The snow refused to cease, as if echoing the endless cries of a mischievous child.
At the rear courtyard of the Xiama Wei Posthouse, the dragon-clawed Sophora tree was draped in white.
A young assassin named Wu built a snowman in the courtyard, using two pieces of charcoal for eyes.
Xu Fengnian spotted Xuan Yuan Qingfeng lounging in a rattan chair, swaying comfortably. Not wanting her to enjoy solitude, he had another rattan chair brought in by Tong Zhu Yi, and the two reclined under the eaves chatting idly.
As Tong Ziliang delivered the chair, Xu Fengnian asked a few questions about the duel involving Lu Bai Jie, the vice minister of war. Now lying on the chair, he muttered to himself, “Surnamed Wen, carrying a wooden sword—could it really be Wen Hua?”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng sneered, “Him?”
Xu Fengnian frowned, glancing sideways. “What’s wrong with Wen Hua? Back then, when the three of us met at the lantern market, I couldn’t even tie my own shoelaces, and you weren’t much better off. Look at me now—stealing the Confucianists’ so-called ‘Great Harmony’ to nourish my blade intent, borrowing power from the Yuan Ying, and ripping through two hundred zhang of the imperial road in one breath. What about yourself?”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng remained silent.
Xu Fengnian suddenly laughed. “This time I brought you to the capital, and there’s no escaping those prying eyes. Consider this your second tribute of loyalty. Later, I’ll find a way to compensate you.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng turned her head with a playful smile. “I just realized how little I actually lose when doing business with you.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “That’s right.”
Curious, Xuan Yuan Qingfeng asked, “This time you came to the capital with a Beiliang saber, but why not bring the Spring Thunder? Why carry only the Spring and Autumn sword?”
Xu Fengnian replied flatly, “With only second-grade internal strength, why carry so many weapons? Am I running a weapon shop?”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng scoffed, “You really are lying through your teeth. What about your twelve flying swords?”
Xu Fengnian admitted helplessly, “The Spring and Autumn sword is a dilemma in my hands.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng pressed, “How so?”
Xu Fengnian exhaled gently, blowing away a few snowflakes that had drifted under the eaves. Calmly, he said, “For some reason, the Spring and Autumn sword occasionally trembles and hums.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng stopped asking. She had no desire for that sword.
Xu Fengnian continued on his own, “At first, I wanted to give this sword to the old man in the sheepskin coat. Later, after he died, I thought of giving it to Deng Tai’a as a return gift. But I guess he wouldn’t accept it, and we might never meet again in this lifetime. So I thought, if by chance I met that kid Wen Hua, I’d just give it to him. He could show it off when he wooed girls.”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, dressed in purple, lay on the chair with her eyes closed. “I really don’t understand why you, the heir of Beiliang, care so much about such a good-for-nothing drifter.”
Xu Fengnian’s eyes crinkled into a smile. The gloom in his heart had vanished in these past few days. Softly, he said, “That’s because you don’t understand.”
※※※
A woman in a fox fur knocked gently on the door. Wu Liuding, who had been squatting under the eaves in a daze, furrowed his brow, then lazily said, “Come in.” Li Bai’s lion lowered her head and stepped through the wooden gate, bowing gracefully to the sword prodigy of the Wu family. Her charm was intoxicating, yet not seductive.
Wu Liuding shouted toward the room, “Wen Busheng, someone’s here for you!” Wen Hua, who had been lying on the bed admiring the ancient sword Baxiu, fastened his wooden sword and grumbled as he walked out. Seeing the woman in the courtyard, he was stunned for a moment before breaking into a delighted grin. Without hiding his excitement, he jogged over and stopped a few steps in front of her.
“Miss Li, what brings you here? If you’d told me beforehand, I’d have borrowed some money from Liu Gang to rent a bigger place to host you. After all, borrowing ten taels or a hundred taels is all the same. When heroes meet on the road, we can’t be stingy. Don’t you agree, you six-cylinder roadside Picked up?”
Wen Hua saw the rogue swordsman desperately winking at him but merely rolled his eyes and turned to the other side of the courtyard. Li Bai’s lion carried a bamboo basket filled with fresh vegetables and a few carp freshly caught from a lake after breaking through the ice. Strung by the gills with a piece of straw rope, the fish were still wriggling.
Softly, she said, “Have you eaten? If not, this isn’t quite on my way, but I can cook you a meal.”
