HNYWEF -Chapter 63 Witnessing History

Second year of Zhenguan, twenty-ninth day of the fifth month.

The weather had turned hot.

The sun blazed overhead, baking the blue stone pavement until it felt scorching underfoot. There were hardly any people in the alley; everyone stayed hidden indoors to escape the heat. Cicadas had begun their endless chorus—zhizhi, zhizhi—buzzing so loudly it made people restless.

The Zhou family iron shop was open.

Zhou Xiong sat on a stool, holding a bowl of cold tea, drinking it one sip at a time.

He was not forging today. In weather like this, once the furnace was lit, the shop would become unbearably hot.

So he simply rested there, sitting quietly and staring toward the doorway in a daze.

Zhou Yi squatted at the entrance, using a tree branch to scratch lines into the ground.

After scribbling for a while, he would glance toward the alley entrance.

Then scribble some more.

Then look again.

He was waiting for someone.

Cheng Chumo had said he would come today to teach him archery. Last time at the training grounds they had not finished, and they had agreed to continue later. That kid’s own shooting was only mediocre, but when it came to teaching others, he sounded impressively knowledgeable.

Zhou Yi waited for a while.

Cheng Chumo’s figure never appeared at the alley entrance.

Instead, someone else did.

A dark robe. Slow footsteps. One step at a time across the stone pavement, steady and measured.

Another person followed behind him. Thin, pale, with narrow eyes that always seemed to be calculating something whenever they looked at people.

Zhou Yi froze for a moment.

Then he stood up.

“Uncle Li.”

Li Shimin walked up and nodded.

He glanced at Zhou Yi by the doorway, then at Zhou Xiong sitting inside.

Zhou Xiong did not move.

He simply sat there, holding his tea bowl and looking at him.

Li Shimin stepped over the threshold.

Fang Xuanling followed behind him, stopping at the doorway instead of entering.

Zhou Xiong set down his tea bowl.

He looked at Li Shimin.

Li Shimin looked back at him.

The two men held each other’s gaze for a moment.

Li Shimin spoke first.

“Hot.”

Just that single word.

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

Li Shimin sat down on the stool beside him.

The stool creaked softly.

He sat there and looked around.

The shop was still the same—workbench, furnace, hammer, tongs. Everything was where it always had been. Several pieces of iron were piled in the corner, and that gourd still sat on the windowsill.

His gaze lingered on the gourd for a brief moment.

Then withdrew.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong looked back at him.

Li Shimin finally spoke.

“Nothing important. Just came to sit for a while.”

Zhou Xiong remained silent.

Li Shimin waited a breath before continuing.

“There really hasn’t been much happening at court lately. Rare to have some free time, so I came out for a walk.”

Still no response from Zhou Xiong.

But he pointed at the teapot.

Li Shimin did not mind.

He simply sat there, looking at the patch of sunlight spilling through the doorway.

The light fell neatly onto the floor in a square shape. Zhou Yi stood there, peering toward the alley entrance. The child had tanned quite a bit and grown sturdier too. Standing there now, he finally carried a bit of a young man’s presence.

Li Shimin took a sip of cold tea.

Then suddenly asked:

“What’s that kid learning lately?”

Zhou Xiong did not answer.

Li Shimin waited for a while. Seeing no response, he continued:

“The last time, Zhijie told me the boy pulled a bow farther than Chumo did at the training grounds.”

Zhou Xiong’s eyes moved slightly.

Just once.

Li Shimin saw it.

So he continued.

“Chumo came back unwilling to accept it and trained for several days straight. Zhijie said the boy’s arms swelled up from practice.”

As he spoke, he smiled faintly.

Zhou Xiong still said nothing.

But his hand moved once.

He picked up the tea bowl, took a sip, and set it back down.

Li Shimin watched that hand.

Watched it for a while.

Then he spoke again.

“The inner palace has been busy lately.”

A trace of confusion flickered across Zhou Xiong’s face, but it vanished quickly as he looked toward Li Shimin again.

