Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Story (Please Keep Reading, Don't Just Collect Books)
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“Uncle Seven, happy New Year.”
Jiang Xiaodao answered listlessly. He neither joked nor snapped back. He was tired and did not feel like talking.
Gong Baonan was stunned for a moment. The smile gradually faded from his lips, and he asked instead, “Xiaodao, have you ever ridden a horse?”
Jiang Xiaodao shook his head.
“Come on! Uncle Seven will give you a taste of it!”
Gong Baonan dismounted, helped Jiang Xiaodao into the saddle, then turned to the simple-looking old farmer. He took a pouch of silver from inside his coat and handed it over.
“Old man, you and Madam Zhao should lie low somewhere for a while. Better safe than sorry, in case the Russians track you down.”
The old man accepted the silver with a beaming smile. “When will you be back?”
“Big Brother didn’t say, so I don’t know. We may not come back this year.”
Gong Baonan then removed a jade thumb ring from his thumb. “This, please deliver to Lord Ninth Zhang. Tell him that Old Sea Owl remembers his kindness. If he ever needs help, he only has to ask.”
“Will do!”
The old man rubbed his cracked palms before taking the ring. “Once this storm blows over, come by and visit if you’re free!”
“Of course!”
Gong Baonan swung into the saddle and took hold of the reins. “Old man, go on back. I’m off.”
The horses’ hooves began to clatter. The old man hurried two steps forward. “Take care on the road! And tell Chenghai to keep an eye on his wallet next time he goes into town!”
“Got it! Go on back! Hyah!”
The old man waved as he watched the two riders depart. He kept waving until they had dwindled to a single speck, then lowered his hand and turned into the gate passage.
* * *
The snow and ice had yet to melt. On horseback, the wind felt even harsher, slicing across their faces like blades. The skin beneath their noses was always damp; it was impossible to tell whether it was mucus or water condensed from their breath.
It was Jiang Xiaodao’s first time riding a horse, and the jolting left him utterly disoriented. In the past, he would have been cursing and stamping his feet by now, but today he was unusually quiet.
The road was still long, and sitting in silence like this felt awkward. Gong Baonan had no choice but to break the silence first.
“Xiaodao, are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! I thought you’d gone mute!” Gong Baonan laughed and pulled a piece of flatbread from a pouch tied to the saddle. “We’ve got a long way to go. Eat something to tide you over.”
“What is this?” Jiang Xiaodao tapped the rock-hard flatbread. “A shovel blade? Save it for digging a grave!”
“Then don’t eat it! I shouldn’t have bothered asking!”
Gong Baonan snatched the flatbread away and took two spiteful bites. His brows knitted, and he silently put it back.
Jiang Xiaodao still said nothing.
Gong Baonan clicked his tongue. “Xiaodao, aren’t you going to ask where I’m taking you?”
“Anywhere.”
“Maybe I’m going to sell you.”
“Go ahead. I’m not worth much anyway.”
“Tsk! That’s enough. Don’t keep this up forever!” Gong Baonan was beginning to lose patience. “Look at that face of yours. Even the Changbai Mountains aren’t as long as you are! You look like a woman. What are you putting on this act for?”
“You’re the damn woman!” Jiang Xiaodao had never been one to hold back when provoked. He immediately craned his neck and cursed, “Your whole family’s been buggers for generations!”
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Gong Baonan laughed instead of getting angry. “That’s more like it! There’s the real Xiaodao!”
Once that foul, defiant spirit surged up in him, Jiang Xiaodao seemed to recover his breath, emerging from his daze.
“Uncle Seven, does my father really think of me as his son?”
“He probably does. He clearly dotes on you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent me all this way to fetch you.”
“Then do you really think of me as your nephew?”
Gong Baonan suddenly grew wary. “What are you after? I don’t have any money!”
“What kind of person are you?” Jiang Xiaodao rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking to borrow money. I just want to ask you something.”
“You should’ve said so sooner! You frightened me into a sweat. Ask whatever you like. I’ll tell you the truth as best I can.”
“Have you ever killed a Russian?”
“Hm?” Gong Baonan looked surprised, and his expression immediately turned serious. “Why are you suddenly asking that?”
Jiang Xiaodao was puzzled by his reaction. “You served in the Loyal and Righteous Army. Isn’t it normal for me to ask whether you’ve killed any Russians?”
