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[04·A Life of Grace]
“Place your bets!”
“Big! Big! Big!”
Zhou Tan pushed through the noisy crowd, finally locating Zhou Yang at a gambling table. With great patience, he waited until his brother finished the current round before stepping behind him and lifting him by the collar.
Zhou Yang stammered in shock: “Brother... B-Brother...”
Zhou Tan dragged him out of the gambling den and tossed him into a carriage waiting outside. Two burly servants inside immediately restrained him.
“Tie him up and take him home. Tell Father to give him twenty lashes,” Zhou Tan commanded coldly.
Zhou Yang wailed, “Brother, I did this all for you—”
Unmoved, Zhou Tan held out his hand. “Give me the money.”
Zhou Yang obediently handed over all the silver notes he had just won. After counting them carefully, Zhou Tan raised an eyebrow. “You’re somewhat useful after all.”
Seizing the opportunity, Zhou Yang pleaded, “Let me go with you next time, I promise...”
Zhou Tan cut him off sharply: “You’re only fourteen, making no progress in your studies, yet you waste your days on these frivolous pursuits. If you could top the monthly academy exams like I do, I’d personally escort you to the gambling den every day. How’s that?”
At this, Zhou Yang fell silent and was dutifully taken away.
________________________________________
The first time Ye Liuchun met Zhou Tan was at the end of winter in Lin’an.
Back then, she had no name and was simply called “Little Ye.”
Little Ye grew up in Drunken Red Tower in Lin’an, living with her mother. Her mother never spoke of her father, and for a long time, Little Ye remained ignorant of her origins.
Her mother played the moon lute beautifully, and Little Ye, gifted with natural talent, learned even faster. However, her mother forbade her from performing publicly, and due to her deliberate attempts to appear plain, she lived peacefully until the age of sixteen.
That year, her mother died.
Intoxicated, she stumbled and fell into the shallow pond behind Drunken Red Tower. The water wasn’t deep—only waist-high—but her mother was too drunk to stand.
The madam frowned and ordered some servants to wrap the body in straw and toss it onto the paupers’ graveyard.
But Little Ye clung to her mother’s corpse, refusing to let go.
She begged the madam for money to bury her mother properly, but the madam, managing numerous girls, couldn’t be bothered with everyone’s affairs.
Desperate, Little Ye washed her face by the pond and began playing Spring River Moonlit Night on her mother’s nearly ruined moon lute at the entrance of Drunken Red Tower.
The entire street was captivated.
Even common laborers who knew nothing of refined music paused, entranced by the melody.
At that moment, Zhou Tan was drinking across the street in a restaurant.
Leaning against the curtain, he listened to the piece as thin snowflakes of late winter landed on his nose, melting instantly.
As Little Ye clutched her lute, preparing to play again, silver bills fluttered down like falling snow.
Looking up, she saw the fifteen-year-old boy beneath the rolled-up curtain—his high ponytail tied neatly, dressed in a fitted azure robe that added a scholarly air to his youthful vigor.
His voice carried lightly, polite yet nonchalant: “I’ll buy this performance. Let Drunken Red Tower name their price.”
From the upper floor, one of Zhou Tan’s friends exclaimed, “Tan Lang throwing away money like this? If your father finds out, he’ll break your legs!”
Zhou Tan replied calmly, “Look at her face—it’s marked with scars. Only someone driven to despair would play Spring River Moonlit Night with such profound sorrow.”
Another friend shook his head dramatically, sighing, “This melody is divine. The madam will see her as invaluable now. Your money might not suffice.”
Zhou Tan shrugged. “No matter. If we run short, I’ll send Ah Yang to gamble more. Once he wins enough, we’ll retrieve him.”
Friend: “...”
That night, both brothers were punished together in the courtyard.
Zhou Shu had always been lenient with Zhou Tan but strict with Zhou Yang. Today, however, enraged, he ordered both boys to receive corporal punishment.
