The roadside tea shed was rustic and simple, barely a hut to keep out the wind and snow. A large pot, set right by the door, steamed warmly, a comforting sight for travelers braving the winter cold.
Inside, the shed was packed, mostly with traveling merchants or common folks heading to the city to make a living. Their carrying poles, baskets, and carts were crammed outside, while loud laughter and conversation filled the air, creating a noisy and chaotic atmosphere.
Amidst the crowd, one man sat with his head bowed, examining a few sheets of paper. He wore a blue cotton Taoist robe, and all that was visible from his lowered head was his hair, tied up with a wooden hairpin. Beside him, three or four merchants chatted animatedly, gesturing and talking with great enthusiasm.
“Young Master?” his servant called.
Zhou Fu withdrew his gaze and looked again. The merchants were now exchanging glances with each other, half-standing and blocking the view of the person sitting inside with their gestures.
Just ahead, a commotion broke out. Soldiers cleared the way as the crowd parted, and a group of officials came galloping into view.
“Young Master,” the servant called.
Zhou Fu frowned.
“How did they find out again?” he asked.
“Young Master, your status now is anything but ordinary,” the servant replied. “No matter how discreet we try to be, the moment you leave Longgu City, news spreads far and wide. Countless eyes have been watching us every step of the way.”
After all, who would pass up the chance to curry favor with the Emperor’s brother-in-law?
“If only they were this proactive in other matters,” Zhou Fu snorted.
The servant chuckled but also looked somewhat concerned.
“Young Master, it’s unwise to reject a welcoming smile,” he reminded him.
Zhou Fu glared at him.
“Do I need you to teach me how to conduct myself?” he said dismissively.
The servant just grinned.
“Master Zhou!”
By now, the approaching party had galloped up close. Everyone dismounted, clasped their hands in greeting, and warmly welcomed him.
“You’ve had a long journey.”
Zhou Fu dismounted and returned the courtesy with a respectful bow.
After some brief pleasantries, they escorted him into the city in a bustling entourage.
Zhou Fu mounted his horse and glanced once more toward the tea shed. The people there were also watching the commotion, crowding the doorway as they peered out, blocking the view inside.
Why would he be here?
Had he mistaken someone else for him?
Besides, a man who always prided himself on being refined and fastidious would never dress so plainly or mingle in such a humble tea shed.
With the Emperor’s ascension, the court had seen major changes, and the Qin family was naturally affected. However, according to the latest news, the situation wasn’t too dire. Qin An had requested resignation, and the Emperor had permitted it – though he also granted him an honorary post, allowing him to return to his hometown in retirement.
While his official career had ended, the Qin family remained an influential clan back in Sichuan, and their lifestyle would continue undisturbed.
Zhou Fu withdrew his gaze.
The bustling entourage proceeded along the main road toward the city.
“Who is that man? Even the local magistrate came in person to welcome him.”
“So young and unassuming in appearance.”
“Probably the son of some high-ranking official.”
Those who had been cleared aside returned to the road, pointing at the departing group and chattering among themselves.
The onlookers inside the tea shed also dispersed – some returning to their seats, others leaving altogether.
“Make way, make way!” the shopkeeper shouted loudly, carrying in a steaming bowl of tea broth. He set it down on a low table, the rising steam momentarily obscuring the face of the man who had just looked up.
“Thank you,” the man said.
As the steam dissipated, it revealed a handsome and elegant young face.
He gently brushed back a sleeve with one hand and lifted the tea bowl with the other.
The traveling merchant seated nearby watched the slender, refined hand that seemed so mismatched with the crude earthenware bowl. Taking in the young man’s graceful movements, the merchant found himself holding his breath.
Though dressed in an utterly plain blue cotton Taoist robe and with his hair tied simply with a bamboo pin, every gesture carried an air of dignified ease.
Seeing such a fine gentleman about to drink this coarse tea, the merchant suddenly felt almost reluctant to let him go through with it. Yet the young master downed the bowl in one go, set it aside, and picked up his papers once more.
“Is that a letter from home, young man?” the traveling merchant couldn’t help but ask. Since sitting down, the young man had been reading, occasionally smiling to himself.
“Are you studying away from home?” he inquired curiously.
No sooner had he spoken than someone behind him nudged him with an elbow.
Annoyed, the merchant turned around and saw another man gesturing subtly toward one side.
