Chapter Twenty-Three: An Unexpected Incident

Che Wuyou lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Han Feng, who raged like a mad dog. Yet, under Han Feng’s icy gaze, he finally lowered his head, saying nothing. Han Feng looked at Che Wuyou, whom he had beaten so mercilessly that he dared not even utter a sound, humble as a worm crawling on the ground.

Unable to restrain himself, Han Feng burst into triumphant laughter. Once his laughter subsided, he spread his hands and feigned concern, saying, “Brother, don’t be angry. I’m doing this for your own good, teaching you a few lessons your parents should have taught you. If you don’t understand these most basic principles, you’ll suffer greatly in the future.” His voice was deep and gentle; to the unknowing, he would seem like a caring elder toward Che Wuyou.

Witnessing Han Feng’s shamelessness, Che Wuyou felt a blazing fury inside him. He wanted to curse Han Feng’s ancestors to the ninth generation, wanted to throw caution to the wind—but in the end, he did none of that.

He slowly closed his eyes, and a tear of humiliation quietly rolled down his cheek. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again, but the anger had vanished. He took a deep breath, feeling the air sting painfully as if pierced by needles. He began to move his battered body, unable to pay attention to Han Feng’s smug expression.

Han Feng, seeing Che Wuyou ignore him, lost interest and walked over. He placed a foot on Che Wuyou’s face and laughed, “You little brat, acting so proud. I rarely offer you such heartfelt words, and yet you’re still so arrogant, still imagining yourself as a young master.” With that, he stomped on Che Wuyou’s face a few more times, spat on him, and then turned away, humming a tune in triumph.

As he neared the doorway, without turning back, Han Feng tossed a small bottle of pills toward Che Wuyou and said, “Brother, take care of your life. These pills are miraculous for healing injuries. You’re lucky today.”

Han Feng exited the courtyard, and faintly, a few muttered words could be heard: “Ye Hongyu, didn’t you say that if I so much as touched your child, you’d tear me to pieces? Bah, bah, bah! Not only will I touch him, I’ll stomp him too. Let’s see what you can do to me. Threaten me, will you? You’d better be prepared for my revenge.”

Only when Han Feng had gone far did Che Wuyou struggle to his feet, staggering as he rose from the ground. His eyes, red and wild, followed Han Feng’s departing figure. He clenched the pills tightly in his hands, his hatred impossible to express. Why was fate so unjust to him? Why? Why?! Why!!! No one answered. Complaints were useless. Everything depended on himself.

Never before had he hated anyone so fiercely, never had he craved strength so desperately, and never had he been so determined to survive.

Dragging his battered body, Che Wuyou struggled outside the manor to chop firewood. He looked at the pile, taller than himself, and frowned, “Adding yesterday’s firewood, this should be enough to exchange for a bun.” The thought of a white bun made him swallow; it was his favorite food. If he could have one every day, no matter how bitter or tiring life was, it would be worth it.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, looked up at the rising sun, and felt his heart warm. His mother would arrive soon. If he could leave Miao Manor today… He dared not let himself imagine such happiness, afraid it would slip away. Was such a wish really meant for him? But he knew, if he stayed here any longer, he might not last until the next year. He had endured so much this past year, but for the sake of today, it was worth it. Was it truly worth it?

As time passed, the sun began its westward descent, yet there was still no sign of Ye Hongyu. Che Wuyou’s hopeful gaze gradually dimmed. Disappointment, boundless as night, enveloped him, and a hollow loneliness seeped in.

He opened his mouth in a silent, bitter laugh. “Mother, why have you lied to me again? Why did you do this?” Perhaps he never should have hoped at all; those beautiful hopes would never belong to him.

Days slipped by, and soon a month had passed. During this month, perhaps even Che Wuyou was unaware that deep inside, he still clung to a sliver of hope, wishing his mother had simply mistaken the date. Yet a month went by, and his mother never appeared. Che Wuyou’s face grew darker and more wooden by the day. It seemed his mother had not lied to him after all; perhaps it was just as she said: “You bastard, get out of my sight. I, Ye Hongyu, would never have such a foolish child.”