Zhou Tan bit his lip as Zhou Yang cried out beside him. For some reason, despite the pain, he felt a strange urge to laugh.
“Laughing? You dare laugh?” Zhou Shu threw down the whip and barked, “How could you fail to discipline him?”
Bai Qiu, who had been eating sunflower seeds under the eaves, startled, dropping a handful. “You’ve already disciplined them. What more do you want from me?”
“One son gambles recklessly; the other frequents brothels. Our family’s misfortune knows no bounds!” Zhou Shu paced anxiously, his expression heavy. “How can I face... their spirits in heaven?”
Hearing this, Bai Qiu grew serious. She brushed her hands clean, stood up, and approached Zhou Tan. “Tan’er, tell me why you spent money to redeem that girl.”
Struggling to lift himself, Zhou Tan winced from the pain in his back and collapsed again. “I heard... she lacked funds to bury her mother. I pitied her... After redeeming her, I arranged temporary lodging at an inn. She said she has relatives in Jinling... I planned to send her to the docks tomorrow...”
Zhou Shu hesitated, then Zhou Yang quickly interjected, “Exactly! Brother didn’t have enough money, so he sent me to gamble. If I hadn’t won today, he wouldn’t have been able to redeem her... Ow, Father, stop hitting me! It hurts!”
Bai Qiu turned angrily. “See? I told you to ask questions first, but you insisted on punishing them without listening. Now that I’ve educated them, are you satisfied?”
Without another word, she left, calling over her shoulder, “I made two bowls of yogurt and cut some exotic fruits bought fresh from the docks earlier. Come eat something.”
Zhou Yang leapt up, limping after her. “Mother, wait for me...”
Zhou Tan stared at his retreating figure, trying to rise but grimacing in pain, unable to move. “Hey, how did you...?”
Zhou Yang turned back, sticking out his tongue. “Older brother rarely gets beaten, so naturally, he doesn’t know the advantages of having tough skin like mine.”
Finally, Zhou Shu, feeling slightly guilty, helped Zhou Tan to his feet.
Father and son sat together in the courtyard, gazing at the moon.
The light snowfall from earlier had stopped, leaving a thin layer on the ground—a rare sight in Jiangnan. Bright yellow forsythia bloomed in the corners, mingling with the snow in an elegant display.
Neither spoke for a while. Then Zhou Shu softly began singing a song unfamiliar to Zhou Tan.
It seemed to be a military tune—Zhou Shu’s voice was hoarse and off-key, but Zhou Tan detected hints of swords and battles within its melody.
When the song ended, Zhou Tan asked, “Father, was that a marching song from your past campaigns?”
Zhou Shu nodded, his gaze distant. “Yes... A song our general used to sing often. He sang it well; I merely imitated him. Your mother also knows it—I’ll have her sing it for you another time.”
After much hesitation, he struggled to say, “Xiaobai...”
Zhou Tan responded, “Hmm.”
“Do you know why you received your courtesy name before reaching adulthood?”
Zhou Tan remained silent. Zhou Shu continued, “Actually, I am not...”
“There’s no need to explain further, Father,” Zhou Tan interrupted gently, smiling. “I... already know.”
Shocked, Zhou Shu turned to look at his eldest son. Zhou Tan met his gaze, his amber eyes gleaming like glass under the moonlight.
Suddenly flustered, Zhou Shu stuttered, “I... I intended to tell you when you were older...”
“I discovered the secret room in Mother’s study at a young age,” Zhou Tan stretched lazily, gazing at the moon. “Later, Mother explained everything to me. We agreed to keep it from you.”
After a pause, Zhou Shu found his voice again. “Your father’s belongings...”
“I’ve seen them all,” Zhou Tan replied calmly, as if discussing new techniques he’d learned at the martial arts field. “I can take the imperial examinations next year. When I go to Bianjing and achieve success, I’ll certainly ask His Majesty a question on behalf of Mother...”
