Faraway Wanderers - Chapter 23
Wen Kexing smiled, but the smile carried a hint of indescribable sadness. “I never expected that someone would still recognize his sword techniques these days.”
Zhou Zishu remained silent for a moment. Even the best secrets couldn’t stay hidden forever, and he had managed to escape the Tianchuang. Autumn Lightening Sword had disappeared from the world, likely around twenty years ago. To this day, no one knew what had become of the couple who had once wielded it, where they had gone, and what had happened to them.
He studied Wen Kexing quietly, as he sat beside the fire, his shoulders slightly hunched, his gaze distant and serene as he watched Zhang Chengling clumsily practice the sword techniques that his father had taught him so many years ago. In that instant, Wen Kexing exuded an aura of inexplicable peace and contentment, which, in Zhou Zishu’s imagination, aligned perfectly with what Wen Ruyu should have been like.
Wen Kexing suddenly began to sing softly, “The millet fronds are fragile, as are the bean sprouts. One takes faltering steps forward, while the heart quivers within. Those who know me say that I’m lonely at heart, while those who don’t know me wonder what I seek. Oh, the vast sky! Who is this person? The millet fronds are fragile, as are the bean sprouts…”
His voice was low, slightly hoarse, and muffled. The enunciation was a bit unclear and obscure, and the melody appeared to have originated from deep within his chest, lingering in his throat without leaving. The sound of the crackling fire accompanied his song as it consumed the dry firewood.
Overhearing the song, Zhang Chengling paused his training and tried to approach, intending to ask a question regarding a move he couldn’t figure out. As he neared, however, he became entranced by the melancholic song and found himself rooted to the spot.
The song originated from a time when Prince Ping had been forced to relocate his family, leaving everything they knew behind. Legend has it that Zhou Zishu had happened upon their old capital of Zongzhou, once a place of splendor and now reduced to ruins. Grieved by the sight of the overgrown vegetation amidst the crumbling remains, he had penned this sorrowful song.
It was a lament for a glorious age that had died, a chronicle of days long gone and memories that could not be retained.
Hearing the melody, Zhang Chengling found his thoughts drifting. Even though he was just a child, he would likely never have the courage to return to the Zhang family home in Jiangnan. That place that once held so many happy childhood memories was now nothing but broken tiles and decaying mud bricks, a far cry from its former glory.
Zhou Zishu narrowed his eyes and unhooked the wine flask from his waist, taking a swig from it. The pungent alcohol burned his throat and nearly brought tears to his eyes.
“Those who know me say that I’m lonely at heart, while those who don’t know me wonder what I seek…”
Wen Kexing seemed to carry a subtle air of self-mockery as he hummed these lines, a slow smile forming at the corners of his lips.
What exactly was he seeking?
No one spoke for a long while after that. The sound of Wen Kexing’s singing gradually faded into the night. Zhang Chengling slumped to the ground, exhausted from practice, cradling a makeshift twig in his hands as if it were a priceless sword. As sleep overtook him, the boy’s lips curved upward, but his eyebrows knit together in defiance, refusing to part.
Zhou Zishu got up and removed his outer robe, gently draping it over Zhang Chengling. Sighing softly, he said, “Your father’s Autumn Lightening Sword technique, with its eighteen forms, once dominated the martial world. But you only taught him three moves—and not one of them originates from the original eighteen forms. Yet when I think about it, the countless variations in the Autumn Lightening Sword technique all stem from these three core moves. Brother Wen, you truly are a chip off the old block.”
Wen Kexing suppressed his voice, speaking candidly, “His swordsmanship definitely can’t compare to mine. However, his medical skills are something I have absolutely no understanding of. I only know how to dress wounds and understand that when you have a cold, you need to sweat it out.”
He then turned to face Zhou Zishu, “It’s remarkable how well you know his sword techniques, yet you also seem to know so much more. How is that?”
Zhou Zishu accompanied him in sitting around the campfire, pulling his collar close together, tucking half a hand into his sleeve, and warming his fingertips by the fire. He began to speak slowly, “In the Jianghu world, there exist the enigmatic Witch Doctor Valley, known for their indiscriminate healing and poison use, and the Divine Doctor Valley, famed for their miraculous healing abilities and benevolence. It’s said that the Divine Doctor Valley isn’t known for martial prowess, yet no one dares to offend them lightly. Virgin Swordswoman Ling is a closed-door disciple of the Divine Doctor Valley’s Valley Master. In her youth, she was said to be the most beautiful woman in the Sichuan region. Later, it was unexpectedly rumored that she got married; I can’t imagine how many hearts that must have broken.”
