The anguish on Xiahou Zuo’s face was not the kind ordinary people would carry. Common folk had no time to worry about the nation’s troubles—their own lives gave them enough to think about.

Xiahou Zuo patted Li Diudiu on the shoulder and said: “Dachu has weathered countless calamities over its centuries of existence, yet it endures. That is because, in those dark times, there were peerless generals like Xu Qulu who could turn the tide. I may not dare compare myself to Xu Qulu, but I am not without use.”

Li Diudiu had heard the name Xu Qulu before. His master had once told him about that chapter of Dachu’s history—a man like Xu Qulu truly deserved to be called someone who had single-handedly pulled the nation back from the abyss.

“What kind of person do you want to become?”

Xiahou Zuo asked Li Diudiu.

Li Diudiu harbored no such grand concerns. Back when he had followed his master, he had wondered whether he might someday become someone like him—then decided that probably wasn’t ideal.

Not that he thought his master was bad, but some aspects of his master’s character didn’t suit him. Li Diudiu had to fight for things at times, whereas his master pursued a path of wu wei—effortless non-contention.

His master always said: the hardest cultivation in a person’s life is simply living until old age and a natural death.

Li Diudiu had once asked him: everyone wants to live until old age, but the world doesn’t permit it—so isn’t that the world’s problem, not a matter of cultivation?

His master had replied: you’re talking complete nonsense. What cultivation exists apart from the world? The fancy term for it is ascension, but the crude term is just kicking the bucket.

His master had taught him that everything had a measure of proportion—but his master’s sense of proportion had many layers, all kinds of measures for all kinds of things, which made it all seem rather exhausting.

“If one day…”

Xiahou Zuo gazed into the distance and said: “If I could possess the strength to shoulder Dachu upon my back, though each step weighed ten thousand catties, I would still cry out and sing as I walked.”

These words set something boiling inside Li Diudiu’s chest. Thoughts he had never experienced before grew stronger and stronger.

He wanted to become a soldier.

Just then, Changmei the Daoren came over carrying two fish he had just pulled from the pond nearby, a cheerful expression on his face that made him seem like a man who was genuinely easy to please.

“Diudiu’er, roast the fish, would you.”

Changmei raised the fish in his hand.

Xiahou Zuo couldn’t help but laugh: “Diudiu’er—that name sounds better than Li Chi.”

Li Diudiu shot him a sideways glance: “Don’t you have a childhood nickname?”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head: “I don’t. Who needs one of those?”

Li Diudiu keenly caught the lie in Xiahou Zuo’s eyes. He leaned forward, bumping Xiahou Zuo with his shoulder repeatedly as he spoke: “Come on, tell me. It’s just the two of us—I won’t go blabbing it around.”

“I really don’t have one.”

Xiahou Zuo stood up: “I’ll go roast the fish.”

Li Diudiu said: “Most childhood nicknames are just the last character of your name with an ‘er’ added. Don’t tell me you’re called Zhuo’er?”

Xiahou Zuo stopped walking and looked back at Li Diudiu: “Why are you always looking for trouble?”

Li Diudiu said: “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just keep guessing. If it isn’t Zhuo’er, maybe it’s Hou’er?”

“Iron Pillar!”

Xiahou Zuo snorted: “My mother gave me that name… If I ever hear you bring it up again, I’ll kill you. And if you keep pestering me about it, I’ll kill you twice.”

Li Diudiu nodded solemnly: “Understood, Xiahou Iron Pillar.”

Xiahou Zuo’s palm came swinging over—but Li Diudiu had already bolted far away.

The three of them spent a full day playing on Fengming Mountain. They ate roasted fish and drank some of the rice wine they had brought. As the sun tilted toward the west, they descended the mountain. A few of the Daoists guarding the mountain gate were standing by the road, bowing in respectful farewell to a carriage. Their deference was unmistakable.

“Diudiu’er.”

Xiahou Zuo kicked Li Diudiu in the backside: “Do you see that carriage?”

“I see it.”

“Do you see the emblem on it?”

“That thing that looks like a cloud?”