The sea of scholars striving for success was vast, but Zhou Tan spoke of “achieving success” so lightly, as if certain it would happen if he wished it.
Before Zhou Shu could object, Zhou Tan smiled and continued, “Father, don’t worry. I’m no fool. I know my limits. How to ask, when to ask, whether the answer is sincere—I have ways to discern the truth.”
After a long silence, Zhou Shu managed a bitter smile. “You... resemble your father greatly. He lived a life of valor, proud as the wind. Even in death, he likely harbored no regrets, leaving only a wish—that your mother live without hatred.”
“Yes,” Zhou Tan murmured dreamily. “Half a lifetime devoted to the borderlands, sacrificing himself for the greater good. Peace has reigned ever since, benefiting countless people. What a great man he was... If only I could become someone like him...”
He trailed off. Zhou Shu sighed, patting his shoulder.
“You will, Tan’er. You’ll become an even greater man than your father.”
Zhou Tan winced at the touch, muttering softly, “Could you... tell me more about him?”
Before Zhou Shu could respond, Bai Qiu’s voice called from the corridor: “Tan’er, hurry!”
With a hearty laugh, Zhou Shu said, “Alright, next time. Next time, I’ll definitely tell you more.”
Zhou Tan’s memory of that night was hazy.
He vaguely recalled walking through a corridor adorned with blooming forsythia, following Aunt Yun to the small kitchen, where he and Zhou Yang ate a novel dish of milk-poured annona prepared by their mother.
Late at night, returning to his room, he overheard his parents arguing about something.
“I never wanted him to return to Bianjing... The political situation... Why bother?”
“But...”
The words were too faint and unclear. Drowsy, he forgot them entirely upon waking.
________________________________________
The next morning, Zhou Yang accompanied Zhou Tan to the dock to see Xiao Ye off.
The previous day, Zhou Tan and his friends had selected a dignified burial plot for Xiao Ye’s mother and laid her to rest. They then inquired about her plans.
After some thought, Xiao Ye said, “My mother once mentioned I had an acquaintance in Jinling. Whether or not I find them, it’s still a place to go.”
Her voice grew bitter. “Born into servitude, even amnesty cannot free me. Wherever I am, it makes little difference... But Lin’an holds painful memories. Perhaps Jinling or Bianjing would be better.”
Only during the burial did Zhou Tan realize Xiao Ye came from an official family. Disaster struck her household when her mother was pregnant—the men executed, the women sold into servitude, forbidden from redemption.
The previous day, Zhou Tan had scrambled tirelessly to secure travel documents for her journey from Lin’an to Jinling.
Zhou Tan sighed, nodding. “I have an unseen friend in Jinling. I’ve written a letter. Take it and seek him out when you arrive—he’ll assist you.”
The Bai family was prominent in Jinling. Bai Shating, intrigued by distant cousins, had corresponded years ago.
Zhou Tan exchanged several letters, finding the man’s words playful yet imbued with literary charm—a worthy acquaintance.
Xiao Ye accepted the letter and, just before boarding, knelt formally to bow deeply.
“Thank you, Master, for saving me. Should I ever prove useful to you, I vow to brave fire and water without hesitation.”
As the ferry departed, Zhou Yang draped an arm around Zhou Tan’s shoulders, praising teasingly, “Though not stunningly beautiful, Miss Xiao Ye is truly pitiable. Brother...”
Zhou Tan scowled. “You’re far too young to think of such things.”
Zhou Yang protested innocently, “I said nothing! Why are you getting worked up?”
The brothers joked their way back from the dock toward the marketplace. Passing a stall, Zhou Yang impulsively bought some meat buns. “Given the hour, Mother likely hasn’t risen yet. Bringing these back saves Aunt Yun from making breakfast.”
Zhou Tan hesitated. “Last night... I thought I heard hoofbeats. Did Mother and Father leave the estate?”
Zhou Yang replied, “Huh? I didn’t hear anything... Now that you mention it, the house does feel unusually quiet this morning. I didn’t hear Father practicing swordplay either.”
