Chapter Sixty-Five: The Feeling of Being Forgotten

Leaving Lü Xingchuan’s house, the sun was already slanting toward the west. Zhou Zhi strode home, carrying a sizeable cloth bundle in his hand. Today had been fruitful indeed—not only had he borrowed the complete set of Four Books and Five Classics, but he had also made the acquaintance of the old scholar Fan Jin. The three of them had engaged in spirited conversation, their enthusiasm high, from which Zhou Zhi himself had gleaned much benefit.

Days spent drinking tea and wine, gathering with a few literati to indulge in lofty discourse, immersing oneself in study—such a life was most agreeable. Yet, his own family was poor, unable to afford such leisurely comfort. One must face reality: the hardship of his home required his enduring efforts to gradually improve. The future, Zhou Zhi silently vowed with determined gaze, would surely be boundlessly bright.

He retraced his steps along the narrow path between the fields, soon turning onto the main road. The air was growing colder; the north wind blew stronger than it had earlier, and Zhou Zhi, dressed only in a thin jacket, felt the chill seep into his bones. He drew his left hand over his lapel and lifted his head, walking with firmer, quicker steps.

This road connected Baiyue Village to Gaochang Town, then onward to Qingdu County, Qingyuan County, and finally to Baoding Prefecture. Though it was an official route, its remote location meant few travelers passed by. Now, with the cold setting in, the road was nearly deserted.

His body was cold, but Zhou Zhi’s spirits soared. As he marched forward, sudden rapid hoofbeats echoed from behind. He turned to look—one chestnut horse raced ahead, followed by five strong steeds in the distance, kicking up a trail of dust.

Zhou Zhi hurried to the roadside, intending to let the horses pass. His right hand gripped the heavy cloth bundle filled with books, slowing his movements, and the leading chestnut horse rushed forward at alarming speed. Before Zhou Zhi could fully move aside, the horse was upon him.

Startled, Zhou Zhi lifted his hand in panic; the horse, already galloping at full tilt, was frightened and reared up, neighing sharply. Luckily, the rider’s skill was not lacking—they instinctively leaned back, arms wrapping around the horse’s neck, avoiding a tumble from the saddle.

The horse stopped, and the rider, seething with anger, rebuked him, “How do you walk the road, you rascal? You nearly startled my fine steed! See if I don’t teach you a lesson!” Without allowing Zhou Zhi a word of explanation, the rider raised a whip and lashed it down fiercely at Zhou Zhi’s head.

Zhou Zhi dodged hurriedly—managing to avoid the blow, but his cloth bundle fell to the ground. The books inside, packed tightly, scattered across the road.

“You dare dodge? I’ll thrash you yet!” the rider, seeing the first blow miss, grew even more furious and immediately swung a second lash.

Zhou Zhi dodged again, and thanks to his robust physique, he moved swiftly, avoiding the whip once more, though his posture was quite awkward.

All this happened in an instant. As Zhou Zhi came to his senses, rage surged within him, and without even looking at the rider, he cursed loudly, “Damn it! You’re utterly rude—I’m already trying to get out of your way, what more do you want? This is simply bullying!”

As he shouted, Zhou Zhi finally glanced at the rider—and was stunned. The rider wore a black cotton cloak over a blue robe, her face fair as jade, lips red and teeth white. She was the beautiful young archer Zhou Zhi had met at the grain-drying ground—not a youth, but a young woman in disguise.

At that moment, she was still dressed as a man, but Zhou Zhi had already seen through her last time. Since that encounter, her image had often lingered in his mind these past days.

After all, she was the first beautiful woman he had met since arriving in Ming Dynasty, and though their meeting was brief, the impression was deep.

The young woman, frustrated by her missed blows, was about to raise her whip for a third strike when she heard Zhou Zhi abruptly fall silent, his eyes bright and fixed upon her.

She hesitated slightly, her beautiful eyes flickering as she regarded Zhou Zhi, then raised her whip again, declaring, “You dodge quickly enough—let’s see if you can escape this next one.”

This time, the whip swept across, not down upon his head. Zhou Zhi retreated swiftly, the whip brushing past his jacket. He retorted angrily, “You’re quite the domineering woman, pressing me even as I yield!”

Having met her once before, Zhou Zhi sometimes thought of her in secret, and so refrained from further curses. Still, his brows were knit, and anger burned within him.

The young woman paused, scrutinizing Zhou Zhi, and asked sternly, “How did you see through my disguise?”

She had been careful in disguising herself as a man, and most would not have noticed, hence her question.

Zhou Zhi answered coldly, “You have a good memory, miss—we’ve met before.”

“You’ve seen me?” Her elegant brows furrowed.

A strange feeling surged in Zhou Zhi's heart—it was painful to be forgotten so easily.

She looked at him again, then suddenly recalled, “Oh, I remember now—last time I gave you the wild goose I shot.”

With this, she could no longer justify whipping Zhou Zhi, though she still scolded, “You should watch where you’re going!”

Faced with such a domineering woman, Zhou Zhi was at a loss for words. Was it his fault? He had tried to move aside—she rode without watching the road, could she not see the travelers ahead?

Still, he had received a wild goose from her last time, and his family had enjoyed a fine meal. He decided to let it go, and quietly began gathering the scattered books, carefully dusting them off and placing them back in the bundle.

“You read books?” she asked in surprise.

Like many, she assumed Zhou Zhi’s shabby attire marked him as a poor youth, and in these times, few from impoverished families studied.

Zhou Zhi kept his head down, responding coolly.

She watched him handle the books with great care, gently brushing the dust off each one, and her heart was moved. After a brief hesitation, she spoke softly, “I’ve wronged you this time—please forgive me.”

Zhou Zhi could hardly believe such words came from this domineering woman. He looked up, and saw her smile, revealing white teeth—a smile both sincere and captivating.

Her apology was reluctant, but her smile was genuine and charming, causing Zhou Zhi’s heart to stir.

At that moment, the five other steeds caught up, led by a handsome man in his twenties, followed by four robust attendants.

The man stopped beside her, asking with concern, “Are you alright, little brother?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, her voice clear and pleasant.

He glanced at Zhou Zhi, recognizing him, “It’s him again? Did he block your way?”

Zhou Zhi bristled—this man was as domineering as the woman.

He was about to protest, but she spoke softly, “Brother, it’s not his fault—I wasn’t paying attention while riding.”

Her brother laughed, “There are times when my little brother isn’t paying attention? That’s hard to believe!” Clearly teasing her.

Her cheeks flushed, and she replied coquettishly, “Brother, you’re making fun of me. Giddy up!”

She snapped her whip, and the chestnut horse bounded forward. Her brother and the attendants followed, spurring their horses and kicking up a trail of dust as they rode away.