FMT 46

Chapter 46 One-Year Catch

After Liandan returned home, it took him several days to finish putting away the things he had brought back.

Those beautiful soft clothes, he did not dare wear them, so he left them in the chest.

Food, drink, and daily goods, he divided them out, sending some to Aunt Wu’s house next door, some to Tang Hua’s house, and some to his sister Lianye’s family.

When he left, there were still some New Year goods frozen in the snow pile in the yard.

Fortunately the weather was still cold, the snow had not melted, but they had to be eaten soon. March was coming, and soon they would not keep.

Day by day, the meals were good. Xiaodan had already grown taller. He could now walk a short distance without holding onto anything.

He was stubborn in temperament. He learned to walk quickly. Even if he fell, he rarely cried. Only when the fall hurt badly did he whimper a little.

Most of the time he was cheerful. Give him a cabbage and he could pull it around all day. In the evening it could be cut with some tofu and stewed.

But before his nap, he was still like when he was only a few months old, always fussing a bit.

Sometimes at that time, lying on Liandan’s shoulder, he would cry calling for his father.

Hearing it, Liandan felt a sour ache in his chest. Whether by day or night, Liandan often felt uneasy, but he did not dare think deeply about the reason.

Even so, he did not remember the memorial tablet he had always used as a comfort.

He only realized it when Xiaodan, crawling around, knocked it from the table onto the floor.

Startled, he rushed to the boy, who had bitten his teeth and stayed quiet. He picked him up and rubbed him. Only in his father’s arms did the child finally cry.

Liandan, shaken, carried him walking in circles around the floor, then peeled a boiled egg to coax him.

After putting the child in the rattan chair to sit, he finally turned to tidy up what had fallen.

Ash from the incense burner was scattered across the floor. The tablet lay face down.

Liandan picked up the tablet and saw that one corner had broken.

He looked at it for a while, then also lifted the incense burner. Together with the tablet, he carried them into the room where Old Madam Chen used to live.

After some work, he also moved the altar table over.

Once everything was settled, he lit a stick of incense, bowed to the tablet on the altar, said “forgive me,” then left and closed the door.

Worried Xiaodan might wander in while playing and knock things over on himself, Liandan found an old lock, locked the door from outside, and put the key in a drawer.

That door was never opened again.

On the full moon night in March, Liandan went to bed early. In the middle of the night he woke thirsty, drank half a bowl of water, went back to bed, and could not sleep for a while.

That night, the familiar pain and burning never came. Liandan rubbed his cheek against the pillow, listening to the small snores of the sleeping child beside him. He pulled the quilt up and covered himself completely, leaving no gap.

On the twenty-fifth, Xiaodan’s birthday, after changing him into new clothes, Liandan went into the outer room and, holding the spatula, stirred the chicken stew in the pot.

Someone knocked on the door. Xiaodan, who had been playing nearby, thumped over on his sturdy little legs and opened it himself.

With a creak, the door swung open. Tang Hua’s delighted voice said, “Wow, our Xiaodan is amazing, he can even open the door for uncle ow!”

“Ah ah,” it was Xiaohua’s childish voice, greeting Xiaodan.

Xiaodan replied, “Hua, Hua…”

Liandan followed behind with the spatula, welcoming Tang Hua and Xiaohua inside.

Tang Hua asked, “Are the things for the catch ceremony prepared?”

Liandan nodded. “Yes, they’re on the bed.”

Tang Hua said happily, “Come on, let’s see.”

When they entered the room, they saw items laid out on the bed: a weight, a writing brush, an abacus, and others arranged in a semicircle.

Liandan lifted Xiaodan and placed him on the bed. He told him, “Go on, pick one and bring it to dad.”

Xiaodan wiggled his bottom, quickly crawled to the items, looked around at them, but picked up nothing. Instead he crawled back cheerfully to his father and snatched the spatula from his hand. He said, “Daddy, eat, eat…”

Liandan stared in shock. Tang Hua covered his mouth and laughed. “Is he greedy or hungry? I brought pear syrup, just right to give him some.”