As they chattered on, a friend who had drunk with Zhou Tan the previous day suddenly clapped him on the shoulder, breathless as though searching for him for ages.
“Tan Lang, Tan Lang! Hurry to the county office—something’s happened!”
Though Zhou Tan had been somewhat unruly in his youth, his temperament remained steady, as did those close to him. Rarely did he see such panic. Observing his friend’s terrified expression, his heart sank heavily.
________________________________________
[05·Dreams Depart]
The snow lingered, but the forsythia had begun to bloom. Zhou Tan remembered that day as clear and bright.
Beside him, Zhou Yang knelt, screaming something heart-wrenchingly. Zhou Tan heard none of it.
Amidst cries, murmurs, and shouts, he knelt at the center of the chaos, feeling a profound void.
Familiar voices echoed in his ears.
“Tan’er, today marks your first day at school. Mother gifts you a calligraphy scroll, hoping you’ll uphold integrity and righteousness in any circumstance, remembering my teachings.”
“Mother...”
“These characters are from The Analects : ‘Faithfully devoted to learning’—they mean...”
“I will always remember Mother’s teachings.”
“The latter part is... ‘Devote yourself to the righteous path.’“
...
“When the world follows the Way, sacrifice yourself for it; when the world strays, sacrifice yourself for it.”
“—Don’t hide.”
“Mother!”
“Master! Master!”
An official from the magistrate’s office shook his shoulder. Zhou Tan slowly lifted his head, moving like a ghost as he followed them inside.
Zhou Shu had been benevolent and well-regarded in Lin’an, respected even by officials aware of his ties to Lingxiao Army.
“Master, please accept condolences... Though cruel to speak of now, lives hang in the balance. I must inform you. Your father died from a fatal wound to the neck, signs of struggle evident. Your mother... appears to have jumped off a cliff. We found a blood-written note on her body.”
At this, Zhou Tan snapped to attention, seizing the Lin’an magistrate’s hand. “The blood note—where is it?”
The magistrate sighed, ordering someone to bring it forward while continuing, “Lin’an has enjoyed centuries of peace, rarely seeing bandits. Master, perhaps reflect—did your parents have any enemies?”
The blood note was torn from Bai Qiu’s skirt, the handwriting messy and erratic. Zhou Tan trembled as he held it, struggling to read.
“My child, should you read this... Today, I learned shocking news... Words fail me. May you avoid the mountains, forget the past...”
“A turbulent world... Hold fast to your principles... Signed in blood, Qiu.”
“What does this mean? What does it mean?” Zhou Yang clutched the note, eyes red. “Is Mother telling us not to seek revenge? This case is clearly suspicious! Why can’t the authorities search the mountains and find the murderer?”
Stumbling to his feet, he seized a guard’s sword. “I refuse to accept this! I refuse!”
“Ah Yang, enough!” Zhou Tan, still kneeling, barked sternly. Rising with difficulty, he supported himself on his knees. “First, let’s lay Father and Mother to rest properly.”
Instead of choosing a graveyard in Lin’an’s outskirts, Zhou Tan cremated their bodies. Neither Zhou Shu nor Bai Qiu hailed from Lin’an—returning their ashes to their homeland might bring greater peace.
The day of cremation was windy. Zhou Yang, clad in rough hemp clothing, looked up at his brother.
Overnight, his brother seemed transformed into an adult. Not a single tear fell, his eyes bloodshot yet expression calm. Only after Zhou Yang tugged repeatedly at his sleeve did he snap out of his daze, offering a faint smile. “Ah Yang, what is it?”
“Brother,” he whispered, filled with confusion. “Where do we go from here?”
“The future?” Zhou Tan cradled their parents’ ashes, lost in thought for a moment. Then he lowered his gaze, replying calmly, “As before. Continue studying diligently. If you prefer martial trials, that’s fine too. In time, I’ll go to Bianjing for the imperial exams...”
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