Chapter Eleven: Time Flows Swiftly, Home Is Hard to Leave

“Yaya, don’t cry. What your granny worried about most in this life was you, and she surely wouldn’t want to see you in tears,” Fang Zheng gently comforted the little girl. Both of them were clad in mourning robes, standing in a level field where a newly built grave stood before them. The early spring wind was still as cold as a knife, making the frail little girl seem even more delicate. At this moment, Fang Zheng did not know how else to console her. Granny Zhao had labored all her life, her body worn out by years of toil, and three days ago, she finally reached the end of her journey. No matter what Fang Zheng tried—including giving her a “Vitality Pill” he’d acquired from a small mountain valley, after having it identified by Old Shen—her life could not be prolonged much further. The phrase “oil running dry, lamp flickering out” was the truest reflection of Granny Zhao’s passing.

This was now Fang Zheng’s third year in this place. He had arrived in late autumn, and it was now early spring of his third year—he had stayed here for about sixteen months.

“Brother, let’s go. I understand. Granny worked hard all her life; she can finally rest now. She told me many times that meeting you was her and my greatest blessing, and that her last days were the happiest and most peaceful of her life. So I’m not truly sad—just needed a good cry,” said the little girl.

Fang Zheng looked at the girl, her eyes swollen from weeping, and gently reached out to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. He took her hand, and together they knelt and bowed three times in respect before the grave. Then, hand in hand, they left, walking toward an uncertain future...

“Elder Shen, I’ve come to bid you farewell. Thank you for taking care of me this past year. Your kindness is something I can only hope to repay in the future.”

“Ah, youth truly is a blessing,” Old Shen sighed.

“You’re a good lad. Granny Zhao was able to pass peacefully; there are no regrets left. You’ve been here a while now, and I’ve seen all that you’ve done. I feel at ease entrusting Yaya to you. But let me give you a word of advice: in the future, never act rashly. Even if not for yourself, you must think of Yaya. You are now her only support in this world.” Fang Zheng listened quietly, nodding deeply in understanding.

“Take this, it should be of help to you.” Old Shen handed him something like a handkerchief. Fang Zheng took it curiously and found it was made from the hide of some animal—warm to the touch. He looked to Old Shen for an explanation.

“It’s a map, and quite a detailed one at that. It is one of the few valuable things I possess. I’ve never been to Mount Azurecloud myself, but it’s marked on this map. If it’s accurate, the place is over thirty thousand li from here. Given your pace with Yaya, it will take a long journey, with countless perils along the way. Be prepared and take good care of her!”

“I understand, Elder. As long as I have a bite to eat, Yaya will not go hungry. No need for further words—thank you. I’ll accept the map. Take care, Elder. Until we meet again!” Fang Zheng put away the map, bowed, and prepared to leave. Yaya also called out, “Take care, Grandpa Shen!” The pair, one tall and one small, walked hand in hand out of the village, soon vanishing into the biting wind...

About two hundred li east of Shangjia Town, on the plains near the border of the Kingdom of Liang, a young man and a little girl sat resting by a crystal-clear river. It was Fang Zheng and Yaya. The little girl had taken off her shoes and was sitting on a rock at the riverbank, dangling her delicate, jade-like feet in the water. Watching her, Fang Zheng recalled a line of poetry: “A slender new moon glimmers on the shallow waves; three-inch golden lotuses dazzle the eye.”

“Yaya, the water’s cold—don’t catch a chill,” Fang Zheng reminded her with a smile.

“It’s fine, Brother. The weather is warm now; it feels wonderful!” she replied, tilting her head, then went back to playing. Fang Zheng smiled indulgently and let her be. It was now March, with spring in full bloom, and his spirits were high. He sat on a rock by the river, leisurely sipping the rice wine he’d brought from Shenjia Village. Though he’d always preferred tea, it was inconvenient to make on the road, while this village rice wine was sweet and mellow—he’d grown fond of it after one taste and brought plenty along.

Besides the two of them, a thin horse grazed listlessly on the tender shoots by the riverside—the same horse Fang Zheng had brought from Bin County. After more than a year of Granny Shen’s care, its coat now gleamed, though it was still lacking in flesh. Fang Zheng guessed it might be the breed.

Time changes many things. Fang Zheng, for example, now looked every bit a native—dressed in a scholar’s azure robe, his long hair tied in a topknot at the back of his head. His left leg stretched out casually, right foot resting on the rock, right hand lifting a wine jug high, and a wooden sword laying across his outstretched thigh. He sat with the air of a carefree wanderer, almost like a hero from a tale.

