Chapter 8: My Uncle Sets Out to Start a Business

“So hot! Hoo~ hoo~!”
The rain poured relentlessly outside. Inside the house, lying beneath a coarse hemp blanket, Fu Zihou was uncharacteristically lingering in bed. Seeing his mother, Tao, bring him hot water, her eyes full of concern, Fu Zihou couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself.
This earned him a stern glance from Tao.
“Next time it rains like this, you’re not allowed to run out all of a sudden!”
Tao rummaged for his clothes as she spoke, then abruptly stopped, turning to look at Fu Zihou.
“No matter how important something is, nothing matters more than your health!”
Tao’s eyes glared at her son, but seeing his ingratiating smile, she couldn’t bring herself to vent her frustration at him.
She already knew what had happened last night. She didn’t object to her son’s actions, whether he went to the Zhao family or gave away that sword. In truth, she felt a deep pride—this was her son, sensible and capable of shouldering responsibility.
But the thought of him venturing out into the rainy night made her angry. She knew the matter was urgent, and if her son hadn’t arrived in time, whether it was Old Liu or her son’s teacher, disaster would have struck.
Yet, no matter what others said, in Tao’s eyes, nothing compared to her own son.
“Alright, I understand, Mother! I won’t go next time!”
“Father~!”
As Fu Zihou spoke with his mother, Zhang’s voice sounded from outside the door. Then, from the bed, Fu Zihou and the busy Tao saw the elderly grandfather enter, carrying a quilt.
“Zihou, cover yourself with this, don’t catch cold!”
His hair was disheveled, his long beard thin. Looking at Fu Zihou, the old man slowly brought the quilt forward.
“Grandpa, there’s no need! I’m not cold, take it back!”
Fu Zihou hurriedly sat up, raising his hands in refusal. Tao quickly set down the clothes she was holding and came over to join Fu Zihou in blocking him.
“Father! Zihou doesn’t need it; your health matters more. The nights are getting colder, especially after midnight. Take it back, Zihou is young, he’ll be fine! Father, please, take it back!”
Tao pleaded earnestly.
Unlike the coarse hemp blanket covering Fu Zihou, the Fu family had only one wool quilt. It was acquired long ago by Fu Rui, Zihou’s father, who worried about Grandpa’s health and went to great lengths to get it from a northern merchant. Wherever the Fu family moved, the quilt went with them.
“It’s fine; Zihou’s caught a chill, let him use it first!”
Grandpa shook his head. Though his frail hands lacked strength, his resolve was unwavering.
“No!”
But Tao refused to agree, her expression rare in its seriousness, insisting on taking the quilt from Grandpa. Amid their argument, with Grandpa’s continual urging, Tao finally snatched the quilt and left the room.
Grandpa hobbled behind, urging Tao to bring it back for Zihou.
Watching his mother and grandfather leave, Fu Zihou finally breathed a sigh of relief, collapsing onto the bed. Listening to the endless rain outside, his gaze rested on the small wooden beams of the room, watching droplets trickle down their length.
“I wonder if the Zhao family suspects the teacher’s identity?”
Fu Zihou murmured powerlessly.
Last night, Zhao Han brought men and apprehended those troublemakers; the Zhao family would surely realize the teacher carried a sword.
Among them, the one Fu Zihou feared most was Zhao Han’s father, Zhao Zi.
Recalling Zhao Zi’s gaze last night, and the way Zhao Yong, Zhao Han, and the other strong men obeyed him, Fu Zihou sighed helplessly.
Fortunately, the Fu and Zhao families had a good relationship, and Zhao Zi’s goodwill last night suggested that as long as the teacher’s true identity remained hidden, the Zhao family would not harbor ill intent.
“Teacher mustn’t come to harm! Your disciple is counting on you to expand his network!”
Fu Zihou sighed, finished the hot water his mother brought, and listened to the rain, knowing she would not let him leave the house to visit his teacher today.
The next day.
The heavy rain had finally vanished. Waking early to practice martial arts, Fu Zihou found the small courtyard muddy and full of puddles.
Old Liu had also risen, though compared to young Fu Zihou, his advanced age and chronic illness left his face pale and weak, and his hand, injured by a wooden stick two nights before, still bore bruises.

