Chapter 16: Farewell

Winter’s chill lingered in the air. In the early morning, as the horizon grew faintly bright, mist enveloped the world.

Inside the humble wooden cabin of the Fu family, Old Fu sat with hands clasped, dozing beside the stove. Every so often, as he tilted dangerously close to slumber, he startled awake. Upon noticing the faint glow outside the window, he quickly whispered to rouse Fu Rui at the stove.

Fu Rui glanced at his wife, wrapped in coarse linen and sleeping against the wooden beam, and gently nudged her awake. When Tao, his wife, opened her eyes and looked at him, she too roused their son, who slept on the floor nearby.

“Gather your things. It’s time to set out,” Old Fu softly announced once his eldest daughter-in-law, Zhang, as well as Fu Zhi and Tai, were awake.

After sitting through the night, the elderly Old Fu nearly stumbled as he rose, but with Tao’s careful support, he managed to steady himself.

Outside in the courtyard, Old Liu and Fu Rui tied each piece of luggage to the wheelbarrow with horse rope. Since Fu Zihou was still a child and both Old Fu and Old Liu were advanced in age, the original plan was for Fu Rui and Fu Zhi, uncle and nephew, each to push a cart. Now, with Fu Rui departing alone for Peng City, only Fu Zhi could push one cart, leaving the other abandoned in the courtyard.

As a result, Tao, Zhang, and Tai all had to carry two or three bundles each, and much of the remaining luggage would have to be left behind.

“This can’t be taken, so give it to your mentor. And this, too,” Tao said, knowing her son’s thoughts and helping him select some good items to bring to his teacher.

“That Liu Zhiyuan is truly fortunate! Our Fu family not only gave him the apprenticeship gift, but now he’s getting so many things…” Aunt Zhang muttered as usual, her shoulders weighed down with bundles.

Watching Tao’s choices, Zhang spoke with obvious distress in her eyes.

“Mother, I’ll go ahead,” Fu Zihou said softly, seeing the two bundles his mother had prepared. He glanced at Old Liu, his father, Old Fu, his aunt, cousin, and cousin-in-law in the courtyard, then was the first to leave.

The sky remained dim and gray. The cold kept most villagers asleep; a few cabins showed faint lights, but no one lingered outside.

As Fu Zihou walked the narrow path, he occasionally passed a villager or two—not up early to forage for wild greens, but heading toward the Zhao household, quietly discussing the aroma of wine and meat that had filled the yard last night. After smelling it, they dreamed of feasting all night, and hoped to catch some leftover charity this morning.

“Isn’t that the fool from the Fu family? Where’s he off to?”
“No idea,” came the reply.

Fu Zihou paid no mind to their puzzled glances or their whispered conversation behind him. Instead, he noted from their words that the Zhao family’s banquets had grown more frequent lately.

But, knowing he would soon leave the village, Fu Zihou didn’t dwell on it.

The morning mist was brisk, and an occasional breeze made it even chillier. When Fu Zihou arrived at his teacher’s cabin, he saw a faint light inside.

He knocked softly.
“Teacher!” he called.

Ever since the Zhao family’s visit, no one in the village dared trouble his teacher again.

A moment later, the door opened. Liu Zhiyuan, surprised to see Fu Zihou and his bundles, frowned.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

Liu Zhiyuan’s question was pointed—Fu Zihou had previously said he’d remain in the village a while longer.

Fu Zihou nodded and set the bundles down.

“Teacher, my family has decided to depart for Qiu County today. I’ve come to bid you farewell. These are things from my family, brought for you in gratitude for your guidance.”

Fu Zihou looked at the man before him, recalling the days Liu Zhiyuan had patiently taught him by the riverbank, imparted knowledge without reservation, and guided him through the ant hill, showing him how to win.

Fu Zihou sensed that this man had taught him sincerely, from the heart.

It was Liu Zhiyuan’s meticulous care in these days that quietly changed Fu Zihou—from his initial intent to seeing him as a true mentor, someone dear.

Some people, even after a lifetime together, never become true friends.
But others, with a single word or helpful gesture, can become benefactors for life.

“Stay five more days,” Liu Zhiyuan said, refusing the bundles, urging his disciple not to leave just yet.

“I will teach you something more important in these five days. Then you may go,” he said firmly.

Liu Zhiyuan believed that if Fu Zihou or the Fu family requested, they would likely stay a few more days.

Thus, learning his sole disciple was leaving, Liu Zhiyuan insisted he return home.

