Chapter Fifteen: I Am a Pig

Lu Hu was quietly listening and scheming when Master Gao suddenly startled him with a loud shout, “General An, come in.”

A deep, rumbling voice answered from outside the door, sounding like distant thunder, resonant and powerful.

The doorway darkened as a burly man stepped inside. The front half of his scalp was shaved clean, gleaming under the light, while a thin, braided queue dangled from the back like a pig’s tail. His complexion was a dusky red, bearing the marks of countless hardships and deep-seated grievances. His small, triangular eyes glinted like green beans, the irises a restless swirl of blue, giving him a distinctly furtive, shifty look. His nose was surprisingly prominent, his face covered in a thick beard. Judging by his features, he was likely a hybrid of several foreign tribes, the type commonly known as a “mixed barbarian.”

He was imposing enough, but his belly was so enormous that even a woman expecting quintuplets would be put to shame. After just a few steps, he was already wheezing heavily; the weight of his huge gut made even breathing a struggle.

Why had Gao brought this fat brute in? To intimidate me? Or was he planning to have him beat me up? With a physique like that, I wouldn’t even need to fight back—just dodging would exhaust him!

“Lu Hu, Lu the Catcher, you will be his deputy from now on. Obey his orders in all matters; do not fail in your duties,” Master Gao declared, pointing at Lu Hu as he introduced the burly man with stern authority.

“Understood,” the fat man replied, bowing slightly to Master Gao. He then turned to Lu Hu, clasping his fists in salute. “I, your subordinate, greet General Lu.”

Lu Hu returned the salute but said nothing, thinking to himself, So you want this big, dumb, clumsy oaf to keep an eye on me? Only you could come up with such a scheme, you treacherous dog.

“General An is fluent in several barbarian languages and skilled in martial arts. He can assist you greatly. With your young woman knowledgeable about tribal affairs, the three of you should be able to capture the enemy and earn merit,” Master Gao explained, seeming to sense Lu Hu’s doubts.

I’m fluent in over a hundred languages and have traveled the world as if it were flat land, but I won’t let you know that—what could you do anyway?

“You may leave now. Serve well and bring honor,” Master Gao waved them away.

The two men saluted and exited, one following the other.

Once outside the official residence, Lu Hu deliberately picked up his pace, walking thirty or fifty steps before stopping in the middle of the county courtyard. He glanced back to see if the fat man had kept up.

The burly man lumbered along like a mound of meat, his entire body quivering with each step. He hustled his thick legs, as sturdy as pillars, into a wobbly jog, gasping and panting as he struggled desperately to catch up.

Lu Hu smiled at him, “General An, how should I address you?”

The fat man wheezed like a bellows, his face turning a deep purple as if he might collapse any moment. After ten breaths, he finally caught his wind. “I… am… Zhu.”

What? Did he just say he’s a pig? So confident! Did I hear that right? Heh.

Seeing the fat man’s earnest demeanor, Lu Hu managed not to laugh, raising a hand to pat his shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.

This big, clumsy mountain of flesh seemed to tower a head above Lu Hu. Standing face to face felt like confronting a small hill—there was certainly an air of oppression about him.

“Brother, you’re indeed a bit slow, but there’s no need to blame yourself. From now on, we’re like two grasshoppers tied to the same string, two donkeys yoked together—we must share hardships and face adversity as brothers. Don’t belittle yourself. No pig could compare to you.”

“Shi, as in the world… Zhu, as in pearl…” The fat man’s breath had steadied, and he explained his name.

“Oh, An Shizhu—a jewel placed in the world. That’s a fine name, truly clever. Who gave it to you? Very impressive.” Lu Hu raised his thumb in praise.

Receiving such a compliment, An Shizhu’s fleshy face scrunched into a smile, his little triangular eyes disappearing. “Fourth… father… gave me the name. He studied… for a few days.”

What is this? Fourth father? Are these tribes so liberal, the most chaotic in history?

“How many fathers do you have? How many mothers?” Lu Hu asked cautiously, fearing he might hurt the man’s pride.

