So this is the gift.
So this is the gift.
The brothers, still lost in the emotions stirred by the earlier conversation, remained dazed and silent.
The girl’s hoarse and unrefined words echoed again and again in their ears.
Deserters—even if they fled out of desperation, they had fled.
When they were injured in a fight during their escape, on the verge of death, it wasn’t fear that consumed them—but unwillingness.
A soldier should die on the battlefield.
Back when they were poor, they didn’t feel so indignant, because they believed they wouldn’t stay poor forever. No matter how hard life was, they still found peace in hope.
But now they had money—lots of it—and yet, in the quiet hours of the night, they would always wake with a deep sense of discontent.
They had longed to achieve glory, to kill enemies, to serve their country—
Only to end up fleeing in disgrace.
Unwilling, unwilling.
It was as if, from the moment they ran, half their souls had been left behind in the northwest.
“…A tiger would rather starve in the wilderness than feast in an iron cage…”
“…That’s why I wanted to give you this gift—not to let you sit atop a mountain of gold and live out your days in peace…”
“…But to give you a chance to achieve merit and wash away the shame…”
“…To climb back up from where you fell, to brush off the mud right where you stumbled…”
To rise again from the place you failed—and start over.
The courtyard was silent—as if even breathing had ceased.
Everything could start over!
Their names cleared—they could begin again!
Back then, why had they run?
Wasn’t it because they wanted a place to voice their injustice?
But as low-ranking soldiers with no power, no influence, no family to rely on—where could they go to seek justice?
Now, the injustice had been redressed, their charges dropped, and they could return to the army.
Wasn’t that their wish all along?
They had thought for sure they were going to die this time—
But not only had they survived, their wish had come true.
How could life hold so many surprises?
Xu Maoxiu looked up at the girl before him.
How could someone have such good fortune?
What had they done to deserve this?
What virtue, what worth, to make the heavens treat them so kindly?
“Do you like these two gifts, brothers?”
Cheng Jiao-niang asked again.
“I do,” Xu Maoxiu was the first to reply.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
“What was that?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard clearly.
“I do!” Xu Maoxiu raised his voice and shouted.
“What?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked again, smiling slightly.
Xu Maoxiu burst out laughing, and his laughter grew louder and louder.
Not just him—the other brothers began to laugh as well.
“I do!”
“I do!”
“I do!”
Their shouts echoed through the courtyard, deafening, mingling with laughter.
But among the laughter—there were also tears.
Li Dashao reached up and rubbed his nose.
“The young masters are really leaving… I can’t bear it,” he said hoarsely.
“What are you crying for? Useless,” Manager Wu scolded from the side. “This is a joyous occasion—they’re going off to earn merit and become heroes.”
Li Dashao nodded repeatedly, then looked up at Manager Wu.
“Manager, what are you doing?” he asked. “Why are you tilting your head like that?”
“Nothing, just looking at the sky,” Manager Wu replied, turning away and keeping his head raised. “The weather’s… not bad today…”
As night fell, the laughter, chatter, and drinking in the courtyard gradually faded.
They had been drinking since midday, and even the few with strong tolerance were now completely drunk.
“Wine doesn’t intoxicate people—people get themselves drunk,” Manager Wu said, a bit tipsy himself.
He, along with Li Dashao and Jin Ge’er, helped carry the drunken men from the main hall back to their rooms, assisting them with washing up and changing clothes before finally taking their leave.
Cheng Jiao-niang stood under the eaves to see them off.
“Thank you for your hard work,” she said.
“It’s no trouble at all—being able to work hard is a blessing,” Manager Wu said with a hearty laugh.
It was unclear whether they were referring to the effort of just now—helping the brothers back to bed—or the hard work of running the restaurant in the future.
But either way, they understood each other perfectly.
Li Dashao nodded along with a cheerful grin.
No trouble at all—truly, being able to work like this was a blessing.
As the banquet at the Cheng residence came to an end, the one at the Zhou residence was in full swing.