On hearing these words, Wen Kexing chuckled softly, teasing, “You’re a grown man; how come you know about all these trivial matters? You must have had a lot of free time on your hands if you spent it investigating things like this, huh?”
Zhou Zishu also laughed, “Isn’t that the truth? That’s all the skill I have.”
The two fell silent for a while before Wen Kexing softly said, “That’s all ancient history now…”
Perhaps it was because there was an inexplicable similarity between them that the moment Zhou Zishu heard Wen Kexing’s song and sigh, he felt as though he could understand something more. Unable to resist the urge to offer comfort, he gently said, “Your esteemed father, and your mother as well, were both exceptionally rare and kind people. The couple wandered the Jianghu together like immortal beings before eventually retiring together in seclusion. If I could have a life like that, I’d be more than willing, even if I were to die tomorrow.”
Wen Kexing let out a barely audible laugh, “Good people?”
Whether it was due to the stillness of the night or something else, his expression seemed somewhat lost as he whispered, “I can’t believe that after all these years, there are still people who remember them and still call them ‘good.’ Tell me… what makes someone a ‘good person?’ Why must people try to be ‘good?'”
Just as Zhou Zishu was about to speak, he suddenly heard a slight commotion coming from Zhang Chengling’s direction. The boy’s breathing hitched, and then its frequency changed. Zhou Zishu didn’t need to turn his head to know that Zhang Chengling had another nightmare and woke up with a start.
Zhang Chengling didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply curled up in silence, clutching Zhou Zishu’s outer robe and a broken tree branch, listening attentively.
With that development, Zhou Zishu swallowed the words that had been at the tip of his tongue. He carefully considered his response before finally saying with neither lightness nor heaviness, “Not everyone in this world is a good person. However, most people wish to be good, even if they aren’t truly good, they would still try their best to appear like one.”
He paused for a moment before continuing, “As for why… I think it’s probably because only when you are kind to others and sincerely unwilling to harm them, doing good deeds, others will be kind to you as well. Only if you are a good person will you have friends, family, and lovers. Only then will there be many people willing to be with you and be good to you. Imagine a person who is always on guard, unable to get close to anyone, devoid of emotional attachments, and only able to care for themselves—wouldn’t that be just too pitiful? Being a bad person is just too hard.”
Wen Kexing listened, stupefied for a moment. After a while, he gave a slight laugh and shook his head.
Zhou Zishu remained silent, merely adding more firewood to the campfire. Wen Kexing lowered his head, staring at the flickering flames, shaking his head once more, albeit with his movements becoming progressively slower.
Finally, Wen Kexing crossed his arms and leaned back, lying supine, staring at the splendid night sky paved with twinkling stars. He let out a long sigh and murmured in a barely audible voice, “You’re right… Ah Xu, what you said is very insightful.”
Zhou Zishu merely smiled in response.
Wen Kexing continued, as if talking to himself, “Does a detestable person… always have a pitiful side?”
Zhou Zishu replied, “Indeed.”
Wen Kexing nodded, seemingly oblivious to whether or not Zhou Zishu could see him. Immediately after, he remarked earnestly, “Ah Xu, I’ve noticed that, even though you may not be a beauty, you are becoming more and more to my taste.”
Zhou Zishu recognized this behavior, and knew Wen Kexing was getting back to his old self, therefore, didn’t react, only twitching the corner of his mouth.
Wen Kexing then propped himself up on one elbow, a beaming smile playing on his face as he looked at Zhou Zishu, suggesting, “You don’t need to envy that old couple anymore. Follow me in the future– we can roam the world and retire together. We won’t die tomorrow, and I don’t mind settling down with you. What do you think?”
Zhou Zishu responded, unenthusiastically, “Sorry, I do mind. Brother Wen, you’re overestimating me.”
Wen Kexing burst into laughter at that, then buoyed his amusement by watching Zhou Zishu fracture the stick he was using to stir the firewood, all the while unable to retaliate, instead playing deaf and dumb. Without a shred of guilt, Wen Kexing delighted in the anger of others, finding great joy in it.
