Chapter Thirty-Eight: The First Stop

Zhang Xuan looked at Old Man Tong and said, “Old Man Tong, is there someone you fancy here? You’ve been so cheerful these days, like a blossoming flower. Hey, Old Man Tong, during these days of rest, don't be too indulgent, mind your health!”

Old Man Tong shot Zhang Xuan a glare, and feeling that wasn’t enough, walked over and knocked Zhang Xuan on the head. “Kid, what do you know? You haven't even grown all your hair yet.”

Zhang Xuan was about to protest, but upon recalling his current body, he had to admit Old Man Tong was right—he really hadn't grown all his hair. Yang Bo and the others could hardly contain their laughter, holding their mouths. “No need to cover your mouths, just laugh. I can't deny this fact for now—my hair really hasn't fully grown. Luckily, there's someone here who shares my plight, so I’m not alone.” Zhang Xuan said this while looking at Zhao Yun, who was utterly bewildered. At that moment, Zhao Yun was surely thinking, “Where am I? Who am I? What are these people talking about? Why can’t I understand a word?” Seeing Zhao Yun’s confused expression, Zhang Xuan found him adorable, couldn’t help but pinch his cheek, and sighed at such an innocent, blank slate of a child. He wondered how Zhao Yun would be corrupted by Yang Ge and especially Old Man Tong in the days to come. If Old Man Tong and Yang Zaixing knew Zhang Xuan’s thoughts, who knows what Old Man Tong would do, but Yang Zaixing would certainly challenge Zhang Xuan to a duel—not that Zhang Xuan could beat him anyway.

That evening, Zhang Xuan, Yang Zaixing, and Yang Hu practiced as usual under the guidance of Old Man Tong and Yang Bo. Zhao Yun worked on his basic spear techniques nearby, but his eyes kept drifting toward the sparring trio. Eventually, Old Man Tong let Zhao Yun watch directly or had Yang Zaixing or Zhang Xuan spar with him. After all, someone would always be left idle. Ever since their intense match with Zhang Yan, Zhang Xuan and Yang Zaixing had changed their sparring style, now using long staffs and fighting fiercely and earnestly. Their bodies bore no uninjured spots, but the hardship now was so they’d bleed less later. They might not meet such under-equipped opponents again. Yang Hu was no exception, though he fared slightly better. Sometimes, Zhao Yun was startled by the trio’s reckless way of sparring, and not just him—even Old Man Tong and Yang Bo were taken aback by their fearless approach. Yet, more often than not, they were gratified; after the bandits’ ambush, all three had grown in different ways—their progress was clear. When the trio finished sparring, Old Man Tong and Yang Bo pointed out a few shortcomings, and Zhang Xuan and the others collapsed on the ground, soon falling asleep. Old Man Tong and the others were used to it by now. Afterward, Old Man Tong gave Zhao Yun some pointers, and everyone settled down for the night.

The next day, under Old Man Tong’s guidance, Zhang Xuan and the group arrived at a small city gate around noon. Many passersby waved to Old Man Tong, and some even approached to greet him. Zhang Xuan couldn’t help but marvel, “Old Man Tong is really popular here! Look how welcome he is—every woman or aunt passing by wants to say hello. What charisma! He’s truly a role model for our generation!” Hearing Zhang Xuan’s reckless remarks, Yang Zaixing quickly pulled Zhao Yun ahead to avoid getting caught in the fallout if Old Man Tong lost his temper. But today, Old Man Tong only glanced at Zhang Xuan. Perhaps joy outweighed his urge to give Zhang Xuan a beating, and he mercifully let him off.

Yang Zaixing watched this unfold and couldn’t help but sigh, “Has the sun risen in the west today? Not a single beating?”

Old Man Tong followed familiar roads to a large residence, took a deep breath, and stopped, gazing at a familiar figure.

Zhang Xuan and the others halted as well, following Old Man Tong’s gaze toward the grand courtyard. They glanced at each other, wondering if this was where Old Man Tong lived—it certainly seemed lavish! The private estate stretched so far you couldn’t see its end, clearly not the home of ordinary folk. The family must wield considerable influence here. At the gate stood a woman, holding the hand of a child about Zhao Yun’s age. The woman’s eyes shimmered with crystalline tears as she looked at Old Man Tong, perhaps just short of rushing forward to embrace him—a restraint likely due to the era, less open than Zhang Xuan’s own time. The child in her hand glanced around, occasionally looking up at the woman and asking questions.

Old Man Tong and the woman gazed at each other as if time had stood still, as if the world were reduced to just the two of them. Zhang Xuan and the others felt awkward; unfamiliar with the place, nowhere to go, they remained in place, feeling like unwelcome interlopers. Of course, that was merely their perspective; in Old Man Tong and the woman’s eyes, Zhang Xuan and the others likely didn’t even exist.

Yet the charged scene didn’t last long. Perhaps Old Man Tong felt embarrassed by the presence of others. What happened next was even more astonishing: Old Man Tong walked straight up to the woman and, unexpectedly, drew her into his arms.

Watching Old Man Tong embrace the woman, Zhang Xuan suddenly felt the old man before him was a stranger, turning mechanically to ask Yang Zaixing and Yang Bo, “Is this really the Old Man Tong I know? He’s so different today—who knew he could be so tender? Turns out he understands love, just hadn’t met the right person. Looks like this lady is his long-awaited empress.”

The child in the woman’s hand was perplexed, tugging at her clothes. The woman finally came back to herself, took the child’s hand, and said to Old Man Tong, “Fei’er, call him Father.” Old Man Tong looked at Tong Fei, wanting to reach out but hesitating, unsure whether to touch the child before him.

Tong Fei stared timidly at the “stranger,” tightly clutching the woman’s hem. She knelt down and softly reassured him, “Fei’er, haven’t you always asked about your father? Your father is right here in front of you. Why do you act this way?”

Old Man Tong mustered all his courage, reached out, and patted Tong Fei’s head. “Child, I’ve wronged you. All these years, I’ve been away, neglecting you both. Yu’er, I’m sorry—you’ve suffered.”

The woman, called “Yu’er,” shook her head, looked at Old Man Tong, and gently stroked Tong Fei’s head, “I’ve been well cared for at home; everything is fine. What matters is you. Now that I see you’re safe, I’m at ease.” Old Man Tong, hearing this, drew both Yu’er and Tong Fei into his embrace.