“Seven… fathers, one… mother.” An Shizhu puffed up with pride, sticking out his big belly.

Is having so many fathers a point of pride? The confidence is overwhelming!

Lu Hu stared at the fat man like a statue, mouth agape and dazed. In his heart, waves surged: My son will have only one father—me and no one else. Absolutely not. As for mothers, seven or eight would be fine, perhaps even ten or twenty; I wouldn’t object, though it’d be exhausting. Honestly, I’d gladly bear the burden.

An Shizhu thought Lu Hu was awestruck, and grew even more pleased with himself. “My mother… is very… beautiful. Many… people fought… over her, lots died. Seven fathers… won out and married her together.”

That’s wild, impressive—truly admirable!

By the hoof, this land must be fertile indeed, with seven bulls plowing at once. Their hearts must be broad and united, all pouring into one vessel. Who knows which bull sowed the seed that grew into this fat man? It’s chaos; better not dig too deep, as even his seven fathers and mother couldn’t untangle it.

“Do you know, Ma Kao isn’t my real surname…” Suddenly, lines from a song Lu Hu had heard in his past life came to mind: “Song of the Seven Sons.” It fit the situation perfectly, so he adapted the lyrics, calling it “Song of the Seven Fathers.” Ready, sing:

“Do you know, An, isn’t my real name. You have bewildered my mother, but all they gave was just a body…”

If I don’t sing this, all that effort from the seven fathers would be wasted!

An Shizhu tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself. “Brother… could you sing louder? What song is that? It sounds wonderful.”

Lu Hu covered his mouth, suppressing his laughter. “Toothache, just humming nonsense. Don’t worry, brother, I won’t make such sounds again.”

“Do you know, my mother, always changes her surname…” An Shizhu was clever, with good genes—born to sing and dance.

After hearing Lu Hu hum just once, he remembered most of the lyrics and even mimicked the melody. He repeated it over and over, delighted, and his breathing finally eased, his words clear and strong, no longer panting.

They walked side by side out the gate of the county office. The convoy from the Protectorate had already loaded their goods and was slowly setting off; the gate was lined with Master Gao’s guards, ready for departure.

Many guards greeted An Shizhu, nodding or calling out to him. Lu Hu observed closely: among Gao’s guards, many were foreigners with high noses and curly hair.

The Great Sheng Empire was so powerful that from the emperor to the common folk, everyone felt superior. Thus, they indulged in luxury and pleasure, forgetting themselves in the lap of comfort. Ambition faded, and few aspired to fight on the battlefield; the number of warriors dwindled even as the empire expanded. Foreigners eager to serve were recruited, especially the obedient ones.

There were more and more foreign soldiers and officers in the army. As the nation grew rich and powerful, its people became precious, and dangerous work was left to mercenaries. Such situations seem to repeat throughout history.

“General Lu, when do we… depart?” An Shizhu asked as they neared the relay station.

“You stay at the relay station for now. Once I’ve settled things at home, I’ll come find you,” Lu Hu said, pulling out a few bits of silver and handing them over.

He was struggling with whether to invite the big fellow home as a guest. Not inviting him seemed distant—not proper hospitality. But with his household in chaos, bringing a stranger home would be awkward. He was considering staying at the relay station himself, so this was the perfect excuse.

“Please, General, no need… I have… money,” An Shizhu waved his hands, blushing, refusing the silver.

“If we’re brothers, take it. It’s just a token for our first meeting—not much, but it shows respect. I have matters at home, so I won’t invite you for drinks today,” Lu Hu pressed the silver into his hand, turned, and walked away.

He left An Shizhu standing alone in the wind, clutching the silver, confused.

Those bits of silver were enough for a hearty feast. Not spending them would be foolish; he’d better indulge now, or he’d waste General Lu’s kindness.

An Shizhu didn’t even enter the relay station. Instead, he turned and headed for the Drunken Immortal Pavilion across the street.

If there’s wine to drink, drink it. And drink freely—no need to hold back…