HCAW 161

Chapter 161 – Extra: Poor Parenting (Part 1)

Green hills arched like ink strokes, and misty waters lay cold and clear. In the Fang family’s countryside estate, Langgan Guard sat at his desk, dipping his brush into ink to write:

“To my son: It has been long since we parted. Are you well? All is calm in Penglai these days, with fair weather and gentle rain—no need for worry. You and your brother journey across the sea to the Nine Provinces, surely facing storms and hardship along the way. I pray you take care of each other and stay safe, united in heart.”

After a pause, the man dipped his brush again and added:

“Brothers are family—bound by the closest of ties. Their relationship must remain proper and beyond reproach, not bringing shame before others. I enclose a measuring stick with this letter, that you both might hold yourselves to its rule and conduct with propriety.”

He finished the letter with a heavy sigh, rolling it into a scroll and placing it in the message basket strapped to a tern’s leg. He also fastened a seven-inch measuring stick to the bird’s back. These sky messengers, blessed by Great Immortal Yonghe, could carry burdens across vast distances, even ten thousand miles.

Since Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang had departed on their voyage to the Nine Provinces, over ten days had passed. Langgan Guard, deeply fond of his son, worried constantly. He had written several letters, asking about their journey and secretly wondering if they had fallen into quarrels. Yet only one reply had come from Fang Jingyu, and that reply had been scribbled like spider tracks across the paper: “My bond with Brother is as deep as the sea. We live and die as one.”

Upon receiving that letter, Langgan Guard sat alone for a long while, his heart in turmoil. He realized he was not truly afraid of discord between the two—but rather of too much harmony. Were they getting along too well? Were they, perhaps, spending every day clinging to each other with affection that went far beyond mere brotherhood?

At the thought, Langgan Guard slammed the desk in exasperation, sending the ink dish flying, black streaks spilling everywhere. Frowning deeply, he muttered through clenched teeth:

“Truly… I have failed in raising my sons!”

Bi Bao Guard happened to be seated across from him and quickly said, “My lord, that’s far too harsh. His Majesty and Young Master Chu both grew up under your care and are outstanding young men now. How can you say you failed?”

“What good is that?” Langgan Guard’s face turned red with frustration. “They’re supposed to be brothers, and now they’re glued together like one!”

Bi Bao Guard tried to comfort him, “But isn’t this better than seeing siblings at odds, turning on each other or bickering every day? At least they’re united and respectful to one another. I’m sure Young Master Chu, as the elder, will keep His Majesty in line.”

Langgan Guard sighed deeply, covering his face with his hands. “Yes, yes… Minsheng is a level-headed one. Surely he’s conducting himself properly now, keeping things decent between them.”

…

Gentle waves lapped against the hull as the sea breeze flowed. A gull landed lightly on the rail of the sandboat.

Inside the cabin, two figures lay tangled together amid disheveled bedding, soft breaths rising in the hush.

Chu Kuang was pinned down on the bed, his body swaying, his eyes red. When things got too intense, he would let out a few cat like cries, but otherwise, he endured it with great difficulty. Fang Jingyu reached from behind him, touching his lips, prying his teeth apart with his fingers, playing with his tongue, and gently said:

“Brother, no need to hold back. It’s just the two of us aboard. Say whatever you wish—however loud.”

Chu Kuang glared at him. This rascal had come looking for trouble from early morning, and they had already made quite a mess of the boat’s floorboards. Away from everyone’s eyes, Fang Jingyu had no scruples at all, yet still clung to calling him sweetly: “Brother.”

Fang Jingyu then pressed closely against him and said softly, “Aren’t brothers supposed to be like flesh and blood? Right now, I’m just as close to Brother Minsheng, what’s wrong with that?” Chu Kuang was almost about to explode in anger.

“You know I’m older than you,” Chu Kuang grumbled, “and you still keep messing around like this!”

Fang Jingyu picked him up, and Chu Kuang could only wrap his legs around his waist, sobbing softly. He was carried to the edge of the ship, facing the vast sea. The sky was clear and blue, the sea stretched endlessly before him, and Chu Kuang stared blankly. Fang Jingyu said, “We can no longer see Penglai.”

Chu Kuang said, “Damn gourd… just wait till we’re somewhere they can’t see… then you can go wild on your brother all you want!”

Fang Jingyu took the tip of his ear into his mouth and murmured, “Brother, are you thinking… of doing it where they can see?”

Chu Kuang turned bright red, thinking of that night back at Yuanqiao Temple. He swatted Fang Jingyu away with a scowl. “That’s enough already! Keep going like this and we’ll use up the whole water barrel!”

Fang Jingyu sat up and said, “What’s the rush? I’ve studied the sea chart too. We’ll reach the nearest island soon, and according to the Great Immortal, there’s plenty of fresh water there.”

“That’s your reason for all this nonsense every single day?”

“Not exactly. I’ve never needed a reason to be affectionate with you, Brother.”

Chu Kuang shot him a glare. That slick tongue again—who knew if it was something he’d picked up from him? He wiped himself off, threw on some clothes, and stormed off without another word.

A few paces later, Chu Kuang noticed a tern perched at the stern. He caught it and found a letter tied to its leg, along with a measuring stick. Unfastening them, he opened the scroll and read. His face flushed deeper with each line—phrases like “conduct yourself with discipline and decorum” from Langgan Guard felt like barbs striking straight to the heart!