What?
The merchant’s gaze shifted to where the man had indicated, and his expression froze for a moment. Next to the young man rested a pair of crutches.
He was crippled.
Such a handsome young man, and yet…
A flicker of pity crossed the merchant’s face.
In that case, he couldn’t be traveling for studies – after all, he wouldn’t be able to take the imperial examinations.
Yet the young man looked up with a gentle smile and replied.
“Yes, I am,” he said.
The merchant found himself at a loss for words.
“Shopkeeper, another bowl–” the young man called out, raising his empty bowl.
Before he could finish, the traveling merchant quickly reached out to take it.
“Allow me, allow me,” he said, getting to his feet. “It’s busy now – calling for him will take time. I’ll go fetch it for you.”
The young man smiled faintly, neither refusing nor appearing overly grateful.
“Alright, thank you,” he replied.
Being trusted and having one’s goodwill accepted is one of the most heartwarming things. Grinning, the merchant squeezed through the crowd and urged the shopkeeper to pour a full bowl of tea broth first before carefully carrying it back.
“Though it’s coarse, this kind of broth is just right for travelers – warms you right up,” he said.
The young man nodded with a smile and thanked him again.
“Are you traveling alone?” the merchant asked. “Are your parents not worried?”
The young man chuckled lightly.
“They aren’t worried,” he answered.
The traveling merchant was about to say something more, but the young man lowered his head and returned to his letters, so the merchant swallowed his words. Someone behind him nudged him again.
“You talk too much,” the person whispered. “He’s unwell – don’t keep pestering him. It’s as if you’re overly curious. People like him don’t like being treated as oddities.”
True enough. The merchant gave an awkward smile and fell silent. He sipped his tea while stealing occasional glances at the young man.
Still, for someone in his condition to travel alone… Weren’t his family worried? He didn’t even have a servant with him. He didn’t seem like someone from a poor family, though. Could it be that his parents didn’t care for him?
The corner of Qin Hu’s mouth lifted slightly once more. He turned the page and began reading the next letter.
His father and mother had already set out for Sichuan. It seemed his father’s spirits were quite good, without any trace of melancholy.
“…Of course, this isn’t because the Emperor was merciful in granting him an official post.”
Madam Qin wrote in the letter.
Indeed – in truth, this emperor was anything but merciful. He had always been cunning and ruthless.
He had refused to accept his father’s resignation, instead baring his teeth in a vicious grin, intending to trap his father in the capital and toy with him slowly, like a cat with a mouse.
“It was the Empress who said we should be allowed to leave.”
That title made Qin Hu’s gaze pause. He reached for the tea broth, took a sip, and then continued reading.
“I only found out later. I went to see her specifically. She was sitting in the Empress’s palace, dressed and groomed just as she used to be.”
Just as she used to be.
Before Qin Hu’s eyes, the memory of the first time he saw her seemed to surface once more.
It was also winter then, snowing, right in the Zhou family’s courtyard. To help Zhou Fu out of an awkward situation, he had pretended to be drunk and walked over to share a cup with her.
Amid the white haze of snow, a girl in deep robes, with wide sleeves and long, flowing black hair, turned to look at him.
Sometimes, the purpose of an entire lifetime is just to meet someone’s gaze in a single glance.
The corner of Qin Hu’s mouth curved again. His eyes settled back on the letter in his hands.
“I asked her if it was her decision to let us return to Sichuan, and she admitted it. I was astonished. You understand – for our family, the most likely outcome was to be impeached by the Censorate, investigated for crimes, convicted, your father thrown into prison, I hanging myself with dignity, and you all exiled to the army. Returning to Sichuan meant none of that would happen. How was it possible? The Emperor despises our family because we attempted to support Duke Yanping. And honestly, that itself isn’t the main issue – before a final verdict, officials naturally choose their allegiances. It’s understandable, and at most, it would earn his disdain and suppression. But the Empress… her feelings toward us are far more than mere dislike.”
Qin Hu set down the letter in his hand and picked up his tea broth again. The pungent, rising steam blurred his face.
Indeed.
Zhou Fu had nearly died by his hand – no, not nearly, but died.
To bring the dead Zhou Fu back, she had almost given her own life.
Though they both ultimately survived, in his heart, he still felt he had killed them.
A debt involving life and death is far more than mere dislike or resentment.