Zhou Liu-lang’s travel documents and formal credentials had already been sent ahead to the northwest. In three days, he would depart with the newly appointed military officers headed there. Tomorrow, he would report to the Western Garrison.
Compared to his mother’s reluctance to part with her youngest son, the men of the Zhou family were far less sentimental.
For them, such farewells had been passed down through generations—this was a destiny determined the day they were born, and one they had long prepared for.
“…Over there, listen to your uncles…”
“…The battlefield isn’t like the training ground—observe more, learn more…”
His father and uncles imparted their experience.
“…I got this military manual at a high price—it’s worth its weight in gold…”
“…Brother, this is a protective charm I asked for you…”
His siblings gave him parting gifts.
The banquet was lavish, the songs and dances delightful—the Zhou family’s front hall was lively well into the night before it finally came to an end.
After washing up and sobering a bit, Zhou Liu-lang didn’t go to bed. Instead, he sat down in the main hall.
“Young Master, it’s getting late. You should rest,” the maids urged.
Zhou Liu-lang looked at the gifts arranged in the hall—some from his siblings, others from friends.
Most symbolized peace and well-wishes, so there was no need to take them along.
“Are all the gifts here?” he asked.
The maids were a little puzzled by the question.
“Yes, Young Master. Everything we’ve received over the past few days is here,” they replied, then hesitated before asking, “Would you like to take some with you?”
Zhou Liu-lang shook his head and waved his hand.
The maids dared not ask further, bowed, and quietly withdrew.
Zhou Liu-lang sat alone for a moment, then got up and moved over to the small table, beginning to look through the various gift boxes of different sizes.
No, no, no…
Was it just because he didn’t get to take the longbow he liked best that day, and so got angry and stopped interacting?
Of course not.
Zhou Liu-lang paused his hand.
Of course not.
It was because he had expressed that he didn’t want to maintain contact anymore—he was so clever, how could he not see that…?
Zhou Liu-lang lay back, face up, with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
A maid peered out from under the eaves, looking somewhat worried.
“Is the young master drunk? Why is he sleeping out here…” she whispered.
“Let’s just watch for now,” another whispered back.
Before their words had fully left their mouths, the young man in the hall suddenly sat up again and continued flipping through the gift boxes.
The two maids breathed a sigh of relief, exchanged a glance, smiled faintly, and lowered their heads to sit quietly under the eaves.
Zhou Liu-lang stopped his hands.
There simply wouldn’t be any—
That girl didn’t even know he was leaving.
And even if she did, it would be as if she didn’t.
Zhou Liu-lang exhaled, leaned back once more, and kicked the small table and gift boxes aside, finally settling into a comfortable position.
Seeing that the young man inside had not moved for a long time, the maids first called softly to him, but received no response. Only then did they rise and enter, finding the youth lying on the floor with his eyes closed, deeply asleep.
They dared not wake him, nor could they move him. The maids could only fetch a quilt and cover him, then went around extinguishing the lamps one by one before quietly leaving the room.
In the dim, yellow glow of the night lamp, the young man’s eyes suddenly opened, shining bright.
The night was deep and still, with all things silent.
The lights were still on in Cheng Jiao-niang’s hall, where the soft voices and laughter of maids could be heard, along with a faint scent of medicine. After a while, the paper door slid open, the maid and Ban Qin each came out carrying a basket, followed by Cheng Jiao-niang.
Turning the corner into the backyard, they saw someone sitting on a rock, who clearly had heard their footsteps and was hastily getting up.
“Third Young Master, you are awake?” the maid asked with a smile.
“I just took a nap,” Xu Maoxiu replied, still showing a faint trace of alcohol on his face. He smiled a little sheepishly, then looked surprised. “Why aren’t you asleep yet, Sister?”
“I’m drying the tea,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
The maid and Ban Qin quickly showed the baskets they were carrying to Xu Maoxiu.
“Miss made this herself.”
