SS CH65

Zhou Shen was a child prodigy from a young age. While saying he recognized a thousand characters at three and recited Tang poetry at five was a bit of an exaggeration, his innate ability to possess a photographic memory and draw inferences from single instances was truly a unique gift.

The old scholar teaching him would always say, “The child is worth teaching.” Yet every time she heard this, his mother would grab her rolling pin and chase him around to whip him into shape.

The reason was simple: though gifted, he was anything but diligent. Every time the old teacher finished saying “The child is worth teaching,” he would inevitably append, “Uncut jade makes no vessel; left to drift, I fear he will become another Zhongyong.”

His father, Zhou Ye, was a self-made military man who fought on the battlefields for years and managed with great difficulty to become a grand general. Logically speaking, even if Zhou Shen turned into another Zhongyong, it wouldn’t have mattered—he wouldn’t lack food or clothing and could easily loaf around awaiting his end. Unfortunately, while he lacked a strict father, he possessed a strict mother. His mother came from a scholarly family and despised idlers above all. Thus, whenever she saw him slacking off, she would teach him a lesson through personal demonstration. If he was unlucky enough to have his father return home at the time, he would end up being double-teamed by both parents.

More than once, Zhou Shen wanted to pack his belongings and run away from home. Yet before he could put his plan into practice, the Battle of Jinghan Pass broke out.

His father went and never returned. Upon receiving the news, his mother lost her spirit, fell bedridden, and went to join his father within two months.

People said his father put righteousness first, slitting his own throat to offer his head as a token of trust to gain the rebel king’s confidence—a deed of supreme righteousness no less grand than Fan Yuqi’s during Jing Ke’s attempt on the King of Qin.

But he didn’t believe it. His family knew their own affairs best. His father was a most ordinary man; though skilled in warfare, he had a soft ear and could least bear to see his mother cry. How could he have had the heart to die in such a manner?

Yet everyone said so, forcing him to believe it whether he wanted to or not.

That year, Zhou Shen was twelve years old. Before he could learn the ways of the world, he suddenly became an orphan. Looking around, the only kin he had left was his elder brother, Zhou Xi.

Zhou Xi treated him exceptionally well, but having duties in the army, he could rarely return home. So, he requested permission from his superiors to bring him into the military camp as a low-ranking soldier handling odd jobs by his side—working on one hand, while being personally taught and pushed to study by his elder brother on the other.

Zhou Xi said, “Life and death are uncertain on the battlefield. Though I don’t regret taking this path, I don’t wish for you to follow it. Study well, pass the imperial examinations, and become a civil official in the future. You don’t need to stand out above others—just stay safe and sound.”

Unfortunately, fate does not conform to human wishes.

At thirteen, an enemy army besieged the city, even breaching a corner of the city walls. In the depth of winter, the situation was dire, and Zhou Xi was anxious beyond measure. Zhou Shen impulsively suggested the tactic of “splashing water to freeze an ice wall,” resolving the crisis and catching the eye of the commander-in-chief.

The commander-in-chief, Qin Hebai, was twenty-nine that year—around the same age as Zhou Xi. He was said to be a good man, but Zhou Shen didn’t like him much.

Although people said “A general’s success is built on ten thousand withered bones,” how many were truly willing to be those withered bones?

Zhou Ye died, and their family was ruined, yet all of it served to achieve the grand fame of the Northern Hero, Qin Hebai. Zhou Shen was young after all and didn’t know how to conceal his emotions. Qin Hebai didn’t take offense; whenever he had free time, he would call him over to share meals and converse, acting more like an elder brother than his biological brother Zhou Xi.

Though Qin Hebai hailed from the Jianghu, he was no uncultured brute. While his scholarship was average, it was still far superior to Zhou Shen’s three-days-fishing-and-two-days-drying-nets attitude. A youth’s competitive spirit kicked in; Zhou Shen threw himself into studying frantically and finally managed to reclaim his dignity as a scholar. Yet before he could savor his pride, he saw Qin Hebai smile at Zhou Xi: “Your brother has turned over a new leaf. I have not failed your trust.”

Zhou Shen was so angry he laughed.

After this event, their relationship softened. With Qin Hebai seeking closeness and Zhou Shen being young and not made of stone, the two quickly grew close.

Though listed on the military roster, Zhou Shen had no intention of truly joining the army and used a false name. Yet whenever Qin Hebai and the others encountered a difficult problem, Zhou Shen couldn’t resist chiming in. Born with more schemes than raindrops falling on a beach, he viewed problems without being bound by conventional rules, finding novel paths to resolve troubles. Even though these achievements were all credited to Zhou Xi, he was immensely happy nonetheless.