“Old Liu, why not rest a bit longer?”
Fu Zihou inquired with concern.
“These old bones—if I don’t move around, I’ll end up bedridden for good.”
Old Liu raised his bruised hand and waved dismissively, then told Fu Zihou to continue his martial arts practice and not worry about him.
In the courtyard, as Fu Zihou drew his sword and swung it powerfully, his steps steady and swift, Old Liu watched with satisfaction and pride.
Fu Zihou’s talent for martial arts astonished him. Remembering the events of two nights ago, Old Liu still felt lingering fear, yet was grateful that the young master Fu Zihou had brought help in time.
Had things ended in bloodshed, implicating the Fu family, Old Liu could never forgive himself, not even in death.
In the small courtyard, as time passed, Fu Zihou saw his aunt and mother supporting Grandpa as they sent his uncle off.
“Dear, don’t worry about us at home. Zhi and I will take care of ourselves! Be careful out there!”
“Brother, safe travels!”
Seeing his aunt’s tearful, red eyes, and his father walking alongside his uncle, Fu Zihou paused his sword practice, knowing his uncle was leaving today to ‘venture out to sea and start a business.’
“Uncle, safe travels!”
Fu Zihou held his sword behind his back and saluted his uncle.
“Mm.”
Fu Hong nodded casually to his nephew. Though the recent events surprised him, his mind was now occupied with the great endeavor ahead.
In Fu Hong’s eyes, nothing compared to the importance of his upcoming mission.
After saluting Grandpa, his wife, and the others, he turned to Old Liu, signaling his request to look after his family. Old Liu returned the gesture, and Fu Hong hurriedly left the courtyard without looking back.

………………………

“This is the sword you gave to the Zhao family?”
Inside the wooden house, Liu Zhiyuan drew the sword, studying the patterns on its blade, his eyes complicated.
The blade’s sharpness and the intricate patterns proved its value. Owning such a sword, whether in times of peace or chaos, was every man’s dream.
Yet, facing this thirteen-year-old boy, who braved the storm that night, delivering the sword to the Zhao family by his own hand—
At an age where most are still immature and obsessed with gain and loss, his disciple acted differently from all his peers.
“Yes.”
Hearing Fu Zihou’s reply, Liu Zhiyuan sheathed the sword.
“You could bear to give it away?”
“I could.”
Liu Zhiyuan returned the sword to the kneeling Fu Zihou. “For a teacher you’ve only known for a day?”
“In my eyes, teacher matters more than the sword.”
Fu Zihou didn’t say anything sentimental, only answered simply and sincerely.
After bowing, he took back the sword from his teacher, waiting for today’s lesson. But remembering something, Fu Zihou put down the sword and bowed deeply.
“Teacher, Old Liu acted out of concern for your disciple. Please don’t blame him!”
Fu Zihou recalled that night’s events, the cause ultimately linked to himself, and felt a pang of guilt.
“He’s already explained himself. You knew nothing of it, and when you found out, you tried to stop it. It’s not your fault.”
Hearing his teacher’s words, Fu Zihou’s heart finally settled.
He looked up at his teacher, and after spending time with him, realized that though proud, the teacher was also very kind, never quick to blame others for their mistakes.
That night, his teacher’s life had hung by a thread!

Yet the teacher chose to forgive Old Liu.
No wonder, in the future, countless heroes and warriors would follow him loyally.
Especially after the founding of Wagang Fortress, when the former chief, Zhai Rang, plotted against the teacher, only to be outwitted and eliminated. The teacher then marched alone into Zhai Rang’s camp and won over all his commanders.