“…The tea trees that Young Master Qin gave us are just right for picking now…”
Listening to the two maids’ cheerful voices, Xu Maoxiu lowered his head and carefully examined the tea in the basket.
“Good, good, Sister, you’re really talented,” he said with a smile and nodded.
Cheng Jiao-niang stepped forward and smiled at him in response.
“So, Brother, you can rest assured and go to sleep,” she said. “No need to worry about me.”
Xu Maoxiu smiled too and followed her step.
“But I’m still worried,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang said nothing.
Xu Maoxiu sighed from behind.
“Actually, I know there’s no need to worry,” he added.
So, was he worried or not?
The maid and Ban Qin, a few steps behind, exchanged a glance and smiled quietly.
“From now on, you should go out more,” Xu Maoxiu said. “Don’t always stay cooped up at home by yourself…”
“I’m not lonely,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, looking back at him with a smile. “Brother, you don’t need to worry.”
Xu Maoxiu sighed again, watching Cheng Jiao-niang stand before the bamboo mat Jin Ge’er had already laid out. He reached out, and the maid quickly handed him the basket in her hands.
“Although outsiders might think I’m pitiful,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, as she smoothed her sleeve and sprinkled tea from the basket Xu Maoxiu handed her, smiling again as she spoke, “or maybe scary—that’s just their view, not the way I live.”
Yes, those were others’ opinions. This girl herself was neither pitiful nor scary.
Xu Maoxiu smiled.
“It’s me who’s become too dull,” he said.
“So, don’t worry,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued. “You should know, before I met you all, I always lived like this.”
So, even without them, she would live this way.
In fact, it was without them that she was most accustomed to living.
Those words were so blunt, almost awkwardly so.
But it was the truth—whether they accepted it or not, it simply existed.
After all, it had only been a year since they met.
A year—such a brief, insignificant span of time.
For her, that year hadn’t changed much, but for them, their fates were completely altered.
Xu Maoxiu said no more, and Cheng Jiao-niang remained silent as well. One scattered the tea, the other held the basket, and soon both baskets were emptied.
“All right, from now on, this kind of thing will have to be done by you alone. I won’t be able to help,” Xu Maoxiu said, patting his hands together.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled and bowed slightly.
“Thank you, Brother,” she said.
“Go get some rest,” Xu Maoxiu said, watching her. “You’ve been working hard these past few days.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded with a smile, bowed slightly once more, and then turned to leave.
The maid and Ban Qin also bowed and followed after her.
Watching the girl gradually disappear under the flickering night lights, Xu Maoxiu remained still for a long while.
At the break of dawn, a maid gently opened the door and was startled.
“Where is the young master?” she called out, then turned around. “Have any of you seen him?”
Other maids hurried over. The hall was empty, the blankets tossed aside.
“Maybe he went to the training ground?”
“But why didn’t we hear anything…”
“When I looked just now, he was still here…”
“Today he’s supposed to leave for the capital camp—he’s really diligent if he’s still going to the training ground…”
At that moment, the diligent Zhou Liu-lang was knocking on the door of the Cheng residence.
“…Young Master Zhou, so early?” Jin Ge’er, rubbing his sleepy eyes, leaned against the door and said.
“Early? You should have already swept the front yard by now, and you’re still sleeping!” Zhou Liu-lang glared and shouted.
Jin Ge’er was startled and instinctively reached for the broom. By the time he came to his senses, Zhou Liu-lang had already stepped inside.
Just like he had hesitated outside for half a day, Zhou Liu-lang stopped again in the courtyard.
“What do you want?” Jin Ge’er followed, asking displeased, “No one’s even up yet.”
Zhou Liu-lang exhaled, glanced at the quiet little courtyard, then turned and started to walk back outside.
“Tell your mistress that I’m leaving,” he said to Jin Ge’er as he walked. “From now on…”
Before he could finish, the sound of a door opening came from behind.
Zhou Liu-lang’s steps involuntarily stopped, but at the same time, he wished he could leave immediately and disappear.
