Chapter 80: Yang Huaiyu, Who Doesn’t Know How to Love

Chapter 80: Yang Huaiyu, Who Doesn’t Know How to Love

Xiao Qiao lay in a heap of wood shavings, took a sip of mild wine, and laughed. “Others win the beauty’s heart, but you end up the despicable villain. Well? Do you like playing the part of the bad guy?”

Tie Xinyuan straddled a chair, eyed Xiao Qiao, grabbed a handful of shavings, and tossed them into a small stove nearby with a sneer. “Lighting a stove in a pile of shavings—are you in a hurry to die?”

Chastened, Xiao Qiao picked up the little stove and carried it to the doorway, swept all the shavings into the corner, and only then lit the shavings inside the stove. Setting a small kettle atop it, he waited for the water to boil.

“Women are strange creatures,” Tie Xinyuan mused. “They seem to trust only what they see, never realizing their eyes can mislead them. First, I wrote Su Mei a truly vile letter—not only to anger her, but to make her lose her judgment in that instant. Then, when she arrived at our home, I let her see something wholly beyond her expectations, which naturally aroused her suspicions. Since she likes unearthing the truth for herself, let’s give her a prettified truth to discover slowly. It’s just a pity, to make this truth more vivid, I had to sacrifice myself.”

Hearing Tie Xinyuan’s complaints, Xiao Qiao grinned. “In the fairy tales my mother told me, there were always a few villains. Oddly enough, the villains in her stories always had plenty to eat and drink—and lovely women to boot. It’s left me wary of being a good person.”

The water boiled. Xiao Qiao prepared to brew tea, but a dull thud echoed from the courtyard. She shielded the teacup with her sleeve to keep dust from the ceiling from spoiling it.

“Yang Dalang’s had his share of suffering lately. Have you noticed how much weight he’s lost?” she remarked.

Tie Xinyuan snorted. “Look at the women, status, and reputation he wants—none of those come cheap. How could he not pay a price?”

“But those two instructors from the Tiger Wing Battalion are ruthless. Listen—it’s all flesh meeting fist, each blow like a mountain collapsing. They’re ferocious.”

Tie Xinyuan eyed the excited Xiao Qiao. “You’re not worried about Yang Huaiyu at all; you’re thrilled. Aren’t we brothers now? Can’t you spare a little sympathy?”

Xiao Qiao chuckled, poured Tie Xinyuan some tea, and patted her chest. “Fine, I’ll do my best to hoodwink Su Mei later, so she’ll gladly stay and teach the younger siblings. Brother Yuan, are you sure you’re not just tired of teaching? I know they’re a bit slow, but if you keep at it, they’ll come around eventually.”

Tie Xinyuan shook his head. “No one wants to see them succeed more than I do. But I’m afraid I’ll teach them wrongly. Teaching isn’t for everyone. Su Mei’s father is a court lecturer, and her brother seems destined for the Imperial Academy as well. Their whole family are scholars. Su Mei is the best person to teach them.”

Xiao Qiao nodded, saying nothing more. She always trusted Tie Xinyuan.

At some point, the brutal lesson in the courtyard ended. Yang Huaiyu, covered in dirt, staggered into the carpentry room where Tie Xinyuan and Xiao Qiao were. He grabbed the pot of warm tea from the table, about to drink.

Xiao Qiao brewed this tea every day.

Yang Huaiyu sipped from the spout, but stared blankly at the doorway. Suddenly, he shouted, then leapt out the window like a leopard. “Su Mei, wait for me! I’ll be right there after I change my clothes.”

Su Mei’s eyes were red as she stood at the door, coldly watching Tie Xinyuan, who was gazing at the ceiling. “How can you be so despicable in your actions?”

Tie Xinyuan glanced at her. “When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a man, it first tests his resolve, exhausts his muscles and bones, starves his body, empties his wallet, and frustrates his endeavors, so as to toughen his spirit and sharpen his character, making him capable of things he otherwise could not do.”

Su Mei sneered. “And what is Dalang’s great responsibility?”

“To bear arms, drive out beasts, defend the border, and secure the realm!”

“And what is your ambition?”

“Ban Chao!”

“Ban Chao conquered fifty cities beyond the frontier. At his command, countless tribes dared not even raise their eyes to look upon him. What makes you think you’re worthy of such ambition?”

Tie Xinyuan smiled faintly, clasped his hands behind his back, and strode out without looking back. “I never discuss my ambitions with women.”

Enraged, Su Mei stamped her foot, wanting to chase after him and scold this shameless scoundrel. If she could, she would have dearly liked to beat him herself.

“He’s already been beaten—the bump on his head just went down…” Xiao Qiao brewed a fresh pot of tea, rinsed two porcelain cups with boiling water, and poured Su Mei a cup with a smile. “His temperament is odd and easily offends, but his heart is good.”

Su Mei shook her head. “No, he’s lost himself.”

Xiao Qiao smiled. “Do you know how much Brother Yuan has accomplished these past two years?”

Su Mei frowned. “Just that poem about frogs, nothing more.”

Xiao Qiao presented the tea with both hands. Su Mei took a delicate sip—having rushed over today in search of revenge, her throat was parched. The slightly bitter tea, to her surprise, had a lingering, fragrant aftertaste.