The next morning, Zhang Chengling brought over Zhou Zishu’s robes, handed them to him, and timidly said, “Thank you, master.”
Zhou Zishu put on his robe, glanced at him, and said, “Let’s go. Back to Gaojiazhuang.”
Zhang Chengling paused for a second, then wordlessly followed, like a sulky child bride.
Wen Kexing watched coldly and then comforted, “Your master seems to be determined to mix with the jianghu heroes, staying tightly knit with this group of people in the Gao family village. You might as well stay close to the hero Zhao, so you can find him whenever you want to.”
Then he hastily added, “Of course, you can also come to me anytime you want.”
Walking ahead, Zhou Zishu overheard their conversation, turned back, and asked, “When did I say I’d stay and mingle with these people?”
Wen Kexing, hand thoughtfully stroking his chin, asked with a smirk, “So you’re not staying?”
Zhou Zishu frowned, “No, I’m not.”
Wen Kexing glanced at Zhang Chengling before repeating, “So you really won’t stay?”
“No…”
Subconsciously, Zhou Zishu turned to look at Zhang Chengling, only to find the young boy staring at him, his eyes wide open and full of expectancy, although trying not to be too obvious. Sensing Zhou Zishu’s gaze, he quickly pressed his lips together, putting on a brave face. Zhou Zishu’s disagreement faltered and he huffed, turning around to walk away.
Wen Kexing slapped Zhang Chengling’s head gently, as if to cause chaos wherever he went, and sighed, “Ah Xu, don’t you think we look like a family of three?”
Zhou Zishu quickened his pace.
Seeming to really take on the role of a father, Wen Kexing’s face softened, fondly telling Zhang Chengling, “Let’s enjoy the journey since we’re in no rush. I’ll entertain you with a story if you’d like.”
Obediently, Zhang Chengling nodded his head only to have Wen Kexing spin a tale full of excitement, “It is said that beneath Mount Wuxing, there was a demonic child named Hong’er who lived together with other demons and ghouls. But in his heart, he despised them for being nothing but a bunch of troublemakers, despite living among them…”
Wen Kexing seemed quite knowledgeable about this tale, and as Zhou Zishu walked ahead, he could hear the story’s rhythm and flair, uttered with such enthusiasm that he managed to captivate Zhang Chengling with each new twist and turn. They were stunned by just how well-spoken this seemingly foolish man was.
“…Hong’er came to learn that his origins were quite extraordinary. His mother was a white snake demoness known as Bai Niangzi, who had illicitly descended to the mortal realm to engage in a romantic liaison with a mortal man. An aged monk named Fahai discovered this and suppressed her underneath Mount Hua…”
Suddenly, Zhou Zishu nearly tripped over a rock and found himself almost sprawled on the ground.
“…Determined to rescue his mother, Hong’er set out to split open the mountain. To thwart his attempts, the monk Fahai enlisted supernatural assistance, but each of his efforts was crushed one by one. In the end, Hong’er discovered that the demons from his previous dwelling had also turned against him, seeking to leave him to his doom.”
Zhou Zishu couldn’t find the words to describe his disbelief at this turn of events, while Zhang Chengling listened, enthralled, and asked, “Why?”
Wen Kexing explained, “It’s a secret actually. Bai Niangzi was initially not a demoness but merely a human with some spiritual power. Somehow, rumors had spread and transformed her into an evil creature, eventually leading to her confinement beneath Mount Hua. Think about it—if Bai Niangzi were to be freed, wouldn’t Hong’er’s parents become mere mortals? In which case, wouldn’t Hong’er then become a mortal himself?”
With a puzzled look on his face, Zhang Chengling listened and responded, “Oh… Mortals… I still don’t understand…”
Wen Kexing chuckled, “You may be a bit slow, but just remember, those who aren’t part of our tribe will always be different.”
Hearing this, Zhou Zishu felt his heart skip a beat. He sensed the inkling of an idea forming but couldn’t quite grasp it as it quickly flitted away. All he could do was listen, as Zhang Chengling inquired, “So, did Hong’er die? Did the mountain split open?”
Wen Kexing pondered a moment before offering, “I haven’t made up that part yet. What do you think?”