“What about ‘from now on’?”
Cheng Jiao-niang’s voice came from behind.
Zhou Liu-lang took a deep breath and turned around, seeing the girl at the door dressed in simple clothes with her hair undone. He quickly turned away again.
“From now on, I’ll cause fewer troubles,” he said.
Silence behind him.
He lifted his foot and took two steps.
“Oh, so you’re saying goodbye to me,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Think whatever you want.
Zhou Liu-lang snorted and looked to the side.
“It’s not easy living in the capital. Take care of yourself,” he said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl seemed to smile.
“Ban Qin, bring some snacks,” she said.
That damn lady!
Zhou Liu-lang spun around and glared at her.
Inside the dimly lit room and the courtyard brightening with morning light, standing at the doorway—between the light and the dark—a girl dressed in plain clothes, her jet-black hair like ink, wore a dazzling smile that was almost too bright to look at directly.
Zhou Liu-lang didn’t know how he had stepped outside. When he came to his senses, he found himself already standing on the street, holding a small box of pastries in his hand.
His face immediately flushed red. What he should do now was throw the box of pastries to a beggar by the roadside, or smash it into the river.
The city gates had already opened, and more and more people were crowding the streets—pushing carts, leading horses, riding donkeys, all bustling past.
Zhou Liu-lang glanced left and right, tucked the small box securely under his arm, and took a step forward.
“Good morning.”
Someone rode past on horseback, tossing out a remark.
“What are you sneaking around for?”
Zhou Liu-lang panicked for a moment, then froze.
That voice…
He looked up at the graceful young gentleman who had already passed him and was riding ahead.
“Hey.” He couldn’t help but call out.
Qin Shi’san turned his head.
“What’s up?” he asked, sounding somewhat surprised.
Zhou Liu-lang glared at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Just out handling some business,” Qin Shi’san said with a smile. Then he waved to him. “I’m leaving now.”
He didn’t rein in his horse as he spoke; by the time he finished, he was already several yards away. Then, after speaking, he turned and urged his horse forward with a squeeze of his legs.
Zhou Liu-lang stood there, still trying to process what had just happened.
He’s… gone…
The young man and his horse weaved through the crowd, growing more and more distant.
“That bastard,” he suddenly gritted his teeth and said, “That bastard!”
With that, he broke into a wild run.
Qin Shi’san’s horse wasn’t moving very fast through the busy street, and in no time, Zhou Liu-lang caught up.
“Heh, what’s the rush? Running so fast,” Qin Shi’san laughed from his horse.
Zhou Liu-lang stopped beside him and spat.
“Cut the act. Get down here,” he said, glaring.
“How can you talk to people like that?” Qin Shi’san frowned.
“Talk? I’ll hit you too!” Zhou Liu-lang shouted, reaching out to grab him.
Hit him?
The people on the street immediately turned their eyes bright and looked over.
“All right, all right, I’ll get down myself,” Qin Shi’san quickly laughed. “Can’t afford to embarrass myself—not in front of that person.”
Seeing the two young men not fight but walk side by side, the crowd on the street dispersed with a hint of disappointment.
“I’m really busy,” Qin Shi’san said. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Busy following me around so early in the morning?” Zhou Liu-lang snorted.
“Oh, look at you! Why would I be following you?” Qin Shi’san said with a surprised expression.
“Enough. I don’t lie, and neither do you. Don’t think you’re so clever. Back then, when I ran into your cart, you smiled and said it was no big deal—but inside you were cursing me hard. Who couldn’t tell?” Zhou Liu-lang snorted.
Qin Shi’san laughed heartily.
“Oh? You really saw through me?” he asked with curiosity. “Then why did you still agree to meet me?”
“You’re just a little cripple—I wasn’t afraid of you,” Zhou Liu-lang said.
“Little cripple? And you say you’ve never said that about me before,” Qin Shi’san snorted in return.
