Lonely Swordsman

Chapter Three: The Zhou Family

  As dawn broke,

  the mice vanished. The

  roosters outside the window crowed incessantly,

  the loudest being the large, spiky rooster in their own yard.

  Finally, a sound came from the outer room, but it was quiet and stealthy.

  Zhou Ang, who hadn't dared to sleep all night, was jolted awake by the noise and instinctively listened intently.

  First, the door opened, then there were faint sounds from inside and outside the house. After a while, he heard his younger sister's voice, "Mother, do you think brother will feel better today?"

  Then came his mother's voice, as soft and gentle as he remembered, filled with an indescribable tenderness. She said, "He will, he definitely will."

  Then she added, "You should sleep a little longer. It's still early. I'll cook dinner and call you when it's ready." But

  his sister said, "I don't like sleeping in. I'll go help Mother feed the chickens."

  Hearing her voice, almost instinctively, Zhou Ang pictured her with her hair in two little buns. From a modern perspective, the little girl was incredibly sensible and adorable. It was just a pity her family was too poor, she didn't eat well, and was rather thin.

  The mother and daughter talked as they left one after the other.

  For some reason, listening to their conversation, Zhou Ang suddenly thought of his parents from his previous life.

  Especially thinking about how heartbroken they must have been after receiving news of his death. His girlfriend of seven years was such a wonderful girl; they loved each other so much, and they had planned to each take a month off next year to travel, get married, and have a child…

  Now, it was all gone.

  After a while of this, he sighed and got out of bed.

  Miraculously, only a few hours had passed since he arrived in this world, and he felt his strength had returned considerably, and his spirits were quite robust.

  If he hadn't experienced it firsthand, he would have found it hard to believe that just a few hours ago, he was merely a cold, stiff corpse.

  He got out of bed, put on his shoes, and was about to leave when he subconsciously turned his head to look at the basket hanging from the beam with a straw rope, reaching just to his shoulder.

  There lay the most precious possessions of their small family of three:

  twenty or thirty copper coins, seven or eight eggs, a small bowl of lard, and some salt wrapped in oiled paper.

  The copper coins were their working capital, painstakingly saved to buy writing materials for Zhou Ang. The eggs came from their few hens; without good feed, the six hens laid an average of only two eggs a day. Normally, they would save them up, twenty or thirty at a time, to sell and exchange for salt.

  But recently, things had changed. He had been "sick" for half a month, so he hadn't been able to sell any eggs lately; they had all gone into his own stomach.

  The lard was a gift from Lu Chunsheng, a neighbor in the alley. The father and son both worked at Baoguo Temple, slaughtering pigs. They earned a good income together, making them one of the more well-off families in the alley. They also regularly managed to sneak back some meat. The two families had a past connection; when his "father" was still alive, he had been very kind to Lu's family. The Lu father and son weren't ungrateful and had always looked after them.

  As for the salt… in Zhou Ang's memory, it always came in a small paper packet, usually containing only an ounce or two. This salt was yellowish, clearly containing many impurities. It tasted bitter and astringent when used in cooking.

  But even this kind of salt was quite expensive, and he couldn't bear to use too much.

  Zhou Ang stared intently at the basket for a while, then turned, opened the door, and stepped out of the main room into the courtyard.

  "Mother."

  The woman, who was washing beans, looked up, her kind face instantly breaking into a smile. She quickly put down what she was doing, came over, and asked, "Why are you up? Did I wake you up while talking to Zihe?" She paused,

  then added, "You should sleep a little longer... Are you feeling any better today?"

  As they were talking, the little girl Zhou Zihe, who was squatting on the ground mixing feed for the chickens, also turned around and called out sweetly, "Brother."

  Zhou Ang smiled at her and replied, "I feel much better. I'm more energetic and have more strength."

Hearing this, the woman looked up and carefully examined his complexion. Her face lit up with joy. "Indeed, your complexion is much better. You must be getting much better."

  She then clasped her hands together, making a gesture of worship, and murmured joyfully, "It seems that the incense from the other day was effective. The Bodhisattva never fails to help people. Amitabha!"

  Zhou Ang smiled and looked around at the small courtyard in front of him.

  It was called a small courtyard, but it was actually quite nice, not small at all. Especially for someone accustomed to living in a tiny apartment in a modern metropolis for two thousand yuan a month, the yard alone, appearing to be a solid two or three hundred square meters, was quite large. The yard not only had vegetables and chickens, but also a row of Sichuan pepper trees in one corner and a persimmon tree four or five meters tall near the entrance.

  The main house consisted of three mud rooms with a thatched roof, which had to be re-paved every summer, yet it still leaked. There was a side room used as a kitchen, and a makeshift outhouse.

  This was the family.

  Zhou Ang was now the son and older brother of this family.

  But at least for now, he felt he was the most useless member of the family.

  In recent years, since his father's death, life had become incredibly difficult, and his mother had started taking on jobs washing clothes and mending. Besides, she was skilled at embroidery in her youth, always seizing every spare moment to do it, selling the embroidery to buy firewood, rice, oil, and salt for the family.

  Every day, she was busy, almost never having a moment to rest.