For reasons unknown, Han Feng, who used to trouble him occasionally, had changed completely over the past month. He not only beat him, but each time was more brutal, as if seeking his life. Sometimes Che Wuyou wondered—had Han Feng once held back, but now no longer cared? Did Han Feng believe his mother had abandoned him?

Lost in these thoughts, Che Wuyou suddenly saw a figure appear before him. His face changed, fearing it was Han Feng, and instinctively stepped back. When he finally saw who it was, he opened his mouth in surprise and embarrassment, “Lan… Lanzhi, why are you here?” Every time he saw her, his heart warmed inexplicably, but he also felt nervous.

Liu Lanzhi did not answer. She simply eyed Che Wuyou up and down, her gaze strange. Che Wuyou felt uneasy under her scrutiny; he quickly looked himself over, finding nothing amiss, and asked, “Wh… what is it?”

Liu Lanzhi, still a child at heart, found his dazed expression amusing and couldn’t help but laugh, “You fool, who would have thought you were hiding so much? I really didn’t see it before.”

Usually, Liu Lanzhi rarely spoke to Che Wuyou. Even when she occasionally stood up for him, she merely cast him a sympathetic glance before walking away. In recent years, seeing him curled up without resistance as he was beaten and scolded, she felt pity but also contempt. To tease him so mischievously today was unprecedented. Che Wuyou, hearing her playful words, grew nervous, “I’m not… hiding anything.”

Liu Lanzhi, amused by his nervousness, decided to tease him further and said with a grin, “If I say you’re hiding something, then you are.”

Che Wuyou grew anxious, about to protest, but seeing her smiling at him, for some reason he suddenly didn’t want to argue. Deep within, a voice seemed to say, “If Lanzhi says it, it must be true. If she says I’m hiding something, then I am.”

Looking at Liu Lanzhi’s face so close to his own, Che Wuyou could only reply softly, “Oh.”

Liu Lanzhi expected him to argue, eager for a lively debate, but his dull response left her feeling disappointed. Her playful smile faded, and she snorted in displeasure, “Come with me. Master wants to see you.”

Che Wuyou sensed her displeasure and grew uneasy. Moments ago everything had been fine; why was she unhappy now? No matter how he racked his brain, he couldn’t understand that he was the one who had annoyed Liu Lanzhi.

Before he could think further, Liu Lanzhi was already heading out, and Che Wuyou silently followed her, wondering, “Miao Shilin is looking for me? It’s been a year and he’s never sought me out. What could it be today?” Seeing Liu Lanzhi’s stern face, he dared not ask, and quietly trailed behind her.

When the two arrived at the martial hall, Miao Shilin stood by the window, hands behind his back, gazing at the distant mountains. The scene was the same as a year ago: the same hall, the same lonely figure, the same warm sunlight. It felt as if time had twisted, returning them to the past. Yet today, there were only three people here.

Liu Lanzhi stood silently in the center of the hall, not making a sound, as if afraid of disturbing her master’s contemplation. Che Wuyou, seeing her so quiet, also stood by her side in silence, lost in thought.

Miao Shilin stood motionless like a statue. After a long time, a faint sigh seemed to drift through the air. Miao Shilin stirred, finally turning around.

There was a trace of confusion in his eyes, but it vanished in an instant. Gone was the intimidating presence of a year ago; he simply regarded Che Wuyou calmly, as if trying to see through him. After a long gaze, he finally spoke, “Do you hate Han Feng?” His voice was so tranquil that it betrayed no hint of emotion.

Che Wuyou was stunned; he had not expected such a question from Miao Shilin. What did it mean, and how should he answer?

“Speak up,” Miao Shilin’s voice suddenly rose.

Startled, Che Wuyou quickly replied, “I do!”

“Then have you ever thought of revenge?” The tone returned to calm, without a hint of feeling, as if discussing something trivial.