HNYWEF -Chapter 93 The Illness Caused by Idleness

In the nineteenth day of the fifth month, in the third year of the Zhenguan era.

The doors of the Zhou family blacksmith shop were closed.

It was the first time.

Not because of a festival, not because of a family visit—but because there was no water.

A drought.

The water level in the well dropped day by day. In the end, the authorities issued an order: water-consuming trades like blacksmithing were to be suspended for now. Wait until it rains.

Zhou Xiong sat in the courtyard, staring at the closed door.

He stared for a long time.

He had originally been waiting to laugh at Li Shimin’s jokes—but in the end, he couldn’t even laugh at himself anymore.

Zhou Hong came out from the house, carrying two bowls of cold tea. He handed one to Zhou Xiong and sat down beside him.

“Brother, drink some tea.”

Zhou Xiong took it, but didn’t drink.

Just held it.

Zhou Hong didn’t say anything either, just sat with him.

Zhou Yi squatted in the corner of the wall, using a twig to draw on the ground. After a while, he looked up at the sky. It was an unnaturally clear blue—no clouds at all.

He lowered his head again and kept drawing.

The sun was blazing hot. Cicadas screamed as if their throats were tearing apart.

The locust tree in the courtyard had its leaves curled up, wilted and drooping, as if it owed someone money.

Zhou Xiong sat there motionless.

His mind was completely empty.

No forging, nothing to do.

Bored.

He just sat like that—from morning to noon, from noon to afternoon.

Zhou Hong brought him tea again at some point.

He still didn’t drink.

Zhou Hong didn’t persuade him. He just set it down and sat back beside him, keeping him company.

Zhou Yi secretly glanced at his father from the corner.

His father’s face had returned to how it used to be.

Not cold—just empty.

Nothing in his eyes at all.

And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Zhou Yi lowered his head and kept scratching at the ground.

A dull heaviness pressed in his chest.

In the afternoon, footsteps came from the alley.

Dong dong dong, dong dong dong—anyone could tell it was Cheng Yaojin.

Zhou Yi raised his head to look.

Cheng Yaojin strode in, carrying two jars of wine, sweat streaming down his face.

The moment he entered, he shouted:

“Bear Cub! Bear Cub! I brought you wine!”

Zhou Xiong didn’t move.

Cheng Yaojin walked up to him, dropped the wine on the ground, and sat down heavily beside him.

“What’s wrong? I heard your shop’s closed?”

Zhou Xiong didn’t speak.

Cheng Yaojin glanced at him.

And his heart suddenly tightened.

That look—

He had seen it before.

Last year—no, the year before, when Zhou Xiong had just arrived in Chang’an.

That same emptiness. That same nothingness.

He opened his mouth.

“Bear Cub?”

Zhou Xiong still didn’t respond.

Cheng Yaojin scratched his head.

He looked at Zhou Hong, then at Zhou Yi squatting in the corner.

Zhou Hong shook his head slightly.

Cheng Yaojin became even more troubled.

He leaned closer.

“Hey, it’s just a few days of stoppage. Once it rains, you reopen. It’s not like you’re not allowed to do business anymore.”

Zhou Xiong didn’t move.

After a moment, Cheng Yaojin said again:

“Or we drink? Drinking helps kill boredom.”

Still no response.

Cheng Yaojin scratched his head again.

Then he suddenly looked at Zhou Hong.

“You’re his younger brother?”

Zhou Hong nodded.

Cheng Yaojin said, “You know what he used to be like?”

Zhou Hong froze slightly.

Cheng Yaojin didn’t wait for an answer.

“When I first knew him, he was only in his early twenties. Talkative, always laughing—laughed like he didn’t have a care in the world, like an idiot. He cursed when stitching wounds, cursed when fighting, cursed when drinking—and then laughed right after.”

As he spoke, he even laughed a little himself.

Zhou Hong sat there awkwardly the entire time, not saying a word.

Cheng Yaojin continued:

“Then something happened. His wife died. He took the child and left—didn’t come back for nine years.”

He paused.

“After nine years, when I saw him again, he had become like this.”

He pointed at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong sat there motionless.

Cheng Yaojin looked at Zhou Hong.

“Do you know how he lived those nine years?”

Zhou Hong shook his head.

