Night had deepened. In the eastern courtyard of Qiuhu Mountain Villa, candles blazed brightly.
“This old slave failed to properly teach his son, and managed the estate with insufficient strength, thus causing this disaster. This old slave has failed the family head’s trust and is filled with shame. I have no face to remain and serve the family head and young master.” Fan Xicheng knelt in the hall, tearfully pleading to resign and leave the estate.
Han Qian stood to the side, watching his father Han Daoxun’s face shift between light and shadow in the candlelight, knowing his father had no capable hands at his disposal and absolutely didn’t want to see Fan Xicheng, who had followed him for many years, leave like this—Fan Xicheng was different from other household guards. He had accumulated military merit early on to redeem his slave status and had freedom to come and go. Currently remaining by Han Daoxun’s side, he was considered a retainer.
“This matter was the child’s fault—if it weren’t for Qian’er being willful and agreeing to let tenant farmers enter the mountain to hunt and forage without consulting Master Fan, today’s incident would never have been provoked. In this matter Master Fan has no fault whatsoever. If blame is to be assigned, blame Qian’er for being too willful—only the matter has already occurred, and if the Han family were to use private punishment, it would damage Father’s reputation. Father often says the court is treacherous, and one must act as if walking on thin ice, not carelessly or rashly. Master Fan is heartbroken over losing his son, Dahei grieves deeply for his brother. The child didn’t want the matter to compound error upon error, so I said some extreme words to Master Fan, but in my heart I absolutely didn’t think that way.” With a “smack,” Han Qian also threw himself onto the stone floor, kneeling. He immediately regretted it—this stone floor was incredibly hard, hurting his knees terribly. Cursing inwardly, he steeled himself and spoke the words he had long prepared.
When Han Qian said this, not to mention Han Daoxun, even Fan Xicheng wore an expression of astonishment. Truly with ten thousand grievances in his heart, he momentarily had no way to voice them.
What could he complain about?
Complain that he was utterly loyal with absolutely no intention of usurping the property?
Han Qian had already said that deliberately speaking those words in public was only to prevent them from making mistakes in their agitation—that wasn’t his true intention.
Complain that the matter arose because the young master Han Qian had willfully and recklessly promised tenant farmers they could hunt in the mountains?
Han Qian had already admitted this was his fault.
Then didn’t all the responsibility for the entire matter rest solely on Fan Wucheng completely disregarding the young master Han Qian’s words and urgently trying to drive the Zhao father and son from the estate?
What more could Fan Xicheng say?
Even raising the matter of resignation now would make him Fan Xicheng appear to disregard the family head’s kindness and be ungrateful.
Han Daoxun also looked at his son with considerable surprise. This stubborn temperament that even oxen couldn’t pull back—now he knew to admit his mistakes?
Not knowing how Han Qian had changed his nature, Han Daoxun had a belly full of scolding words stuck in his throat with no way to speak them.
As a father, what angered him most about his son wasn’t lack of learning or skill, but refusal to repent.
Han Qian recognized his error and admitted his fault. Moreover, after the incident occurred, he knew to make amends and didn’t let the matter compound error upon error. What more could Han Daoxun scold?
“Look at the fine trouble you’ve caused! Kneel there properly and reflect.”
To comfort Fan Xicheng, Han Daoxun still put on a stern face ordering Han Qian to continue kneeling there, then with a pained expression helped Fan Xicheng up, saying:
“Wucheng was a good child, worldly-wise and talented. I had even thought of taking this child under my knee. For such a thing to happen, my heartache is no less than yours…”
Han Qian had been full of doubt about how Fan Wucheng could have colluded with Yao Xishui to harm him. Hearing these words, he thought perhaps the root of the disaster lay here.
Regardless of whether this was his father Han Daoxun’s method of winning hearts, if Fan Wucheng had once heard such words, having delusions of taking his place after his sudden death would be normal. No wonder there was usually a difficult-to-suppress air of solitary pride in his expression. Even if he hadn’t been bought by the Evening Crimson Tower, he deserved to die.
Although Fan Xicheng’s heart was unbearably bitter with unresolved anger, since the family head Han Daoxun had spoken to this extent, he had no way to say more. After all, the entire matter still rested with Wucheng himself.
Even he had swallowed his anger and accepted the young master Han Qian’s promise about tenant farmers entering the mountain. Yet Wucheng couldn’t endure this slight, wanting to drive away the Zhao father and son, but carelessly let himself be shot to death by the youth Zhao Wuji.
Fan Xicheng had killed countless people in his early years, his hands stained with blood. Now in old age, his temperament had faded. After being put through such trouble by the young master Han Qian today, he had no thought of avenging his adopted son Fan Wucheng, thinking perhaps Wucheng’s fate was destined thus.
“Wucheng was after all a member of the Han family. After the county yamen closes the case, you can retrieve his body and choose an auspicious burial site in the back mountain for his funeral.” Han Daoxun didn’t want to dwell further on Fan Wucheng’s matter, but would show what was appropriate.
“Thank you, family head,” Fan Xicheng said.