After scanning through, he noticed a final note at the bottom: “To Minsheng, one matter concerning your double pupil has yet to be discussed. The reasons are complex—I will explain next time.”

Chu Kuang stared, baffled. What about his double pupil? He’d been born with one red, layered iris that drew sideways glances from relatives. He had worn an eyepatch for most of his youth, only removing it after becoming Chu Kuang.

But since his father said “next time,” he left it at that. Gathering the letter and measuring stick, he returned to the cabin.

Thanks to the Great Immortal’s aid, the boat glided swiftly. Before long, they reached an island, its verdant trees casting cool shadows, the landscape tranquil and beautiful.

The boat anchored. Fang Jingyu leapt off the deck and called back, “I’m going to look for fresh water—coming with me?”

Chu Kuang was lying sulkily against the rail. “Go on your own! I’m not feeling too well.”

Fang Jingyu figured it must’ve been from overexertion the night before and nodded, vanishing into the green woods. As soon as he was gone, Chu Kuang sprang up like a cat, cupped his hands to the sea, and called:

“Great Immortal! Lord Yonghe!”

Soon, gentle waves whispered in reply. Between foam and spray, a small nine-tentacled creature surfaced, yawning. “What now, Chu Laborer? You and your tightly-lipped gourd fighting again?”

It turned out Great Immortal Yonghe had been resting in the Ming Sea, slowly regaining strength. Though still weak, he could now speak to them in the their current form. Chu Kuang rested his chin on his arms, frowning. “I want to ask something: how can I appear more dignified?”

Xiao Jiao’s seven eyes narrowed, “Appear dignified?” 

Chu Kuang growled, “That gourd is pushing his luck every day! I’m supposed to be the older one, but he treats me like I’m nothing. I need to put on a little authority before he climbs right over my head!”

Xiao Jiao grinned mischievously. “Well, you could always strip him naked, tie him up and give him a good lecture—teach him who’s in charge!”

Chu Kuang’s eyes sparkled at the idea, but he hesitated. “I’ve tried that before… but that rascal actually enjoyed it! Said things like, ‘Don’t hurt your hand, Brother, I can handle it myself!’”

“Hopeless!” Xiao Jiao muttered. “That gourd’s brain is steeped in mischief. The only solution is to startle some sense into him early on—maybe then he’ll learn some boundaries.”

Chu Kuang leaned forward eagerly. “How do I do that? Please teach me, Great Immortal!”

In response, the small octopus dove beneath the waves and soon re-emerged—now enormous, like a small mountain, holding a load of Taoyuan stone in its arms.

With a few waves of its tentacles, it assembled a simple stone archway. “There you go, Chu Laborer. Head in there, find a younger version of that gourd, and give him a proper talking-to. His tail’s been way too high lately. Go on, I’ll bring you back when you’re done.”

Chu Kuang paused before entering. “Why are you helping me?”

Xiao Jiao winked all her eyes. “No real reason. I just think watching you two squabble is hilarious.”

______

Changyi Year Sixteen, Minor Snow. (The 20th solar term of the year)

Snow dusted the black-tiled roofs and evergreen boughs of the Fang estate like doves at rest. Beneath a holly tree, a youth in embroidered robes practiced swordplay—moves clean and sharp, breathing deep and steady.

The boy was Fang Jingyu: composed, striking, and serious. Though it was his training hour, his thoughts were in turmoil. In this version of the world, Emperor Changyi still ruled Xian Moutain, and he, an orphan taken into the Fang family, had been raised under the household’s care. He had an elder sworn brother named Fang Minsheng—elegant, exceptional at swordsmanship—someone he both admired and rivaled.

Fang Jingyu had always outshone his brother in swordplay, but they were constantly at odds, competing fiercely for the honor of joining the Xian Moutain Guard. Lately, they’d quarreled often, nearly severing ties. Why must heaven create me—and also him? he often wondered.

He struck forward with pent-up frustration, stirring the snowfall in a whirlwind. Then, from above came the sharp sound of clapping.

Fang Jingyu looked up, startled, and saw a man leap down from the tree.

The newcomer had unkempt hair, a lazy swagger, and a red double pupil in one eye. A small octopus was perched on his shoulder. Fang Jingyu tensed.

“Who are you!?”

The man grinned. “Don’t tell me you really don’t recognize me?”

The octopus on his shoulder began to sweat. “Oh no… Chu Laborer, we landed in the wrong version of your past. This isn’t your world—it’s a totally different one! This little brother of yours? Yeah, he’s not your little brother here. In fact, I think he hates your guts.”

Chu Kuang glanced sideways. “Doesn’t matter. As long as I get to give that smug brat a lesson, I’m happy.”

Fang Jingyu eyed the stranger warily. He looked too much like the brother he couldn’t stand, only messier and more unruly.

Raising his blade, Fang Jingyu demanded, “Who are you? Are you Fang Minsheng?”

Chu Kuang smirked and drew his sword. A white flash split the air, forcing Fang Jingyu to parry with all his might—his arms shaking, nearly overwhelmed.

With a feral grin, Chu Kuang barked:

“Show some respect and prepare to be disciplined! I’m not Fang Minsheng—I’m your damn elder!”