So why would she do this?
Was it…
The speculative thought had barely flickered in his mind when Qin Hu shook his head, dismissing it.
What she did is what she did. My own thoughts are just my own – what does it have to do with her?
Qin Hu set down the tea broth and lowered his head to continue reading the letter.
“She said, it was to repay my kindness of feeding her water,” she wrote.
Feeding water?
Qin Hu froze for a moment.
Had his mother once given her water to drink? Was it back then – when she fell into a coma after receiving Chen Shao’s letter asking, “Who are you?”?
In those dimly lit rooms, with maids frowning in worry, during those dark, hopeless days…
The patient had been unconscious for half a month. Without any concern for filth or stains, that dignified lady had stepped forward, lifted the girl, and fed her water – as if caring for her own child.
In truth, a noblewoman of her status wouldn’t even personally tend to her own child that way, with nursemaids and servants always around.
Suddenly, Qin Hu felt his nose sting.
Was she really someone who refused to forget even the smallest kindness?
The letter before his eyes grew slightly blurred.
There were traces of tears on the paper. Most likely, the one writing the letter had paused here, tears falling.
“…With someone like her in power, what do the Qin family have to fear? So your father is at peace. We will return to Sichuan, do what we can, and live contentedly, free of worry.”
“Oh, and before I took my leave, she asked me to tell a joke…”
Qin Hu set this page aside and looked at the next one.
“This time, she laughed.”
The corner of Qin Hu’s mouth lifted.
Only, he didn’t know whether it was a hearty laugh or that faint, gentle smile of hers from before.
“Young man.”
A voice spoke beside him, pulling Qin Hu out of his reverie.
He looked up at the traveling merchant next to him.
“Would you like more tea?” the merchant asked with concern.
Qin Hu smiled and shook his head, gathering the letters in his hands.
“No need. I’m going into the city,” he said, reaching for his crutches beside him.
The room was crowded, the space cramped. The traveling merchant quickly rose to help support him.
Qin Hu stood up with some effort, steadying himself on his crutches.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
“Don’t mention it,” the merchant hurriedly replied, waving a hand.
“Are you pitying me, a cripple?” Qin Hu asked, looking at him with a faint smile.
The merchant was taken aback for a moment, then looked awkward.
Yes, he had been pitying the young man for being lame…
But in the eyes of someone with a disability, pity and disdain can be hard to distinguish.
Had he unintentionally hurt the young man’s feelings?
Just as he was feeling uneasy, he saw the young man bow politely toward him.
“But pity is also compassion,” Qin Hu said. “Thank you, sir.”
The merchant was stunned for a second, then broke into a smile.
“You’re too kind, too kind,” he said. “It was nothing at all, truly not worth thanks.”
As he spoke, he quickly turned to shield Qin Hu from the people moving about inside.
“Make way, make way.”
What was truly rare was not the small favor offered, but the trust in it – and the willingness to accept another’s small kindness.
Accepting and believing were, in fact, not difficult to do, and the outcome wasn’t something to fear. Along the way, he had found his days passing rather smoothly.
With a smile, Qin Hu steadied himself on his crutches and followed the merchant out of the tea shed. Outside, he bowed once more in farewell before making his way onward.
Not long after, the main road stirred with activity again.
Two riders galloped out from the city. The travelers from earlier had already come and gone, and those on the road now didn’t recognize the newcomers as the same ones who had been escorted into the city by a group of officials earlier.
“Young Master, are you sure you saw correctly?” the servant shouted. “How could it be possible? Why would Young Master Qin be here?”
Zhou Fu paid him no mind and rode straight toward the tea shed.
He hadn’t mistaken him. He couldn’t have mistaken him.
After entering the city and taking his seat at the banquet prepared by the local officials, a growing unease had settled in his heart. That glimpse at the city gate kept replaying in his mind.
It was him! It must be him!
That scoundrel could be thrown into a mud pit swarming with people and still somehow stand out the most.
“Young master, would you like something to dr–” The shopkeeper warmly greeted the man rushing in, but before he could finish, the visitor had already brushed past him and stood inside the room.
The chatter and laughter inside fell silent as everyone turned to look at the striking young man.
Zhou Fu’s gaze swept across the room, but he didn’t see the person he was looking for.
“Where is the person who was sitting here earlier? A young man, with a Sichuan accent,” he asked, stopping in front of a table.
