HNYWEF -Chapter 78 Broken Blade

Second year of Zhenguan, third day of the tenth month.

The weather had turned cold, and the sun was setting earlier too.

Most of the leaves had already fallen from the locust trees in the alley. The few remaining ones clung to the branches, yellow and shriveled, swaying whenever the wind blew.

The doors of the Zhou family smithy were open, the forge burning fiercely.

Zhou Xiong stood before the long workbench, hammer rising and falling steadily as he forged a hoe.

Beside him, Zhou Yi worked the bellows—pulling for a while, resting for a while, his eyes drifting outside every so often.

Footsteps came from the mouth of the alley.

Not one person, but several. Fast steps. Boots striking the stone pavement with a rapid clatter.

Zhou Yi poked his head out to look—

Leading them was a middle-aged man in a silk-faced jacket, belly jutting out, his expression unpleasant. Behind him followed two assistants in short work clothes, carrying a wooden box and panting heavily as they walked.

The man stopped at the entrance of the smithy.

He glanced inside.

“Blacksmith Zhou?”

Zhou Xiong lifted his head and looked at him.

“What is it?”

Zhou Xiong recognized the man—Manager Sun from a restaurant in the Eastern Market.

The man hesitated for a moment. The “Blacksmith Zhou” he had heard about was supposed to be a taciturn dullard. He hadn’t expected him to sound perfectly normal once he spoke.

He stepped over the threshold while the two assistants set the wooden box on the ground.

The man reached into the box, took something out, and placed it on the workbench.

A kitchen cleaver.

A cleaver snapped clean in two.

The blade had broken off, the fracture fresh.

Zhou Xiong set down his hammer and picked up the broken knife, examining the cross-section.

Uneven thickness. Stress fractures left behind during quenching.

The man spoke beside him, voice restrained but clearly simmering with anger.

“Blacksmith Zhou, you made this knife, didn’t you?”

Zhou Xiong said nothing and continued examining it.

“Half a month ago, my boss had me order two vegetable cleavers from you. Said a friend recommended you, said your craftsmanship was good. And what happened? Half a month—just half a month—and one already snapped!”

The more he spoke, the angrier he became. He pointed at the broken blade.

“The cooks in the back kitchen are saying I bought cheap junk to save money and delayed meal service. My boss didn’t say anything, but where am I supposed to put my face now?”

Zhou Xiong set the knife down.

He looked at Manager Sun, expression unchanged.

“If the knife broke, then compensation is only right.”

Manager Sun froze.

He had spent the whole trip preparing arguments, ready to have it out with this blacksmith.

Instead, the man admitted fault immediately.

Zhou Xiong continued, “Come back in three days. I’ll forge you a new one. I’ll take this blade back. No extra charge.”

Manager Sun opened his mouth.

His anger got stuck halfway. He couldn’t vent it, but he couldn’t swallow it either.

He stared at Zhou Xiong for three breaths.

Zhou Xiong stared back at him.

After holding it in for a long while, Manager Sun finally squeezed out one sentence:

“This time it better not break!”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“Don’t worry.”

Just two words.

But for some reason, after hearing them, most of Manager Sun’s anger disappeared.

He looked at Zhou Xiong, then at the half-grown boy standing nearby, and suddenly asked:

“Your son?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Manager Sun smiled at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi didn’t know how to react, so he nodded back awkwardly.

Manager Sun withdrew his gaze and waved at the two assistants.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The two assistants lifted the wooden box and followed him out.

At the doorway, Manager Sun turned back around.

“Three days!”

Zhou Xiong waved a hand at him.

Manager Sun left.

The footsteps gradually faded away.

The smithy became quiet again.

Zhou Yi stood to the side, not daring to make a sound the entire time.

He looked at the broken knife, then at his father.

Zhou Xiong picked the broken blade back up and examined it once more.

Then he set it onto the workbench.

“Zhou Yi.”

Zhou Yi’s heart skipped.

Whenever his father called him by his full name, it usually meant nothing good.

Zhou Xiong looked at him, face completely expressionless.

“You made this knife, didn’t you?”

Zhou Yi stood frozen, his face instantly turning pale.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, yet not knowing what to say.

Zhou Xiong didn’t wait for him to answer.

“That day, I stepped out for a while and told you to watch the last blade.”

Zhou Yi lowered his head.

“I…”

Zhou Xiong cut him off.

“When you were quenching it, what were you thinking about?”

Zhou Yi said nothing.

Zhou Xiong waited a moment.

“Thinking about Cheng Chumo asking you to go play with him?”

Zhou Yi’s face went even paler.

He lifted his head and looked at his father.

Zhou Xiong looked back at him.

That look—not angry, just watching, waiting.

Zhou Yi held it in for a long while before finally forcing out a sentence.

“I… I wasn’t focused.”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“As long as you know that.”

He pushed the broken blade toward Zhou Yi.

“Take it.”

Zhou Yi froze for a second, then took the knife.

Zhou Xiong turned and walked to the furnace, picking up the piece of iron stock.

Zhou Yi thought he was about to start forging a new blade.

Instead, Zhou Xiong set the iron aside, picked up the rag, and wiped his hands.

Then he sat down on the bench.

Zhou Yi stood there clutching the broken knife, having no idea what his father was planning to do.

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

“In three days, when that steward comes to pick up the knife, you’ll be the one handing it over.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

“Me?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“You’re the one who snapped the blade during quenching. You hand him the new knife and explain it yourself.”

Zhou Yi opened his mouth.

Zhou Xiong didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Just two sentences—‘The last blade was forged by me. This one was forged by my father. Use it without worry.’”

Zhou Yi stood there as his palms started sweating.

It felt worse than getting scolded by his father.

He looked at Zhou Xiong, eyes carrying a hint of pleading.

Zhou Xiong looked back at him.

“What, you don’t dare?”

Zhou Yi swallowed.

“I do.”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

“That’s enough, then.”

He stood up, walked to the doorway, and glanced outside.

The sky beyond was gray and overcast, and there was hardly anyone in the alley.

Standing behind him, Zhou Yi suddenly spoke up.

“Dad.”

Without turning around, Zhou Xiong answered,

“Mm?”

Zhou Yi said, “What if Steward Sun scolds me?”

Zhou Xiong thought for a moment.

“If he scolds you, then listen.”

Zhou Yi froze.

Zhou Xiong turned back and glanced at him.

“You snapped the man’s blade during quenching, and you won’t even let him curse you out a little?”

Zhou Yi opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Zhou Xiong turned back again and kept looking outside.

“After he’s done scolding you, hand him the knife and say those two sentences. Then he won’t scold you anymore.”

Zhou Yi stood there thinking about it for a long time.

“Why?”

Zhou Xiong said, “Because I forged the blade. Once he knows that, he’ll know it won’t break again.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

It felt like he understood.

And yet not completely.

Zhou Xiong stood there for a while before turning around and walking back inside.

He took the broken blade from Zhou Yi’s hands and looked at it once more.

“Keep this blade.”

Zhou Yi blinked.

“Keep it for what?”

Zhou Xiong said, “To remind you.”

He placed the broken knife on the very top shelf, the place usually out of reach.

Zhou Yi tilted his head up to look.

The blade rested there in two pieces, the pale fracture glaring white.

Zhou Xiong clapped his hands lightly.

“Alright. Close up.”

Zhou Yi snapped back to himself and ran over to shut the door.

He turned around and glanced once at the broken blade on the top shelf.

After closing the door, he looked at it one more time.

Then he blew out the lamp and walked toward the inner room.