Chapter Sixty-One: A Dagger Hidden in a Smile?

Zhang Huo Dan—no, now he should be called Zhang Yong—his act of self-castration stirred up much talk in Baiyue Village for several days, but in the end, things settled into calm. In the early dawn of one day, Zhang Yong quietly set forth on the road north to the capital, embarking on the journey of his life.

Old Zhang, his father, had been distraught these days, unable to eat or drink, his spirit wandering. Zhou Zhi spent his time comforting and persuading him and thus had not gone to borrow books. With Zhang Yong gone, old Zhang gradually came to terms with it, deciding to treat it as though he’d never had that son. Fortunately, he still had two other sons, so there was no need to worry about continuing the family line or keeping the ancestral incense burning.

And so, time slipped by—four more days passed. Early this morning, Zhou Zhi fed the horses, checked the vegetable greenhouse in the fields, then left the village, heading straight for Shulü Village.

Shulü Village lay northeast of Baiyue, about seven or eight li away. After leaving the village, Zhou Zhi first followed the official road north, which led straight to Gaochang Town for about five li, then turned east onto a field path to reach Shulü.

The weather today was fine, the sky clear and cloudless. The wheat seedlings across the plains stood lush and green, offering an open vista to the eye. Zhou Zhi took several deep breaths of fresh air, feeling clear-headed and sharp-eyed. Early winter was setting in, and the north wind blew gently; Zhou Zhi pulled his coat tighter and quickened his pace.

As he strode forward, he heard the clip-clop of hooves behind him. Turning, he saw a carriage approaching at a steady pace. Zhou Zhi stepped aside, letting the carriage pass.

The carriage soon drew abreast of him. The curtain was lifted, and the occupant called out, “Young Zhou, are you heading to Gaochang Town? Come, get in—I’ll give you a lift.”

Anyone with a carriage must be from a wealthy family, and Zhou Zhi, being a poor farmer’s son, had never had dealings with such people. Yet the voice was particularly warm and inviting, so Zhou Zhi turned for a look. The person inside was broad-faced and large-eared, smiling broadly at him.

It was Chen Zonghe, the patriarch of the Chen family.

Zhou Zhi had already heard from Niu Desheng and Liuwa that Chen Zonghe always opposed Chen Wenju’s schemes against the Zhou family, a fact that Zhou Zhi never quite understood. After all, Chen Zonghe was hardly a good person. Just two years ago, he’d driven the farmer Li Dayin from his home over a dispute about a dog.

So Chen Zonghe’s friendliness today left Zhou Zhi all the more confused.

But the man was smiling, and it wouldn’t do to respond coldly. Zhou Zhi smiled faintly and said, “Thank you, Master Chen, but I’m not going to Gaochang Town. It’s not far, so I won’t trouble you.”

“Heh! What trouble? We’re from the same village, and you’re headed north, just as I am to Gaochang. Hop in, what harm is there?” Chen Zonghe’s face darkened slightly, feigning displeasure.

“Well…” Zhou Zhi hesitated.

Now the man seemed genuinely warm-hearted. Though Chen Zonghe was no saint, upon reflection, he’d never truly been bad to Zhou Zhi’s family—nor good, just never involved.

As for Chen Wenju’s bet with Zhou Zhi, that was all Chen Wenju’s doing. Chen Zonghe had never shown any reaction.

Zhou Zhi thought to himself: Chen Zonghe approaching me like this, surely he has some ulterior motive. Still, since he invited me, why not accept? Walking in the cold north wind was no pleasure.

With that, Zhou Zhi smiled at Chen Zonghe and stepped onto the carriage.

The coachman glanced at Zhou Zhi, then at Chen Zonghe, full of suspicion but not daring to ask, so he shouted, “Giddy-up!” and the sturdy horse picked up a trot, heading north.

Chen Zonghe, his face full of fat, laughed heartily, resembling a living Maitreya Buddha. His small eyes fixed on Zhou Zhi. “Young Zhou, you’ve grown taller lately! How’s your mother’s health?”

He spoke with a smile, so Zhou Zhi replied likewise, “Thank you, Master Chen, my mother is well.”

“Right, I heard your little brother was ill recently, and a travelling female doctor operated on him. He should be recovered by now?”

“Yes, he grows stronger every day.”

Chen Zonghe sighed. “Speaking of which, your brother Zhou Tie has been away in Tang County about a month now—he should be back soon?”

Ordinary folk’s corvée service usually lasted a month, but this year, a month had passed without word. Zhou Zhi and his mother had been worried for some time.

Still, Zhou Zhi smiled and answered, “The corvée was farther this year, so it might take longer.”

Chen Zonghe chatted idly, never mentioning the bet between Zhou Zhi and Chen Wenju, as if it had never happened. Zhou Zhi responded in kind. After a brief pause, Chen Zonghe suddenly asked, “Zhou Zhi, I hear your sister Luyun is engaged? The groom’s a minor Hu from Gaochang Town?”

“Yes,” Zhou Zhi replied.

Chen Zonghe nodded, then asked, “When is the wedding planned?”

“At first, it was to be at the end of this year, but my sister wishes to stay home a bit longer, so it’s set for next year’s end,” Zhou Zhi replied, watching Chen Zonghe’s smiling face.

“Hmm, your sister should be sixteen this year, right?” Chen Zonghe continued.

At this, Zhou Zhi’s heart gave a sudden jolt. Chen Zonghe had inquired about everyone in his family, but lingered longest on his sister Luyun.

Why was he so concerned about her?

Zhou Zhi had never liked Chen Zonghe—a poor youth and a wealthy patriarch, they were never of the same world and had no dealings, especially after Zhou Zhi had bested Chen Wenju in a bet, causing him to lose face. These thoughts nagged at Zhou Zhi.

But looking at Chen Zonghe’s calm demeanor, as if his questions were mere casual conversation, Zhou Zhi could only reply, “Yes, my sister is sixteen this year.”

Chen Zonghe laughed, reaching out his plump hand to pat Zhou Zhi’s shoulder. “Young Zhou, keep at it. You’re a resourceful fellow. Just the idea of growing fresh vegetables in winter—I’m impressed. Who knows, maybe your family will prosper because of you. In the future, Baiyue Village might well have a Zhou Zhi of note!”

“Thank you, Master Chen, but I’m not so capable. In Baiyue Village, the truly accomplished are people like you—worthy of everyone’s respect,” Zhou Zhi replied with a smile.

Since Chen Zonghe was speaking kindly, Zhou Zhi responded in kind, offering him flattery.

Flattery, after all, never goes amiss. Chen Zonghe’s greasy face shone with even greater delight.

“Ha! You know how to talk, I like that!” Chen Zonghe laughed.

“Coachman, stop! I need to get off!” Zhou Zhi had been watching the scenery outside and now, seeing the path to Shulü Village, called out urgently.

“Here already? Until next time!” Chen Zonghe waved warmly from the carriage as Zhou Zhi jumped off.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Chen!” Zhou Zhi called after the receding carriage.

Zhou Zhi then turned onto the field path, walked another li or so, and arrived at Shulü Village.

As he walked, he pondered: though he’d never dealt with Chen Zonghe before, the latter’s reputation in Baiyue Village was abysmal—bullying tenants, seizing land, driving people from their homes. He was capable of every sort of misdeed.

Yet today, he’d been unusually kind. What was the reason? Did he have some hidden motive? Was it a velvet glove hiding a dagger?

But to a poor youth like Zhou Zhi, lacking both power and wealth, was such effort worth it?