The traveling merchant made a sound of recognition.
“Young Master, do you mean the gentleman who had difficulty walking?” he said.
Just as he thought – that young man wouldn’t be traveling alone. He must have friends or family everywhere.
Zhou Fu’s expression froze for a moment.
“Difficulty walking?” he asked.
“Yes, he was using crutches. He just left…”
Everyone remembered someone with a physical impairment clearly, and soon they were all chiming in with details.
Zhou Fu couldn’t hear anything else they said – only the repeated phrase “using crutches” echoed in his ears like a persistent hum.
How could it be? How could it be!
“Young Master, let’s inform the local officials and have them join the search.”
“If Young Master Qin entered the city, he must still be here. The city may be large, but there are only so many places to hide. With the gates closed, he can’t leave.”
The servant spoke loudly, urging his horse to keep up.
But Zhou Fu suddenly reined in his horse once more.
“There’s no need to search,” he said, his gaze fixed in one direction. “He – in his condition – can’t have gone far.”
The servant stared blankly, following Zhou Fu’s line of sight. Not far ahead, at a letter-writing stall, a young man was sitting, a bamboo tube and a bow placed at his feet, alongside a crutch.
The crutch stood out prominently.
Someone walking with a crutch naturally moves slowly and cannot go far.
The servant’s eyes shifted to the young man. He was sitting cross-legged, leaning forward slightly, head bowed as he wrote something with the stall’s paper and brush, his expression focused, his profile handsome.
“It really is the young master of the Qin family,” he couldn’t help murmuring.
It really is him!
Why did he come here?
Zhou Fu abruptly stepped forward but then halted.
To meet… or not to meet…
“Young Master, you have an excellent hand,” the middle-aged letter writer remarked with a smile. Though he dared not look directly at what the young man was writing, he couldn’t help but praise after glimpsing the calligraphy.
Qin Hu gave a faint smile.
“You’re too kind, too kind. It’s not good, really not,” he replied.
Without waiting for the middle-aged man to respond, he raised his head again.
“And I’m not being modest,” he added with a gentle smile. “There’s someone who writes far better than I do. I was comparing myself to her.”
The middle-aged man chuckled warmly.
“There’s always someone better beyond one’s sight, mountains beyond mountains,” he said.
Qin Hu smiled, lowered his head, and continued writing the letter. Soon it was finished, and he sealed it.
Seeing the characters “Father” written on the envelope, the middle-aged man understood it was addressed to his father.
Was he now writing one to his mother?
“You are thoughtful,” he said with a smile. “Writing separately to your father, mother, and your wife as well.”
At the mention of “wife,” Qin Hu paused briefly with the brush in his hand.
“I am not yet married,” he said.
The middle-aged man was taken aback, his gaze shifting to Qin Hu’s legs. A look of understanding mixed with apology appeared on his face.
“Nor do I intend to marry,” Qin Hu continued.
“You should still marry,” the man said earnestly. “Otherwise, life can become lonely and isolated.” After a moment’s thought, he added comfortingly, “There are always good-hearted women out there. Don’t rush, but don’t give up either.”
Qin Hu laughed softly.
“No, you misunderstand,” he said seriously. “Loneliness and isolation do not come from the lack of a wife, but from the absence of the right person.”
The middle-aged man was momentarily speechless.
The absence of the right person?
“The hardest thing in this world is to meet the person who truly matters to you,” Qin Hu continued with a gentle smile. “Some people go their whole lives without ever finding that person. To have met one is already a stroke of luck. As long as that person exists in your heart, whether you share a pillow with them or not hardly matters. With that person in your thoughts, knowing they are out there in this world – how could you feel lonely or isolated? Without the right person, even if you share a bed with someone, loneliness remains.”
Having said this, he set down the brush, folded the letter, and tucked it into his robe. He placed a handful of coins on the table, slung the bamboo tube over his back, hung the bow across his shoulder, and then picked up his crutches to stand.
The middle-aged man remained in a daze.
The person who truly matters…
A kindred spirit…
In life, it is rare to find a true soulmate – or a cherished companion. Yes, without that special person, no matter how many others come and go around you, the heart remains lonely and empty.
Lost in thought, the middle-aged man stared blankly. Zhou Fu, too, was momentarily stunned, watching as Qin Hu stood up. He moved with practiced ease on his crutches, hobbling step by step. The figure was both familiar and strange.
