The sun had risen somewhat higher now, and produced the long shadows in the small courtyard of the Liang family.
And the bowls which had been emptied were piled on the wooden table, the traces of that substantial meal still lingering in the air like a pleasant memory. Liang Zhenwu leant back on his stool, and gazed at his parents with a silent satisfaction that he had not experienced since a long time. These little things, he said, grounded a man--however much he might have travelled in the tempests of fortune.
Similar to those ancient stories where heroes came back home after a long while of fighting in some distant land, only to discover that the real problems were at the door step of their homes.
But the peace didn't last long.
Liang Jianguo laid aside his chopsticks with a clack, which was intentional, and his features changed, instead of being compositively satisfied, into a more serious expression. He cleared his throat, the note breaking through the delicate clucks of the chickens outside. Zhenwu, said he, and his voice did not change, but was made heavy with years that had no name. You have not even been here a day yet, but we can not dance round this all our lives. You were gone four years--Schemed up by the river. You are home now, that is a blessing out of the heavens. But you see what there is to do. it is not only about you now--it is the life of Xuanxuan, and the life of Lin Xue. That girl has been hurt enough and she has had to work three shifts to keep medicine in the child into its veins and rice on their table. You need to make things right. Convince her, son. I would like to watch you both get married this year. Cogitate about how you will win over her heart--women such as these, they will be like a wall of woe, but a kind word will shatter like spring on ice.
The abrupt turn of her husband caused Wu Meifeng to open her eyes, and she stretched over to pat her husband on the shoulder, but it resembled a slight smack.
"Lao Liang, what are you doing? The lad had not time to take his breath! He has just arrived home--is it necessary to spoil this a little longer before you begin to issue orders like some village elder at a council meeting?
No, no, Jianguo put up a hand, soft, though firm, snipping her protest in mid-breath. His eyes firm as old oak he looked at her. Why, Meifeng, this is his own good--and our own. Would you not have your son construct something permanent? Trapped in this village forever, without even completing his education in the university? It is no life to him to be scraping along here on these fields the way we are. No, he must have foundations dealing deeper than that. He looked over his shoulder at Zhenwu and his gaze was penetrating, as a smith might be glancing at his sword to see how well it has been made. "What say you, son? You have that look in your eye--you have seen more than these hills. But family comes first. Always has."
Beyond, beneath the osmanthus tree, Xiao Hei chewed the chicken bone which Zhenwu tossed him over before with great content. The monster, in the puppy role, enjoyed every morsel, and went at it with gradual pleasure.
Ah, the mere pleasures--food such as this was not to be swallowed like some starving bum. His ears pricked at the talk floating away out of the table, and within himself he sneezed. Hmph, it is of mortal trifles that the young master can make so much of a noise. Weddings and futures? Like the climax of being is reduced to the fireside and rice field. I have known greater empires come and go upon higher whims than this, but here they be like ants over a crumb. With a low chuckle in his throat he crunched down still more on the bone. The mantis follows the cicada, ignorant of the oriole behind--so much like these people, ignorant of the tempests behind their fences.
This was what Zhenwu had been doing since the previous day, as he was polishing a rough jade stone, the words of his father. The obligations he had to pay were not to his blood alone--they were to every hand which had raised his family in his absence. The sacrifices Lin Xue does, the silent support of the people, the faithful work of an old Fei Niu.
His voice was as hard as forged steel, and he nodded. "Don't fret, Father. I've pondered it all night. I shall make restitution of that which was lost, I shall requite all the kindnesses done to you both. As for Lin Xue and Xuanxuan... My word! by my road I will do well by them. Make them happy which they have been long without. That's my vow." His eyes were glowing with that insistent will, the will with which the annals of those antique scrolls have been shot through--with which the cultivators hanged themselves the chains of their words, as impregnably as the mountains.
Jianguo sighed, and brushed his hard, gray beard, which was now more gray than black with the passage of time. "Good lad. That's the spirit I raised." His shoulders grew relaxed as he leant back with the burden of tension being driven off by the sun like fog.