“We should make that little bastard Zhao Wuji keep mourning vigil before Wucheng’s grave. We can’t let these lowly commoners off too easily. Otherwise, people around here truly won’t take my Han family seriously!” Han Qian said while kneeling on the ground.
Han Daoxun originally didn’t want more trouble, thinking that after this matter he would simply expel Old Zhao, Zhao Wuji, and their family from the estate. But hearing his son Han Qian say this, he asked Fan Xicheng: “If you think it’s acceptable, then send a message to Liu Yuan. I believe he’ll give my Han family this much face…”
Fan Xicheng also didn’t want to see the Zhao father and son again, but since the young master Han Qian had spoken first, how could he say “no”?
“This old slave will immediately take Zhao Kuo and the others to the county to retrieve Wucheng’s body,” Fan Xicheng said.
“Go ahead…” Han Daoxun indicated Fan Xicheng and the others should go handle matters first. He still had words to tell his son Han Qian.
“…”
Han Qian knelt with his knees sore and numb, cursing inwardly. He stole a glance at his father Han Daoxun’s heavy brows furrowed in the candlelight, not knowing what worries weighed on his heart. Clearly there were some words he was hesitating whether to tell this unworthy son.
“The Third Imperial Prince who has just been granted the title Prince Linjiang is already thirteen years old. It’s inappropriate for him to remain long in the palace. A date will be chosen for him to move to reside outside the palace, and at that time four ministers’ sons will be selected to study alongside at Prince Linjiang’s residence—you will also study alongside His Highness…” Han Daoxun sighed bitterly, sitting before the candle as he spoke.
Han Qian trembled at these words. Though he was unfamiliar with palace affairs, he knew that Yao Xishui and those people going to such lengths to kill him and fabricate the illusion of his sudden death from illness was extremely likely related to this matter. Someone didn’t want him studying alongside the Third Imperial Prince?
Seeing his father Han Daoxun’s worried and distressed appearance, Han Qian knew his father didn’t want him studying alongside the Third Imperial Prince, not wanting him to invite disaster. And the Evening Crimson Tower sparing no effort to create the illusion of his sudden death clearly wasn’t thinking of the Han family’s welfare…
…
…
They said the Third Imperial Prince Linjiang would leave the palace on a chosen date, but since he hadn’t yet left the palace, Han Qian as one of the four ministers’ sons personally selected by the Empress had no need to go to Prince Linjiang’s residence immediately. For now he would continue staying at the estate cultivating himself.
Although such an incident had occurred at the estate this time, Han Qian had acted so contrary to his usual nature that it didn’t anger Han Daoxun to the point of chest pain. But when Han Daoxun stayed three days at the estate and returned to the city after Fan Wucheng’s funeral, he was still full of worry.
It’s often said that serving the emperor is like serving a tiger. Han Daoxun also felt like walking on thin ice in the court, completely uncertain what would happen when Han Qian studied alongside the Third Imperial Prince Linjiang.
However, for a minister’s son to study alongside an imperial prince was a great honor with corresponding rewards, so naturally Han Daoxun couldn’t refuse.
Han Qian watched his father Han Daoxun’s carriage sway around the mountain road under the escort of two household guards before he and Fan Xicheng, surrounded by Zhao Kuo and other guards, reined their horses back to the estate.
Han Qian certainly wasn’t complacent about having the opportunity to study alongside an imperial prince.
No matter how arrogant and ignorant he was, he knew that studying alongside an imperial prince was truly not a good assignment.
He hadn’t even begun studying alongside the Third Imperial Prince Linjiang, yet the forces behind the scenes had already resorted to using the chess piece Yao Xishui to poison him, wanting to create the illusion of his sudden death from illness. How could this be a good assignment?
Compared to this, he’d rather flee back to Xuanzhou to live freely and happily as an aristocratic son, quietly waiting for Emperor Tianyou’s death four years hence.
However, even if he could decline this bitter assignment of studying alongside the prince, the Evening Crimson Tower had such deep schemes, and the biggest flaw appeared on him. If he fled the household guards’ protection now, could he possibly reach Xuanzhou alive?
Of course, Han Qian also hadn’t thought of telling his father everything.
Who would believe it if he told them?
Moreover, the Evening Crimson Tower dared scheme against the Third Imperial Prince Yang Yuanpu. Who knew how powerful the forces behind them were or how deep their plans ran?
Exposing and revealing everything now—who knew if it would force them to desperately lash out and silence both him and his father?
Han Qian forcibly suppressed the impulse to call out to his father and reveal everything.
Watching Fan Xicheng ride a thin horse ahead toward the estate, so dejected he looked like he’d suffered a serious illness, his spirit far worse than before, Han Qian’s expression perked up slightly. He recalled a phrase from the dream world: “To struggle against others is endless joy; to struggle against heaven is endless joy…”
When the cart reaches the mountain, there will be a road. No matter how ruthless the Evening Crimson Tower was, they were still human.
At the moment, Han Qian didn’t care what Fan Xicheng might think. He directly had Zhao Kuo accompany him to the back mountain.
