Chapter 30: Hidden Past in Buluoshan

 

The child pointed toward the distant city gate, her expression carefree as though recounting an ordinary tale.

“Under that city gate, many people are buried. One of the headless corpses is the county magistrate who lived here back then. I won’t say how he was as an official, after all, I was too young to say. When the barbarians attacked, he did the worst thing he ever did—he led the people in the city to close the gates and defend the city.”

Dust covered the child’s face, dulling her features, yet her eyes remained startlingly clear—bright like glass reflecting sunlight.

"The barbarians were out there trying to persuade the people to surrender, but before the imperial reinforcements arrived, the people were already afraid and decided to defect. So, a few guards cut off the magistrate's head under cover of night and presented it to the barbarians. The barbarians captured the city without firing a shot, drove straight in, and slaughtered hundreds of laborers on the spot in celebration. They cheered and gloated as they entered the houses and looted everything in the city, leaving nothing behind. Finally, they hurled insults at the barbarians and rode away."

Her tone remained calm—almost detached—yet something bitter lurked beneath it.

She nearly clapped her hands in approval, but restrained herself.

“With people dead and no food, the people in the city blamed the magistrate for not surrendering in time, which angered the barbarians and led to this calamity. The head was hung on the city gate to vent her anger. Fearing the magistrate's child would retaliate when he grew up, she planned to eliminate him completely. To save her own life, the child's mother forced her daughter to kneel and beg for mercy, then smashed her head against a gatepost.”

She waved her hand lightly, her smile unchanged.

“From then on, whenever I'm hungry, I just take a bowl and beg in the street, shamelessly cursing my ignorant father, and they'll shake off their last shred of conscience and give me a bite to eat. I'm doing just fine.”

The past she spoke of seemed torn apart—fragmented like broken reflections in water.

The dreamscape around Song Huiya began to distort.

Reality blurred.

Memory twisted.

The hatred carried in the girl’s voice seeped into every shifting image.

---

Song Huiya tried to wake.

But she could not separate dream from reality.

Fine rain seemed to fall everywhere—on rooftops, against cold windows, drifting through clouds, even beneath sunlight. The endless patter echoed softly, drawing her deeper into memory.

The man listened silently.

After a long pause, he lowered his eyelids and said thoughtfully:

“Truly a good story.”

The child’s expression sharpened.

“You two young heroes seem to be immortals, so you don't yet understand what it means to be human. Stories like this are plentiful in the world.”

Her stubborn face carried raw rebellion.

Her spirit—untamed and restless—revealed her disgust for the world.

“That's human nature. When faced with cruelty, even if the other party wants to kill you, you obediently wash your neck and stand there waiting to die. When faced with kindness, you become ferocious, even wishing you could go up and chop them down yourself.”

She asked:

“If there's a way to settle all grudges in the world, then I ask you two upright and honorable gentlemen, where exactly have I gone wrong?”

The child turned toward the woman.

Silence followed.

Then—

a slow, cold laugh.

She could not stand people like them—pampered sons of noble families who pitied suffering from a distance.

They studied in elegant towers.

They listened to stories of hardship.

They drank wine and sighed at the bitterness of life.

But what did they truly understand?

Nothing.

---

The child walked away and sat beside the roadside.

The April wind carried the fragrance of grass and blossoms.

She chewed on moldy flatbread and tossed small stones in her hand.

Footsteps approached.

Then a calm voice spoke:

“Huiya.”

The child turned, puzzled.

“Your name,” the woman said slowly. “My surname is Song, and my name is Song Xiwei. The person who spoke to you earlier was named Song Shicheng. From now on, you will be a disciple of Buluoshan. You wouldn't listen to any of the extra rules now, so I will teach you them one by one. When we arrive at Buluoshan, you will offer me tea and formally become my disciple. Do you have any questions?”

The child stuffed the last bite of flatbread into her mouth.

She wiped her face with her sleeve.

Then, in an instant, she changed expressions completely—bright, obedient, cheerful.

“Okay, Master!”

She stood up and followed Song Xiwei onto the horse.

And so—

Song Huiya entered Buluoshan.

---

The dream continued drifting forward.

Reality and illusion overlapped.

Time passed without clear measure.

Days were spent practicing swordsmanship.

Nights were spent studying beneath lamplight.

Spring and autumn came and went.

Years blurred.

Song Huiya practiced her left-handed sword with relentless focus and gradually achieved success.

Perhaps fearing her reckless temperament, Song Xiwei rarely allowed her to leave the mountain.

Each day brought teachings.

Principles.

Admonitions.

Yet none took root.

Song Huiya remained wild.

The stricter the discipline—

the more rebellious she became.

