Only one white-haired old man occupied the courtyard.
He wore a hemp bolero and old pants riddled with holes, their ragged hems barely reaching his ankles. Seated before the house, he sharpened the wide blade in his hands with intense concentration.
The iron plate and whetstone collided sonorously. The old man remained utterly absorbed, sparing them only a cursory glance when they first appeared before returning his attention to his task.
Song Huiya entered the courtyard. He offered no reaction whatsoever.
She half-squatted before him, quickly running her fingers along the blade's edge, determining it was merely an ordinary knife—freshly sharpened but unremarkable, with no connection to famous weaponry, hardly worthy of such meticulous treatment.
The old man scooped water from a basin beside him, splashed it across the blade, twisted his wrist to rotate it, then resumed sharpening as if no one existed around him.
Song Huiya observed, "It's going to be overdone."
The old man seemed displeased at having someone instruct him, responding irritably, "Are you still alive?"
His joints and knuckles were thicker than ordinary people's, and even seated, one could judge him a man of modest height. Yet his hands and feet were disproportionately large, creating an oddly discordant appearance.
His hands were darkly tanned, calluses thick enough to obscure his palm prints entirely, while the loose skin on their backs bore old brown spots that truly exposed his age.
Strangely, in such bitter winter cold, he wore only this single thin garment. Endless heat radiated from his body. Sitting in the frigid wind, layers of white steam rose from his muscles, making his entire form appear aflame.
Song Huiya scrutinized him covertly before saying with a smile, "That doesn't sound particularly welcoming."
The old man retorted, "The thousand-year-old king, the eighty-thousand-year turtle—you've got longevity. What's so unusual about that?"
Seeing his cold reaction, Song Huiya sensed there should be no deep friendship between them. She truly couldn't comprehend why such an old man would occupy her final thoughts before death—why, even crawling from the grave, he should be the first person she needed to see.
"You..." she speculated reasonably, "do you owe me money?"
The old man glanced at her, lowered his head, and continued sharpening.
After a moment, he raised his gaze and examined her carefully, his hands stilling. He picked up a piece of hemp cloth hanging on his lap, wiped the blade casually, then rapped it against Song Huiya's head.
Like thumping a winter melon, he listened to the sound and asked seriously, "Did a donkey kick your brain?"
Song Huiya: "......"
Song Zhiqi had already wandered through the front yard on short legs, her eyes rolling in all directions—touching weeds one moment, kicking tables and chairs the next, looking like someone constitutionally incapable of staying still.
Clutching her bundle, she shouted without hesitation, "He scolded you! Master! He scolded you twice!"
Song Huiya waved her hand, gesturing for silence.
Song Zhiqi tossed her belongings onto the stone table in the courtyard's center, scurried behind her master, rolled up her sleeves, planted her hands on her hips, straightened her chest and abdomen, and grinned—looking like a loyal attack dog ready to lunge and bite at any moment.
However, Song Huiya merely found a wooden stool and settled down, taking his ridicule entirely in stride.
She had slender limbs and sat on the short stool with a kind of grievance suggesting insufficient exercise. Song Zhiqi trotted over, beating her back and kneading her shoulders, serving diligently. She fetched the teapot from the table herself and poured Song Huiya a cup of water with the practiced posture she'd rehearsed countless times on the road.
Even if the old man could maintain composure otherwise, watching this master-apprentice pair, he still felt somewhat perplexed. Pointing at Song Zhiqi, he demanded, "Can't you afford to buy her clothes? Where did you get this apprentice?"
Song Huiya rubbed her temples. "Ask her yourself."
Song Zhiqi shook out her sleeves and smiled innocently. "I don't want to wear them! I can't even walk properly when I put them on. I'll wear them later."
She had sores on her head, so Song Huiya had cut her hair short. She still persistently wore the old garments nearly rotted to rags, looking as though extracted from a beggar's den—indescribably shabby.
The old man's words multiplied: "Why did you take an apprentice on a whim?"
The aura around his body suddenly intensified a level. Though he maintained his original posture, the muscles across his shoulders and back grew subtly tense, radiating the fierceness of a beast eyeing its prey. He stated firmly, "You don't take apprentices."
Song Zhiqi stumbled back in fright, gripping the corner of Song Huiya's clothes tightly. Afraid of tiring her, she loosened her hold slightly and shifted her toes toward the door.
Song Huiya sat as if nothing had transpired, separated from him by the long whetstone. After contemplating for a moment, she laughed self-deprecatingly. "Perhaps my brain really was kicked by a donkey. I don't remember."
The old man picked up the knife from the ground. "Didn't you tell your junior brother you're still alive?"
Song Huiya considered this, shaking her head after a lengthy pause. "Let me think about it further."
The old man's eyelids lowered, concealing elusive emotion. "What are you thinking about?"
Song Huiya spoke very slowly. "I want to know who I am."
The old man rose, carried the knife into the house, and hung it on the wall.
Song Huiya asked curiously, "Not grinding it anymore?"
She watched him produce another new knife.
Song Huiya: "......"
Song Zhiqi recovered her senses and blurted out a curse. "Old thing, you scared me to death!"
The old man returned slowly, pressed his fingers against the blade's spine, and said indifferently, "New subject."
Song Huiya smiled. "You don't believe it?"
The old man answered truthfully, "I don't believe it."
He resumed sharpening rhythmically, as if sorting through his thoughts.
After a while, he stopped. "I believe it."
