HNYWEF -Chapter 72 A Gentleman Keeps His Talents Hidden

The guest room was small.

One bed, one table, two chairs. A faded landscape painting hung on the wall, its corners curled with age. Moonlight filtered through the paper window, casting a pale white glow across the room.

Zhou Yi sat on the edge of the bed, watching his father.

Zhou Xiong stood by the window with his back to him. He held a bowl of tea in his hand—whether it was hot or cold, no one knew. He just held it without drinking.

The lamp oil was nearly gone. The flame flickered weakly, stretching the shadows long and short.

Zhou Yi opened his mouth.

The words circled on his tongue three times before finally coming out.

“Dad.”

Zhou Xiong didn’t turn around.

“Mhm.”

Zhou Yi swallowed.

“I want to ask you something.”

Still without turning around, Zhou Xiong replied,

“Ask.”

Zhou Yi looked at his father’s back.

That back was too familiar to him. He had seen it since childhood—standing, sitting, crouched in a corner with his head lowered, standing at the forge hammering iron.

But tonight, that back seemed… different somehow.

He couldn’t explain what was different.

Finally, he spoke.

“Dad… what else can you actually do?”

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused.

Just for a moment.

But Zhou Yi noticed.

He continued, “You can forge iron, treat illnesses, write poetry, tell stories, and all kinds of things I’ve never even heard of before. How much do you really know?”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

He set the tea bowl down.

Then he turned around and looked at Zhou Yi.

Moonlight filtered through the window paper and fell across his face. There was no expression on that face, yet something moved deep inside his eyes.

He spoke.

His voice was hoarse.

“You want to know?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

For three breaths.

Then suddenly, he stepped forward.

Standing in front of Zhou Yi, he said:

“Qin.”

One word.

Zhou Yi froze.

“Qin?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“Chess.”

Another word.

Zhou Yi’s mouth fell open.

Zhou Xiong continued:

“Calligraphy. Painting.”

After saying those four things, he stood there, looking at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi sat frozen for a long while.

His eyes widened as he stared at his father.

The four arts?

His father?

The same father who forged iron every day, cursed people out, and got called “Blind Bear”?

He opened his mouth.

Wanted to say something.

But had no idea what to say.

Seeing his expression, the corner of Zhou Xiong’s mouth twitched slightly.

Just once.

Then he spoke.

“I’ve mastered them all.”

At last, Zhou Yi forced out a sentence.

“Dad… you’re joking, right?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t answer.

He turned and walked to the table.

The bundle was sitting there. He untied it, took out a sheet of paper, then pulled out a charcoal stick from inside his robe.

Zhou Yi leaned closer to look.

It was a yellowed sheet of paper, folded into a neat square. The edges were worn soft with age.

Zhou Xiong spread it across the table, and the charcoal began scratching softly.

After about the time it took an incense stick to burn, Zhou Yi lowered his head for a look—

It was a painting.

Mountains, water, trees, rocks.

The mountains stretched into the distance. The water seemed to flow. The trees leaned in the wind. The rocks crouched heavily. There were also several lines of dense writing he couldn’t understand.

But he understood the painting.

It was beautiful.

Just… beautiful.

He couldn’t explain why it was beautiful. It simply was.

Zhou Xiong looked at the painting for a while.

Zhou Yi lifted his head and looked at his father.

There was still no expression on Zhou Xiong’s face, but as he looked at the painting, something stirred in his eyes.

Zhou Yi looked back at the painting.

For a long time.

Then he raised his head again.

“Then why have you never talked about it? Never shown anyone?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t answer.

He folded the painting and put it back into the bundle.

Tied it shut.

Then he turned to Zhou Yi.

“Would you stand naked in front of other people?”

Zhou Yi froze.

For a moment, he didn’t understand.

Zhou Xiong didn’t wait for a reply.

“I wouldn’t.”

His voice was quiet.

“The things I know… are me.”

He paused.

“To show one thing to others is like taking off one piece of clothing. Show ten things, and you’re stripped bare.”

He looked at Zhou Yi.

“Would you want to stand naked in the middle of the street?”

Zhou Yi sat there with his mouth open.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

That face was still the same face.

But those eyes had suddenly become unfathomably deep.

So deep that he couldn’t see the bottom.

Suddenly, he remembered something.

The time Fang Xuanling had delivered the invitation.

His father had torn it apart and thrown it to the ground.

Then turned around and scolded him—

“You’re the same!”

At the time, he hadn’t understood.

Now, he thought he understood a little.

His father hadn’t been unwilling to let him attend the poetry gathering.

He simply didn’t want him “taking off his clothes” in front of others.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong stood there under the moonlight.

Zhou Yi had watched that silhouette for more than ten years.

But tonight, it felt like he was truly seeing it for the first time.

He spoke softly.

“You don’t want me showing off in front of others?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Zhou Yi lowered his head and looked at his hands.

Calluses covered them, worn there from forging iron.

He stared at them for a long while.

Then he looked up again.

“Dad… I think I understand.”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

Zhou Yi added,

“But I also feel like I don’t completely understand.”

Something moved in Zhou Xiong’s eyes.

Just slightly.

Then suddenly, he laughed.

A very soft laugh.

“Then take your time understanding.”

Zhou Yi froze for a moment.

Then he laughed too.

Softly.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, spilling across the floor in pale white patches.

The lamp oil finally ran out.

The flame flickered twice—

and died.

The room darkened.

Only the moonlight remained.

Father and son sat together in the darkness without speaking.

After a while, Zhou Xiong finally said:

“Sleep. We still have to travel tomorrow.”

Zhou Yi nodded.

He lay down and pulled the blanket over himself.

Closed his eyes.

But his mind was still turning over those words.

As the thoughts spun around and around, he suddenly remembered something.

“Dad.”

A voice sounded in the darkness.

“Mhm.”

Zhou Yi asked,

“The things you mentioned… qin, chess, calligraphy, painting… you’re really proficient in all of them?”

Silence lingered in the dark for a moment.

Then Zhou Xiong’s voice sounded again.

“Really.”

Zhou Yi froze.

“Then how did you learn them?”

Another pause.

Then Zhou Xiong replied:

“Born with it.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

“Born with it?”

“Mhm.”

Zhou Yi stared blankly for a second.

Then suddenly burst out laughing.

The blanket shook with it.

“Dad, you’re bragging!”

From the darkness came Zhou Xiong’s voice again.

“What bragging? Go to sleep.”

Zhou Yi held back his laughter and closed his eyes.

But the corners of his mouth still curled upward.

Moonlight shone across the bed, across his face.

And that lifted smile glowed softly in the moonlight.