Whenever she descended the mountain, she deliberately caused small incidents—never serious, but always troublesome enough to give her master headaches.

Eventually, Song Xiwei abandoned persuasion.

Punishments followed.

Facing the wall.

Whip strikes.

None were severe—but Song Huiya preferred punishment over lectures.

It infuriated everyone.

---

She remained solitary.

The mountain had few people to begin with.

Years passed without a single close friend.

Only Song Shicheng occasionally took her down the mountain—fishing, eating, wandering.

And occasionally scolding her when she tried to steal something.

Song Huiya never admitted fault.

---

One day—

returning from the market—

she encountered a drunken brute causing trouble.

Unfortunately for him—

Song Huiya was not someone easily bullied.

She knocked out one of his teeth.

When he returned sober to cause trouble again—

she beat him again.

This time, Song Xiwei witnessed everything.

She scolded her.

Too lazy to argue, Song Huiya accepted two lashes and walked out silently.

She sat by the lake.

The lake halfway up Buluoshan lay smooth like a mirror.

Green mountains reflected softly across its surface.

She set up her fishing rod and closed her eyes to rest.

Soon—

Song Shicheng arrived.

He handed her two wild fruits.

“How is it? Your senior uncle loves you, doesn't he? He thinks of you first when he finds something to eat on the road.”

Song Huiya wiped her mouth casually and bit into one.

“Senior uncle, if you really love me, you should stand up for me when Master beats me, instead of running away faster than a dog.”

Song Shicheng sighed.

“But your master was right to beat me.”

Song Huiya curled her lips.

“What do you mean my master was right to beat me? She wants to be her great person, to preach her great principles, of course she can't side with me.”

She took another bite and repeated her usual request:

“Senior uncle, why don't you become my master? Father, then. Anyway, we're all from the same sect, so what difference does it make whose name I'm under? I don't mind your poor swordsmanship or low comprehension. And don't mind that I'm disobedient.”

Song Shicheng laughed loudly.

“If you were my disciple, I would have killed you already! You don't understand, your master is actually much kinder than me. She's willing to patiently explain the same principles to you, but when I get angry, I just beat you.”

Song Huiya said firmly:

“If you were my master, I would definitely listen to you and never go out to cause trouble again.”

Song Shicheng scoffed.

“You don't even believe that nonsense yourself, do you?”

Song Huiya tossed the fruit pit into the lake.

The fish scattered instantly.

---

Song Shicheng leaned closer and whispered:

“To be honest, every time your master beats you, it's because I instigated it. Because you're so hateful, I can't live without giving you a good beating.”

Song Huiya turned sharply.

“??”

He grinned smugly.

“Hehe.”

She nearly threw a stone at his face.

Instead, she sighed and pulled her bamboo hat over her eyes.

“Forget it, I know. My master never liked me and didn't really want to take me as her disciple. She thinks I'm inherently mediocre, with bad habits that are hard to change, rotten to the core. It was only because you repeatedly persuaded me and sympathized with my past that she reluctantly accepted me. Forced relationships are never sweet, and it's none of anyone else's business. Besides, I'm already satisfied that she's willing to sincerely teach me swordsmanship. I won't ask for more.”

Song Shicheng clicked his tongue.

“Oh? You know that too? Song Huiya, Song Huiya, you're not very good at judging people.”

Song Huiya replied:

“When has she ever given me a kind look?”

Song Shicheng snorted.

“When has she ever given me a kind look? If people's likes and dislikes were judged solely by their expressions, with that stinky face of yours, Song Huiya, you would have died a thousand times over.”

Song Huiya fell silent.

After a moment, she lifted her bamboo hat slightly.

“But it's really hard to give you a pleasant look, Master Uncle.”

Song Shicheng reeled in the fishing line.

Ripples spread across the water.

He asked gently:

“It's strange, isn't it? Song Huiya, you clearly don't care about anything. Even if someone insults you, you don't take it to heart. But you seem particularly resentful towards your master. Why?”

Song Huiya froze.

She did not know the answer.

Song Shicheng smiled knowingly.

“Because you don't want her to look down on you. You feel you're similar to her in temperament, but when it comes to character, you're alike in every bad way, but not in any good. Like two sides of the same mirror. Over the years, you've been trying to find fault with her, but unexpectedly, she's so righteous it's almost sinister. You feel ashamed and resent her looking down on you even more, even if she doesn't, you still feel she's prejudiced against you. Am I right?”

Song Huiya muttered quietly:

“If I were born in Buluoshan, I could be as good as her.”

Song Shicheng immediately asked:

“Now that you're in Buluoshan, why don't you become such a good person?”