  Her younger sister, Zhou Zihe, though only twelve years old, had been helping with the fire since she was very young, and by a little older, she could cook simple porridge and rice. At eight or nine, she was already helping her mother wash and hang clothes, and she was extremely skilled at feeding chickens, drying firewood, and cutting grass.

  Children of the poor, little by little, became the pillars of the family at a young age.

  Zhou Ang remembered that she loved collecting eggs. Every time she went to the henhouse and found eggs, she was always especially happy, laughing and calling out,

  "Mom, Mom, there are two today! There are fourteen in the house now!"

  "Mom, Mom, there are three today! Three!"

  "Brother, are you going to collect eggs? I guess there might be three today..."

  Only he, besides studying, knew almost nothing else.

  For example, right now, early in the morning, just before sunrise, the courtyard was already bright. The two women were both busy with their own tasks, while he stood alone in the courtyard, feeling somewhat lost. Because the original him had indeed rarely participated in these things.

  His responsibility was to study, study, and study some more. It would be great if he could become a successful candidate in the imperial examinations, but even if he didn't catch the eye of the prefect, he could still find a job involving literature and calligraphy.

  If he could follow in his deceased father's footsteps, rising from a civil official to a scribe, it would bring glory to his family.

  This was the path his mother insisted he follow.

  Of course, this Zhou Ang was not the same Zhou Ang as before.

  He felt that now that he was the Zhou Ang he was, it was necessary to make some changes to his life plan. The path was correct, but rote learning was not a good thing.

  ...

  Seeing that her son looked well, his mother, Zhou Cai, was very happy. She told Zhou Ang to go back to bed and rest, and then busied herself preparing breakfast for the family.

  Just then, Zhou Zihe finished mixing the chicken feed and called over all seven chickens to eat with a "cluck cluck cluck" sound. Then she skipped over, looked up at Zhou Ang, and after a moment said, "Brother, your eyes are brighter than yesterday, and your complexion is much better!"

  Knowing that she had worried so much along with her mother these past few days while she was "sick," Zhou Ang smiled and ruffled her hair, curiously touching her twin buns. He said with a smile, "Brother is fine now. In a few more days, when you're better, I'll take you to Baoguo Temple."

  The little girl's eyes lit up, and she replied crisply, "Okay! It's a promise, no going back!"

  Zhou Ang nodded, "It's a promise, a man's word is his bond, I won't change it!"

  "Pinky promise!"

  So Zhou Ang smiled and held out his hand to pinky promise with her.

  Then she happily ran off.

In the short time the family had exchanged a few words, the golden sunlight of the rising sun had already fallen on their clothes.

  Zhou Ang took a deep breath, sensing his physical condition. He glanced around and saw Zhou Zihe struggling to carry a large bundle out of the house.

  Without needing help, she opened the bundle in the courtyard. Inside were dirty clothes her mother had collected from several inns the previous afternoon, ready to be washed. Now, under the sunlight, she skillfully began sorting them, muttering to herself as she did so.

  Zhou Ang listened carefully; she seemed to be saying,

  "These few should be washed first, they're the thickest and dry slowly. This one is… for that bearded customer at Xiankeju. They'll clear out their goods today and leave tomorrow, so it needs to be washed early. It should be dry by tonight, just in time to deliver it to him, so as not to delay his business…"

  Zhou Ang was stunned.

  Looking at her still clearly childish face, he couldn't help but sigh.

  He remembered meeting his cousin not long before he transmigrated; her daughter should be around twelve or thirteen years old. What was she busy with every day?

  Thinking of her chubby little face, and then looking at Zhou Zihe in front of her, long-term malnutrition made her look quite thin, and her complexion was somewhat yellow.

  The little girl quickly finished sorting, putting the clothes that needed washing in the first batch into a large basin, and then wrapping up the rest and carrying them back into the house. Then she ran to the kitchen to help her mother tend the fire.

  Zhou Ang stood there blankly for a moment, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

  His body was still very weak.

  He decided to do some exercise to help himself recover completely as soon as possible.

  Only when he was healthy would he have the strength to find the middle-aged man who could identify the demonic aura, and only then could he find a way to earn money so that his mother and Zihe wouldn't have to work so hard every day.

  Thinking this, he subconsciously moved his hands and feet, and then realized something was wrong.

  Treadmills were out of the question, push-ups could be done in bed later, but running was out of the question. If you dared to go out and run on the street, you would be considered a thief, and kind people would arrest you, and the soldiers from each neighborhood would follow you. As for boxing, he didn't know how.

  He'd even completely forgotten his morning calisthenics…

  wait, no, he still remembered some basic exercises.

  He remembered the "left-holding ball, right-holding ball" Tai Chi he'd learned in college.

  He'd only learned it for a few credits in PE class, but miraculously, he still remembered some basic movements, though not all of them.

  Its slow movements and small space made it perfect for his current situation.

  Thinking it, he took a deep breath, reviewed the basic movements, and stood in the yard, assuming his stance, slowly beginning to practice his "college PE class Tai Chi."

  The first round was incredibly awkward and stiff, but surprisingly, it felt quite comfortable. As the movements flowed, he even remembered many forgotten ones.

  The second round became increasingly proficient.

  However, when he started the third round, he suddenly felt something was wrong.

  A sudden gust of cool wind, seemingly from nowhere, whistled through his clothes,

  making him shiver instantly.