“Yes—the Brocade Cloud emblem. It represents the Xu Family of Jizhou. Among all the great families of Jizhou, the Xu Family ranks in the top three. Any carriage bearing the Brocade Cloud emblem travels through Jizhou without anyone daring to interfere with it.”

Li Diudiu asked curiously: “What’s your family’s emblem?”

Xiahou Zuo shrugged: “We don’t have one.”

Li Diudiu: “You even told me about Iron Pillar. Why won’t you tell me something as simple as a family emblem?”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head: “Next year.”

He was quiet for a moment, then asked Li Diudiu: “If you someday became a great hero admired by all, and you founded your own family clan—what would you use as your emblem?”

Li Diudiu replied: “That question…”

He had never considered it at all, because it wasn’t realistic. Founding a family clan… without achievements of extraordinary magnitude, how could anyone found a true clan? The kind Xiahou Zuo was referring to wasn’t a clan of upstarts, but one with a lasting legacy—like the Xu Family they had just seen.

He thought about it for a good while and still couldn’t come up with anything. He simply shook his head: “I’d rather not think about something like that for now. I have absolutely no idea where to even begin.”

Xiahou Zuo explained: “Family emblems—the most common approach is to use the family surname directly. But as you know, there are many Li Families, and the Longyou Li Family and the Jianya Li Family have no connection whatsoever. Since many clans use the Li surname as their emblem, to distinguish rank and standing, the most powerful one—the Longyou Li Family—uses the Bluebird.”

“The current Empress hails from the Longyou Li Family, as does the current Crown Prince’s consort. The Li Family has flourished for generations. Over Dachu’s several centuries of history, the Longyou Li Family has produced seven Empresses, and a eighth is soon to come. The imperial family has therefore granted the Li Family permission to use the Bluebird as their emblem.”

After hearing all this, Li Diudiu smiled and said: “Drawing a picture is too much trouble, and using a surname creates duplicates—so why not just use a name?”

“Diu?!”

Xiahou Zuo narrowed his eyes: “Your family’s emblem would be a giant character for ‘Diu’?”

Li Diudiu: “…”

He thought it over and said: “If I ever truly manage to found a family clan, I’ll use the last character of my wife’s name as the emblem.”

“Blegh!”

Xiahou Zuo stared at Li Diudiu with an expression of utter contempt: “You actually have such a shameless idea?”

Li Diudiu laughed: “Think about it—if someone is willing to follow a person like me and help me found a whole clan, just imagine how much hardship she would have endured. How many grievances she would have suffered.”

Xiahou Zuo stared at Li Diudiu with an expression of reverence: “Why does someone who is only eleven years old think about these things?”

Li Diudiu even startled himself: “Right—why am I thinking about this?”

Xiahou Zuo looked toward Changmei the Daoren, who immediately shook his head: “Don’t look at me. I may not have a woman, but I’m not in that much of a hurry. I’ve never been in a hurry about anything. When I was eleven, I was probably still playing in the mud.”

Xiahou Zuo asked: “Daoren, did playing in the mud cost you your chance at lifelong companionship?”

He had heard Changmei mention playing in the mud and immediately thought of that old joke… A sage traveling east saw two children arguing. One child poked a hole in the mud with his finger and said it was called a “hollow.” The other child said it was clearly called a “hole.” The two children asked the sage what it should be called—and the sage declared it should be called a “hollow-hole.”

He looked at Changmei and thought to himself: to give up women entirely because of mud and its hollow-holes… truly, the Daoren is an immortal figure.

Changmei sighed: “Young Master Xiahou, if you can’t hold a decent conversation, talk more with Li Diudiu. You two won’t get on each other’s nerves.”

Xiahou Zuo laughed heartily: “Diudiu’er is pretty entertaining.”

Li Diudiu said: “Can you stop addressing me like an elder talking to a child? We’re peers. If you call me Diudiu’er again, I’m bringing out Iron Pillar.”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head: “Alright, alright. We’ll leave each other’s names out of it.”

When they returned to the inn, Xiahou Zuo waited outside as usual. He wasn’t comfortable going into small inns like this—he found them unclean, and couldn’t even stand the smell.