Gong Baonan’s expression changed abruptly. “Who told you I served in the Loyal and Righteous Army?”
“Old Cui told me! Uncle Seven, stop trying to fool me. I’m not going to report you.”
Yet Gong Baonan seemed to take offense.
“Rumors of the martial world can’t be trusted! Don’t listen to that old man’s nonsense. The next time I see him, I’ll tan his hide!”
“You may not get the chance,” Jiang Xiaodao said heavily. “The Russians captured him. They said they were taking him to some place called Siberia to dig for gold.”
“How did he get mixed up with the Russians?”
“Ah, it was all because of me.” Jiang Xiaodao did not want to dwell on the matter any longer. Somewhat disappointed, he continued, “So you’ve never killed a Russian?”
Unexpectedly, Gong Baonan’s answer was decisive.
“I have. Two of them!”
Jiang Xiaodao’s eyes lit up. He could not help turning around. “Really? If you never served in the Loyal and Righteous Army, how did you kill Russians?”
Gong Baonan scoffed. “Who says only the Loyal and Righteous Army killed Russians? Your Uncle Seven was a proper soldier once.”
Jiang Xiaodao glanced at his carefree uncle and curled his lips. “You don’t look like one.”
“How many people have you met? Two years ago, I served in Heilongjiang. You know General Shoushan?”
Jiang Xiaodao shook his head. “I know First Mountain.”
Gong Baonan ignored him and continued. “Two years ago, a Russian army hundreds of thousands strong marched south. Changshun, the General of Jilin, and Zeng Qi, the General of Shengjing, both avoided battle. Only General Shoushan contacted the commanders throughout the region and insisted that they prepare for war.”
“And then?”
“What else could happen? The imperial court pretended not to hear, and our fellow commanders sent no reinforcements. We fought alone and lost in less than a month. General Shoushan refused to surrender and killed himself for his country.”
“A hero!”
“Of course he was a hero!”
“Then what were you doing?”
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Gong Baonan raised his head and gazed at the dusky yellow horizon. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Later, our unit was scattered. No one knew anyone else, and we ran about blindly like headless flies. So I ran too. We couldn’t win—really, we couldn’t.”
Jiang Xiaodao nodded in silence. From the time he had become old enough to remember, he had never once heard of the imperial court winning a battle.
Countless defeats had gradually given rise to an absurd consensus: foreigners could not be beaten.
Just as Jiang Xiaodao was losing himself in a dream of the battlefield, Gong Baonan suddenly let out a teasing laugh.
“Well, Xiaodao? Was that a good story?”
Jiang Xiaodao stared blankly for a moment, then cursed furiously. “You bastard, you lied to me!”
Gong Baonan raised his whip and gave the horse a tap on the rump. “Not all of it was a lie. Half true, half false. Figure out the rest yourself.”
The two horses pressed onward without stopping, traveling from day into night toward the mountainous region east of the city.
The sun sank behind the western hills, and the daylight dimmed.
Gong Baonan dismounted and led the horse by the reins, showing no sign of stopping.
“Uncle Seven, how much farther?” Jiang Xiaodao rubbed his eyes. “We’re already in the mountains. We won’t run into wolves, will we?”
“Are you scared?”
“I’m a little sleepy.”
The snow lay deeper in the mountains, crunching beneath Gong Baonan’s boots.
“If you’re not afraid of falling off, lie down and sleep for a while. We still have some distance to go.”
Jiang Xiaodao could hold out no longer. He sprawled over the horse’s back, head drooping as sleep overcame him.
“Uncle Seven?”
“Hmm?”
“I killed someone today.”
“Hmm. I killed a tiger yesterday.”
“I really killed someone,” Jiang Xiaodao murmured. “I killed He Lishan, the chief steward of the Longwind Escort Agency. If I’m lying, may I be damned.”
Gong Baonan paused almost imperceptibly, though his footsteps remained steady.
After thinking for a long while, he asked a completely unrelated question. “Xiaodao, how old are you this year?”
“…Fourteen, once the New Year is over.”
“That’s not so young. Do you know how old I was when I first killed someone?”
There was no answer for a long time.
Gong Baonan turned his head. Jiang Xiaodao had already fallen into a hazy sleep.
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