding the pastries, Zhou Yi looked a little lost.

Madam Pei sat down beside him and watched him eat.

Zhou Yi took a bite.

Sweet.

Soft.

He swallowed, then looked up.

Madam Pei was smiling at him.

Was that smile anything like his mother’s?

He didn’t know.

He had no idea what his mother looked like.

He lowered his head and took another bite.

Beside him, Madam Pei chattered on and on—about Cheng Chumo causing trouble again, Cheng Chuliang overeating again, about this and that happening around the residence lately. Zhou Yi listened and occasionally nodded.

He didn’t know what to say.

So he simply waited.

Waited for Uncle Cheng to come back.

The sun slowly climbed higher.

Nearby, Cheng Chumo and Cheng Chuliang played noisily—drawing bows one moment, chasing each other the next, then suddenly wrestling again. Madam Pei shouted at them twice, but nobody listened, so eventually she stopped bothering.

Zhou Yi sat there and finished all the pastries.

After eating them, he sat quietly a while longer.

Then footsteps sounded from outside.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Zhou Yi knew that set of footsteps too well.

He stood up.

Cheng Yaojin strode in with big steps, sweat pouring down his face, his clothes soaked through. When he saw Zhou Yi, he froze for a moment.

“Bear cub? Why are you here?”

Zhou Yi opened his mouth.

He looked at Cheng Yaojin.

The words were already at the tip of his tongue.

But he didn’t know how to say them.

Seeing that expression on his face, the smile on Cheng Yaojin’s face slowly faded.

He walked over and crouched down in front of Zhou Yi.

“What’s wrong?”

Zhou Yi looked at him.

For three breaths.

Then he spoke.

“Uncle Cheng, there’s something I want to ask you.”

Cheng Yaojin nodded.

“Ask.”

Zhou Yi said, “How exactly did my mother die?”

Cheng Yaojin froze.

Just like that, frozen in place, crouching there and staring at Zhou Yi.

Without moving.

Nearby, Pei Shi stood up. She looked at Cheng Yaojin, then at Zhou Yi. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but swallowed the words back down.

She beckoned to Cheng Chumo and Cheng Chuliang.

“Come on, inside with me.”

Cheng Chumo still wanted to say something, but she dragged him away.

The courtyard suddenly became quiet.

Only Cheng Yaojin and Zhou Yi remained.

Cheng Yaojin looked at Zhou Yi.

For a long time.

He remembered when that “blind bear” had first arrived in Chang’an.

Then he sat down on the stone bench and patted the seat beside him.

“Sit.”

Zhou Yi sat down.

Cheng Yaojin looked at him.

“Your father changed his answer?”

Zhou Yi said, “He said my mother died in the chaos of war. He was fighting at the front while she died somewhere he couldn’t see.”

Cheng Yaojin nodded.

He said nothing.

Zhou Yi waited a while.

Then asked again.

“Uncle Cheng, is that true?”

Cheng Yaojin stayed silent for a long time.

He looked into the distance—at the pomegranate tree that had only just sprouted buds, at the roof tiles atop the courtyard wall, at the clouds drifting slowly across the sky.

Then he spoke.

His voice was lower than usual.

“Kid, that’s not an easy question to answer.”

Zhou Yi looked at him.

Cheng Yaojin said, “What your father said is true.”

Zhou Yi froze for a moment.

Then Cheng Yaojin added,

“But it’s not the whole truth.”

Zhou Yi was even more stunned.

He looked at Cheng Yaojin, waiting for him to continue.

Cheng Yaojin was silent for a while.

Then he turned and looked at Zhou Yi.

There was something in those eyes.

Zhou Yi couldn’t tell what it was.

Then Cheng Yaojin spoke.

“What your father told you… was what he was able to tell you.”

He paused.

“In that battle, he was there. He charged forward desperately, trying to carve out a path, trying to… trying to get back.”

He paused again.

“But he didn’t make it in time.”

Zhou Yi’s eyes reddened.

Cheng Yaojin looked at him.

“Kid, your father didn’t lie to you. Your mother really did die in the chaos of war. He fought at the front trying to save her, but he couldn’t.”

He reached out and patted Zhou Yi on the shoulder.

“What your father said wasn’t wrong.”

Zhou Yi lowered his head.

He looked at his own hands.

They were trembling again.

He clenched them into fists.

Very tightly.

Cheng Yaojin watched him without speaking.

After a long while, Zhou Yi lifted his head.

He looked at Cheng Yaojin.

“Uncle Cheng… what kind of person was my mother?”

Cheng Yaojin froze for a moment.

He looked at Zhou Yi’s face.

For a long time.

Then he smiled.

A very gentle smile.

“Your mother…”

He thought for a moment.

“She was beautiful.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

Cheng Yaojin said, “When she smiled, she looked especially pretty. Her eyes would curve when she smiled—exactly like yours do now.”

Zhou Yi froze.

“You were only a few months old back then. She could hold you in her arms all day long and never wanted to let go.”

Zhou Yi’s eyes reddened again.

Cheng Yaojin looked at him.

“Don’t blame your father for the things he said.”

Zhou Yi shook his head.

“I don’t blame him.”

Cheng Yaojin nodded.

“That’s good.”

He stood up.

“Come on, let’s head inside. Your aunt definitely saved something tasty for you.”

Zhou Yi stood up.

And followed him inside.

When they reached the doorway, Zhou Yi suddenly stopped.

Cheng Yaojin turned back.

Zhou Yi looked at him.

“Uncle Cheng… thank you.”

Cheng Yaojin froze for a moment.

Then he smiled.

He reached out and rubbed Zhou Yi’s head.

“Silly kid.”

Zhou Yi didn’t dodge.

He simply stood there, letting that large hand ruffle his hair.

For quite a while.

Then he followed Cheng Yaojin into the house.

Outside, the sunlight shone across the courtyard, onto the newly sprouted pomegranate tree.

Tender green.

Bright and vivid.