07. Malice

“Brother, care to play a few rounds?”

A young man in white silk, his appearance far from handsome and even somewhat ugly, slung an arm over his shoulder.

Cheng Yan deftly slipped away without a trace and folded his hands in greeting. “Brother, we are here to study and train at the academy.”

Zhou Changcai, holding a set of dominoes in his left hand and a pair of dice in his right, burst out laughing. “My father says I’ve been hopeless since childhood, and the private tutor said I’d surely grow up to be a scoundrel.”

“Study?”

“Study, my foot!”

Zhou the Spendthrift’s words instantly ignited the mood; laughter erupted, and everyone began boasting of their own wild exploits, each tale outdoing the last.

Among them, the strangest was the Wu family’s son, who had stolen his grandfather’s concubine and was sent up the mountain to temper his lustful nature.

“Come now, brother, the long night stretches before us—what fun is there without a round of dominoes?”

“It’s a shame the girls from the Drunken Pavilion aren’t allowed here.”

Thus, Cheng Yan was dragged to the gambling table. He showed not the slightest sign of nervousness and joined in readily.

He didn’t know how to play dominoes, so he stuck to the dice.

As he shook the dice cup, a long black feline paw landed on his wrist. The old cat, who had silently leapt onto the table, gave the faintest shake of its head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle, I know my limits,” Cheng Yan nodded with a smile.

Lu Xun withdrew his paw.

To ensure fairness, each person shook the dice a few times—though perhaps it was only for amusement. Bets were placed as the dice cups were lifted. Cheng Yan put down his wager—a few copper coins, which looked rather shabby compared to the strings of cash others used.

He seemed not to notice, simply watching as the dice cup was lifted.

“Two, three, three—small!”

With a sweep, his copper coins became half a string of cash.

This delighted Huibao, who picked up each coin and bit it with his buck teeth.

What a little miser!

After a dozen rounds, with wins and losses but more wins than not, Cheng Yan grew bored, swept up his coins, and left the table.

No one stopped him now.

Ascending to the second floor, he glanced curiously at the neighboring room.

Everyone else had gone down to join the games—even he, who prided himself on following the family rules, had wandered about—but the room next door remained tightly closed, the faint sound of reading drifting out.

“How strange.”

Returning to his own room, Cheng Yan sighed with a trace of sentiment, then explained the cause.

His family had been poor in those days; at the private school, the wealthy children always brought novel toys or treats, but he could not even offer a piece of candy.

Meilan was crisscrossed with waterways, and fortunately Huibao would burrow into the drains to find coins.

Perched with both paws, Lu Xun hadn’t expected Huibao to be such a treasure-hunter.

Having won a great victory, Huibao stood upright on two legs.

“Out in the world, making friends, you have to play a little and enjoy yourself.” Cheng Yan stroked Huibao’s head, and as he idly groomed the big rat, Huibao raised his paws in pure delight.

The ruckus in the main hall lasted a long while, until the moon hung atop the trees and these idle young men, who spent every waking moment pondering how to pass the time, finally ran out of energy. One by one, they slumped like deflated balls, lolling and leaning, to be carried back to their rooms by attendants and servant boys.

The night passed in silence.

At dawn, Cheng Yan, bare-chested, was practicing earnestly in the courtyard.

Each sword stroke was plain and solid, his stance steady and precise, showing not a hint of laziness.

On the second floor, a burly middle-aged man had been watching Cheng Yan for some time. Only when an elderly voice sounded behind him did he return to himself, turned, and respectfully folded his hands.

The old man with the purple beard was none other than Zhu Xianzhen, who had sat to the side of the magistrate’s hall the day before. He asked with a smile, “What do you think?”

Sun Shen nodded affirmatively. “He’s a fine seedling, but what interests me more isn’t him.”

“Oh? Then who?” Zhu Xianzhen stroked his beard in curiosity.

“That one,” Sun Shen said, casting his gaze to the eaves, where an old black cat was sprawled. The cat, sensing the attention, turned its golden eyes toward him.

“That one?”

“He’s on the verge of becoming a spirit,” Sun Shen said candidly, not waiting for further questions. “I’ve seen many spirit creatures, but he seems to have mastered the Tiger Fist, his form fitting the movements, practicing even as he sits, walks, or lies down. Given time, he may achieve something remarkable.”