Zhou Xi became the military advisor, yet the look in his eyes when watching him grew increasingly troubled. Unsure why, Zhou Shen went to ask Qin Hebai.

Qin Hebai said, “He feels both joy and worry. Joy that your talent is extraordinary; worry that you are stepping onto a stray path.”

Sure enough, not long after, Zhou Xi kicked him out of the military camp. Zhou Shen was indignant but had nothing to say, leaving in a huff while telling himself that if this place won’t keep me, somewhere else will.

As it turned out, before the grand master could even travel twenty miles, Qin Hebai caught up with him.

At that time, the turmoil in the Eastern Sea had temporarily stabilized. As the commander-in-chief, his presence in the army was more decorative than practical, so he handed all affairs over to Zhou Xi, left behind a method for emergency contact, and came after him.

Qin Hebai was a man so good-natured he barely had a temper. Traveling alongside him, Zhou Shen felt neither bored nor uncomfortable. Swearing brotherhood through Zhou Xi’s connection, they became close enough to share a pair of trousers.

That period of time was unbelievably peaceful. Qin Hebai took him to see the magnificent waves of the sea and the bustling traffic of towns, later traveling all the way south to witness Sanmei Academy amid picturesque mountains and waters.

It coincided with Ruan Qingxing taking leave to teach students at the academy. Relying on his own reputation, Qin Hebai brought him through the back door to meet this world-renowned Southern Scholar.

Compared to Qin Hebai back then, Zhou Shen actually detested Ruan Qingxing even more. Just as every child who hates studying detests the neighbor’s kid reading late into the night, in his case, the Southern Scholar’s fame from writing books and establishing doctrines made every scholar-teacher he met since childhood revere him deeply, causing Zhou Shen to extend his hatred to Ruan Qingxing as well.

Yet he couldn’t let down Qin Hebai’s good intentions.

Zhou Shen was merely a bit willful, not ungrateful. Qin Hebai had no real obligation to his family, yet he went to such lengths for him. Even if Zhou Shen fed his own bones to the dogs, he couldn’t trample on such genuine sincerity underfoot.

After seven questions and seven answers, though Ruan Qingxing didn’t explicitly say he would take him as a disciple, he picked up a brush and wrote out two full pages listing books, instructing him to return, read them thoroughly, and memorize them all.

When leaving Sanmei Academy, Zhou Shen looked as miserable as if he were attending a funeral. Qin Hebai, on the other hand, was overjoyed, saying that for Ruan Qingxing to speak thus meant he already intended to take him as a student.

Zhou Shen didn’t think this was a good thing, but looking at Qin Hebai’s foolishly happy face, he couldn’t help smiling along.

Regrettably, before long, war erupted once more in the Eastern Sea. Qin Hebai rushed back with him in haste. That battle was so urgent that even Zhou Shen had to take the field. Had Qin Hebai not saved him, he would likely have been chopped into minced meat.

From then on, his daily tasks included practicing martial arts alongside studying.

The Northern Hero Qin Hebai’s Dragon-Locking Spear technique was exquisite and profound. He held nothing back from Zhou Shen, even painstakingly teaching him the three-stage killing form of the Dragon-Cleaving Spear. Unfortunately, Zhou Shen was naturally uninterested in weapons; though he could memorize all thirty-six forms of his spear technique by rote, wielding it in practice felt even less effective than holding a fire poker.

Helpless, Qin Hebai abandoned weapons, teaching him step-by-step to solidify his foundation, while asking friends in the Jianghu to search for unarmed martial arts techniques. Before a reply arrived, Ruan Qingxing sent someone with secret manuals for the “Thundering Palm” and “Scattered Rain Chess.”

Lacking skill in these arts, Qin Hebai had to hand the manuals over for Zhou Shen to study himself, telling him to write to Ruan Qingxing whenever he encountered anything he didn’t understand.

Tossing and turning like this for a year while occasionally stepping onto the battlefield to practice, Qin Hebai finally deemed he could barely protect himself. Following Zhou Xi’s wishes, he sent him out of the military camp to head north and stay temporarily in Qingxue Village.

He didn’t know how Qin Hebai managed to find such a paradise-like place, astonishingly tranquil. Holding the key, he found the Jinxing Residence, and upon pushing open the bedroom door, he saw a bookshelf filled to the brim.

They were the exact books Ruan Qingxing had listed back then. Because he had no chance to read them during the year of war, he hadn’t expected Qin Hebai to search for and gather them all, specifically having them placed here.

On top lay a slip of paper: “Congratulations to A-Shen on his fourteenth birthday. Written by Qin Yunfei.”