With determination, Zhang Chengling declared, “He must have defeated all those demons, saved his mother, and eventually become a great and invincible hero!”
Wen Kexing supplemented, “Hmm… That’s also a possibility. However, it seems rather unoriginal since that’s how most stories go. Maybe instead, let’s have Hong’er become a mortal who could no longer command the winds and clouds!”
Zhang Chengling let out a gasp, clearly feeling a little disappointed by the ending. Yet, he couldn’t pinpoint why it was so unsatisfactory. Then he glanced at Wen Kexing and thought that this senior figure was actually quite kind and easygoing. So, he cautiously proposed, “Can you tell me another story, please?”
Wen Kexing had finally found someone who would listen attentively to his stories, and he felt quite delighted with the kid’s cooperative nature. So, he let loose a barrage of tales. He started with “The Owl and a Bowl of Red Water,” followed by “Jiang Ziya’s Epic Battle with the White Bone Spirit,” and “Cui Yingying’s Angry Sinking of Hundred Treasure Box,” among other seemingly fresh and intriguing stories. He chattered on and on this way until they returned to the Gao family’s estate on Dongting Lake.
As soon as they arrived, they ran into Cao Weining. Upon seeing Zhang Chengling, he paused briefly, before exclaiming in shock, “Oh dear young master, where have you gone off with these two gentlemen? Uncle Zhao has been looking everywhere for you as if he was going mad!”
Zhou Zishu replied, “We just happened to see this child running off alone, and we couldn’t help ourselves but to chase after him. No warning, and…”
However, before he could even finish his sentence, Cao Weining reached out and pulled him back in, interjecting, “You’ve missed some big news! Hurry, you need to check it out. The people over there are practically fighting like dogs!”
Translator Footnotes:
平王 (Píng Wáng): literally means “Peaceful King.
“秋明 (Qiū Míng): Autumn Lightening is a sword technique in the story.
神仙眷侣 (Shénxiān juàn lǚ): literally means “immortal couple.”
童养媳(tóng yǎng xí): ‘child bride,’ refers to a custom where a family adopts a girl to be the future bride of a son. Often due to poverty, the bride is raised by her future in-laws.
沆瀣一气(hàng xiè yī qì): ‘staying tightly knit,’ refers to people who are in the same camp or on the same side.
蛇鼠一窝(shé shǔ yī wō): ‘a nest of snakes and rats,’ refers to a group of bad people. Zhou Zishu means the heroes are no better than the villains.
阿絮 (Ah Xu): An affectionate nickname that Wen Kexing uses for Zhou Zishu.
非我族类,其心必异 (féi wǒ zú lèi, qí xīn bì yì): An idiom meaning “those who aren’t part of our tribe will always be different,” signifying that outsiders may have different intentions or cannot be trusted.
貓頭鷹和一碗紅水 (Māotóuyīng hé yī wǎn hóng shuǐ): Literal translation is “The Owl and a Bowl of Red Water”. This is a fictional story created by the author. At least, I didn’t find anything. If you know this history, please tell us about it in the comments.
姜子牙大戰白骨精 (Jiāng Zǐyá Dàzhàn Báigǔ Jīng): The literal translation is “Jiang Ziya’s Epic Battle with the White Bone Spirit”. Jiang Ziya is a historical and mythological figure, a counselor, in the ancient Chinese “Shang Dynasty”. White Bone Spirit is a demon from the classic Chinese novel “Journey to the West”.
崔莺莺怒沈百寶箱 (Cuī Yīngyīng nù shěn bǎibǎo xiāng): Literal translation is “Cui Yingying’s Angry Sinking of the Hundred Treasure Box”. Cui Yingying is a protagonist in a notable romance in ancient Chinese literature, “The West Chamber”; this story seems to be a playful and imaginative extension from the original plot.
趙大俠 (Zhào dà xiá): In Chinese Jianghu (martial arts world), “dà xiá” is an honorary title for a hero. The phrase “Uncle Zhao” here is a respectful and affectionate term for an older male in Chinese culture, not necessarily a relative.
人腦袋都快打成狗腦袋了 (Rén nǎodài dū kuài dǎ chéng gǒu nǎodài le): This is a colloquial saying meaning people are fighting intensely and recklessly. The literal translation is “people’s heads are being beaten into dog heads”.
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