The old man, long accustomed to being bullied at Da Xia Tai, never expected anyone to visit him so earnestly and speak to him so calmly. He quickly rose to greet his guest, laughing heartily, “These days, I can’t say whether they’re good or bad—no point comparing, so I just get by, muddling along.”
With an apologetic expression, the old man said, “This old man has no wine to offer a guest, not even a decent stool. I’m sorry, honored guest. If you don’t mind, young master, how about sitting on this tree stump?”
Xu Fengnian waved his hand. “No need, elder. I’m not particular. Otherwise, would I have come empty-handed? Don’t mind me. I just came because our last chat was enjoyable, and I wanted to continue.”
The old man was taken aback. After years of solitude and countless scornful looks, he never imagined encountering someone so naturally warm. He stood awkwardly, unsure whether to sit or remain standing.
Xu Fengnian gently pressed him back onto the stump and crouched nearby, keeping a respectful distance of four or five steps.
The young girl Xu Baozao wandered off, unconvinced that these two unrelated men could possibly have anything meaningful to discuss.
The old man claimed to be just muddling through, but despite his years of aimlessness, he had seen much of the world. He knew this refined outsider hadn’t come idly. Smiling, he said, “Speak plainly, young master. But let me warn you—I’m a simple man, timid, just a lowly sweeper at Da Xia Tai. I can’t imagine how I could help you.”
Xu Fengnian nodded and gazed at the nearby fence, cutting to the chase. “During the Spring and Autumn Wars, fourteen swordsmen from Da Xia Tai joined Xu Xiao’s army, guarding key advisors and young officers. Twelve died in two years—seven on the battlefield, five outside the tents. Only two returned. Xu’s chief advisor often said, ‘Without those fourteen heroes, there’d be no victory at Xileibi, no invincible Northern Liang cavalry.'”
The old man grew increasingly uneasy, waving his hands. “Young master, why tell an old fool like me such grand tales? I may be proud of Da Xia Tai’s history, but if you seek reminiscence, speak to our sect leader or even Han Hengqu. Don’t waste time on a drunkard like me!”
Xu Fengnian remained unmoved, locking eyes with him. “After Xu’s cavalry rose to power and helped the court conquer half of Western Chu, Da Xia Tai’s fortunes declined. It grew… unprosperous.”
The old man’s expression turned numb, as if the words meant nothing to him.
Xu Fengnian continued slowly, “The two surviving swordsmen, once brothers willing to die for each other, began to argue. One believed their Descending the Mountain mission was righteous, worth the sacrifice. The other felt their chivalry had cost twelve lives and crippled the sect. With the Inheritance of God, Meaning, and air on the verge of extinction, how could they face their ancestors? He insisted on yielding—even if reluctantly—to the court’s recruitment, sending disciples to the Ministry of Justice…”
Fu the Elder suddenly stood, roaring, “Enough!”
Trembling with rage, his face ashen, he spat, “Who are you to judge Da Xia Tai’s past?!”
The disheveled old man’s aura flared as he took a menacing step forward. “Get out!”
Yet Xu Fengnian remained rooted, silent, as if stunned.
With a bitter laugh, the old man retreated to the stump, lost in thought.
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Elder Fu, do you take me for a Zhao Gou spy or some Rivers and Lakes lackey?”
The old man’s dull eyes showed no reaction.
Xu Fengnian suddenly said, “There’s a ten-word creed for life: ‘Follow reason, embrace humanity, stay balanced and harmonious.'”
The old man jolted as if seeing a ghost, staggering back in shock.
Xu Fengnian stood. “Yes, my master Li Yishan said it.”
Tears streamed down the old man’s face—shock, joy, resentment, all mingling in his gaze.
Xu Fengnian whispered, “I’m sorry for coming late. But passing by without paying respects would’ve haunted me. Forgive me, Elder Fu.”
The old man slumped onto the stump, utterly drained. “Too late… far too late. After struggling so long, Da Xia Tai finally sees dawn. We’re thriving now, with the court’s favor. So you, Xu… whoever you are, shouldn’t have come. What’s the point? An apology? My life’s set—what could you possibly give me? And it wouldn’t be what I want. I’m content now—drinking, sweeping, watching my grandchildren grow. I ask for nothing more. Your visit suffices. No wine offered, none received. Clean and simple—the best way.”
Xu Fengnian hesitated.
The old man waved, a faint smile on his weathered face. The once-tormented swordsman now spoke with rare peace. “Truth be told, even after returning Middle-aged and accidentally killing my brother, I long believed I was right. I swore Da Xia Tai’s swordsmen lived for chivalry—even without swords, we’d never abandon righteousness. I clung to that… until old age brought regret. Now, I often think: without descendants, my life would’ve been wasted.”
He chuckled. “Xu Fengnian of Northern Liang, do you find this old man pathetic?”
After a long pause, Xu Fengnian answered irrelevantly, “Elder Fu, those children are bright and handsome.”
The old man froze, then burst into laughter. Waving his sleeve, he boomed, “Like father, like son—both damn flatterers! Now scram!”
Xu Fengnian clasped his fists, grinning. “Next time, I’ll bring wine.”
The old man chuckled, closed his eyes, and basked in the sun.
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