Xiao Qiao smiled. “See, this tea is from Tie Xinyuan himself. He always says tea clears the mind, wine dispels sorrow, but if you add scallions or ginger, all you get is the bustle of the mundane world, and the tea loses its serenity.”

As Xiao Qiao chatted, Su Mei finished her cup, set it down, and asked, “Truly, I don’t understand. You seem a sensible youth, and Dalang is renowned in the capital for his martial prowess since boyhood—how did you both become friends with him? Do you know what filthy thing he just did?”

Xiao Qiao refilled her cup, smiling. “No need to say it. Whatever he did, the two of us trust him.”

Surprised, Su Mei stood up. “Why?”

Xiao Qiao replied calmly, “Tie Xinyuan saved my life, and he also turned a dispirited Yang Dalang back into a vigorous man, capable of winning first place in the martial exams.”

She raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Is that reason enough?”

Su Mei fell silent.

Yang Huaiyu entered, much to Xiao Qiao’s astonishment. In the time it took them to drink a cup of tea, he had already cleaned himself up, even re-combed his hair.

Seeing Yang Huaiyu, Su Mei immediately composed herself and rose gracefully. “Greetings, elder brother.”

Yang Huaiyu, usually steady, was suddenly at a loss, fidgeting for a long while before returning the greeting. “I’m clumsy and crude. I’ve let you down.”

Su Mei produced Yang Huaiyu’s letter and bowed again. “You spoke truly in your letter. I was too forward.”

Yang Huaiyu waved his hands like a windmill in panic. “It really wasn’t my idea—it was Brother Yuan’s. I just wanted him to write a poem, but he said surpassing Liu Sanbian was easy; in fact, comparing him to Liu Sanbian was an insult.”

Had he not mentioned Tie Xinyuan, all might have passed, but the moment he did, Su Mei’s fiercely competitive spirit returned.

Outside the door, Tie Xinyuan, who had been eavesdropping, sighed and prepared to slip away when Su Mei called out loudly, “Though Liu Sanbian’s verses may not belong in the halls of power, their clarity and elegance, the way they express the sorrows of travel, and their mastery of the slow ci form—their vivid imagery and harmonious melodies—make them famous wherever people drink from wells. But honestly, their fame is undeserved!”

Hearing this, Yang Huaiyu burst out, shouting, “Brother Yuan, Brother Yuan! Sister Mei wants to hear your poetry—hurry up!”

In the kitchen, eating flatbread with Shui Zhu’er, Tie Xinyuan muttered, “Sister Mei, Sister Mei—if you keep shouting, I swear you’ll be single for life.”

Shui Zhu’er scooted closer. “Brother Yuan, Sister Mei smells so nice—she must be a good person.”

Tie Xinyuan cast her a gloomy look. “Do I smell bad, then? You’re old enough to stop judging people by their scent.”

Shui Zhu’er sniffed. “Niu Er smells bad, so do those beggars, and that brat selling fake rat poison by the street—he stinks. And so does that scoundrel who bullied Xiao Rou.”

“If he stinks, why did you bite him?”

“I rinsed my mouth with green salt when I got home. For days, I could taste that stink in my bread.”

Tie Xinyuan scratched his head. “Maybe you really can tell good from bad by smell. We should test it someday.”

Hearing Yang Huaiyu’s voice heading to the back yard, Tie Xinyuan stood up, patted Shui Zhu’er’s head, and said, “Time to go. If I don’t, my mother will worry.”

“But Dalang is calling you. Aren’t you going to help?”

“Silly boy, if I help any more, I’ll have to help him into the bridal chamber. I’m off—remember to bolt the back door. There’ve been lots of thieves lately; don’t let them take advantage.”

“The thieves would just get beaten to death by Dalang…”

Waving goodbye, Tie Xinyuan slouched off toward his mother’s new shop, hands behind his head. After the New Year, the new shop in Jujube Lane would open. There was surely plenty for his mother to arrange, and his wandering about was hardly filial.

To get from Basket Lane to Jujube Lane, he had to pass the sweet well at West Water Gate. He went to check on his old friends—the fat pigs. He and the boar king were now the best of friends, and friends should visit often.

Old Liang, the swineherd, was dead drunk, curled up in his hut against the cold. Tie Xinyuan found a stiff, black quilt and covered him, then left the hut door ajar. The brazier’s coals weren’t yet out—had he not stopped by today, there might have been a corpse by morning. Maybe Old Liang wanted to die. The authorities were always causing trouble, and these pigs had become government property. Old Liang still had to care for them until after the New Year, when the martial exams began and the court would slaughter them for the examinees.

Tie Xinyuan entered the pigsty. The pigs, seeing him, perked up, crowding the fence, waving their big ears, eager for another taste of that exhilarating feeling.

Mushroom powder slipped through his fingers onto their wet snouts. As he left the pigsty, the fat pigs were letting out high-pitched squeals.

PS: Still begging for recommendation votes and favorites. Jia Yu is so happy this morning he’s sniffling with joy. Thank you all for keeping me at the top of the rankings! Jia Yu bows.