The two children sat together, spooning the syrup. It was good for the throat in this season when coughing was common.

Tang Hua said, “Our Xiaohua already has her formal name, Li Ruyu. Why hasn’t your Xiaodan gotten a formal name yet? As he grows, he’ll only remember being called Xiaodan. Later it will be hard to change.”

Liandan had thought about it. He had considered many names, but none satisfied him. So even though the child was already one year old, no name was fixed.

He said, “I’m anxious too, but I haven’t thought of a good one. I’ll think about it again later.”

Tang Hua said directly, “I don’t think you have any idea yourself. Don’t keep struggling. Since the child’s father cannot come back now, you can write a letter and ask him. He’s a scholar, he will surely choose a good name.”

Liandan’s eyelashes trembled. He thought of Xinglong Treasure Shop in town. If he gave the letter to the shopkeeper, he would surely help send it to Chen Shuangning.

And asking about the child’s name was a proper reason to write.

Liandan hesitated and said, “Mm, I… I will think about it.”

That night, Liandan took out the box of ten little jade rabbits from the cupboard and placed it on the bed to show Xiaodan.

When Xiaodan opened it and saw the rabbits, he shouted“Wow!” and jumped happily on the bed, his cheeks trembling.

Liandan watched him take each rabbit out to look at, touching and rearranging them with delight. His own heart grew painfully sour, even faintly aching.

Late at night, after the child fell asleep, Liandan carefully put the rabbits back into the box, opened the cupboard, and placed it deep inside.

Just as he was about to close the cupboard, he suddenly noticed a book wrapped in cloth.

This was something Chen Shuangning had given him when Xiaodan was one hundred days old, telling him to keep it for the child until he was older.

At that time Liandan was illiterate. He could not understand the book. Now he knew many characters. As long as the content was not too difficult, with guessing and deduction he could understand most of it.

He took the book out of the cupboard, sat at the table, and in the light of the oil lamp, unwrapped the cloth around it.

At first glance, the book looked different from ordinary ones. The cover had no characters, only blank, and the binding was more rough.

Liandan’s fingers trembled. He opened the cover and saw a few lines on the title page.

“Those who are wise act with moderation. At ease and carefree, follow the Way…”

The handwriting was familiar. It was exactly the same as the copybook he had been given, clearly Chen Shuanning’s hand. It was «The Admonitions to My Son» personally copied by him.

Flipping further, Liandan saw his own name.

“Liandan, this is the summary of all my life’s inner cultivation.

The jianghu is full of dangers. At this point I have been forced to enter it, and there is no turning back. What the future holds I cannot foresee. You are sharp-minded and intelligent, able to judge the times. Whether to pass this to Xiaodan is for you to decide.

If you destroy these writings and let them return to dust, that may be best, and no loss.

The things I must do, soon I will finish them. I thought afterwards I would owe nothing to anyone, the burdens on my shoulders finally lifted. But the accident at Lingyun Temple still left me indebted to you. I can only try to compensate, but it cannot make up even one tenth.

If…”

Here the writing was broken off by a blot of ink. After that, only a short, abrupt line remained: “I wish you well, do not dwell.”

Liandan had been taught writing by Chen Shuangning himself. He knew that he hated smudges most. He always controlled the ink on his brush perfectly, never leaving marks on the page, never stopping mid-sentence.

This blot showed he had hesitated for a long time with the brush lifted, wanting to write but not writing.

Liandan finished reading the short words, then flipped further into the detailed inner cultivation methods. That familiar anxiety rose again, stronger than ever.

Because in these words, he felt Chen Shuangning’s intent to die.

….

The next morning, Liandan, pale-faced, hired a donkey cart and took the child to town.