This time his spine bent considerably more, and the frequency increased dramatically.
Song Zhiqi listened in bewilderment, clutching her head with both hands.
Song Huiya had originally intended to ask what appointment he'd made to meet with her. But seeing his reaction, she sensed she wouldn't receive any satisfying answer. Rubbing her fingers together, she guessed it was probably some promise made between outlaws—such as killing, or seeking revenge.
So she held back.
She suddenly felt somewhat desolate, realizing that after half a lifetime rolling through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, she possessed few genuine connections. Many concerns ended in misery, and today's searching and pursuing might simply be another form of obsession.
Of course.
The world's interactions were brief encounters—not and need not be blood-sworn confidants who watched each other's backs.
Song Huiya pressed both hands against her knees, about to rise and take her leave, when she remembered her apprentice had been suspiciously quiet since just now.
She turned around. Song Zhiqi still wore a grimace she hadn't managed to erase. After making eye contact, she hastily hid her hands behind her back.
Song Huiya hadn't disciplined her earlier, so she decided to settle old accounts. She settled back firmly and asked with a gentle smile, "Cursing people again?"
Song Zhiqi's scalp prickled, her mind spinning rapidly, calculating how to explain.
The old man squinted at Song Zhiqi. Perhaps unable to stomach Song Huiya's slightly lonely expression, he offered charitably, "Your apprentice somewhat resembles you before."
Song Zhiqi felt the old man not only had poor taste but probably crooked eyes as well. She smiled brilliantly. "Yes! I'm as well-behaved and sensible as my master, smart and intelligent! In the future, I'll be a hero like my master!"
The old man ignored this, looking at Song Huiya instead. "When your master first accepted you, people who knew your nature were quite puzzled—why would she accept such an apprentice? Buliu Mountain has always advocated the gentleman's way, but by your master's generation, it had declined. Yet when they recruited disciples, they were all great heroes. Students wanting to enter the gate to learn martial arts could line up three li from the mountain's base. But they chose you. And you were so different as to be shocking—treating benevolence and righteousness as hypocrisy, dignity as bullshit, never speaking a word of truth. When you couldn't win, you'd deceive. When you couldn't deceive, you'd plead. You constantly clashed with your master, daring to sneer and speak ill of her to her face."
The old man commented sincerely, "Truly like a bit of ash on a pearl, a lump of mud in a clear pool. You couldn't find another with a lantern."
"You're talking about my master?!" Song Zhiqi felt he was utterly deceiving the masses, tugging at the sleeve before her. "Master, he's deliberately slandering you with nonsense!"
Song Huiya listened with relish and laughed. "Was I really so hateful before? Then why did my master accept me as an apprentice?"
"I don't know." The old man recalled the past with a kind of difficult-to-escape trance, as if smelling a jar of strong, choking wine where every word required reconsideration. "When she mentioned you, she would only say one thing—that you had it hard. She disliked when others spoke ill of you. You were indeed talented and extremely diligent in sword practice. Training at the third and fifth watches, never slackening. One or two years worth more than one or two decades. At the time, some said that Buliu Mountain feared raising a scourge. Unexpectedly, it became prophecy."
Song Huiya gripped her apprentice's shoulder, regarded her momentarily, then nodded. "No wonder I felt favorably disposed when I first saw this girl. Unfortunately, my lineage started with me—the roots are going crooked."
The old man said leisurely, "You no longer have a lineage. When you left Buliu Mountain, you set fire to the library and led your two junior brothers running about. The mountain was later occupied by others. The gates and pavilions were newly built, still using the Buliu Mountain name. Your master and grand-master's graves remain on the mountain—the other party hasn't demolished them for you. Now they worship your ancestral hall, but it no longer concerns you."
Just a few words, yet Song Huiya constructed vivid shadows emerging from behind those words in her mind. She said with mixed feelings, "I see. I no longer have a lineage..."
Song Zhiqi felt this old man had a truly malicious heart, deliberately picking at her master's sorrows upon their first meeting, needing to mock and ridicule to amuse himself with others' wounds. She tactfully urged Song Huiya to leave. "Master, where are we staying tonight?"
Song Huiya had no intention of leaving. She pointed at the old man. "Call him grandpa."
Song Zhiqi was amenable as flowing water, donning a flawless smile and calling out familiarly, "Uncle, you'll be my grandpa from now on! I'll provide for your old age. Anyway, providing for one is the same as two. I sound wonderful!"
The old man's expression twisted slightly as he listened. Seeing her smile's sincerity, he couldn't quite suspect she was cursing him to an early death. He turned and asked Song Huiya, "How did you restrain yourself from killing her?"
Song Huiya said amusedly, "In recent years, I've cultivated my character. My temper's much improved. Look at my apprentice—I find her delightfully charming, playful and cute."
Song Zhiqi stepped forward, grinned enthusiastically, revealed her missing front teeth, and swayed before the old man—even more dazzling than his knife blade. "Grandpa, we're family now. What's yours is mine. I want to eat that chicken in your backyard right now!"
The old man felt those three words "we're family" had cost him at least three years of life. His wrinkled face piled up as he said eerily, "Playful and cute?"
The wind whistling through this child's missing teeth was probably the misfortune Song Huiya had encountered today.
Song Huiya stretched and said in good spirits, "Grandpa likes you so much, he'll definitely let you stay. Go see which room he sleeps in tonight. You two get better acquainted here first."
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