Upon learning that Qin Shi’san had gone out early in the morning, Madam Qin had deliberately waited at the door to tease and mock him upon his return. But as time passed, he still hadn’t come home.
“Where has he gone?” she asked, somewhat surprised.
After a flurry of inquiries, someone finally came back with an answer.
“He’s gone to the Zhou residence.”
At the entrance of the Zhou household, however, Young Master Qin was stopped.
“He’s not home?” he asked in surprise.
The servant who came to reply kept his head lowered and answered meekly.
“No, Sixth Young Master has… has gone out,” he said.
Young Master Qin shook his head and walked past him, heading inside.
“Young Master!” the servant cried out in a panic.
“Following your young master and learning to lie now, are you?” Qin Shi’san shook his head, ignoring him and walking straight in.
The path from the entrance to the courtyard where Zhou Liu-lang was now staying felt both familiar and unfamiliar to Qin Shi’san. Familiar, because he had walked it countless times over the years; unfamiliar, because this time, he was walking it himself.
Zhou Liu-lang was not in the courtyard—he was at the training ground.
His bare upper body was already drenched in sweat, and the long spear in his hands moved with breathtaking precision, leaving the two junior soldiers facing him struggling to keep up.
Though Zhou Liu-lang was clearly younger than the two, he had them steadily retreating, step by step.
“And you dare call yourselves soldiers from the Northwest?” Zhou Liu-lang bellowed. “Deserters, more like!”
The words enraged the two young soldiers. With a shout, they moved in opposite steps, their spears spinning sharply as they struck toward Zhou Liu-lang’s legs.
A loud clang rang out. The two spears went flying, and the soldiers staggered backward, their hands still numb from the shock.
“Temper like that—no wonder your families sent you to the capital to retire,” Zhou Liu-lang said coldly.
Ignoring the two flushed and embarrassed young soldiers behind him, Zhou Liu-lang tossed the spear to the ground and walked over.
“Want to give it a try?” he asked, looking at Qin Shi’san.
Qin Shi’san let out a hearty laugh.
“That wouldn’t be fair—I’m ten years too late. How could I possibly catch up with you?” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang took the towel offered by a maid and wiped the sweat from his face, then looked at Qin Shi’san with a smile.
“What are you smiling at?” Qin Shi’san asked with a grin.
“Just never thought I’d hear something like that from you,” Zhou Liu-lang said. “It really is…”
He stopped halfway through the sentence and took the robe the maid handed him, draping it over his shoulders.
“Really is easier to talk big when you’re not the one suffering, huh?” Qin Shi’san picked up where he left off, still smiling. “Back then you’d never admit what was obviously true. Now that everything’s calm, you finally have the luxury to say things that sound so…pretentious.”
Zhou Liu-lang gave a slight smile.
“I never said that,” he replied. “But honestly, does it matter whether I say it or not? Each of you knows the truth better than anyone.”
Qin Shi’san lifted his hand with a smile, then let it fall.
“Without a cane, it’s hard to even hit you,” he said, then raised an eyebrow at Zhou Liu-lang. “That line sounds even more bitter and fake, doesn’t it?”
Zhou Liu-lang shot him a glare but said nothing.
“I’m just one person,” Qin Shi’san said, smiling as he pointed to himself. “A person—with all the usual human feelings and desires. The only difference is whether you know how to hide and control them. Me? I’m the kind who does. You? You’re the kind who doesn’t. But there’s no right or wrong in that, no higher or lower. Maybe it’s just nature. Or maybe… it’s necessity. In my case, it’s necessity.”
As he spoke, he took a few steps forward, this time without the servant’s support—though his steps were still a little unsteady.
“But even so, it’s not all out of necessity. Living like this isn’t so bad. At least it makes the people around me feel happy. That way, my existence doesn’t seem so pitiful. And I, too, get to feel happy.”
He paused for a moment, his voice calm but firm.
“If I live my whole life this way, I believe I’ll live it well. And I’ll help the people around me live well too. There’s nothing wrong with that. Even now, I’m still proud of the person I used to be.”
Zhou Liu-lang lowered his head and said nothing as he slowly tied his robe.
“But fate really is unpredictable. Or maybe—good people just have good fortune,” Qin Shi’san said with a smile. He turned to look at Zhou Liu-lang. “Meeting you as a friend, and then meeting Lady Cheng—because of that, I got the chance to live a different kind of life. A life just like everyone else’s. I’m human, of course I’m happy—so happy I could go mad. Saying things I thought I’d never get to say in this lifetime, showing off, pretending to brood… all of that. Liu-lang, I don’t feel ashamed. I feel proud. I’m just that happy—so happy I’ve lost my composure, become rough, even crude.”
Zhou Liu-lang sat down to the side.
“If you think I’ve changed,” Qin Shi’san went on, pointing at him, “it’s not me who’s changed—it’s you. Your mindset has changed.”
Then he laughed again.
“But that’s only natural. Just like I used to pretend—I used to pretend I was a normal person. But really, I wasn’t…” he said with a smile. “Now that I’ve actually become a normal person, you…”
He reached out and tapped Zhou Liu-lang.
“You, the one who’s always thought I was not quite right—now you don’t know how to deal with me, do you?” he laughed, rubbing his chin. “So? Feels strange, doesn’t it? You, who used to look down at me from above—now I get to look down at you. Feeling a bit rattled?”
Zhou Liu-lang burst out laughing and casually picked up a nearby spear, tossing it at him.