Wen Hua, who had just finished two bowls of sour cabbage noodles, scratched his head. “I had noodles, but they didn’t fill me up.”
Li Bai’s lion smiled. “Then I’ll cook for you. If it doesn’t suit your taste, just say so. Next time I can make it up to you.”
Wen Hua chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not picky. I always speak my mind.”
She glanced at him gently, and Wen Hua recalled their first meeting, chuckling at the memory. She walked into the room, just passing by the sword Maid Cu Hua. The two women merely exchanged nods. The famous Li Bai’s lion, who was hard to meet even for the literati of the capital, actually went into the kitchen.
Wu Liuding squatted, Cu Hua stood, and Wen Hua hovered awkwardly at the door, unsure whether to go in or out. After hesitating for a while, he finally approached Wu Liuding, leaning against a veranda pillar whose red paint had long peeled off. Snowflakes fell heavily. After practicing sword techniques, Wen Hua didn’t know how high his skill had reached, but at least now he wasn’t afraid of the cold. Still, he instinctively pulled his sleeves tighter. Having lived a life of poverty, every winter had been a torment—thin clothes, no shelter. He used to hate the snow so much he wanted to drag the heavens down and punch them. How could he compare with Li Bai’s lion, who wore a fur worth a thousand taels? Poor families couldn’t even afford a brazier. Wen Hua had once lived under someone else’s roof with his brother and sister-in-law. His sister-in-law resented him for being idle and dreaming too high, while his brother always protected him, though inevitably scolded by his wife. Wen Hua knew his own faults—his sharp tongue, his cruel words, never saying anything kind to his sister-in-law. But she wasn’t bad—she let him eat and live for years, even if her words were harsh. She never truly wanted to drive him out. So his brother was caught in the middle, and Wen Hua, frustrated, ran away from home, stealing and cheating his way through life until he met Xiao Nian. They had both been stealing melons in a farmer’s field, both nervous, both trying to outwit each other, until they realized they were birds of a feather. That melon patch was utterly ruined. Could that be called “not stealing, but becoming friends”?
After they started traveling together, Xiao Nian always teased Wen Hua for pouncing on any woman with curves like a starving tiger. Such love at first sight was cheap. Wen Hua didn’t understand love—he was like a starving man who saw a steamed bun as the most delicious thing in the world. During that bleak but not lonely journey, Wen Hua fell in love at first sight more times than he could count on both hands. When they parted, Xiao Nian said, “There’s no feast that doesn’t end.” It sounded poetic. Wen Hua’s eyes stung, and he felt it was time to stop tagging along, mooching food and drinks. So he turned around and left, traveling alone toward the northwest.
Then, near Xiangfan City, he met Miss Li, who now occupied the nest like a cuckoo. The first time he saw her, she stepped out of a luxurious carriage, bent down, and placed a silver coin into the bowl of a beggar with a broken leg. Wen Hua saw her not only give money but also gently pat the beggar’s head. At that moment, Wen Hua told himself that this would be his last love at first sight.
Because Xiao Nian, who always argued with crooked logic but convinced people, once said, “It’s not a big deal for a woman to be beautiful. But if a beautiful woman has a kind heart and you don’t take her home to cherish her, you deserve to be struck by lightning!” Wen Hua rushed forward recklessly, blocking the carriage on the street. He used the old tricks of a ruffian teasing a virtuous girl—nothing original. “Miss, what’s your name? How old are you? Where do you live?” But Wen Hua added something new—he declared himself a wandering swordsman determined to become a peerless sword master. He wasn’t being a rogue; he just wanted the girl to wait a few years, until he made a name for himself. If he disappeared after a few years, she didn’t have to wait anymore.
At first, Wen Hua thought only a fool would believe his sincere words, but the girl really did introduce herself and even asked if he didn’t mind that she was a courtesan. Wen Hua said he didn’t mind, and she said she would wait for him for three years.
She truly waited for three years. When they met again in the bustling capital, Wen Hua, who had endured countless cold stares and been mocked as “Wen Busheng,” was finally no longer treated as a nobody. Wen Hua practiced sword techniques not for profit, not for money, but for fame, for that long-suppressed breath. Xu Fengnian once said, “In life, eating, drinking, defecating, and urinating are the most ordinary things. But the breath—when is the last time you exhaled without inhaling again? That’s when a man dies, his balls facing the sky. That last breath must be manly!” There was also that saying about drinking wine into the heroic gut, absorbing sword qi, and exhaling a breath that collapses mountains. The first half was straightforward, and Wen Hua remembered it clearly. The second half was too poetic, so he forgot it. After training with Old Huang, he kept holding his breath, gritting his teeth, thinking of how one day he would exhale and shake the martial world, making Miss Li look at him with admiration, making Xiao Nian feel that he, Wen Hua, was a brother worth having!