“Come outside with me.”
As Fu Zihou pondered, his teacher called him to rise.
Though unsure of the reason, Fu Zihou obediently followed, leaving the house and taking the small path out of the village.
Along the way—
Fu Zihou’s curiosity grew, but he patiently refrained from asking questions.
He saw more and more hungry people along the roadside, even a few women, under a man’s direction, burying a corpse that had starved and frozen to death. Fu Zihou’s spirits sank.
Death had begun to appear in the village, an ominous sign for Fu Zihou.
After some time,
Following Liu Zhiyuan, they arrived at the riverbank outside the village. Fu Zihou looked around, seeing no one, felt the breeze, and curiously looked at his teacher.
“You memorized well last time, so we’ll skip those lessons for now.”
Liu Zhiyuan glanced at Fu Zihou, then turned to face the stream, hands behind his back, looking serene.
“When you reach Mount Tai, you’ll find people discussing the affairs of powerful ministers or great scholars. You know most of them; I’ll tell you more details later. But today, I want to tell you that at Mount Tai or elsewhere, people may chat about other matters, like ‘Rescue Zhao by besieging Wei.’ If they do, do you know how to answer?”
“Rescue Zhao by besieging Wei? Teacher, are you going to teach me military strategy?”
Fu Zihou’s eyes widened in excitement, unable to contain himself.
It was no wonder—throughout history, those versed in military strategy were always held in high regard, respected wherever they went.
Especially now, in this era of Great Ye.
But Liu Zhiyuan’s next words poured cold water on Fu Zihou’s hopes.
“I don’t teach military strategy. These are just ancient lessons, nothing special. Unless someone at Mount Tai brings it up in conversation, you needn’t discuss it. Just understand it yourself.”
Liu Zhiyuan spoke calmly, gazing into the distance.
“Oh! Then please, teacher, advise me—if someone at Mount Tai asks, how should I answer?”
Fu Zihou was disappointed; he hoped his teacher would teach him some military tactics, thinking they might come in handy, but realized he was being too optimistic.
Indeed, with his teacher living incognito, how could he easily impart military knowledge?
As Fu Zihou bowed, Liu Zhiyuan took a deep breath, his eyes fixed across the river, filled with composure, confidence, and a hint of hidden arrogance.
“It’s better to divide the enemy than to confront them directly; better to fight them in shadow than in the open.”
Liu Zhiyuan began.
“War is the great matter of the state, the ground of life and death, the way of survival or destruction—it must not be neglected! ‘Rescue Zhao by besieging Wei’ is a strategy of avoiding the strong and attacking the weak. It’s like controlling water: the swift avoid resistance, like diversion; the weak block the gaps, like building a dam. When Qi rescued Zhao, Sunzi told Tian Ji: To resolve chaos, don’t fight with fists; to seek combat, do not strike. Strike where the enemy is weak, shape the situation, and you will resolve it…”
By the riverside, with the sound of flowing water in the background, Liu Zhiyuan spoke at length, while Fu Zihou listened closely.
“…When two armies clash, it’s better to split the enemy’s forces and attack the weakest, rather than confronting their strongest troops. Attack where morale is low, not where it’s high…”
Liu Zhiyuan provided detailed examples, from the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods to battles of the Qin and Han dynasties.
As time passed, after finishing his explanation, he instructed Fu Zihou to find two or even three ant nests and catch some insects.
Then Liu Zhiyuan told Fu Zihou to use the insects as bait, so the different ant colonies would encounter each other and fight over the food.
He taught Fu Zihou to first let the weakest ant colony fight the strongest. Whenever the weak colony was about to lose, he would use the strategy of avoiding the strong and attacking the weak to help them hold out. Then, using bait, he would entice the intermediate colony to join in, enacting the ‘Rescue Zhao by besieging Wei’ strategy, so that the weak and intermediate colonies could together defeat the strongest ants.