Chapter 61: The Winter Swimmer

After pondering repeatedly, Shaoqiu still felt it unwise to remain sitting there, fearing that Old Man Gou might kill him in a fit of rage. In this desolate village, taking a human life was hardly a matter of any consequence.

At this moment, Shaoqiu rolled his eyes and came up with an idea, claiming that he had a stomachache and could not eat. Having said that, he stepped out of the house, saying he needed to visit the outhouse. Seeing him like this, Old Uncle Hua found it inconvenient to compel him to stay and let him leave. Facing Old Man Gou directly, Old Uncle Hua did not hold much chance of winning either. However, upon seeing the grim expression on Old Uncle Hua's face, Old Man Gou found it awkward to force himself to stay and deemed it pointless, so he went outside and wandered off to god knows where.

Meanwhile, the Dark Bandit was once again roaming aimlessly around the desolate village that day. His appearance in this desolate village was marked by driving a horse-drawn carriage at breakneck speed. Spotting Shaoqiu sitting on a stone basking in the sun, he whipped the horses into an even greater frenzy. Hearing the rushing sound of the carriage, Shaoqiu dared not walk in the middle of the road. Instead, he darted aside, taking refuge behind a large tree, and thus narrowly escaped disaster. Otherwise, he might have already perished and descended to the netherworld.

Driving the carriage at a flying speed all the way, the Dark Bandit stirred up a chaotic flurry of chickens and dogs, causing the tiles on people's roofs to shatter and fall off piece by piece. At the same time, rain began to pour from the sky.

At that moment, an old ox grew infuriated. Having seemingly never encountered anyone as discourteous and ill-mannered as this Dark Bandit in all its life, it let out a low bellow, sounding as though it were cursing the bandit's mother. Yet the Dark Bandit cared nothing for such things, driving his carriage straight ahead with unstoppable momentum. For some inexplicable reason, however, both man and carriage plunged right into the small river. Had he not known how to swim, that single plunge would have cost him his life.

Climbed out from the small river, the Dark Bandit, for reasons unknown, strode angrily right up to the door of Shaoqiu's house, let out a roar, and demanded that Shaoqiu come out at once. At this juncture, Shaoqiu did not dare stay outside the house, fearing that the Dark Bandit might still drive his carriage to run him down. If that were to happen, it would spell disaster, and he would undoubtedly suffer severe injuries.

Yet why on earth had this Dark Bandit sought him out at his own doorstep? Could it be that he had offended the bandit somewhere along the way? Otherwise, why would he curse him with such a fierce and malevolent expression?

"If I hadn't laid eyes on you, I wouldn't have gotten angry, and I wouldn't have fallen into the river! Now my carriage is gone. Tell me, how are you going to compensate me?" demanded the Dark Bandit.

"This—I have no money. How can I compensate you?" Shaoqiu asked, his face looking utterly wretched. He had never before witnessed a person so completely devoid of reason.

Without caring for any further explanation, the Dark Bandit lunged forward and delivered a kick straight to Shaoqiu's shin, as if nothing less could alleviate the bitter hatred festering in his heart. Shaoqiu was merely a scholar and a man of letters; how could he possibly match the Dark Bandit in physical strength? Having been struck, he could only endure it in silence—what else could he possibly do?

Right at that moment, someone approached and whispered a few words into the Dark Bandit's ear. Hearing this, the bandit's fury flared even higher. He then kicked Shaoqiu in the leg once more. Although the blow was not overwhelmingly powerful, it caused Shaoqiu to lose his footing, sending him crashing heavily to the ground, unable to get back up for a long time.

The Dark Bandit's horse had perished. Strangely enough, why was this horse so inept at swimming? The moment it tumbled into the small river, it died shortly after.

The Dark Bandit held an exceptionally deep affection for this horse. On the spot, he demanded that Shaoqiu wear mourning garments of coarse sackcloth for the beast, threatening to slaughter him should he refuse. With that, the Dark Bandit drew his blade and brandished it threateningly before Shaoqiu.

For a moment, Shaoqiu dared not utter a sound and had no choice but to obey. He followed the bandit to the place where the horse had breathed its last, and there, the Dark Bandit ordered him to kneel and kowtow. Daring not to defy him, Shaoqiu simply did whatever he was told; after all, he still understood the unspoken rules of the desolate village.

