Chapter 6: An Incident Occurs

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“Old Liu, please don’t do such things again in the future. If we’re discovered, I’m afraid I’ll be the one scolded, and the teacher surely won’t be pleased!”

After supper, Fu Zhihou deliberately pulled Old Liu aside and pleaded with him.

Earlier that day, in the teacher’s wooden hut, Fu Zhihou overheard the villagers outside speaking with undue boldness. At first, he hadn’t suspected they were summoned by Old Liu. Only when Old Liu came to fetch him did Fu Zhihou notice the change in his demeanor and the look in his eyes—a look quite different from yesterday. That was when Fu Zhihou realized something was amiss.

“If we don’t provoke him a little, who knows if he’ll truly teach with all his heart? Young master, rest assured—with your teacher’s pride and reclusive nature, he certainly won’t take the initiative to interact with the villagers! Besides, the people I found today are all from the other end of the village.” Old Liu spoke with a satisfied air, as if a burden had been lifted, stroking his long beard with contentment.

“The older the ginger, the spicier it is! I think Old Liu did nothing wrong. We’ll be moving away soon, so it’s best to have him teach you true skills while there’s still time. Even if you only learn a little, you might be able to return some of the apprenticeship gifts in the future! Isn’t that so, Zhihou’s mother?” Madam Zhang, having learned what had happened, was unconcerned as she spoke, packing her husband Fu Hong’s clothes and luggage while glancing at Madam Tao.

Under his gaze, even his mother, Madam Tao, for once did not contradict her sister-in-law.

“Old Liu, when water is full it overflows, when the moon is full it wanes—nothing should be overdone, or it will backfire!” Fu Zhihou, seeing no other way, could only advise Old Liu not to repeat such acts. The teacher might already have sensed something but simply kept silent.

“Alright! I’ll do as young master says!” Old Liu nodded with a smile.

In truth, Old Liu had no intention of further schemes after venting his frustration today. His actions were driven not just by indignation, but also by concern that Liu Zhiyuan might conceal his abilities and refuse to teach Fu Zhihou earnestly.

“That’s good, then.” Seeing Old Liu’s cheerful expression, Fu Zhihou finally breathed a sigh of relief, just as he faintly heard the sound of raindrops spattering on the bark roof overhead.

“It’s raining!” His mother, Madam Tao, rose and left the house. Aunt Zhang and his cousin’s wife, Madam Tai, followed her outside, bringing in dry firewood so it wouldn’t get soaked and leave Grandpa without warmth come morning.

Watching his mother and aunt busily working, Fu Zhihou understood that the rain would likely last until tomorrow and become a heavy downpour by then.

“Hong, since it’s raining, we’d best not leave tonight,” said Grandpa, who was sitting by the fire, to his eldest son not far away. Hearing this, a sense of foreboding crept into Fu Zhihou’s heart as he gazed outside, lost in thought.

Night fell.

As the elders of the family retired one by one, Fu Zhihou reminded his grandfather, aunt, and cousin to secure the doors and windows. Rainy nights were noisy and could give thieves an opportunity.

“Mother, be sure to close the window!” he softly reminded his mother as she prepared to rest.

Madam Tao, who always rose early to prepare breakfast and was already weary, smiled and nodded at her son’s concern. Though she said nothing, she reached out and gently stroked his head.

“If you get too sleepy in the night, come wake me. I’ll help you keep watch,” she said, her voice soft and full of motherly love.

“Rest, Mother. I’m not tired,” Fu Zhihou nodded, urging her to sleep.

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Watching Madam Tao enter her room, Fu Zhihou turned to the firepit. The smile faded from his face, replaced by a trace of doubt.

The memory of that night, when he had nearly been killed—the eyes full of murderous intent—remained vivid. It was the first time Fu Zhihou had ever truly felt helpless, the first time he’d been so close to death.

Now, an uneasy premonition stirred within him.

“What troubles you, young master?” Old Liu, who was about to retire, noticed Fu Zhihou’s uneasy look and asked with concern.

“It’s nothing—just a bad feeling,” Fu Zhihou replied honestly. Then he asked, “Old Liu, the people you found today—are they acquaintances? How long have they lived in the village?”

Old Liu considered the question, then shook his head. “Not exactly acquaintances, but they do live on the other side of the village. Are you worried they’ll take advantage of the rain to steal from us tonight?”

