Chapter 68: The Passionate Man

Liu Liwa chuckled inwardly—’children of Jianghu’? Why not ‘parents of Jianghu’? If he ever had a son in the future, he would name him ‘Liu Jianghu’—then everyone who roamed the Jianghu would be his son or daughter!

Liu Liwa sat down next to Young Master Ye, across from Wen Jun, to prevent him from suddenly lashing out unpredictably.

Wen Jun stood up on his own initiative and poured Liu Liwa a cup of wine, then refilled Young Master Ye’s cup. Raising his glass, he said, “Brother Liu, I dislike depraved matters, so I apologize for my earlier offense. I hope you will be magnanimous and forgive me. Brother Ye, I was careless and rude—please accept this full cup as my apology!”

With that, he downed the large bowl of wine, which held at least two jin. He had been drinking since earlier; by now, he must have consumed five or six jin—even if it were beer, that would amount to seven or eight bottles. This soldier truly had a great capacity for drink.

Liu Liwa was left somewhat flustered by being called ‘Brother.’ Young Master Ye also sensed Wen Jun’s erratic temper and felt a bit let down, but since the man had apologized, he hurriedly picked up his bowl as well and drank a large portion with a pained expression, as though his wife had been stolen—the same way he had been drunk under the table yesterday.

After one bowl of wine, a second was poured. Wen Jun looked at Liu Liwa and said, “When I was younger, I greatly admired the kind of swift justice and brotherhood found in the Jianghu. But strict family rules dictated that a real man should serve the Imperial Court. Even now, I still yearn for that Jianghu spirit. Hearing Brother Liu speak of these tales of loyalty and vengeance has been exhilarating—it felt as though I lived them myself, fulfilling a long-held wish. Come, let me toast Brother Liu.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Liu Liwa quickly stood up. “It should be me toasting you, Supervisory Commander, and Young Master Ye.”

Young Master Ye’s face turned ashen, as if he were about to cry. He lifted the bowl, downed another serving, then let out a belch before collapsing headfirst.

Wen Jun gave a faint smile, clapped his hands, and two soldiers immediately entered the room, carrying Young Master Ye out.

Now only Liu Liwa and Wen Jun remained. Wen Jun appeared approachable—perhaps moved by the heroic deeds and fierce loyalty of ‘Wu Erge,’ or maybe feeling clarity after his ‘episode,’ or possibly just drunk. But one could not be fooled by appearances—this man had obsessions, an unsound mind, and many taboos, so Liu Liwa had to take extra care and simply keep him company while drinking.

Wen Jun drank heartily, and Liu Liwa raised his bowl in response. Wen Jun seemed elated, laughing loudly: “Thrilling, just thrilling! Good wine, great stories. Liu Xiaoqi, you’re no ordinary person. To be honest, the story you told is one I have lived through myself—but it was not for my own brother. It was for a comrade-in-arms who fought by my side. When we returned from the battlefield in glory, many of my brothers had fallen beside me, and many died protecting me so that I could return alive. But when I got back, I found that the widow of one brother had been seized by a local landlord. In my fury, I executed the entire landlord family. Tell me, isn’t that rather similar to your story?”

Liu Liwa was inwardly astonished—it really had struck a chord! This hardened soldier spoke of killing as casually as stepping on ants. The bond between comrades was forged in shared life-and-death battles, sometimes even surpassing that of blood brothers. Wen Jun truly was a man of deep loyalty and honor.

“Supervisory Commander is a man of true feeling and righteousness, a real hero!” Liu Liwa lifted his wine bowl and toasted sincerely.

Wen Jun smiled faintly, finished the strong liquor, and said bleakly, “What kind of hero am I? Those brothers who shed their blood on the battlefield were the true heroes, the real men. I hate it—why did I not die on the battlefield and find my rest there? Why did I have to survive half-alive and half-dead? My life was saved by my brothers giving theirs, so how could I take my own life lightly? I must live on, bear their lives with me, and take care of their families. I have to live, but damn it, I really don’t want to live!”

Wen Jun grew more and more agitated, tears streaming from his resolute eyes. Soon, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Liu Liwa did not know what to say—the camaraderie of the battlefield was something only those who had experienced it could understand. But seeing Wen Jun so strong, high-ranking, and enjoying food and drink, why did he say he was neither man nor ghost?

This tough warrior wept so brokenly before him. It was hard to imagine how much sorrow and pain he held inside, how much pressure he endured. He had taken Liu Liwa as a confidant precisely because Liu Liwa was a complete outsider, a mere Brothel Steward with no influence. No matter what secrets Wen Jun revealed, he could not spread them—even if he did, no one would believe the words of a Brothel Steward.

Thus, Wen Jun let himself decompress freely, taking deep gulps of wine for courage. He flung aside the white silk handkerchief—his essential tool for staying clean—and stomped on it violently, roaring in fury, “Damn it! I, Wen Jun, am a full seven-foot man! Why should I use such womanly things? I hate it… Liu Xiaoqi, do you know my pain? On the battlefield back then, I was gravely wounded and could not move. The enemy advanced in force—it was my sworn brothers who used their bodies to shield me and keep me alive. But at the time, I was completely paralyzed, severely injured, and had to wait for the enemy to retreat and reinforcements to arrive. That wait lasted five whole days! No food, no water. To survive, to live up to the brothers who died for me, to come back and care for their families—do you know how I survived?”

Liu Liwa had been listening half-heartedly, not intending to interrupt, just lending an ear—letting the words flow in one ear and out the other, listening just to help him unburden himself. But at this point, Liu Liwa’s eyes widened in shock, as though he could see the battlefield soaked in blood. How could a badly wounded man survive without food or water?

There was a story once: a man exploring the Antarctic with his team was trapped in ice and became the sole survivor. After eating penguin meat once, he killed himself. Why? Because during the icebound ordeal, what he ate to survive was not penguin meat—it was the flesh and blood of his own companions!

Wen Jun saw realization dawn in Liu Liwa’s eyes. He cried out, nearly wailing. Finally, Liu Liwa understood why Wen Jun had suddenly developed such severe obsessive cleanliness. On a battlefield littered with corpses, anyone forced to eat the flesh and blood of the dead would be left with a terrifying psychological scar. The fact that he survived at all was truly a miracle.

Liu Liwa never expected that a story about Wu Erge killing an adulterer would evoke such painful memories. Those brothers who once stood by Wen Jun were all passionate men—now long gone. To save Wen Jun, they not only gave their lives, but also offered their own flesh. In truth, their loyalty went all the way—worthy of respect and admiration!