Chapter Fifty-Seven: Reunion

Yuwen Chengdu moved to Yang Hu’s side, leaned close to his ear, and whispered, “Hu, do you understand what Xuan is saying? Why do I always feel I can’t make sense of him? Why are flowers so red? Aren’t there white, purple, and all sorts of colored flowers besides red?” Yang Hu could only shake his head at Yuwen Chengdu’s question; he had absolutely no idea how to answer him. “Yuwen, honestly, I don’t know what Xuan means either. He often says strange things, but sometimes, if you think about them, they sound logical and irrefutable. Just spend enough time around him, and you’ll get used to the peculiar way his mind works.”

Zhang Xuan and the other three exchanged a glance, stood up from the small hillside where they’d been lying, and started towards the site of the fight. As they walked, Zhang Xuan tried to act like he was just passing by—hovering close, yet hesitant to approach, stopping occasionally to watch. He wasn’t exaggerating; his performance was rather convincing, displaying restraint and depth. He felt he could easily compete for the “Little Gold Man” at the Oscars and become Best Actor. After all, everyone who watched TV as a child dreamed of acting, and Zhang Xuan was no exception. He’d even gone to Hengdian, “China’s Hollywood,” hoping to land an extra role, though, unfamiliar with the place, he never so much as encountered a film crew.

Yet Yang Hu, Yuwen Chengdu, and Zhao Yun, seeing their companion’s “Oscar-worthy” antics, felt so embarrassed they wished they could pretend not to know him. Walking alongside this person was a source of shame.

Once the fight ended, the “miserable victors” eyed Zhang Xuan and his friends warily, gripping their weapons tightly. The leader made a hand signal to the others. But on closer look, they were only children—Yang Hu looked a bit older, but only slightly. The four’s clothes were dirty and worn, and recalling their recent behavior, the leader let out a long breath and waved his hand again; the others relaxed, convinced these four posed no threat.

Zhang Xuan gave Zhao Yun a meaningful look; Zhao Yun nodded in understanding, then timidly walked up to the group. Before Zhang Xuan could deliver the lines he’d rehearsed for so long, the one being protected exclaimed, “Are you Zhao Yun?”

Zhao Yun and the others were momentarily stunned; this was not how they’d imagined the scene would unfold. Zhao Yun scrutinized the person surrounded, confirmed his identity, and called out in delight, “Cousin, it’s me, Zhao Yun! But what are you doing here? Weren’t you with Uncle? Did you get separated?”

Watching the scene, Zhang Xuan felt a pang of disappointment at missing his chance to play the “dark horse.”

The protected youth stepped out of the circle. The others wanted to stop him, but he shook his head and said, “He’s my cousin, Zhao Yun. I won’t mistake him. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt me.” The group stepped back, though their eyes stayed vigilant.

Zhao Yun, seeing his cousin approach, hurried to him. He was relieved to see his cousin safe and sound; had anything happened, Zhao Yun would have regretted forever his hesitation on the distant hillside. “Cousin, you’re not hurt, are you? And, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize it was you sooner. I thought it might be, but wasn’t sure, so I just watched from that little mound over there.” He pointed to the spot where he’d lain, and as he spoke, his eyes suddenly grew wet. “If I’d recognized you right away, I certainly would have…”

“If you’d recognized me, you surely would have rushed over without thinking, right? Honestly, not rushing was the right choice. Do you think you’re some hero? A martial arts master? No offense, but with those skinny arms and legs, what could you have done? If you had run in and something happened, I’d regret it for life. Don’t worry—see for yourself, I’m perfectly fine.” Zhao Yun’s cousin reached out to gently ruffle his hair with affectionate warmth.

Zhao Yun wiped his tears. “Cousin, why are you alone? I thought you left with Uncle. Why isn’t he with you? And why are these people following you?”

“Don’t ask so many questions at once! Let me answer them one by one. My father—he’s busy, always has things to do, rarely has time for me. After spending some time with him, I realized that wasn’t the life I wanted. So I decided to go study at Yingchuan Academy. My father agreed and arranged a group to escort me—these people here, they’re quite skilled. But somehow, maybe because we showed a bit of wealth, or for some other reason, this group started following us. Luckily, my escorts are capable; thanks to them, I haven’t suffered any losses. But Zhao Yun, aren’t you supposed to be at home? What are you doing here?”

“Cousin, it’s a long story—I’ll tell you later. Oh, let me introduce the ones with me first!” Zhao Yun pulled his cousin over to Zhang Xuan and the others, giving a quick introduction, though it seemed he hadn’t known them long himself.

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Zhao Ding, and this is my cousin Zhao Yun. Thank you for looking after him. If he’s been lacking in any way, I hope you’ll forgive him.” As Zhao Ding spoke, he bowed politely to Zhang Xuan and the others.

Yang Hu and Yuwen Chengdu hurried to return the gesture; Zhang Xuan stood there dumbfounded, thinking: Zhao Yun’s cousin, named Zhao Ding? Was there ever such a person? As a devoted fan of Zhao Yun, why did he have no impression whatsoever of Zhao Yun’s cousin? It didn’t make sense.

Zhao Ding noticed Zhang Xuan lost in thought. Yuwen Chengdu gave a subtle cough, and Zhang Xuan snapped out of it. “Sorry, sorry, just got distracted. So you’re Yun’s cousin? A pleasure to meet you.” As he spoke, he instinctively reached to shake Zhao Ding’s hand, but his hand hung in the air for a long moment without response. Suddenly realizing there was no such handshake etiquette in this setting, he hurriedly patted his own hand, trying to ease the awkwardness.