Chapter 15: A Father's Entrustment

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Night had fallen.

The four figures by the fire in the small courtyard sat quietly. Perhaps seeing that his cousin and cousin-in-law were unharmed, Fu Zihou felt much better. He gazed up at the pitch-black sky, at the countless stars.

He thought to himself that in these chaotic times, such incidents might recur. As long as the world remained unsettled, his family would never be truly safe. This thought drew a sigh from his lips.

At last, he understood why, in later generations, people would say, “Better to be a dog in times of peace than a man in troubled times!”

To live in an age of turmoil, where order had collapsed and wicked men were no longer restrained by law, was to witness their true faces revealed.

Killing. If one did not kill, one’s family would be harmed, bullied, or even slain.

He could not, out of fear, cower and watch helplessly as his loved ones suffered.

He recalled those three men tormenting his family in their home; looking up at the dark sky, Fu Zihou knew that, given the chance, he would make the same choice again.

He would draw his sword. He would kill.

“Zihou, what are you thinking?” came his cousin’s voice from beside him.

Fu Zihou turned his head and saw the concern in his cousin’s eyes. The warmth that rose in his heart at that moment was enough to dispel the discomfort of having killed, to ease the nightmares that might come. At this moment, with his cousin’s gentle inquiry, Fu Zihou felt that everything he had done was worth it.

To protect this bond, to safeguard his family—he was no longer alone.

He had once endured cold and hardship for lack of warmth, but now, having felt such concern, he could not bear to lose it.

Looking at his cousin, and then at the myriad stars above, Fu Zihou spoke softly, his words filled with longing.

“I was thinking… of the day when the world is at peace. When that day comes, there will be no more war. The people will live in safety, working their fields without fear of bandits or villains, nor overburdened by corvée and taxes.”

His voice brimmed with yearning for an end to chaos, to live in a land of peace and happiness.

As his words faded, silence settled around them. The fire crackled softly. From within the house behind them, muffled voices—Aunt Zhang’s sharp, indistinct arguing—floated to their ears, barely audible because of the nearness.

“Let him die in Pengcheng for all I care!”

“Send word? I say it’s just inviting disaster! He wants to send his wife and daughter-in-law away—who knows, in Pengcheng, he may sell us all for a meal!”

“Father! Why even bother with him? Tomorrow, I’ll send someone with a message: Tell him I’ve slept with those three men, and they’ve run off with me and his daughter-in-law. That way, he won’t have the chance to sell us later…”

“Can’t you just be quiet for a moment? At least let Dalang know what’s happened! And lower your voice…”

Their grandfather’s helpless tone was nothing new; neither Fu Zihou, Old Liu, Fu Zhi, nor Lady Tai paid it any mind, especially knowing Zhang was speaking out of anger.

With his reminder, the argument faded, and the four by the fire did not dwell on it.

“Will there ever be peace again in this land?” Fu Zhi asked, warming himself with his wife by the fire, his gaze heavy as he looked to Fu Zihou.

“Grandfather said, even before our great-grandfather’s time, the land has been wracked by war, decade after decade, century after century, countless dead. When the Sui Dynasty was founded, Emperor Wen brought peace for a dozen years, but even he could not ease the burdens of tax and labor. Grandfather said he saw officials rob ordinary folk of all their grain, heard of children being sold everywhere. Now chaos has returned, and I don’t know if, in our lifetime, we’ll ever see peace—or if perhaps our descendants will…”

As Fu Zhi spoke, his words held little hope.

Lady Tai stared into the flames, her eyes lost and hopeless. Even Old Liu, the aged man beside them, could not refute Fu Zhi’s words. Indeed, with his years, Old Liu understood better than any of them how elusive and difficult true peace would be.

After centuries of turmoil, the world had only glimpsed a brief peace under Emperor Wen of Sui—just a dozen years—before heavy labor and taxes returned.

“Cousin,” Fu Zihou’s voice broke the silence, drawing all eyes to him. His gaze, though tinged with redness, shone with resolve.

“There will be peace,” he said firmly, raising his hand to point into the starry night.