On his first day moving into Jinxing Residence, Zhou Shen hugged the bookshelf and cried until his face was a mess.

Spring passed and autumn came. He spent five years here alone, growing into a nineteen-year-old youth, far more composed than before.

That year, war broke out again with the Northern Barbarians. Qin Hebai and Zhou Xi rushed back from the Eastern Sea to throw themselves into resisting the invasion. Hearing that the situation at the front line was stable, Zhou Shen didn’t disturb them. Yet no sooner had he heard the battle had concluded than Qin Hebai brought Zhou Xi over.

Reuniting, the brothers were overcome with joy. Zhou Shen hugged Zhou Xi, at a loss for words, only to turn around and see Qin Hebai standing beneath a tree, his smile as warm as the bright sun.

After finally sending Zhou Xi off to rest, he walked up to Qin Hebai. Holding it in for a long time, he managed to squeeze out a single sentence: “Shall we play a game of chess?”

Qin Hebai smiled and said, “I can stay here for three days. I’m at your disposal.”

On the first day, they played nine games of chess: four wins, four losses, and one draw.

On the second day, they sparred. Qin Hebai’s Dragon-Locking Spear held the absolute upper hand, though his Thundering Palm had also made progress.

On the third day, he cooked personally, preparing a large table of food and wine. Zhou Xi passed out after a single cup, while Qin Hebai finished the entire spread with a blank expression. Patting his full stomach, he let out a long sigh: “A-Shen, you shouldn’t cook anymore in the future. It easily claims lives.”

Zhou Shen asked him why. Qin Hebai thought for a moment and said, “It’s too delicious. Once you start eating, you can’t stop; if you don’t eat, you starve to death.”

That night, Qin Hebai and Zhou Xi departed. As the autumn imperial examinations approached, Zhou Shen packed his things and headed to the capital for the exams.

Just after finishing the first round, he received a private letter from Ruan Qingxing, inviting him to his residence for a conversation.

When Zhou Shen arrived, Ruan Qingxing got straight to the point, telling him two things.

First: Qin Hebai harbored disloyal intentions. Though he hadn’t thought of betraying the country, he disrespected the Emperor and was suspected of power-grabbing.

Zhou Shen thought: Qin Hebai can do whatever he wants. As long as he doesn’t bring calamity to the nation and the people, what does it have to do with me?

Second: Zhou Ye didn’t commit suicide; he died by Qin Hebai’s hand.

The teacup in Zhou Shen’s hand shattered on the floor.

Ruan Qingxing said, “If you don’t believe it, you can ask your brother.”

Zhou Shen sent a letter, waiting in anxious apprehension for several days. He didn’t receive a written reply; instead, Zhou Xi returned in person.

Covered in dust from his journey, his very first words upon meeting were: “Who told you?”

Seeing Zhou Xi like this, Zhou Shen’s heart sank. He understood his brother too well; were it merely a lie, Zhou Xi wouldn’t need to be this tense.

So he asked, “Don’t ask me how I know. Tell me: why?”

The truth was just as he had guessed back then. How could a man like his father, devoid of lofty ideals, abandon his small family for the greater good? Precisely because of this, to execute the plan, Qin Hebai personally severed his father’s head.

When all of this happened back then, Zhou Xi had watched with his own eyes.

However, his personality differed from Zhou Ye’s. Having read poetry and classics since childhood, Zhou Xi understood the difference between the lesser self and the greater self. Though emotionally incapable of accepting it, reason forced him to understand.

For so many years, Zhou Xi stayed by Qin Hebai’s side, campaigning north and south. Qin Hebai also intentionally sought to compensate for the matter by taking care of him. Thus, Zhou Xi’s resentment gradually dissolved, and he never revealed the truth to Zhou Shen.

After listening to Zhou Xi finish, Zhou Shen felt a ringing in his ears, almost spitting out a mouthful of blood, which he forced back down. He asked him, “Do you know how Mother died?”

The mountain of words in Zhou Xi’s throat choked. Zhou Shen said, “Right, you weren’t there at the time… Let me tell you, Mother died of illness. Upon hearing the news of Father, she collapsed and never stood up again.”

Pausing, he looked at Zhou Xi’s deathly pale face: “Having been away from home for so many years, do you still remember how beautiful Mother was? Yet a beauty like her turned into skin and bones in just two months. When she drew her last breath, holding her felt bony against my arms.”

Having said this, he turned to leave. Behind him, Zhou Xi finally spoke up: “You have the right to blame me, and the right to hate the general. But his kindness toward you over these years was not fake.”

Zhou Shen said, “Now, I’d rather it had all been fake.”