After kowtow-ing to the Dark Bandit's horse at that spot, Shaoqiu felt utterly degraded and humiliated. Returning to his own dwelling, he sat alone amidst the biting cold. What joy could possibly remain in his heart? Yet, the only way to banish the profound unhappiness weighing upon his spirit was to read books. At that very moment, however, people gathered outside his doorway, laughing incessantly—most likely mocking Shaoqiu for having been beaten.

Fortunately, Shaoqiu was a scholar, and a mere beating was not fatal; otherwise, what meaning would there be in lingering in this desolate village? Sensing that the deep night was completely devoid of people, he once again began to read aloud in a ringing voice. At such times, only these ancient literary masterpieces could slightly soothe the grievances festering in his heart.

Just then, Old Man Gou appeared once more, lingering and pacing back and forth near Shaoqiu's house, naturally clutching the very blade with which he had once slashed Shaoqiu. Guided by the principle that "he who cannot endure small slights will confound great plans," Shaoqiu chose not to quarrel excessively with him. Yet the bitterness in his heart seemed entirely beyond anyone's comprehension. In the dead of the moonlit night, he had no choice but to step out of the house, stand by the edge of the small river, and gaze into the dense, distant forest.

From within that forest, a voice suddenly spoke out. The person seemed to recognize Shaoqiu, for how else could he have called him by name? Hearing someone calling out to him in the dead of night, Shaoqiu could not simply ignore it and accordingly answered the voice. At that moment, the voice offered gentle words of comfort, and upon hearing them, Shaoqiu's heavy mood lifted considerably, an improvement likely owed entirely to those words. Yet, upon listening more intently, it seemed as though he had not heard anything at all. Could he have simply misheard?

Just then, heavy snow began to fall from the sky. With profound earnestness, that same voice instructed Shaoqiu to go and take a bath in the small river. Yet with the bitter cold so severe at that moment, let alone actually bathing in it, even the mere thought of it was terrifying.

"Do not fear the cold. As long as you go and take a bath, no one in this desolate village will bully you ever again, and you will be able to read in peace. Otherwise, many people will beat you," the voice declared. As soon as those words were spoken, the deep night fell utterly silent once more, as if nothing had ever been said. Only the wind wailed ceaselessly, and the swirling dance of the heavy snow possessed a desolate, mournful beauty.

Shaoqiu truly found himself standing by the edge of the small river in the dead of that night. Amidst the swirling snow, standing beside the freezing waters flowing eastward, the cold was indescribably bizarre and piercing.

Shaoqiu built a small fire by the river landing to warm his body first. Once his body was warmed up, plunging into the river water wouldn't feel quite so freezing, would it? With that thought, he lit a fire on the landing. However, no sooner had the flames flickered to life than a fierce gale suddenly swept across, obliterating everything in its path. Naturally, the fire was instantly extinguished amidst the swirling blizzard.

"Damn it!" Shaoqiu cursed under his breath. Yet no sooner had the curse left his lips than it felt as though someone had delivered a vicious slap across his face, and he instantly lost the courage to curse again.

Ultimately, the fire was coaxed back to life, though it burned pathetically small. Its feeble light flickered unsteadily in the biting northern wind, appearing as though it might go out at any second, yet it stubbornly continued to burn. Shaoqiu squatted down on the landing, warming himself by the tiny flame. For a moment, the breath exhaled from his mouth turned into plumes of vapor, and his hands were frozen completely stiff. One of his little fingers even snapped off entirely from the frost. Shaoqiu calmly picked up the severed finger and pressed it back onto his hand; otherwise, should he be left permanently maimed, how could he ever expect little Hua to care for him?

Another gust of howling wind swept by, and the tiny fire was finally extinguished. Standing in total darkness, Shaoqiu lost his nerve to go through with the bath.

However, since someone had explicitly instructed him to do so, he felt he could not possibly defy the instruction. He stripped off his garments and slowly plunged into the small river.

The cold was simply beyond description. The moment he entered the river, Shaoqiu was seized by a violent fit of coughing. His entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, shivering as if racked by malaria. Finding the torment utterly unbearable, he scrambled back up out of the river.

He had to get away from here immediately. Otherwise, should he freeze to death, not a single soul would ever know.