After that encounter, A Shui never saw Fu Zhumei again. A few days later, she went to the Silver Horn Tavern to inquire about news, only to learn that Xiao Fu had taken his turtle and left without a word. The tavern owner was still cursing, calling him heartless for leaving so abruptly without even a farewell. Had he known Xiao Fu was leaving, he would have at least given him a few extra taels of silver. As he spoke, he wiped his nose, as if genuinely upset.
Xiao Fu was gone—something must have happened.
She thought that, after all, he was a martial artist, and in the Martial Arts World, no matter how much one longed for peace and simplicity, life could never truly be calm or uncomplicated. Perhaps it was better that he left. Luoyang was a place of trouble, too close to the capital, with too many martial artists coming and going. If he sought peace, he should go somewhere farther away.
Or perhaps… leave this place and visit Young Master Tang. For some reason, ever since leaving Good Cloud Mountain, her heart had been unsettled. He was a man too complex and unpredictable, with emotions far too intricate. Had her abrupt departure that day hurt him? She couldn’t understand Tang Lici—she couldn’t even remain by his side with a calm heart. Yet deep down, she still wished someone could go back in her place to see how he was.
Young Master Tang… was far too complex and subtle. The more complicated one’s thoughts, the more exhausting they became, didn’t they? And you… deep down, lacked the stabilizing force to steady yourself. Chi Yun was dead, Young Master Tang. What were you thinking when you killed him?
Good Cloud Mountain.
The white mist still drifted, the scenery as ethereal as ever. The bodies of Chi Yun and the two leaders of Plum Blossom Mountain had been cremated, their ashes returned to Plum Blossom Mountain for burial. Once-renowned heroes now lay buried in the earth. Tang Lici had been injured in that battle and had rarely ventured out since. Shao Yanping, on his way to Shaolin Temple, had been shocked by the tragic news of the Central Plains Sword Association’s upheaval and hurried back. Cheng Yunpao deeply regretted his careless decision to leave for the Valley of Renowned Physicians, while Dong Hubi and Meng Qinglei, who had gone to Luoyang, had also rushed back. Everyone was worried about Tang Lici after he killed Chi Yun, but Tang Lici remained composed, his faint smile never wavering, as if nothing had happened.
"Stop! Who are you?" A Sword Association disciple guarding the back gate of the Hall of Sharp Virtue spotted a figure staggering toward him. "You can’t just barge in here." The disheveled man, covered in moss, froze for a moment. "I… I’m here to see someone." The disciple scrutinized him from head to toe—his once-white robes now mostly green, his hair a mess, his face boyish. "Who are you looking for?"
"Tang… Tang…" The man stammered for a long while, hesitating, but never finishing. The disciple frowned. "Are you here for Old Tang from the kitchen? Ah, right—Old Tang mentioned his nephew was coming to help out soon. Must be you. Come in." The man blinked. "Huh?" The disciple shouted, "Old Tang! Old Tang! Your nephew’s here!"From behind the door, an elderly man around sixty years old came running. He squinted at the figure in white for a moment. "It's been so many years since I last returned home. I've nearly forgotten what my nephew looks like. Is your mother's surname Li or Jiang?" The man in white replied blankly, "My mother? Her surname is Lin..." The old man suddenly brightened, nodding repeatedly. "Ah, yes! I almost forgot. My third brother's wife was surnamed Lin. She was still young when I left. Who would have thought her son would be so grown now. It must have been at least twenty years since I last went back. Come in, come in! From now on, consider this your home. Old Tang will take care of you, hahaha!" With that, he pulled him inside, patting his face. "You poor child, you've suffered so much!"
The man in white, covered in moss, was none other than Fu Zhumei. Seeing Old Tang's genuine emotion, he couldn't bring himself to say, "I'm not your nephew." Instead, he rubbed his hair awkwardly and let out an "Ah." "What's your name, child?" Old Tang asked. Fu Zhumei replied, "I'm called Xiao Fu." Old Tang laughed heartily. "Tang Xiao Fu—what a fine name! Come, come! Starting today, you'll work with me in the kitchen. Mr. Shao treats people well; he’d never let you suffer." Fu Zhumei stood dumbfounded, unable to get a word in before Old Tang dragged him into the kitchen, marking the beginning of his days as "Tang Xiao Fu."
Tang Lici's room was far from the kitchen, on the other side of the mountain peak, where the mist was thickest. Recently, Tang Lici had been recuperating from his injuries, and even Shao Yanping rarely saw him, let alone Old Tang. The person who saw him most often was Ziyun, yet he seldom spoke to her. She merely delivered his meals and tea three times a day, and that was all.
Knock, knock, knock —three raps on the door.
Tang Lici's room was silent. Through the window, one could see him standing by the desk, brush in his left hand as he wrote. Holding a bowl of medicinal soup, Fu Zhumei took in the sight and unconsciously let out a soft sigh.
A-Li... was extraordinarily talented. He excelled in calligraphy, painting, multiple musical instruments, literature, dance, several foreign languages, sports... It seemed there was nothing in this world he couldn't do, and everything he did, he mastered to perfection. Unlike him... Fu Zhumei could do nothing but sing. But...
"Who is it?" came the familiar voice from inside. Fu Zhumei steadied the bowl of soup and stood properly before the door. A-Li's voice was still as pleasant as ever; he was still so outstanding. Back then... how could anyone have said I sang better than him? Ah...
"Who?" Tang Lici repeated gently, still not opening the door.
After hesitating for a long moment, Fu Zhumei cautiously replied with a single word: "Me."
With a creak, the door suddenly swung open—so swiftly it was almost startling, as if it had opened before Fu Zhumei's "Me" had even left his tongue. Tang Lici's face abruptly appeared right before him, leaving Fu Zhumei frozen, staring blankly at him.After a long while, Fu Zhumei finally spoke, "Ah..." Before he could finish his sentence, with a "bang," Tang Lici abruptly shut the door. It closed so swiftly that Fu Zhumei's nose nearly collided with the wooden panel. Startled by this, he stood frozen for another long moment before realizing: A-Li had opened the door, then for some reason closed it again—perhaps because he didn’t want to see him.
"A-Li..." He hesitated outside the door for a while. "I... sigh... You know I’m not very bright. I think you still hate me and don’t want to talk to me at all, but... but I heard the recent news about you hasn’t been good. I thought... I thought... even though you despise me, I wanted to see how you’re doing? Are you injured? How bad is it? Have you gotten any better?"
There was not a sound from inside. Fu Zhumei tiptoed and peeked through the window crack but saw nothing. He continued, "It’s been so long since I last saw you. How are you? You startled me just now—I didn’t get a good look at anything."
Still, there was no response from within. After another long pause, Fu Zhumei grew anxious. "A-Li, the medicine will get cold. If it does, Old Tang will scold me. I... I... What if I cover my face and come in? Or you could close your eyes—if you don’t see me, maybe you won’t be so upset." As he spoke, he actually pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and hastily wrapped it around his head. "I’m coming in." Gently pushing the door open, he carried the bowl of medicine into Tang Lici’s room.
OpenNovel