Chapter Thirty-Three: Discussing Wine

When Li Xunhuan had searched the entire Money Gang and failed to find Shi Fei, he suddenly caught sight of him emerging from the waters of the Min River. Li Xunhuan flew to the riverbank and blocked his path.

Shi Fei looked at the man stopping him and asked, "Do you have business with me?"

"What are you trying to do?" Li Xunhuan asked.

"Seeking death," Shi Fei replied.

Li Xunhuan was puzzled. "Seeking death?"

Shi Fei was indeed seeking death. The grand spectacle had played out, and he felt this dream had lost its meaning. Thus, he wanted to end it. After all, he had to go to work tomorrow! However, only death could terminate this dreamscape. So, he had been testing whether he could drown himself. By the time Li Xunhuan came for him, Shi Fei had been soaking in the Min River for a day and a night. In the water, he could spontaneously trigger internal respiration; not to mention a day and a night, he could sustain himself for seven days and seven nights without issue.

Hearing Shi Fei say, "Yes, seeking death," Li Xunhuan cautiously asked, "Whose death do you want?"

"My own, naturally," Shi Fei said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Li Xunhuan did not believe him. Who would ever seek their own death? Who would choose to die if they could live? "Are you plotting some new scheme again?" Li Xunhuan asked.

Shi Fei looked at him with an expression of pure confusion. "Must I always have a scheme?"

Li Xunhuan said nothing. In his heart, Shi Fei was simply that eccentric. It was not that he was temperamental, but rather that he was fundamentally different from ordinary people. He was perhaps the strangest man in the world of martial arts.

Seeing Li Xunhuan remain silent, Shi Fei sighed. "Are we not friends?"

Li Xunhuan remained silent. There was no such thing as a friend who manipulated one’s life until one had no choice in the matter.

"Are we not brothers, then?" Shi Fei added.

Li Xunhuan shook his head. He had no such brother. He had always been the one to trick his brothers; he had never been the one tricked by them. (Or so he thought.)

Shi Fei sighed again. "If we are neither friends nor brothers, then why do you ask?"

"You..." Li Xunhuan began, but what could he say? He suddenly asked, "Will you buy me a drink?"

Whenever they drank together, it was always Tie Chuanjia who paid the bill; Shi Fei had never treated Li Xunhuan to a drink. It was not that Shi Fei was stingy, but rather that he had no money.

He had no use for money, either. The money of his friends and brothers was his money. In real life, he bowed his head for meager wages and worked overtime every day, but in this dream, he did not need to worry about money. Truly, dreams had everything. He wondered when he would stop worrying about money in reality.

Shi Fei sighed and said, "Very well."

They arrived at a small tavern in Leshan. The shop was tiny, with only four tables, their surfaces so dark and worn that their original state was unrecognizable. No one would have guessed that the two most powerful men in the martial arts world were sitting in this tavern, drinking and chatting.

The shop offered not just wine, but also bobo chicken, fried chicken, and spicy hot pot—all popular local delicacies of Leshan.

"Why choose this place?" Li Xunhuan asked.

"It’s cheap," Shi Fei replied.

"I’ve known you for so long, I never realized you were a 'chicken'," Li Xunhuan remarked.

"I am not a chicken," Shi Fei retorted.

"A stingy iron rooster," Li Xunhuan teased.

Shi Fei sneered and said nothing more, merely pouring him a bowl of wine. The shop was small, but the wine was excellent—clear as amber, without a single impurity. Li Xunhuan raised the bowl to drink, then immediately spat it out.

It was scalding! The wine was far too hot. Shi Fei had secretly heated it, burning Li Xunhuan’s tongue.

"I have been drinking for many years, and this is the first time the wine has struck back at me!" Li Xunhuan laughed. He was, in truth, an optimistic man.

"Even wine can be petty," Shi Fei noted.

Li Xunhuan shook his head, blew on the wine, and took another sip. As the hot liquid slid down his throat, he began to cough. However, the coughing was not as violent as before—at least not enough to double him over as if he were trying to cough up his own lungs.

"Has this ailment of yours not healed yet?" Shi Fei asked.

"As long as I don't drink, I don't cough," Li Xunhuan replied.

"Then why not simply stop drinking?"

Li Xunhuan countered, "Can you stop drinking?"

"Of course," Shi Fei said.

Li Xunhuan: "..."

Shi Fei continued, "When I was young, I disliked alcohol. It was alien to me, and it burned. My memories of drinking were always associated with adults making a scene after they’d had too much." People who drank never cared for others; they only spoke loudly. "As I grew older, I liked it even less. Alcohol was almost always tied to social obligations. I hated being forced to drink when I didn't want to. That feeling was absolutely wretched."

Li Xunhuan looked at Shi Fei’s youthful face and pondered. Indeed, he was an old monster. These words were certainly not those of a young man just entering the martial arts world.

Shi Fei, remembering that he was in a dream, spoke of things he dared not say in reality. "Every time I have to socialize, I think the people who pressure others to drink are idiots," he grumbled. "If you don't drink a cup with them, you aren't giving them face. The wine on the table is more important to them than their own fathers."

Li Xunhuan laughed. He suddenly felt that Shi Fei was just a young man troubled by the pressures of drinking. Shi Fei was human, after all.

Shi Fei added, "When I grew older still, I developed a new perspective on alcohol. Drinking with friends is a pleasure. Drinking with others is a form of torture. As for drinking with women..." He paused. "A woman who isn't drinking is a lady; a woman who has been drinking is something else entirely." Anyone who had seen a drunken woman would understand.

Li Xunhuan nodded; he had certainly seen drunken women before.

Shi Fei asked suddenly, "To me, wine is just a beverage. It is optional! It is fine to drink with friends, but drinking cola with friends is just as good. You, however, cannot find joy without wine, and you drink even when you are ill. What do you think wine is?"

Li Xunhuan took a sip and sighed. "I believe wine represents depravity."

"What?" Shi Fei was puzzled. He had expected Li Xunhuan to talk about passion, friendship, sorrow, or something indispensable. He had not expected this.

"I also believe," Li Xunhuan continued, "that wine represents escape. Only those who have no hope for life drink as if their lives depend on it. When a person has no future and cannot escape their past, wine is the only choice, the only companion."

"You are a true drunkard, indeed," Shi Fei said. "You understand it deeply."

There was no one in this world without regrets; some simply chose not to cry out in pain. If left unspoken, it became a knot; if voiced, it became a scar.

"With your current life, you shouldn't need wine as a companion anymore, should you?" Shi Fei asked. Li Xunhuan now possessed both power and status; he was a winner in life and had no need to live in the past.

Looking at the wine in his hand, Li Xunhuan had to admit that, judging solely by the results, Shi Fei had been very good to him. He was a true brother, indeed. But even between brothers, one had to maintain boundaries; one could not constantly make choices for others or claim to be doing things "for their own good." If one did, brothers would cease to be brothers. They would become enemies.