“I don’t either,” Cheng Yaojin said. “All I know is he lived alone outside the city, forging iron, saving people, never interacting with anyone.”

He glanced at Zhou Xiong again.

“Last year he finally started to recover—started smiling, started cursing again. This year… and now this again…”

As he was speaking, something suddenly felt wrong.

Zhou Xiong moved.

Zhou Xiong turned his head and looked at him.

That gaze—

Zhou Xiong spoke.

A hoarse voice squeezed out from his throat, clearly carrying anger.

“Cheng Yaojin.”

Cheng Yaojin took half a step back.

Zhou Xiong stood up.

And stood right in front of him.

“Do you really think I don’t exist, you damn fool?”

Cheng Yaojin opened his mouth.

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

“I just had no water to forge iron, so I sat there spacing out. I’m just idle, that’s all!”

He took another step forward.

Cheng Yaojin took another step back.

“Am I dead? Paralyzed? Or mute?”

Zhou Xiong’s voice grew louder and louder.

“You come right up to me, right in front of me, and tell my younger brother what I was like before—do you think I’m already dead?!”

Cheng Yaojin backed all the way to the wall, his back hitting it hard.

He looked at Zhou Xiong—and suddenly laughed.

Zhou Xiong froze for a moment.

“What are you laughing at?”

Cheng Yaojin laughed even harder.

Zhou Xiong just stood there, staring at him.

Cheng Yaojin pushed himself off the wall and dusted himself off.

“You’re angry. Good. Now I feel at ease.”

He walked over, picked up the two jars of wine, and shoved them into Zhou Xiong’s hands.

“Drink. Finish it and keep scolding me.”

Zhou Xiong looked at the wine in his hands.

Then at Cheng Yaojin.

Cheng Yaojin was smiling—grinning like he had just picked up a treasure.

Zhou Xiong looked up at the sky and stayed silent for three breaths.

Then he spoke.

“Get lost!”

Just one word.

Cheng Yaojin laughed even more happily.

“Alright, alright, I’ll get lost. I’ll get lost. Keep the wine—I’ll come again tomorrow.”

He strode toward the exit.

But when he reached the door, he suddenly stopped.

He turned back and looked at Zhou Xiong.

“Bear Fool.”

Cheng Yaojin said:

“What you just said while scolding me—it sounded pretty good. Say more tomorrow.”

With that, he pushed the door open and left.

His footsteps faded into the distance.

The courtyard fell quiet again.

Zhou Xiong stood there, holding the two jars of wine.

Zhou Hong looked at his brother.

Zhou Yi, crouching by the wall, also looked at his father.

“Heh…”

Zhou Xiong suddenly let out a soft laugh.

Very light.

He set the wine down on the ground and sat back in his original spot.

Zhou Hong leaned over.

“Brother, that man is…”

Zhou Xiong didn’t lift his head.

“A friend.”

Zhou Hong nodded.

He didn’t ask further.

Zhou Yi ran over from the corner and crouched beside his father.

“Dad.”

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

Zhou Yi said, “What you just said while scolding Uncle Cheng… it sounded really good.”

Zhou Xiong froze for a moment.

Then he reached out and smacked the boy on the head.

“Learn the good things, not the bad ones.”

Zhou Yi laughed and ran off.

Zhou Hong, standing nearby, also curled the corner of his mouth into a smile.

He looked at his brother for a long while.

Then he spoke.

“Brother.”

Zhou Xiong didn’t look up.

“Hmm?”

Zhou Hong said, “He just mentioned sister-in-law…”

Zhou Xiong’s hand paused.

Then he turned his head and gave him a look that could eat a man alive.

Zhou Hong immediately stood up and walked toward the inner room.

At the doorway, he stopped.

Without turning back, he said:

“I didn’t say anything.”

Then he went inside.

The curtain swayed slightly, then settled.

Zhou Xiong sat in the courtyard, staring at the curtain for a long time.

Then he lowered his head and looked at the two jars of wine.

He picked one up, pulled out the cork, and took a sip.

The wine slid down his throat, burning all the way to his stomach.

He wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or the heat of the sun.

He smacked his lips.

Took another sip.

The sun slowly tilted westward.

Cicadas kept screaming.

Endlessly.

But Zhou Xiong felt… it didn’t seem quite as annoying anymore.

Still, it was boring.