Entering Xinglong Treasure Shop, he had just taken out the half tiger tally Chen Shuangning gave him when a shop boy bowed and said, “I have seen you before. Please follow me upstairs.”

In a closed upstairs room, the shopkeeper held the tally, sighing with difficulty.

Liandan’s chest twisted with pain, but in front of Chen Shuanning’s subordinates he forced himself not to cry. His lips trembled slightly as he said, “I don’t want to disturb him. Can’t I just write a letter?”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Our contact is only one way. The residence gives us orders, we follow them. If a reply is needed, the messenger brings it directly. The location of that residence is top secret. Even I have never been there.”

Liandan sat with his head lowered, silent. Xiaodan nestled quietly in his arms. Perhaps feeling his dad’s turmoil, the little hand clutched his clothing tightly.

The shopkeeper said, “Actually, the last order I received from the Sect Master was to keep this shop open, to continue business, and always keep watch on you and the young master. After that, apart from the routine New Year gifts, there has been no word for a long time.”

Liandan stood and bowed. The shopkeeper quickly returned the bow.

Liandan said, “Then I will go back first. If any news comes later, please have someone tell me at home.”

The shopkeeper agreed and walked him to the door.

After a few steps, the shopkeeper hesitated, then said, “There is one thing you may not know.”

“What?” Liandan turned back and asked.

The shopkeeper said, “About half a month ago, my informants brought word. Rumor has it in the jianghu that the Left Protector is dead.”

Liandan froze. It should have been good news, yet in his chest he felt a faint dread.

“How did he die?” he asked.

The shopkeeper shook his head. “I don’t know. Only that all the blood in his body was gone, and he was pinned to the gate of a deserted house with a broken sword.”

“A broken sword?” In Liandan’s mind flashed Chen Shuanning’s weapon. That dread grew stronger.

The shopkeeper sighed deeply. “That is all I know. Nothing more can be learned.”

Liandan rode the donkey cart home, heavy with worry.

…

By April the weather warmed. Snowmelt sank into the ground. It was time for spring planting.

Xiaodan was young and lively. Carrying him on his back while working the fields was hard.

Aunt Wu’s household had more labor. Liandan proposed that he provide the seed, they plant the land, and they split the harvest half each. Aunt Wu gladly agreed.

With that solved, when the villagers were busy farming, Liandan was idle. He thought of using the time to study characters, but often when he picked up the brush he forgot what he meant to do.

At night, Liandan, who rarely had insomnia, began lying awake for half the night. Even when he slept, he often woke from nightmares.

When he sat up, drenched in sweat, the dream was always the same. A tall figure in white lay fallen in a pool of blood, a broken sword in his hand.

Terrified, Liandan clapped a hand over his mouth, trying hard to suppress the nausea rising from fear and worry.

But he could not hold it in. He rushed off the bed and vomited on the outer room floor before he could open the door.

After cleaning up, he lay back on the bed, exhausted. Only near dawn did he drift into shallow sleep.

After more than ten days of this, the weight that had returned to his face was gone. His cheeks were thin again, his chin sharp.

During these days, though he knew there was no news, though he knew he should not trouble the shopkeeper, Liandan still went three or four times to Xinglong Treasure Shop to ask. Each time there was nothing.

The shopkeeper looked at him and sighed in apology again and again.

In the end, Liandan could not stay at home even for a moment. More than once, he thought he saw a pale young man in white sitting by the window.

But when he rushed over, the chair was empty.

So he had to go to town every day, sitting upstairs at Xinglong Treasure Shop, waiting for news. Only then did he feel calmer.

After another ten days, Xiaodan played with a wooden cart on the floor while Liandan sat at the window, watching the street outside.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Liandan trembled and turned his head.

The shopkeeper pushed the door open, entered, bowed, said nothing, and stepped aside, revealing the person behind him.

This person’s face was pale, their expression tired, but when they saw Liandan, they still smiled gently.

Liandan’s eyes widened. In astonishment he called out the name. “Xue Ming!”