Yet, as Liu Zhiyuan finished speaking and prepared to re-enter the cabin, he noticed Fu Zihou—usually obedient—stood silent, head bowed, shaking his head.

His action made Liu Zhiyuan frown even more. He watched the youth in silence.

After a long pause, Liu Zhiyuan spoke again.

“Three days,” he sighed, speaking earnestly and, for once, with a gentle tone.

“What I teach you in these three days will be crucial for your entire life. Even if your family cannot stay, you must remain alone.”

Liu Zhiyuan hoped Fu Zihou would turn back and explain his wishes to his family, delaying their departure.

“Teacher…” Fu Zihou, sensing his mentor’s kindness, was about to speak when a villager approached.

He waited, but before the villager passed, he saw someone from the Zhao household, chatting and strolling leisurely.

Seeing this, Fu Zihou knew that as the sky brightened, more villagers would emerge.

“Teacher… I cannot stay,” Fu Zihou said with guilt, understanding his teacher’s good intentions but truly unable to remain.

“Should I go and speak to your family myself?” Liu Zhiyuan asked calmly.

Fu Zihou, recalling his aunt’s sharp tongue, knew it would be futile, and shook his head, not daring to meet his teacher’s gaze.

Silence settled between them for several moments.

“You may go,” Liu Zhiyuan said, turning into the cabin as he spoke.

“Take your things with you. I have no need for them,” came Liu Zhiyuan’s voice.

Fu Zihou felt a pang in his heart, looking at the bundles, lost and uncertain.

He stood at the doorway for a long time.

When he saw his father helping his cousin push the wheelbarrow and Old Fu and the others coming down the path, Fu Zihou looked at his teacher’s figure inside.

Last night, Fu Zihou had wondered how wonderful it would be if these were prosperous times—if he could meet his teacher and become his disciple in an era of peace, he would never need to kill or leave in haste.

He thought fondly of their days by the river, playing with ants—a happiness he wished could last forever.

“Hou’er, it’s time to go!” his mother called.

Fu Zihou, gazing at his two bundles, slowly placed them inside the door.

Unable to face his teacher’s disappointed eyes, he did not speak; instead, he turned away, joined the path, took the bundles from his mother, strapped them to his back, and was about to place his sword at his waist to lighten her burden, but she forbade it, insisting he not touch the blade for now.

Seeing his mother’s concern, Fu Zihou relented, and instead, helped by lifting the heavy bundles she carried.

“Young master…” Old Liu glanced at the cabin’s shadow. Liu Zhiyuan did not emerge nor look toward the path, and Old Liu frowned.

“Honestly, what a waste of the apprenticeship gift and all those things! Bah! Some teacher,” Zhang snapped, unlike Old Liu, unable to tolerate the teacher’s lack of farewell, provoking Old Fu and Tao to tug at her, signaling her to be silent.

“Enough, let’s go,” Tao urged, seeing her sister-in-law’s discontent, and hurried her husband to push the cart.

Initially, Tao had worried about her son’s obsession with ants, but as he repeatedly spoke of the knowledge gained from his teacher, she saw his understanding and thought sharpen, a change she welcomed.

Tao did not know if her son spoke truth or if Liu Zhiyuan was as wise as he claimed, but since her son enjoyed learning, she was content.

Now, with departure imminent, there was no point in further complaint—she would not make things harder for her son or give others reason to gossip.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” urged Old Fu, leaning on his cane and gently aided by Tai, pressing the group onward.

Only then did Zhang, disgruntled, follow the others toward the village gate.

Inside the cabin, the unpleasant voices faded. Liu Zhiyuan finally opened his eyes, gazing out the window at the departing family. His gaze fell on the notes he had written late into the night.

He thought of the flat wooden sticks he had painstakingly carved for Fu Zihou to take, so he might study them in the future.

Sighing, Liu Zhiyuan realized they were unfinished, and, in a fit of frustration, was about to toss them into the fire.

Then he noticed the two bundles, quietly left by the door.

He frowned, remembering he had told Fu Zihou to take them, yet the youth had insisted on leaving them behind.

Bothered, Liu Zhiyuan bent to pick them up, intent on throwing them outside.

But as he did, a memory surfaced—of that day at the village gate, when a group of villagers had likewise discarded a bundle by the roadside. Liu Zhiyuan distinctly recalled telling the youth to take it back, and the words the boy had said then.

Recalling the look in the boy’s eyes that day, Liu Zhiyuan’s gaze grew increasingly complex as he stared at the bundles in his hands.