Wu Meifeng took a deep breath and her hand lay against her chest as though to keep her heart even. Oh, that, that is how it ought to be, my boy. Lin Xue gave so much--poured her youth into that child, toiled by without a murmur of protest. I would have you two tied together, as in a mule. She breathed a sigh of relief, of remaining concern. "But go gentle with her. Hearts like hers mend slow."
Zhenwu got up, and bowls with him were hoarded. "I understand, Mother. For now, rest easy. Allow me to do the lawns in the back-yard--give those old bones of yours a rest.
With a blush of rage Jianguo struck the table with his fist. "What? You suppose your old man has gone squeaky in the night? See me--my waist is not sore, my legs are smart like when I courted your mother. I do not know what mark the miracle has made of us, but I will not be lying about and watching you at farm. Concentrate on Lin Xue and the little one. they require your words, better than such crops require them. He shook his hand in derision, but the eyes were gleaming with pride.
Wu Meifeng intoned in her gentle insistent voice. "He's right, Zhenwu. Leave the chores to us. And to speak of old friends--have you seen Fei Niu yet? Since you disappeared that poor beast has been pining. His appetite is dead, and he lost his weight like the fall. Past months he has hardly been to be lowered in the dawn, and is not well as a dog.
Jianguo nodded. "Aye, did you see him? At that time he was ever your shadow.
Zhenwu grinned weakly, remembering the radiance of the Misty Mango in the eyes of the cow. "I did, last night. We... talked a bit. Told him to eat hearty. He'll bounce back."
Jianguo grunted approval. "Good. Now go fetch your daughter. Take her there--get her to play. And bring old Lin his breakfast; the fellow is a fiery sort of a man, but food will melt even the flintiest. As for Lin Xue... ease into it. Gradually and gradual, as water does stone eat away.
Wu Meifeng there, sweeping off the crumbs of her apron. "Yes, go on. We'll manage here." The smiling of both parents at him was as the smile of the rising sun.
Zhenwu shook his head. "Alright. But don't push yourselves. Mother, leave out the garden to-day mother--take a nap. The work can wait."
Jianguo chuckled. "Hear that, wife? Now the boy is commanding us about. But Wu Meifeng smiled, and shook his head at him. "Fine, fine. Be off with you."
A bamboo basket of wrapped mantou and congee were in his hand, as Zhenwu went out to serve the Lin family.
The air of the courtyard was fresh, and the village was waking up with the voices saying good morning and the doors swinging open. Xiao Hei, who was continuing to worry his bone as any ordinary mongrel would, glanced up in the middle of his chew. His eyes lit with mischief. Master, where to? Go with me--this yard is as boring as ditchwater. He mewed mewingly, with a waving tail.
Off to see my daughter, Zhenwu said to himself.
The ears of the pup pricked up and he leaped upward, forgotten about the bone. The little princess? Count me in! Of meeting her proper I have been dying.
Zhenwu stopped and looked up at the rumpled hair of the beast--strands of dry grass that stick like rags to the beggar, his muzzles greasy with the bone. He passed as all the shaggy village bum. Zhenwu gave a sigh and kicked him off. "Not like that, you fool. You are a scandal--jump in the river and make yourself clean. You can not see my daughter like you are, rolling in all the mud puddles on the road all the way to the hills.
Xiao Hei whined, and twisted to look at himself; his stubby legs made it comically clumsy. But Master-- but Master-- he humped and away he went to the village edge, paws flying away, to the stream. O, all right, but have one more, without my!
Zhenwu shook his head and a little chuckle came out. When he was walking, he saw himself in a puddle--his hair long and unkempted as at those long wandering ways. Looking around to be sure that he was not observed, he directed a vein of his internal power, faint as a breeze in bamboo. Strands withered, as autumn leaves, until he was near as he had been four years ago: trim and demure and a village son returning.
The road to the Lin house went round sleeping houses, smoke rising out of chimneys, the day rolling on like a scroll.
Resolve was a constant fire in his chest--debts to pay, hearts to mend. As had the heroes of old, who had bridled the bloody seas To rest in silent vows.