HNYWEF -Chapter 96 The Turkic Dance

Year 3 of the Zhenguan Reign, August 19

For the first time ever, Zhou Xiong left home alone.

No Zhou Yi, no Zhou Hong—just him.

Zhou Hong stood in the courtyard, watching his brother’s back disappear at the end of the alley, scratching his head.

“Where’s your father going?”

Zhou Yi was squatting at the doorway, not even looking up.

“Don’t know.”

Zhou Hong asked, “He didn’t take you?”

Zhou Yi replied, “He said to stay home and watch the house.”

Zhou Hong thought about it.

“Then we’ll both watch the house.”

Zhou Yi nodded and continued idly drawing on the ground with a stick.

There was no work today, so Zhou Yi could only continue this habit that had almost become routine.

Zhou Xiong walked through the streets at an unhurried pace.

The August heat had begun to fade.

A dry, cool breeze carried a hint of autumn.

The streets were still busy—people carrying loads, pushing carts, leading children—no different from usual.

But Zhou Xiong knew it was different.

Grain prices had stabilized.

The wells were full again.

The withered crops in the fields had already been replanted with late-season seedlings.

Everything was slowly recovering.

He walked without hurry, looking around as he went.

After a long while, he saw nothing unusual.

Just Chang’an as always—ordinary people living ordinary lives.

He withdrew his gaze and continued forward.

At the entrance of a narrow alley, he turned in.

After walking a bit further, he stopped in front of a gate.

Above it hung a plaque: Duke of Ying’s Residence (英國公府).

The lacquer was freshly painted, the bronze ring polished to a shine. Two servants stood at the entrance, backs straight.

Zhou Xiong stood there for a moment.

Then he stepped up the stairs.

One of the servants raised a hand to stop him.

“Who are you looking for?”

Zhou Xiong said, “Xu Maogong.”

The servant froze slightly.

Xu Maogong?

That was the duke’s old name. Who still dared to call him that now?

He sized Zhou Xiong up—plain half-worn robe, expressionless face, looked like an ordinary commoner.

“You are…?”

Zhou Xiong said, “Just tell him—the Black Blind Bear is here.”

The servant blinked.

Black Blind Bear?

The name sounded strange, but the man didn’t look like he was joking.

After a brief hesitation, he said, “Please wait a moment.”

Then he hurried inside.

Soon, footsteps came from within.

A man walked out quickly.

Li Ji (Xu Maogong)—still habitually called Xu Maogong by old comrades from the Wagang days—was wearing casual clothes, sleeves rolled up as if he had been tidying something.

He stopped at the doorway when he saw Zhou Xiong.

Froze for a breath.

Then he smiled.

“Black Blind Bear? What brings you here?”

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

“Passing by.”

Li Ji paused again.

“Passing by?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Li Ji looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

“From your place to mine, passing by takes you halfway across the city.”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

Li Ji waited a moment, saw he wasn’t going to elaborate, and didn’t press further.

He stepped aside.

“Come in.”

Zhou Xiong crossed the threshold and followed him inside.

They passed the screen wall, walked through a corridor, and entered the main hall.

The hall was a bit messy.

Several open wooden chests sat on the floor—some filled with clothes, some with documents, others with miscellaneous items.

On the table lay several maps, half-folded, with brush and ink beside them, the ink still wet.

Li Ji walked over, gathered the maps together, and cleared some space.

“Sit.”

Zhou Xiong sat down.

Li Ji sat opposite him.

He glanced at the boxes, then at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong also glanced at the boxes.

Then he looked back at Li Ji.

Li Ji spoke first.

“Tea?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Li Ji poured two bowls of tea and pushed one over.

Zhou Xiong took it, drank a sip, and set it down.

Li Ji also drank, then set his bowl down.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

“You don’t have anything you want to ask?”

Zhou Xiong said, “No.”

Li Ji froze for a moment.

“Then what are you here for?”

Zhou Xiong said, “Can’t I just drop by?”

Li Ji looked at him for a while—three breaths.

Then he suddenly laughed.

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

He picked up his teacup and took another sip.

Set it down.

Then he spoke.

“His Majesty has ordered me to campaign against the Turks.”

Zhou Xiong held his teacup without moving.

Li Ji continued, “The army is already assembled. We’ll set out in the next few days.”

He finished and looked at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong’s face showed no expression at all.

He placed the teacup down.

Looked at Li Ji.

Three breaths.

Then he spoke.

“That old thief Jieli…”

Li Ji paused.

“What?”

Zhou Xiong said, “What does he look like?”

Li Ji blinked.

“How would I know? I’ve never seen him.”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Then added, “Say… if he could come to Chang’an…”

He paused.

Li Ji waited for him to continue.

Zhou Xiong said, “If he could dance a Turkic dance for Li Er on the spot, that’d probably be pretty interesting.”

Li Ji froze.

He stared at Zhou Xiong, momentarily unable to react.

Turkic dance?

Qilibi Khan?

Come to Chang’an?

Dance for Li Shimin?

His mind turned, but couldn’t quite make sense of it.

Zhou Xiong also looked at him.

The two just faced each other in silence.

Very soon, Li Ji finally understood—and burst out laughing.

“Bear-dumb, you really do love joking.”

“Fine, I’ll take your good words.”

He lifted his cup and clinked it against Zhou Xiong’s.

Zhou Xiong also raised his cup and took a sip.

Then set it down.

He stood up.

“I’m leaving.”

Li Ji froze slightly.

“So soon?”

Zhou Xiong nodded.

Li Ji looked at him, as if he wanted to say something—but swallowed it back down.

He stood up and walked him to the door.

Zhou Xiong stepped over the threshold and walked out.

After two steps, he suddenly stopped.

He didn’t turn back.

Li Ji stood behind him, waiting.

Zhou Xiong was silent for a moment.

Then he spoke.

“Come back alive.”

Four words.

After saying that, he continued walking.

Li Ji stood at the doorway, watching his figure.

That back was steady and unhurried, just like when he came.

As he watched, Li Ji suddenly let out a soft laugh.

Very light.

He turned and went back inside.

Sat down in his chair.

Looked at the boxes, the maps, the half-packed gear.

“If Qilibi Khan could really come to Chang’an and dance a Turkic dance, that’d probably be interesting.”

He shook his head.

And smiled again.

A Turkic dance?

Only that bear-dumb man could come up with something like that.

He lifted his teacup and took a sip.

Sat there for a while.

Thinking about Zhou Xiong’s words—“come back alive.”

Thinking and thinking, he let out another soft laugh.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the sky was blue—so clear it felt almost transparent.

He looked at it for a while.

Then turned back, walked to the desk, and picked up his brush.

Kept studying the maps.

But his mind still circled that one sentence.

If he really could see Qilibi Khan dancing in Chang’an… that would indeed be quite something.

He smiled.

Then shook his head.

And continued packing.