The old man with the purple beard seemed unsurprised. “Cats and tigers are family, after all. Born of the essence of heaven and earth, it’s not so strange.”

The old cat rolled over and leapt from the roof to the second-floor railing.

Cheng Yan, mopping his sweat with a cloth, climbed the stairs and, seeing the purple-bearded elder, offered a polite bow—nothing more.

The old man’s bearing was clearly distinguished.

No need to force an association.

Though he yearned for more, Cheng Yan knew that the ground beneath his feet was what mattered most. Reading, training, building a solid foundation—these were the things he should focus on at his age.

Sun Shen, arms folded, nodded. “Your sword practice is good, but you lack something inside.”

Cheng Yan paused. “What am I missing?”

“Ferocity!”

“The ‘Manual of Combat’ says: ‘Let your head and horns stand out proudly, let your hatred linger.’ Hatred, malice, killing intent—all are forms of ferocity. You’re too proper; when the day comes to wield true violence, you may not be able to control it.”

“I’ll teach you a method: visualize a great demon and observe how it uses its power.”

Cheng Yan looked at him in astonishment, then bowed deeply. “Thank you, elder. But where can I find illustrations of great demons?”

Sun Shen shook his head. “Pictures are no substitute for seeing the real thing. It depends on fate and opportunity.”

“Great…”

The county assistant entered the hall, about to speak, but fell silent at a glare from the purple-bearded elder. He stepped forward respectfully. “The carriages are ready.”

Seeing Sun Shen’s guidance was finished, Zhu Xianzhen nodded. “Let us go.”

“A great demon…”

Cheng Yan shook his head helplessly. He’d grown up in Meilan, and all these years had heard of only one great demon—told to him by his grandfather. A true, cultivated great demon was not so easy to find.

Disheartened, Cheng Yan turned to the black cat on the railing and sighed, “Uncle Cat, if only you were a great demon.”

The old cat jumped down from the railing and glanced back at Cheng Yan, who stood at the doorway.

A court officer began banging a battered gong.

“Academy students, gather your things and board the carriages!”

…

The county hall had prepared two horse-drawn carriages, one for the academy instructors.

The rest were donkey carts and ox carts—at least they weren’t made to walk.

Cheng Yan, carrying a book basket, boarded a donkey cart.

He was among the first aboard. Aside from the elderly driver, the next arrivals were Zhou Changcai, who had invited him to play dice the day before, and Wu Agu i, the one who’d stolen his grandfather’s concubine.

Both had servant boys in tow, hauling large bundles and claiming the best seats.

Another soon-to-be classmate arrived early as well. Though he wore a scholar’s robe, it looked patched together; the old robe had been washed nearly white, but he carried only a clean, simple bundle.

After boarding, he greeted everyone with a cupped fist, then sat and pulled a fluffy scroll from his bag to read.

“How odd,” Cheng Yan remarked in surprise, and Zhou Changcai and Wu Agu i were even more astonished.

They’d seen poor students before—the academy held exams every three years, and those who passed had their fees waived, essentially being sponsored to study.

But this time, it wasn’t an exam, but a competition of donations.

The academy was opening a special session in Meilan, and only those who paid could get in.

“Brother Wu, how much did your family spend?”

“Not much, not much, just a hundred taels.”

“And you, brother?”

Wu Agu i interjected, “This is Captain Cheng’s precious grandson.”

“So that’s your background,” Zhou Changcai immediately changed his tone.

Cheng Yan folded his hands. “I paid my way as well.”

The two grew even more curious, their eyes turning to the man in the ragged robe.

“I am Lu He,” he said.

“Your surname is Lu—are you related to the magistrate…?”

Lu He shook his head. “No relation at all.”

“Then…”

Lu He hesitated, then explained, “My father and I fish on the Xunyang River. By chance, we caught many old clams and sold the pearls to scrape together the tuition.”

He’d hoped to earn his way in through the exams, but they were still a year or two away, so his family decided not to wait and used the money to send him in now.

For a family of fishermen, this was a tremendous gamble. It took real courage on his father’s part.

“So that’s how it is.”

Zhou Changcai and Wu Agu i nodded in understanding.

The old cat Lu Xun watched the young man for a long moment. Cheng Yan glanced at the cat, wanting to speak, but held his tongue.