Behind the estate, passing through a dense forest with narrow paths and steep terrain, the landscape opened up somewhat. A slope was enclosed within a mountain hollow. A solitary new grave stood beneath an ancient tree requiring two people to encircle.
A crude thatched hut had been erected beside the grave. The youth Zhao Wuji sat cross-legged in the hut with a haughty expression, the Black Cloud bow resting across his knees.
A frail young girl wearing hemp cloth garments was collecting the bowls and dishes the youth Zhao Wuji had eaten clean into a bamboo basket. Seeing Han Qian and Zhao Kuo coming up the mountain, the girl boldly glanced over several times. When Han Qian and the others drew near, she lowered her head.
“…” Han Qian sized up Zhao Wuji’s older sister.
Though she lowered her head, they were positioned below and could see Zhao Ting’er’s palm-sized small face, clean as a pool of mountain spring water. Beneath long eyelashes, her eyes were as animated as stars in the night sky. It was hard to imagine such beauty could exist in the wilderness—she was just too thin, her body too frail, making her appear somewhat plain.
Of course, Han Qian also suspected that perhaps he’d been confined at the estate too long, making him think even a mountain girl was quite exceptional.
The youth Zhao Wuji stood up, holding the Black Cloud bow as if to kneel before Han Qian in grateful thanks for saving his life.
“Your heart has no intention of prostrating. You’re not one who bows and kneels to others. Why make things difficult for yourself?” Han Qian smiled faintly, having the youth Zhao Wuji stand there to speak.
The youth Zhao Wuji’s eyes revealed a grateful expression. He held out the Black Cloud bow: “My father says this bow is too valuable. Wuji shouldn’t accept such a heavy gift from the young master?”
“Your father probably said this bow is inauspicious. If not for this bow, such disaster wouldn’t have been invited, right?”
Han Qian smiled inwardly, hands clasped behind his back as he said:
“Without this bow, even if you weren’t sent to the county yamen for punishment, you would have been driven from the estate to wander homeless. Are you truly willing to accept that?”
“…” The youth Zhao Wuji raised his head to look at Han Qian, slight confusion in his eyes. But no one noticed that the young girl Zhao Ting’er’s eyes looking toward the ground were burning brightly at this moment.
“If you feel your family should rightly be driven out, then return this Black Cloud bow to me. If your heart is unwilling, then keep this Black Cloud bow. If in the future any wicked slaves dare come to seize your father and siblings’ foothold, you may use this bow to kill them!” Han Qian said.
Only after hearing Han Qian’s words did the youth Zhao Wuji’s gaze become firm. His still somewhat tender hands gripped the Black Cloud bow even tighter.
Hearing Han Qian’s words, Zhao Kuo sighed inwardly, thinking secretly that from the beginning the young master had truly intended to use the youth Zhao Wuji’s hand to kill Fan Wucheng. He had truly misjudged before.
Seeing the young master Han Qian turn to look over, Zhao Kuo lowered his head, avoiding the young master Han Qian’s sharp, killing gaze.
“Zhao Kuo, withdraw first. I want to teach Zhao Wuji an archery formula,” Han Qian said to Zhao Kuo.
“Yes!” Zhao Kuo bowed humbly in salute and withdrew to the forest below, but also didn’t leave too far, demonstrating he still had the duty of protecting the young master Han Qian closely.
“My archery has achieved nothing, but I had a good master who taught me an archery formula when I was young. I couldn’t practice any superior archery from it, but transmitting it to you might be useful,” Han Qian said. He then taught the youth Zhao Wuji the archery formula that old Daoist priest had taught him in Chuzhou years ago: “Both hands hold the bow before the body, like a towering tree standing in the wasteland. Proper structure resembles the full moon, great form fills with perfect roundness. Spirit rises yet remains calm, the whole body surges in chaotic cycles…”
Han Qian had neglected training too long. No matter how formidable the Stone Duke Fist or this archery formula were, he didn’t expect to become a world-class expert within three or four years.
But if this youth Zhao Wuji before him could truly be used by him, perhaps he would be more trustworthy than old bastards like Fan Xicheng and Zhao Kuo.
“Having you keep mourning vigil before Fan Wucheng’s grave—this wasn’t others wanting to humiliate you with this. Actually, I was the one who proposed it. Don’t be unable to endure even this slight humiliation. Patiently ponder archery here. In a few days I’ll come again to teach you the Stone Duke Fist,” Han Qian said. “Also, can you read and write?”
“I cannot!” the youth Zhao Wuji said.
“Not being literate won’t do,” Han Qian said, stroking his chin. “Literacy doesn’t require great depth, but you must be able to read books fluently—how about this: I’ll still be staying at the estate for some time. During these days, come down the mountain to the eastern courtyard every morning at dawn, and I’ll teach you to read. If anyone dares stop you, you know what to do.”
“The young master’s orders—Wuji absolutely dares not forget,” the youth Zhao Wuji said firmly.
Han Qian nodded with satisfaction, then bid farewell to the siblings Zhao Ting’er and Zhao Wuji, and strode down the mountain.