HNYWEF -Chapter 75 The Grand Canal

The restaurant wasn’t big, but it was clean.

The father and son sat by the window. On the table were two dishes, a bowl of soup, and a pot of wine.

Zhou Yi kept his head down, shoveling rice into his mouth, his chopsticks moving fast. They had walked for half the day, and he was starving.

Zhou Xiong ate slowly.

One bite of food, one sip of wine, then another glance out the window at the street outside.

Night had already fallen.

The shops were closing up, and the number of pedestrians had thinned out. Every now and then, a carriage rolled past, its wheels rumbling over the stone road.

Zhou Yi stuffed the last mouthful of rice into his mouth, chewing as he looked up.

His father was watching him.

Zhou Yi froze for a moment.

“Dad?”

Zhou Xiong set down his wine bowl.

“You full?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

Zhou Xiong looked at him for a while.

Then he spoke.

“Want to go visit Jiangnan?”

Zhou Yi stared blankly.

His chopsticks were still in his hand, and he hadn’t even swallowed the rice in his mouth yet.

Jiangnan?

He had heard of the place before.

Back in Chang’an, whenever merchants talked about Jiangnan, their eyes would light up. They said Jiangnan was wonderful—beautiful scenery, beautiful girls, everything about it was good.

But he had never imagined he might go there himself.

He swallowed the mouthful of rice.

“Jiangnan? How far away is that?”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

He picked up his wine bowl and took a sip.

Zhou Yi thought for a moment.

He knew nothing about geography. He only knew that from Chang’an to Luoyang to Bianzhou, they had already walked for many days.

Where was Jiangnan?

Farther than Bianzhou, probably. How long would it take to get there?

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

“Dad, we’ve only got two legs. If we walk all the way to Jiangnan, won’t it take forever?”

Zhou Xiong set down the bowl.

He looked at Zhou Yi, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Just slightly.

Then he said:

“By boat.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

“By boat?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“The Bian River flows south into the Huai River. The Huai River flows south into the Han Canal. The Han Canal flows south into the Yangtze. Cross the Yangtze, and that’s Jiangnan.”

He spoke slowly, one word at a time, like he was teaching Zhou Yi the route.

As Zhou Yi listened, his eyes gradually lit up.

“You can get there just by boat?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“A few days.”

Zhou Yi parted his lips.

A few days?

From Bianzhou to Jiangnan in just a few days?

He had never known that.

Then something suddenly occurred to him.

“Dad, who dug this river? How’s it so amazing?”

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused.

Just for a moment.

He looked out into the night beyond the window for a long while.

Then he spoke.

“Emperor Yang of Sui.”

Zhou Yi froze.

Emperor Yang of Sui?

He had heard that name before.

Back in Chang’an, whenever adults mentioned him, they always spoke through gritted teeth. They called him cruel, incompetent, said countless people died digging the canal.

He blinked.

“The… that tyrant?”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

He stared outside for a long time.

So long that Zhou Yi thought he wouldn’t answer at all.

Then Zhou Xiong nodded.

“It was him.”

Zhou Yi was even more stunned.

His father actually nodded?

That tyrant?

After thinking for a bit, he asked another question.

“Then was digging this canal a good thing or a bad thing?”

At last Zhou Xiong turned to look at him.

Zhou Yi couldn’t understand that look in his eyes.

But Zhou Xiong spoke.

His voice was soft.

“A sin for his generation, a merit for a thousand autumns.”

Zhou Yi froze.

He recognized every single one of those words.

But together, he couldn’t quite understand them.

A sin for his generation?

A merit for a thousand autumns?

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

But Zhou Xiong didn’t explain further.

He lifted his wine bowl, took a sip, then set it back down.

“Want to go?”

Zhou Yi snapped back to himself.

He looked at his father.

There was no expression on that face.

But something moved in his eyes.

Suddenly, Zhou Yi grinned.

“I do!”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“Then we’ll go.”

He stood up, pulled out some copper coins from his robe, and placed them on the table.

Zhou Yi hurriedly got to his feet as well.

When they reached the doorway, Zhou Xiong suddenly stopped.

He turned around and looked at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi blinked under that gaze.

“Dad?”

Zhou Xiong said, “Remember what I said just now.”

Zhou Yi blinked again.

“Which part?”

Zhou Xiong replied:

“A sin for his generation, a merit for a thousand autumns.”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“I’ll remember.”

Zhou Xiong gave him one more look.

Then he pushed open the door and walked out.

Zhou Yi followed after him.

Outside, the street was completely dark now. Only a few shops still had their lanterns lit, warm yellow light spilling through the cracks in their doors onto the ground.

Zhou Yi walked beside his father.

After a while, he suddenly spoke.

“Dad.”

“Mm?”

“Was that Emperor Yang of Sui really that bad?”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

Zhou Yi waited a bit.

Then asked again:

“Then was the canal he dug really that great?”

Zhou Xiong still didn’t answer.

But suddenly, he reached out and lightly smacked Zhou Yi on the head.

Very lightly.

Zhou Yi looked up at him.

Zhou Xiong wasn’t looking back.

He was staring ahead into the night.

After a while, he finally spoke.

“The people and things in this world aren’t simply black and white.”

Zhou Yi froze for a moment.

Zhou Xiong continued:

“Good people can do bad things. Bad people can do good things. You’ll understand slowly.”

After saying that, he continued walking forward.

Zhou Yi stood there, watching his father’s back.

For a long while.

Then he hurried after him,

walking beside his father once more.

He didn’t ask anything else.

But those eight words kept turning over in his heart:

“A sin for his generation, a merit for a thousand autumns.”