“My teacher taught me to read the stars, and I have seen that in the future, a wise and virtuous ruler will rise. He will unite the land, bring an age of peace and prosperity.”

He spoke with utmost seriousness.

The day of his departure drew closer, and the sorrow and guilt that had grown in his heart faded away after hearing his cousin’s words. His teacher had treated him with boundless kindness, teaching him without reservation.

But he also had a family, yearning for peace—so many families like his across the land.

He did not know if remaining at his teacher’s side and helping him in the future would change the course of history.

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But he considered that his teacher was not of the Five Prominent or Seven Noble Clans, that most of the heroes of Mount Wagang were short-sighted bandits, and that if history ran its course, the people would one day know peace, would see a flourishing age.

Fu Zihou’s doubts faded. Perhaps the best way to repay his teacher was to meet him again in a few years—and change his fate in history.

“A wise ruler? An age of prosperity? Truly?” Fu Zhi and Lady Tai, whose eyes had been dulled by despair, now looked to Fu Zihou with hope and yearning, as if grasping at a lifeline in the darkness.

No wonder they reacted so—since their youth, the world had grown ever more chaotic, with more and more homeless souls. Now, with bandits everywhere, no one cared for the fate of commoners. More than anyone, they longed for peaceful lives, working their fields in safety.

“Does Liu Zhiyuan also read the stars?” Old Liu frowned, his skepticism clear. It made no sense to him—if Liu Zhiyuan could truly read the stars, he would not have ended up here seeking disciples, nor would he have nearly been killed that night.

The young master must be telling tales.

Old Liu chuckled bitterly, feeling perhaps it was his age that made him so credulous. The flourishing age Fu Zihou described—even the mere absence of war—seemed an impossible dream. The North and South had only been reunited for thirty years; the embers of division still smoldered. Once chaos arose, how could it be easily quelled?

But seeing Fu Zhi and Lady Tai’s expressions, Old Liu did not expose Fu Zihou’s lie. Hope, after all, was better than none.

“I’ll go in and check on things,” Fu Zihou said, taking a deep breath. Seeing his cousin and cousin-in-law safe brought him comfort. Though he still felt uneasy, thoughts of the coming age of prosperity steeled his resolve. Even if nightmares came, he would face them head-on.

“Zihou, why not sit a while longer? Inside…” Fu Zhi, coming back to himself, looked at Fu Zihou with concern. After all, their mother and aunt were still cleaning the blood inside.

“Zihou, your aunt and the others are afraid you’ll see… that you’ll have nightmares. Maybe wait a bit longer,” Lady Tai said after glancing at her husband.

Before coming out, her mother-in-law Zhang had warned her not to let Zihou back in until she called him.

“No need,” Fu Zihou shook his head at their worried looks, signaling that he was fine. He rose and, facing the wooden house, remembered Lady Tai’s words and sighed softly.

“If they seek vengeance in my dreams, then I’ll just… kill them again,” he said, and, under their watchful gazes, turned and walked alone toward the house.

Old Liu’s eyes brightened at this, his heart full of pride and satisfaction. All his hopes, wishes, and lifelong regrets were now placed in Fu Zihou. Seeing the boy’s growth brought him joy.

He watched as Fu Zihou reached the door, pushed it open, and entered. Then, looking back at the small fire, Old Liu’s lips curled into a smile as he stroked the cold steel of his sword.

“I wouldn’t mind killing again myself,” he murmured, the fire of determination flashing in his aged eyes.

Inside the house.

Fu Zihou stepped in, his gaze instinctively drawn to where the bodies had lain.

Zhang, Tao, and his grandfather and father by the stove all looked up in surprise, not expecting him at this moment.

“Hou’er, it’s all right now! Why did you come in so soon?” Tao looked at her son, noticed his glance at the floor, and though the moment passed in a blink, her heart ached. She stepped forward to take his arm, but, seeing her hands stained with blood, quickly withdrew.

“Mother, I’m all right! Don’t worry about me,” Fu Zihou said with a smile.