Li Shimin said, “The Empress is close to giving birth.”

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused.

Just once.

Li Shimin saw it.

He paused briefly, then continued.

“The imperial physicians say it should happen within the next few days. Counting the dates, it’ll be sometime in the sixth month.”

After saying that, he looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong did not speak.

He looked at Li Shimin.

Something stirred within those eyes.

It was curiosity.

Li Shimin grew slightly uncomfortable under that gaze.

So he asked:

“What is it?”

Zhou Xiong did not answer.

He lowered his head.

Looked at the tea bowl in his hand.

The tea inside had long since turned warm under the sun, yet he still did not drink it.

He simply stared at it.

Li Shimin sat beside him and waited for a while.

Seeing that he still would not speak, he did not press further.

He simply sat there, keeping him company.

The room fell quiet.

Only the cicadas outside kept chirping endlessly.

After a long while—

Zhou Xiong suddenly spoke.

“June?”

Li Shimin froze for a moment.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong was looking back at him.

That gaze—

It was like he was asking a question whose answer he already knew.

Li Shimin thought for a bit.

“The imperial physicians calculated it should be around mid-June. The exact day still isn’t certain.”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

He stared at the light spilling through the doorway.

For a long time.

It seemed he already knew who Empress Zhangsun was carrying.

Then he said something.

“That child’s full-month banquet…”

He paused.

Li Shimin waited for him to continue.

Zhou Xiong turned his head and looked at him.

“I’m rather interested in attending.”

Li Shimin was stunned.

He just sat there, staring at Zhou Xiong.

Those words—

Did they sound like something he would say?

Yes… and not quite.

Zhou Xiong really was someone who enjoyed lively occasions.

But he wouldn’t even enter court, refused rewards, and could hardly be bothered to hear words of thanks.

The imperial palace should have been the place he avoided most.

A full-month banquet?

That didn’t seem like the kind of excitement he would involve himself in.

Yet hearing those words come from his mouth didn’t feel strange either.

It was as though—

As though this was the sort of thing he would have said in the first place.

Only, over the years, he had stopped saying such things.

Li Shimin sat there, thoughts turning over again and again in his head.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong looked back at him.

The two simply stared at each other.

The forge hadn’t been lit today, so the room wasn’t particularly hot, but Li Shimin felt sweat gathering on his back.

He finally spoke.

“You… want to go?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Very lightly.

Li Shimin watched that nod.

For the span of three breaths.

Then he suddenly smiled.

A faint smile.

“Alright,” he said.

“Since you’re interested, when the time comes, I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

Li Shimin stood up.

He walked to the doorway and stopped.

Then turned back to look at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong was still sitting there, looking down at the tea bowl in his hand.

Li Shimin watched him for a while.

Then he pushed the door open and left.

Fang Xuanling followed behind him.

The two men walked into the alley, gradually disappearing into the distance.

Their footsteps faded away.

The room became quiet once more.

Zhou Yi ran in and stopped beside his father.

“Dad, what did Uncle Li say?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t answer.

He looked toward the doorway.

For a very long time.

Then he stood up.

Walked to the workbench.

Picked up the half-forged piece of iron.

And placed it into the furnace.

He lit the fire.

The flames slowly grew brighter, flickering across his face in alternating light and shadow.

Zhou Yi stood behind him, watching his father.

Wasn’t he not working today?

He didn’t know what had just happened.

But he knew something was off with his father.

Not that kind of off.

Another kind.

He couldn’t explain it.

He watched that back.

For a long time.

Then he walked back to the doorway and squatted down.

Picked up the twig again.

And continued drawing on the ground.

As he scratched absentmindedly, he suddenly remembered the expression on Li Shimin’s face when he left earlier.

What kind of expression was that?

He couldn’t explain it.

But he remembered it.

The furnace crackled softly.

Outside, the cicadas were still screaming.

Zhi zhi zhi.

Zhi zhi zhi.

Endlessly.