After finishing the jug, Fang Zheng set it aside and stood up. “Yaya, are you hungry?”

“A little bit, maybe~”

“How much is ‘a little,’ really?” he laughed.

“Hehe, Brother, I want fish! I saw big ones in the river just now.”

“All right, watch me catch one for you.” With that, Fang Zheng fetched an arrow from the luggage, returned to the riverbank, and stilled his breath, focusing intently. In a flash, the arrow shot into the water like lightning, and soon a splash of red appeared—a plump fish floated to the surface. Fang Zheng waded in, picked it up, and, pulling out the arrow, caught another in the same way. Once he stopped, Yaya, who had been holding her breath in excitement, clapped her hands and cheered.

“Come help your brother! Today we’ll have grilled fish and fish soup. You gather firewood while I set up the stove.” Yaya answered with a cheerful “Okay!” and ran off to collect sticks. The area was open, so Fang Zheng wasn’t worried for her safety. He set down the fish, fetched a small iron pot and some stones to build a simple stove. Soon, Yaya returned, arms full of dry branches, and Fang Zheng took them to start the fire, using dry grass and a tinder box. Yaya, clever as ever, found a large leaf to fan the flames, earning her a word of praise and a look of glee.

Fang Zheng then cleaned the fish by the river, and when the water in the pot boiled, he added the fish, along with salt and other seasonings bought in Bin County. There were green onions available, but he’d never seen ginger; fortunately, the rice wine sufficed to mask any fishy taste. As the soup boiled, he skimmed the froth, added a few drops of wine, and left the salt for the end. With the soup needing only time, Fang Zheng started a second fire, skewered the remaining fish with sticks, and grilled them over the flames, sprinkling on spices as they cooked. Soon, a rich aroma wafted over the riverbank. Yaya, unable to wait, was already drooling; Fang Zheng tore off a few pieces to sate her hunger, and by the time the fish was fully cooked, her mouth was shiny with oil and she looked like a little kitten, making Fang Zheng laugh heartily.

As they were feasting by the river, a caravan appeared on the official road not far away. Fang Zheng had noticed it early on. As it drew closer, he counted six carriages and over twenty guards, each armed with blades. He made no move, continuing to chat and eat with Yaya, but the caravan soon stopped nearby. After a moment, an elderly man, about fifty and dressed with care, approached them.

“Greetings, friend. Forgive my intrusion. May I ask if you are heading to Shangjia Town? The road ahead is troubled, and my young mistress invites you to travel with us for mutual safety.” Fang Zheng was surprised by this kindness—clearly the young lady was a good soul. Though he looked different from when he first arrived, she would not recognize him. Her invitation could only come from goodwill. He thought to refuse, as traveling with the caravan would be slower than riding alone, but noticed Yaya gazing longingly at the carriages.

“Thank you and your mistress for your kindness. We are indeed bound for Shangjia. I have but one request: my sister has spent many days on horseback and is weary. Might she ride in your carriage? I am willing to pay for the favor.” The old man looked troubled, hesitating for a moment before replying, “I cannot decide such matters. I must seek my mistress’s approval. Please wait a moment.”

“Thank you for your patience. Forgive my presumption,” Fang Zheng said politely.

“Think nothing of it. We are all travelers; there’s no need for such formality. My mistress is generous and surely won’t refuse. Besides, you clearly care for your sister, a sign of deep feeling. I’ll go and ask her now.” Fang Zheng bowed in thanks and watched the old man leave.

“Brother, it’s all right. I can keep riding with you—I’m not tired,” Yaya said softly.

“Don’t worry, Yaya. You’re such a clever, lovely girl; I’m sure the young lady will like you. You’re still young—riding is too hard on you. Let your brother handle everything.” Yaya clung to his arm in contented silence, her face glowing with happiness.

“Thank you for waiting. My mistress has agreed to let your sister ride with her, and sends me to invite you. As for payment, please don’t mention it,” the old man soon returned to say.

“We are most grateful to your mistress. We’ll pack up and be ready to go shortly,” Fang Zheng replied, quickly gathering their belongings and putting out the fire before leading the horse over.

“Yaya, go ride in the carriage first; I’ll follow on horseback. Don’t be mischievous.” Though she was reluctant, Yaya obediently followed the old man toward the carriage, knowing her brother had made this awkward request solely for her comfort on the road.