HNYWEF -Chapter 7 Nine Years

Four days had passed since the incident at Xuanwu Gate.

Cheng Yaojin didn’t want to bring up what happened that day ever again. The moment he thought about it, he remembered the blood, the corpses, the palace servants kneeling on the ground and trembling uncontrollably. And the way Jiancheng and Yuanji had looked lying there—

He had only glanced once. Never a second time.

The past few days had been so busy his feet barely touched the ground. The palace had to be cleansed, personnel replaced, edicts drafted, every faction soothed and stabilized. Li Shimin hadn’t slept for four days straight. Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui stayed up with him, their eye sockets sunken deep from exhaustion.

Cheng Yaojin was busy too, but he still managed to sneak back to the military camp for a while.

The moment the old brothers in camp saw him, they swarmed around him.

“Old Cheng! You’re back? What’s happening in the palace?”

“Has the Prince of Qin’s matter been settled yet?”

“I heard you entered the palace with the Prince that day? Did you see Jiancheng?”

The barrage of voices made Cheng Yaojin’s head ache.

He waved his hand. “Quit yelling, all of you. I got something to say.”

The crowd quieted.

Cheng Yaojin cleared his throat and swept his gaze across the men before him.

Qin Qiong wasn’t there—he was on palace duty.

But Yuchi Gong was there. Duan Zhixuan was there. Liu Hongji was there. Along with more than a dozen old brothers from the Wagang days.

Suddenly, Cheng Yaojin didn’t know how to begin.

He scratched his head, and after holding it in for a long while, finally blurted out:

“I found Blind Bear.”

The crowd fell silent for a split second.

Then it exploded.

“What?!”

“Blind Bear? Zhou Xiong?”

“That Zhou Xiong?”

“Old Cheng, say that again!”

Even though many of them had never met Zhou Xiong personally, his deeds had long since spread throughout the entire camp.

Yuchi Gong slapped Cheng Yaojin hard on the shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways. “You’re not joking?”

Rubbing his shoulder, Cheng Yaojin glared at him. “Why the hell would I joke about this? On the night of the third, I was carrying the Prince of Qin out of the city, and somehow I ended up knocking on his door!”

Duan Zhixuan squeezed forward. “Where is he? Outside the city? Where’s he living?”

Liu Hongji crowded in too. “He’s still alive? How’s he doing?”

Cheng Yaojin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

The crowd quieted again.

Yuchi Gong frowned at his expression. “Old Cheng, say something already.”

Cheng Yaojin scratched his head.

“He’s alive,” he said. “Still alive.”

Everyone let out a breath of relief.

Then Cheng Yaojin added, “I saw his son too. Eleven years old now. Looks exactly like his mother.”

The crowd froze.

Someone quietly said, “His wife… didn’t she pass away?”

Cheng Yaojin didn’t answer that.

He lowered his head and stared at the tip of his boot. After a long while, he finally spoke again.

“But he’s changed.”

Yuchi Gong asked, “How?”

Cheng Yaojin looked up at the old Wagang brothers.

“Do you remember what he used to be like?”

Everyone nodded.

Of course they remembered.

That kid talked more than anyone. His mouth never stopped moving all day long.

When he laughed, he looked carefree and foolish, like he had no worries in the world.

Cheng Yaojin said, “Now he doesn’t say a single word.”

Silence filled the room.

“And when he looks at people,” Cheng Yaojin continued, “his eyes are empty. Like… like a room someone lived in for ten years that suddenly got cleared out, leaving nothing behind.”

Nobody spoke.

Yuchi Gong lowered his head, lost in thought.

Duan Zhixuan looked at Cheng Yaojin, lips moving slightly, but no sound came out.

Suddenly, Liu Hongji cursed.

“Damn it.”

After cursing, he turned and walked away.

But after two steps, he turned back around.

“Where does he live?”

Cheng Yaojin answered, “South of the city. Head toward the mountains. There’s a forest, and beside it stands a lone house.”

Liu Hongji nodded and started to leave again.

Cheng Yaojin grabbed him. “Where are you going?”

Liu Hongji shook off his hand. “I’m going to see him.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

Cheng Yaojin looked at him for a moment, then suddenly said, “And if you go… then what?”

“You weren’t even that close to him…”

Liu Hongji stopped.

With his back to the crowd, he stood there for a long time.

Then he turned around, walked back, and dropped heavily onto a stool.

“That incident…” he said quietly with his head lowered, “it’s been nine years now, hasn’t it?”

No one answered.

Nine years ago. The Copper Banner Formation.

Everyone present knew what had happened that day. Li Shimin had made a mistake, and Zhou Xiong’s wife had died.

Zhou Xiong had held his son—still only crawling then—in his arms. Without saying a word, he turned and left.

People had tried to stop him.

But Zhou Xiong only said one sentence:

“Move.”

Cheng Yaojin still remembered that look in his eyes.

So he moved aside.

Everyone moved aside.

Afterward, they searched for him. One year. Two years. Three years. They never found him. Eventually, they assumed he was dead.

But now he was alive.

And he had become like this.

Yuchi Gong said in a muffled voice, “Anyone would change after something like that.”

Duan Zhixuan added, “He saved so many people, but in the end, he couldn’t even save his own wife.”

Suddenly, Liu Hongji looked up.

“How do you think he held himself back when he saw the Prince of Qin?”

No one answered.

Cheng Yaojin remembered that night—how Zhou Xiong had opened the door for the first time, seen the man in his arms, and then shut the door again.

…

But in the end, he had still saved him.

Saved the man who caused his wife’s death.

Cheng Yaojin lowered his head and looked at his own hands.

That night, those same hands had carried Li Shimin and knocked on that door.

For the first time, he suddenly didn’t know whether what he had done was right or wrong.

The room remained silent for a long time.

Yuchi Gong stood up and walked to the window, staring at the sky outside.

“Nine years,” he said. “He raised that child alone for nine whole years.”

Liu Hongji muttered, “His son’s eleven now… When his wife died, that kid was only a few months old. He probably didn’t even know how to feed a baby. How the hell did he raise him?”

No one knew.

Suddenly, Cheng Yaojin remembered that gourd.

That jug of wine.

Bitter and harsh, tasting almost like horse piss.

But after only one sip, his eyes had burned with tears.

Because it tasted like Wagang.

Like the days when that chatterbox kid was still around.

Cheng Yaojin stood up.

“Once things settle down on the Prince of Qin’s side,” he said, “let’s go see him together.”

Liu Hongji raised his head. “Do you think he’ll let us through the door?”

Cheng Yaojin thought for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

He paused.

“But his son looks just like his wife. And when he smiles, even more so.”

Liu Hongji froze for a moment.

Then he lowered his head again and said nothing more.

The room was deathly quiet.