Though the bodies were gone, the blood stains conjured up the earlier bloody scene in his mind. But seeing his mother’s worried gaze, and thinking of his family’s safety, he no longer felt so tense.

“Go warm yourself by the fire!” Tao scolded gently, touched by his thoughtfulness but insistent he not help with the blood.

“Come here, Hou’er,” his grandfather beckoned, motioning for him to sit by his side at the fire.

“All right,” Fu Zihou replied, watching his mother busy herself before joining his grandfather.

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Having killed two men with his own hands, Fu Zihou, despite his composure, could not entirely hide his discomfort from his grandfather and father. His gaze unconsciously flickered away from theirs.

He finally understood why, after great upheaval, so many people became extreme. After killing, he had felt a fleeting urge to avoid his family, not seeing them at all. But memories of his parents’ affection gave him the courage to face them, to trust his family and not hide behind other emotions.

“Hou’er,” his grandfather said, watching his grandson kneel by the fire. Relief mingled with guilt in his heart as he exchanged a glance with Erlang, Fu Rui, who felt the same.

If only they had acted first, perhaps Zihou wouldn’t have had to do it. But, truth be told, even if given another chance, neither his old bones nor Fu Rui would likely have the resolve. Let alone the honest, simple-hearted elder grandson.

Their family had always been humble folk, never ones for disputes or violence, let alone taking up the sword to kill. If they’d had the courage for bloodshed, those three villains would not have bullied them so long.

Now, as Fu Zihou turned to look at him, his grandfather smiled, his few white hairs messy, hands folded in his sleeves, leaning slightly toward the boy.

“You did well,” he said, praising Zihou first and foremost. Then, glancing at the blood-stained spot where Tao and Zhang worked, his face grew stern.

“Thank goodness you acted, or who knows what those beasts would have done to this family!”

Fu Zihou had not expected such words. Seeing his aged grandfather, and the approving, proud look from his father—without a trace of blame—his nose tingled, warmth flooding his heart. He bowed his head, unable to speak.

“This village is no longer safe. At first light, we must leave. Those three said they had accomplices heading to Wanqu City; if they don’t return in a few days, the others will grow suspicious,” his grandfather said, informing Fu Zihou of his decision. He told him, too, that they must send word to his uncle as soon as possible—only then would his uncle not be left in the dark.

“Father, I told you, don’t bother with him—he can die wherever he likes!” Zhang, silent until now, exploded with anger at the mention of Fu Hong, her voice sharp and bitter.

Looking at Fu Zihou sitting with his grandfather and father by the fire, Zhang thought bitterly that had it not been for Zihou and Old Liu’s decisive action tonight, not only Tai but she and her sister-in-law would have come to harm. If Zhi’er had acted rashly, who knows what would have happened.

The more she thought of it, the angrier she grew. Zhang truly could not understand how Fu Hong intended to send word home.

“You and your tongue!” her father-in-law sighed helplessly, displeased.

“Where did I speak amiss?” Zhang, seeing most of the blood had been cleaned, only a bit left for Tao to finish, flung down her cloth and headed to her room, full of resentment.

Her father-in-law, Fu Rui, and Tao exchanged glances but said nothing.

“Hou’er,” Fu Zihou turned as his aunt left, hearing his father call his name.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go to Pengcheng and tell your uncle what happened. You’ll go ahead to Tiao County. Take care of your grandfather, your mother, your aunt, and your cousin-in-law on the road,” Fu Rui said gently.

After all that had happened, Fu Rui knew his son could now shoulder the burden of the family, no less than he himself could. While he went to Pengcheng, his son, with Old Liu and his cousin, would protect the rest on the journey.

“Don’t worry, Father,” Fu Zihou nodded. Though he’d never been to Tiao County, having Old Liu and his cousin with him reassured him. So long as they kept a low profile, they should be safe.

By lamplight, after Tao finished cleaning, she called Old Liu inside on Grandfather’s instruction, and the Fu family began discussing their plans.

Though night had fallen, no one felt sleepy. The events of the day had left everyone shaken, their hearts unsettled as they looked at their home.

Tao and Zhang busied themselves deep into the night, packing for their departure.