Why did he end up like this again…
Was it because of that arrow?
The arrow that struck him down… did it also strike Qin Hu down?
What a pathetic fool! A coward! A spineless coward who dares to act but can’t face the consequences!
Does he think that this… this condition… repays what he did to me? Does he believe it settles the score between us?
I really misjudged you! I truly, utterly misjudged you!
Zhou Fu’s fists clenched tightly, his knuckles cracking.
Horses galloped past on the street, their riders shouting for people to make way.
The afternoon street was crowded and bustling. The sudden rush of horses caused chaos, with people scattering in all directions. Most adults quickly moved aside, but a child from who-knows-which family remained frozen in the middle of the road. Amid the screams of the crowd, the little one stood there, stunned and motionless.
Zhou Fu’s body tensed as he started forward, though from his distance, there was no way he could reach the child in time.
Someone moved faster.
A figure dashed over, scooped up the child, and spun away, narrowly evading the horses.
A horse whinnied sharply. Zhou Fu had grabbed the reins with all his strength, forcing the animal to a sudden halt. The rider was thrown off by the abrupt stop.
Ignoring the cries of the fallen rider, Zhou Fu looked over, wanting to see if the child was safe. But when his eyes landed on the scene, he froze in astonishment.
Him!
Qin Hu had set the child down on the ground, crouching beside the little one with a gentle, calming smile. The crutches that had been tucked under his arms lay discarded to the side.
This… this scoundrel…
The onlookers were equally stunned – first by the daring rescue, and second by the sudden transformation of the “cripple” into a man who moved like any other.
“Th-thank you, young master, thank you so much!” The child’s family rushed over, stammering with gratitude.
Qin Hu simply smiled faintly, then turned his gaze toward the horses and locked eyes with Zhou Fu across the distance. He, too, froze for a moment.
You…
“Young Master, I’m so sorry – the horse got spooked…”
The man who had been thrown off the horse was still crying out in pain. His attendants hurried over, helping him up while bowing and apologizing repeatedly. The commotion blocked the line of sight.
Zhou Fu ignored them, his eyes fixed intently on the other side. Figures moved, obscuring then revealing the view again. Qin Hu reappeared in his sight, surrounded by the child’s family and passersby, his gaze calm and directed toward Zhou Fu as a faint smile touched his lips.
“Young master…” a passerby hesitantly handed Qin Hu the crutches.
Qin Hu reached out and took them, giving a slight smile before tucking them back under his arms. The people around stared wide-eyed, utterly confused.
What was this all about?
Pretending to be disabled? Why would someone healthy pretend to need crutches?
Was it a scam? But judging by the young man’s demeanor and bearing, he didn’t seem like the kind to swindle others.
Qin Hu chuckled softly.
“This way… I feel more at ease,” he said. “Walking slowly like this gives me time to think things through properly. It feels… rather nice.”
The passersby were stunned, their expressions clearly conveying that they thought the young man might be a bit unhinged.
Qin Hu said nothing more. Turning on his crutches, he hobbled forward a few steps. All eyes were fixed on him, especially the gaze from behind. He paused, then glanced back over his shoulder.
The young man on the other side was watching him.
I’m sorry.
Qin Hu’s lips moved silently before he offered a faint smile. He then lowered his head in a deep, lingering bow. When he straightened up, he turned and began hobbling toward the city.
“An old woodcutter chops his own firewood…”
A clear, resonant song rose along the street, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of a bow against his crutch. The bright, expansive melody once again drew everyone’s attention.
“…bundles green pines, weaves in verdant locusts…”
“…boundless wild grass stretches beyond autumn hills…”
“…where monuments once stood now lie in overgrown graves…”
“…stone pillars tall as a thousand fathoms rest on mossy stones…”
His figure hobbled yet remained upright, moving slowly away under the crowd’s watchful eyes and murmuring commentary.
“Young Master,” the servant said softly, watching Qin Hu’s receding figure.
Zhou Fu took a deep breath, then let out a quiet laugh before turning away.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Young Master, aren’t we going after him?” the servant asked, confused. “Are we still returning to the magistrate’s office?”
Zhou Fu swung himself onto his horse without looking back and urged it toward the city gates.
“No,” he replied. “We’re leaving.”