“You vain fool,” he scolded.
“I knew it,” Qin Shi’san said, shaking out his robes. “From now on, with someone as charming and elegant as me by your side, you’re nothing but background decoration. I get your mindset—you’ll probably stop hanging out with me in the future. I understand.”
“Your mouth only runs like this when you’re around me,” Zhou Liu-lang spat. “You’ll end up getting yourself killed if you keep this up!”
“Don’t insult a man by hitting his weak spots,” Qin Shi’san replied.
“And don’t hit people in the face either,” Zhou Liu-lang shot back. “Quit showing off. We get it—you can walk now. Sit down and rest before you end up celebrating so much you hurt yourself.”
Qin Shi’san laughed and sat down beside him.
“You’ve got nothing going on at home—let’s go out for a walk,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang gave a snort and shot him a sideways glance.
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” he said.
“I want to go see your cousin,” Qin Shi’san replied with a grin.
“If you want to thank her, go yourself,” Zhou Liu-lang said.
“I already did,” Qin Shi’san laughed. “I’m going with you so you can apologize.”
Zhou Liu-lang glared at him.
“What did I do wrong? What would I apologize for?” he said.
Qin Shi’san smiled as he looked at him.
“Knew it—I was right. You really have changed,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang spat in annoyance and stood up.
Qin Shi’san followed after him.
“But it’s good—you’ve changed for the better,” Zhou Liu-lang said, turning his head to look at him. “Before I leave, let’s go out for a drink. Can you drink now? If not, tea will do.”
“Whether I can drink or not, I’m not actually sure,” Qin Shi’san said. “Perfect excuse to go ask your cousin… leaving?” He stopped walking and looked at Zhou Liu-lang. “Who’s leaving?”
Zhou Liu-lang burst into laughter.
“Gain one thing, lose another—your legs are better, but your brain’s not what it used to be,” he joked. “Of course I’m the one leaving.”
Qin Shi’san looked at him, his expression growing serious.
“For this?” he asked. “Zhou Liu, you really have changed.”
“Changed? What are you talking about? I said I’d leave long ago,” Zhou Liu-lang replied. “I’ve just been waiting for the right chance. Now my father’s secured me a nominal post, and my cousin—our twenty-seventh brother—has passed away in the Northwest from illness. They need someone to fill his position, so I’m heading there.”
The Zhou family was a lineage of military men. Their enduring power didn’t come from Master Zhou’s position in the capital, but from the many Zhou sons earning merit in the army out on the frontier.
This had long been part of the Zhou family’s plan—and the path Zhou Liu-lang was meant to take.
Qin Shi’san looked at him in silence for a moment, then nodded.
“All right,” he said with a faint smile. “I’ll go ask. If I can drink, then we brothers are going to get properly drunk. And if I can’t, well—there’s always enough tea in the world to drink ourselves silly.”
At the same time, over at Desheng Pavilion, two young men came tumbling out in a flurry of limbs.
“Get lost!” shouted four or five burly men who followed them out, jabbing their fingers viciously. “No money and you still dare eat for free at Desheng? Looking to die?”
Disheveled and humiliated, Cheng Si-lang glanced at the growing crowd on the street, people whispering and pointing, and instinctively raised a hand to cover his face.
“No one was eating for free! I just didn’t have the money on me at the moment,” Wang Shi’qi protested angrily, still wanting to argue.
Cheng Si-lang grabbed his arm.
“Stop making a scene—let’s go!” he hissed under his breath.
Wang Shi’qi shook him off in frustration, but still let himself be dragged away.
“Pah! Even southern savages think they can eat for free these days!” one of the Desheng bouncers jeered, clapping his hands as he turned to go back inside.
From just behind the door, a young maid stepped out. Her childish face bore a complexity far beyond her years.
She looked after the two young lords disappearing into the crowd, then lowered her head, hugged the small bundle in her arms tightly, and hurried after them.
“Go home already! Stop embarrassing me out here.”
“Who’s embarrassing who? What kind of life are you even living at home? My aunt only gave you that little bit of money for your trip? Even a kept woman could do better!”
“Wang Shi’qi, who are you insulting?!”
“Young master, young master—”
As the two young men walked and bickered, a voice suddenly called out behind them—spoken in a familiar accent from their hometown. Cheng Si-lang quickly turned around and saw a timid-looking girl, about ten years old, gazing up at him.
“Were you calling me?” Cheng Si-lang asked, a bit uncertain.
“May I ask, young master… are you from Jiang-zhou?” the little girl stepped forward, her wide eyes shining with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
The little girl’s expression and accent immediately made Cheng Si-lang understand what was going on.
He couldn’t help but smile slightly.
“Yes,” he replied, emphasizing his accent. “You’re from there too?”
“Yes,” the little girl said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“You look awfully familiar,” Wang Shi’qi suddenly said, sizing her up. “Aren’t you the one who carries the lute for Lady Zhu?”
Chun Ling nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears as she looked at the two young men, then hesitated and took a step back.
“I—I was sold,” she whispered, a hint of shame in her voice. “I—I lost control when I heard you speak, young masters.”
Sold… and all the way here, at such a young age… sold to a place like this…
How pitiful.
“Are you asking us to help you…?” Cheng Si-lang began hurriedly.
Before he could finish, Wang Shi’qi shoved him aside.
“You really are with Lady Zhu?” he exclaimed with joy. “That’s great! If you can help me see Lady Zhu, I’ll help buy your freedom and get you home.”
