Chapter 228: Feelings of a Wanderer and Old Friends at Sunset

Chapter 228: Feelings of a Wanderer and Old Friends at Sunset

After Chen Changsheng left the tavern, he walked toward the southeast side of Autumn Moon Market. According to Manager Fei, Zhang Xiaoliu had now rented a small house by the river and stayed there all year long.

In this world, without household registration or money, a person could hardly move forward. It wasn’t that they didn’t try hard, but some things were just too tough for people of this time to overcome.

In the middle of the river, there was a fenced-off open space with four or five ducks walking around. Behind it stood an old, worn-out house that had been there for many years.

By the river bank, a man sat holding a bamboo fishing rod, anxiously waiting for fish to bite.

Chen Changsheng walked closer, glanced at the still river water, then looked at the man sitting there.

Compared to before, Zhang Xiaoliu’s body was much more bent. From the side, you could clearly see gray and white hairs mixed together in his hair.

He had aged a lot, probably not just because of age, but because of hardship.

Zhang Xiaoliu pulled the rod back, put on half a piece of earthworm bait, and cast the line out again.

That whole afternoon, he caught nothing at all.

“Are the fish easy to catch?” Chen Changsheng asked.

Zhang Xiaoliu flinched in surprise and turned to look. His eyes went wide, but he calmed down right away.

“When did Mr. Chen come back…”

Chen Changsheng paid no attention to his shock and sat down on the ground, not caring if it was dirty or not.

He asked, “Why do you still send wine up the mountain every year when you’re so poor?”

Zhang Xiaoliu pressed his lips together and avoided eye contact.

“You know it all, sir…”

Chen Changsheng nodded in reply and said, “You’re not stupid. Why didn’t you come to the mountain to find me? Even if I wasn’t there, Moyuan was at the temple. He could have made things right for you. How did you end up so down and out?”

Zhang Xiaoliu opened his mouth, then sighed in frustration and said, “Forgive me, Mr. Chen. But Xiaoliu… couldn’t bring myself to ask.”

“When the Old Manager was still alive, I owed you for saving me that time. The Old Manager also got your kindness with that glass of immortal wine. Young Master Mo gave guidance to Xiaoqi. But I, Zhang Xiaoliu, am just ordinary—very ordinary. I can’t even repay a tiny bit of these favors.”

Chen Changsheng looked at him and said, “You don’t owe me anything. Instead, I owe you. The account book says in black and white that I owe you four taels of silver. Now, do you not want it anymore?”

Xiaoliu opened his mouth. Of course he wanted it, but he felt uneasy inside.

Chen Changsheng shook his head, turned to look at the ducks in the pen, and asked, “All these years, did you get by by raising a few animals and catching some fish?”

Xiaoliu opened his mouth and shook his head, saying, “No, not really. I take care of them for others.”

Chen Changsheng glanced at him, then looked at the shabby house and asked, “That wooden house—does it keep out the wind and rain?”

Xiaoliu wanted to argue back, but he stayed silent.

The house had broken windows, and its tiles were full of holes. It didn’t keep out wind or rain—maybe worse than an old shrine.

Chen Changsheng also looked at Zhang Xiaoliu’s clothes. They were old and ragged, patched up in many places, like they were worn for years.

Zhang Xiaoliu shuddered, as if about to speak. He thought it over and finally said it.

“Actually…”

“Xiaoliu understands that if I asked, Mr. Chen would definitely help me.”

How could Zhang Xiaoliu not see this? What he said next really explained the reason.

“A few years ago, when I went up the mountain to visit, I heard from Young Master Mo that Xiaoqi has good talent. So I thought that if I ever saw you again, I’d ask you to show him a path to follow.”

“Favors are like thin threads. My wife and I made up our minds to suffer a bit. We’d endure and get through it.”

Chen Changsheng heard him out and stayed quiet for a moment.

“You’re afraid that helping you now means no help in the future?”

Zhang Xiaoliu thought so, but he dared not nod.

He dropped his fishing rod and knelt down right in front of Chen Changsheng’s eyes.

“Please forgive Xiaoliu for being so bold.”

“People say Immortal Fate is hard to get. Me, Zhang Xiaoliu, am no good at anything and haven’t helped you much. All I can offer is some wine.”

“Xiaoqi has talent. As his father, I hope he can have a different life later on. Everything has its chance. We, my wife and I, would rather suffer ourselves than see Xiaoqi be forgotten.”

Zhang Xiaoliu’s eyes were watery and a bit red.

“Xiaoliu begs you, Mr. Chen.”

Chen Changsheng stopped looking at him and asked, “Don’t you think about yourself?”

Zhang Xiaoliu shook his head and said, “I don’t dare.”

“Why don’t you dare?”

“The Old Manager warned me long ago that you can’t force some things. If you’re not careful, you lose them forever. If this is my only chance, I ask you to save it for Xiaoqi.”

The river surface reflected the sunset glow from far away. Half the hills and water seemed painted on the stream.

Chen Changsheng never thought Zhang Xiaoliu would kneel before him like this.

In his view, it wasn’t needed. He was just a man, not better than anyone else in the world.

He had always thought of Zhang Xiaoliu as someone he knew, like the Old Manager back then.

But now it felt somehow strange.

As strange as Autumn Moon Brew.

A fish jumped lightly in the river, splashing water, then vanished beneath the surface. Ducks in the pen quacked away, not really saying anything clear.

Chen Changsheng said, “I promise you.”

Zhang Xiaoliu raised his head and looked at Mr. Chen.

But Chen Changsheng turned and said abruptly, “But we must settle this in a different way.”

“Please tell me, sir,” Zhang Xiaoliu lowered his head.

Chen Changsheng said, “From now on, you must go to Flowing Cloud Temple every day to light three incense sticks. Then sweep all the steps on the way up. Do it for ten years. That will pay for your son’s Immortal Fate.”

Zhang Xiaoliu’s worried heart calmed. He bowed down and kowtowed heavily.

“Xiaoliu thanks you for your great kindness, sir!”

His head hit the ground with a thud, filled with real feeling.

Chen Changsheng did not speak. He got up and started to leave.

After a few steps, he glanced back.

Zhang Xiaoliu was still kneeling.

Chen Changsheng said, “Tell him to come to Flowing Cloud Temple tomorrow. No need to kneel anymore.”

As his voice faded, his figure slowly vanished by the river. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from Zhang Xiaoliu’s sight.

Zhang Xiaoliu kowtowed three times. His forehead bled a little from the force, and his knees got covered in dirt.

He stared at the quiet river bank. With a heavy sigh, he slowly bowed his head.

He knew it might upset Mr. Chen, but he still wanted to ask for that Immortal Fate for his son. Even if it broke their bond and brought lifelong hardship, he did not regret it.

…

After leaving, Chen Changsheng went to Zhang Wudi’s grave.

The two pine trees in front of the grave now stood over ten feet tall, shading the spot from the sun.

Chen Changsheng poured wine over Zhang Wudi’s grave.

He spoke to the tombstone, “…Xiaoliu has truly made something of himself.”

The wind of Huai Xu blew past the place. With a rustling sound, it stirred the weeds by the grave.

The last of the evening light faded.

The small hill became dimmer in Chen Changsheng’s gaze.

“Feelings of a wanderer and old friends at sunset…”

“I thought too simply of things.”

Chen Changsheng gave a bitter laugh and took several big gulps of wine.

Even so, he did not feel cheerful.