Li Diudiu followed his master upstairs. After setting down the things Xiahou Zuo had bought along the way, Changmei pulled Li Diudiu over to sit beside him.

Changmei asked him: “Do you know what Young Master Xiahou’s background is now?”

“I don’t. But he himself said no one in Jizhou dares to mess with his father.”

Changmei thought it over and said: “Could it be the Military Governor?”

The Military Governor of Jizhou was the local supreme authority. No one held a higher position, and he commanded military power as well.

Changmei shook his head: “But that doesn’t add up. The Military Governor’s family name is Zeng, and his family name is Xiahou—unless he takes his mother’s surname.”

Li Diudiu said: “Master, he was cursing out the Military Governor up on the mountain earlier. Do you really think he could be the Military Governor’s son?”

Changmei suddenly seemed to remember something. His expression shifted.

“If… he is that person’s child, then you should keep your distance from him going forward.”

Changmei said this with an odd look in his eyes.

“Why does everyone keep telling me to stay away from Xiahou Zuo?”

This time Li Diudiu was genuinely angry. When the teaching master Yan Qingzhi had said it, he hadn’t paid it much mind—Yan Qingzhi was just a teaching master to him. When the dining hall matron Auntie Wu said it, he hadn’t minded either—she wasn’t a close family member.

But his master was different. Hearing his master say this, Li Diudiu was truly angry.

“Don’t glare at me like that. I’m saying this for your own good.”

Changmei took hold of Li Diudiu’s arm and said: “In all of Jizhou, who is more powerful than the Military Governor? I had overlooked it just now, assuming he was the son of some official with real power in his hands. But now I understand—whatever ‘real power’ means to others is nothing in his father’s eyes.”

“And his father is a uniquely singular kind of person. Master really is saying this for your own good…”

“Master!”

Li Diudiu stood up and said firmly: “I won’t distance myself from him. He is my first friend.”

“How can you be friends with him?”

Changmei said urgently: “You two are simply not from the same world. He is…”

Before Changmei could finish, Li Diudiu interrupted him. It was the first time Li Diudiu had ever been somewhat impolite in stopping his master from completing a sentence.

“Before, I was still a little curious about his family. But after what you’ve just said, I’m no longer curious at all. I don’t care who his father is. My friend is Xiahou Zuo, not his father. And if we truly weren’t from the same world, we wouldn’t have become friends.”

Li Diudiu sighed like a grown adult: “Master, you taught me yourself—when someone gives you a peach branch, you repay them with jade.”

He turned to leave: “And besides, I’ve learned something from him. I’ve also set myself a goal.”

“Don’t go yet.”

Changmei stepped forward and grabbed Li Diudiu’s arm: “What did you learn? What goal?”

Li Diudiu replied loudly: “I want to join the army. When my studies at the academy are complete, I’ll be at the right age to enlist. I intend to go to the Northern Frontier—or perhaps go with Xiahou Zuo to the Northern Frontier next year.”

Changmei’s face immediately drained of color. He suddenly raised his hand and struck Li Diudiu: “You will not!”

Li Diudiu covered his face: “Why not?”

“No reason needed—I forbid you from joining the army.”

Changmei’s hands trembled with agitation. He glared at Li Diudiu for a long moment, and then, having calmed himself somewhat, he said: “Do you know what a battlefield looks like? Do you know what war is like? I raised you, and all I ask is that you live your life well.”

Li Diudiu gave him one look, said nothing, turned around, and stomped down the stairs.

At the inn entrance, Xiahou Zuo was crouching down, playing with a tiny stray dog. He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and looked back—and at first glance, he saw the red handprint on Li Diudiu’s face.

Before Li Diudiu could say anything, Xiahou Zuo shook his head at him: “I heard everything.”

He rose to his feet and walked forward, hands clasped behind his head as he always did when he walked. Li Diudiu stood there, momentarily at a loss for words.

Xiahou Zuo turned back, smiling brilliantly in the bright sunlight: “Since you don’t want to keep your distance, why aren’t you keeping close? Diudiu’er.”

“Xiahou Iron Pillar!”

—