The new Deng Ta’a’s peach blossom branch was a world-killer sword, but Wen Hua didn’t want to learn it. The old sword immortal Li Chungan’s sword could split mountains and rivers, but he couldn’t master it. Wen Hua only wanted to forge his own path. He wanted to become a swordsman, marry the woman he loved, live a peaceful life, and reunite with his brother Xu Fengnian, repaying every debt of wine, meat, and emotion he had owed for years.
Li Bai’s lion prepared a full table of dishes, colorful and fragrant, making Wen Hua hungry even when he wasn’t. He devoured them hungrily.
She only picked at a few vegetarian dishes, then stopped, merely watching the young man, wanting to smile but unable to.
Wen Hua, however, served her a bite with chopsticks and laughed, “Eat more. Your health is important. Getting fat doesn’t matter. You’re too beautiful anyway. If you’re a little less pretty, it’s not a big deal.”
This time, Li Bai’s lion finally smiled.
In that humble alley and shabby room, the meal soon came to an end. She didn’t forget to clean the bowls and chopsticks like a thrifty housewife before leaving with the basket. Of course, Wen Hua wanted to see her off, but she only allowed him to walk her to the alley outside the courtyard.
They walked in silence.
Before turning the corner, she softly said, “Wen Hua, remember to become the most famous swordsman in the world. You promised me.”
Wen Hua nodded firmly. “You can Rest assured. I’d even dare to kill the emperor. At worst, we’ll wander the world together.”
He quickly added with a grin, “If you’re willing.”
Li Bai’s lion nodded. She lowered her head, her expression complex. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear. Softly, she said, “Don’t walk me any further. Can you do that?”
Wen Hua smiled. “As you wish. But be careful on your way.”
Li Bai’s lion smiled seductively. “Back then, after my carriage started moving, I secretly saw you standing behind for a long time. This time, you go first. I’ll wait for you.”
Wen Hua laughed and turned away without hesitation, not dragging his feet through the snow.
Li Bai’s lion gently cupped her hands and exhaled warm breath. After Wen Hua entered the courtyard, she turned the corner and stepped into the carriage, surprised to see the old man still there.
Huang Sanjia spoke calmly, “I just went near Xiama Wei once, and Yuan Benxi’s half-inch tongue set their sights on me. Some things need to be done ahead of time.”
Li Bai’s lion trembled as she asked, “Are you going to tell Wen Hua directly? But there’s still the sword prodigy and Maid from the Wu family’s sword tomb in the courtyard.”
Huang Longshi smiled. “The ambush in the reed marshes of Xiangfan City against Xu Fengnian was all part of my move against the sword tomb. Sit with me for a while. In about an hour, I’ll go to the courtyard. You wait for the news and return with this silk pouch.”
Li Bai’s lion took the silk pouch.
Her hands were icy cold.
An hour later, Huang Longshi slowly stepped out of the carriage. The carriage gradually disappeared into the snowstorm.
Huang Longshi didn’t rush into the courtyard. Instead, he walked back and forth in the alley twice before pushing open the door.
Less than an incense stick’s time later, a young man emerged with one arm severed, one leg lame, his entire body’s meridians severed, leaving only his life. He carried only the wooden sword that had always belonged to him and left the courtyard.
A long trail of blood stretched across the snow-covered alley.
“In my hometown, when you borrow money, if you borrow ten taels, you have to repay twelve or thirteen. My sword techniques were taught by you. I destroy my martial arts cultivation and repay you with one arm and one leg!”
That was all he said to the old man in the courtyard.
Then, this blood-stained figure in the snow crouched down at the corner, his wooden sword beside him.
The young swordsman, tears blurring his eyes, smiled bitterly, stood up, raised the wooden sword to the wall, and snapped it in two.
From that day on, there was no more news of Wen Hua. This wooden-sword swordsman, who had become famous the moment he entered the martial world, left it overnight in the most resolute and desolate manner.
In the piercing snow, he whispered to himself one last time.
“No more sword practice.”
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