“I was just lying to you, and you really believed it,” Zhou Liu-lang said, then held out his hand. “Now get to the point—I’m busy.”
“What are you doing? What important business?” Qin Shi’san frowned in confusion and asked.
Zhou Liu-lang spat and reached toward his waist to grab a dagger. Qin Shi’san hurriedly tried to protect it.
“That’s mine, mine!” he shouted.
Although his leg had healed, he was no match for Zhou Liu-lang, who had practiced martial skills since he could walk. In just a few moves, the dagger was taken away.
It was a seemingly ordinary dagger, with a simple, rustic sheath—no gems or gold decorations.
Zhou Liu-lang drew the blade out, clicking his tongue twice.
“A Duan family knife from Wei-zhou,” he said with a hint of satisfaction. “Not bad at all. Giving this as a gift shows some sincerity.”
Qin Shi’san laughed beside him.
“What about mine?” he asked.
Zhou Liu-lang sheathed the dagger and glanced at him.
“Accepting your gift is the best gift I can give you,” he said.
Qin Shi’san laughed heartily and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder.
“You’re learning to be slicker and slicker from your cousin!” he joked.
“Why bring her up so nicely?” Zhou Liu-lang said. “You’d better give it up. Stop thinking about her all the time—it’s useless.”
Qin Shi’san smiled without replying and patted his belly.
“I’m in a hurry and haven’t eaten yet,” he said, looking at Zhou Liu-lang with a brightened eye. “You even brought some snacks, not bad, not bad. Let me have some…”
As he reached out, Zhou Liu-lang quickly covered the snacks and dodged away.
“Watch what’re you trying to eat.” he said.
“Aren’t you the one who doesn’t care for her things?” Qin Shi’san laughed. “Out of sight, out of mind—I’ll take care of them for you.”
Zhou Liu-lang snorted and dodged again.
“I’m leaving. You take care of her,” he suddenly said.
Qin Shi’san smiled slightly.
“She doesn’t need me to take care of her,” he said. “I don’t even have a way to repay her kindness.”
Zhou Liu-lang looked straight ahead as he walked.
Qin Shi’san held the reins in his hand; his horse wasn’t yet as well-trained to follow as Zhou Liu-lang’s.
“I don’t have anyone else I truly trust or can rely on—only you,” Zhou Liu-lang said. “Whether I need you or not is one thing, but having someone there is another.”
Qin Shi’san nodded, then shook his head.
“Are you flattering me or mocking me?” he said, reaching out to punch Zhou Liu-lang.
This time Zhou Liu-lang raised his arm to block, then punched him back.
“Strengthen your little body. When I come back from the battlefield, let’s see if you can still block my punch,” he laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’m only ten years later than you,” Qin Shi’san chuckled. “When you come back, who beats whom is still up in the air.”
Zhou Liu-lang curled his lips.
By now, they had reached the street corner, and Qin Shi’san stopped.
“Well, I’m off then,” he said.
Zhou Liu-lang also stopped and nodded.
“Are you really busy?” he asked again.
“Yes. My father introduced me to a teacher, but this teacher is hard to please. Nowadays, I have to get up early every day to wait at his doorstep,” Qin Shi’san explained.
Zhou Liu-lang snorted.
“But I really did come to see you off,” Qin Shi’san said with a smile, reaching out to pat Zhou Liu-lang’s arm.
Zhou Liu-lang snorted, then raised his hand and cupped it toward him.
“Good luck in the imperial exams,” he said.
“Thanks, but no need,” Qin Shi’san laughed. The confidence on the young man’s face shone in the morning light as he returned the gesture. “I wish you unstoppable victories and early military honors.”
“No need to wish for that either, it’s obvious,” Zhou Liu-lang said, lifting his chin.
Qin Shi’san laughed heartily, and their cupped hands met in a brief salute.
Qin Shi’san swung onto his horse and rode west, while Zhou Liu-lang headed east—each on his own horse, disappearing into the bustling streets.