As he spoke, Old Liu glanced at the closed door, but ultimately shook his head again. “They’re all locals and the clan chief here is from the Zhao family. Our master often gives gifts to the Zhaos. With their protection, I doubt anyone would dare rob us at night. Besides, those villagers know all this.”

Fu Zhihou nodded in agreement, though unease still gnawed at him.

“Did you mention my apprenticeship gifts to any of them today?” he suddenly asked, a thought striking him.

Old Liu, caught off guard, pondered for a moment, and then his eyes widened with alarm. “Oh no, I did mention it in passing—how we can’t let someone accept gifts and then refuse to teach…”

Before he could finish, Fu Zhihou realized something was wrong. He stood up abruptly.

“Teacher!” he called out.

His sudden movement caught the attention of Fu Hong and Fu Rui, who had been conversing in the house. Before they could ask, Old Liu, having realized the problem, hurried to fetch his sword and rushed outside.

“Zhihou, what’s going on? Where’s Old Liu going in this rain?” Fu Rui asked, coming to the door.

His uncle, Fu Hong, also watched Fu Zhihou with a furrowed brow.

“Father, there’s no time to explain! May I give this sword away?” Fu Zhihou tried to remain calm, knowing Old Liu couldn’t handle the situation alone, and looked guiltily at his father—the sword had only just been given to him as a gift.

Fu Rui, seeing the open door and sensing that something was indeed wrong, trusted his son’s maturity. He smiled and nodded, granting permission for Zhihou to decide as he wished.

“Please, Father and Uncle, guard the house. I must go out for a while!” With his father’s approval, Fu Zhihou bowed, grabbed the sword he’d been admiring for days, and left the house, vanishing into the night.

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Deep in the night, the rain continued to fall.

The cold air was sharpened by the downpour, and the village roads were utterly silent, not a soul in sight.

Fu Zhihou braved the rain, heedless of the darkness or the icy water running down his face, walking quickly.

He was now certain that his actions had prompted Old Liu’s scheme, which in turn had placed Liu Zhiyuan in danger earlier than in the original timeline.

The thought that his interaction with Liu Zhiyuan had already altered the course of history, however slightly, left Fu Zhihou uncertain whether this was good or bad.

He worried about unpredictable consequences, but at the same time, he realized that he did have the power to make small changes in this world.

In the darkness and rain, Fu Zhihou finally reached the gates of a large compound and knocked.

Waiting there, soaked to the bone and shivering, he counted ten breaths before a voice came from within.

“Who is it?” Though the Zhao family now secretly kept trained guards, with unrest spreading everywhere, the household servants were cautious and dared not open the door carelessly at night.

“I am Fu Zhihou, son of Fu Erlang, here on urgent business. Please open the door,” Fu Zhihou called out, suppressing his cold.

After a moment, the door cracked open and a burly man holding a lantern peered out. Once he confirmed that Fu Zhihou was alone, he seemed to relax. In the dim candlelight, he studied the drenched youth with suspicion.

“Fu family’s fool—Fu family’s young master! Why aren’t you at home asleep at this hour? What brings you here?” the servant asked impatiently, clearly familiar with the Fu family.

If not for the regular gifts sent to the Zhao family, the sleepy servant would not have bothered with this so-called fool at all.

Everyone in the village, except the newcomers, knew that Fu Zhihou was believed to be simple-minded, often wandering the fields in search of imaginary treasures.

“It’s late—go home before your family worries!” the servant urged, glancing back nervously, afraid the master might see and send him out in the rain as an escort.

But just as he was about to shut the door, Fu Zhihou produced three coins and pressed them into the servant’s raised hand before he could react.

“Please report to your master. I’ve come to present a sword,” Fu Zhihou announced, his rain-soaked face intent, holding the sword upright before him.

The servant looked at the money in his hand, then at the youth gripping the wet sword with such determined eyes. For a moment, he doubted that this was the gaze of a fool.

A sword, presented in the dead of night? If he didn’t know the Fu family, the servant would have thought the boy was an assassin, coming to kill the Zhao family’s master under cover of darkness.

But seeing only the solitary youth outside, and with coins in hand, the servant decided it was safer to deliver the message. If anything happened, at least he would not be blamed.