Ninth day of the third month, second year of Zhenguan.
The sun was out.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Zhou Xiong stood by the long workbench, hammer in hand.
Zhou Yi squatted at the doorway, dragging a tree branch across the ground.
He’d scratch around for a while, then look up at the people on the street.
Scratch some more, then look again.
These past few days, something had been weighing on his mind.
Ever since returning from the Duke of Su’s manor that day, he hadn’t said anything to his father, and Zhou Xiong hadn’t asked either. The two of them carried on as usual, doing whatever needed doing.
But Zhou Yi knew his father knew he had gone.
Some things didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
He was absentmindedly drawing on the ground when he suddenly heard a burst of noise from the mouth of the alley.
He looked up.
A group of people was coming this way.
They walked quickly and messily, boots slapping noisily against the stone pavement.
Zhou Yi narrowed his eyes.
Soldiers.
Seven or eight of them, dressed in military garb. Some carried sabers, others had empty hands, all of them noisy and disorderly.
In the middle, several men carried a stretcher. Someone lay on it groaning nonstop.
The man in front walked the fastest—a big, burly fellow with a full beard and a saber at his waist.
He strode to the entrance of the smithy and stopped.
He glanced inside.
“Bear Blindman!”
Zhou Yi stood and moved aside.
The man ignored him completely and stepped over the threshold into the shop.
The others surged in after him, filling the smithy in an instant.
The stretcher was set down on the floor. The groaning man was revealed—a young soldier, pale as paper, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle, sweat pouring from his face from the pain.
Zhou Xiong’s hammer stopped.
He turned and looked at the group.
His face showed no expression.
The leader stepped forward and cupped his fists.
“Bear Blindman, one of our brothers broke his leg in a fall. Take a look for him!”
Zhou Xiong looked at the man.
For three breaths.
Then he set down the hammer.
He walked over.
Squatted beside the injured soldier.
Reached out and felt along the leg.
From top to bottom.
Then from bottom to top.
When his hand reached the ankle, he paused briefly.
Then he stood.
Turned around.
And looked at the leader.
The man was waiting for him to speak.
Zhou Xiong finally opened his mouth.
His voice squeezed out from his rough throat, slow and unhurried—
“Niu Jinda.”
The man froze for a moment.
“You’ve been a soldier for so damn many years—”
Zhou Xiong paused.
“And you still can’t tell the difference between a fracture and a dislocation?”
Niu Jinda’s face instantly turned red.
“I—”
Zhou Xiong didn’t give him a chance to continue.
“You need me to handle something this minor?”
His voice rose slightly.
“Did every doctor in Chang’an drop dead?”
The smithy fell silent at once.
The soldiers looked at each other, not daring to breathe too loudly.
Niu Jinda stood there, his face as red as the temple statues of Guan Gong. It was hard to tell whether he was embarrassed or angry.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn’t think of what.
Even the injured soldier on the ground stopped groaning, staring blankly at Zhou Xiong.
Zhou Xiong didn’t look at them again.
He turned around and walked back to the workbench.
Picked up the hammer.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Niu Jinda stood there awkwardly, unable to leave but equally unable to stay.
He looked at the blacksmith’s back and scratched his head.
“Bear Blindman, I—”
Without turning around, Zhou Xiong said,
“Dislocation. Go find a bone-setting doctor. Two streets east from here, there’s a man surnamed Liu who specializes in this.”
Niu Jinda froze.
“What about the bone—”
“The bone’s fine.”
Niu Jinda opened his mouth again.
“Bear Blindman, I heard you could—”
“No time!”
Niu Jinda scratched his head again.
Then suddenly laughed.
“You bastard, you still have the same temper.”
Zhou Xiong ignored him.
And continued hammering iron.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Niu Jinda turned and waved at the soldiers.
“Pick him up. We’re leaving.”
The men snapped out of their daze and hurriedly lifted the stretcher and headed out.
At the doorway, Niu Jinda stopped.
He turned back to look at Zhou Xiong.
“Bear Blindman.”
Zhou Xiong’s hammer never paused.
Niu Jinda said, “I’ll treat you to a drink another day.”
“Clang.”
Niu Jinda waited a moment.
Zhou Xiong still ignored him.
In the end, Niu Jinda could only shake his head and laugh.
He pushed the door open and left.
Their footsteps gradually faded away.
The smithy became quiet again.
Only the hammering remained.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
Zhou Yi stood at the doorway, watching the group disappear into the distance.
Then he turned to look at his father.
Zhou Xiong was still hammering iron.
His face remained expressionless.
But Zhou Yi saw it.
The corner of his father’s mouth twitched slightly.
Just once.
Very faintly.
Zhou Yi walked back to the doorway and squatted down again.
He picked up the branch and resumed scratching lines into the dirt.
As he drew, he suddenly laughed.
A light laugh, like someone who had just watched an entertaining play.
He thought about that man from earlier.
Niu Jinda.
He’d heard the name before.
An old brother from Wagang.
He seemed to have seen him at the training grounds that day too.
Zhou Yi lowered his head and continued drawing.
The branch carved line after line into the ground.
Horizontal, vertical, crooked and messy.
Looking at those marks, he suddenly felt that today had turned rather interesting.
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
“Clang.”
The hammering continued.
Steady and unhurried.
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