Fang Shuwen kept Old Fang and Hu Da company over a couple of cups of yellow wine.
He didn't drink much, only taking a few small sips. Most of the time, he was simply keeping the two men company.
Hu Da had been a little reserved at first, but after a few cups of wine, the floodgates opened.
They went from talking about Master Zhao's businesses in Xikou County to the newly opened foreign-goods factory.
Then they went from the recently ended Central Plains War to the Woguo concession that had just been marked out at Xikou East Wharf.
Old Fang sat beside them, not saying much. He only watched Fang Shuwen with a beaming smile, the wrinkles around his eyes piling up in layer after layer.
Before long, the two bottles of yellow wine were gone, and the mood had grown lively.
With bleary eyes, Hu Da burped and reached out to pat Fang Shuwen on the shoulder.
"Little Fang, don't worry about this assessment."
"If you really don't pass, tell your Uncle Hu. I'll talk to your big brother Little Hu and have him find you an accounts-keeping job at East District Wharf."
As soon as Hu Da said it, he froze.
Most of the drunkenness left him in an instant. His hand, which had been patting Fang Shuwen's shoulder, hung stiffly in the air; he didn't know whether to pull it back or leave it there.
The firelight from the kitchen cast over his face, turning his rugged features a dark red.
"Old Fang, I... I didn't mean it like that..."
"Little Fang's worked so hard lately. He's bound to pass the assessment."
Hu Da fumbled for a way to make amends, but his tongue seemed tied in knots.
He'd been drinking freely just moments ago, and one thing had led to another until he'd said something he shouldn't have.
The thing Old Fang couldn't stand hearing most was anyone saying Little Fang wasn't good enough.
Little Fang was the apple of Old Fang's eye, the one thing he lived for in this world.
You could tell him the sun wouldn't rise tomorrow, and he might not even get angry.
But say that Little Fang wasn't good at studying or had no future, and he'd see red.
"Uncle Hu, thank you. Your nephew would like to offer you a cup."
Fang Shuwen raised his cup toward Hu Da, holding its rim a little lower than Hu Da's.
"I've been relying on your care all this time. The chicken noodles at night, the rice porridge in the morning—I've remembered it all."
With that, he tipped back his head and drained his cup.
The yellow wine tasted faintly bitter as it slid down his throat, spreading a warm feeling through his stomach.
Hu Da was taken aback, then hurriedly drained his own cup too.
Wine dripped from his chin onto his apron. He wiped it away carelessly with his sleeve and grinned.
"You kid, why be so polite with your uncle? Your father's been at Zhao Estate all these years. We're family! Family doesn't stand on ceremony!"
Fang Shuwen set down his cup and picked up the wine pot, pouring another cup for Hu Da and Old Fang.
His hand was steady as he poured; not a drop spilled from the spout.
"Uncle Hu, did you say your big brother Little Hu works at East District Wharf?" he asked casually, steering the conversation away from what had just happened.
Once Uncle Hu's son, Little Hu, came up, the awkwardness finally dissipated completely.
Hu Da immediately launched into a spirited account. His son Little Hu worked for the Lu Family's shipping company at the wharf.
He'd worked diligently for the past few years and caught the attention of his superiors. Just a few days ago, he'd been promoted to a managerial post.
He was in charge of more than twenty men and earned fifteen silver dollars a month. That was a real source of pride.
The more Hu Da talked, the more excited he became, and he stopped keeping track of how much he drank, downing cup after cup.
As Fang Shuwen responded and drank along, he glanced at Old Fang.
Old Fang wasn't reacting the way he'd expected. His expression was as usual, as if he hadn't heard Hu Da's earlier words.
Only when Old Fang drank could Fang Shuwen sometimes glimpse something in those cloudy eyes—something hard to put into words.
It wasn't long before Hu Da passed out drunk.
He sprawled over the table, one arm propping up his chin and the other still clutching his empty cup.
He kept mumbling that Little Hu hadn't come to visit him in a long time, and that he was surely still angry with him...
His voice grew quieter and quieter until it became a heavy snore.
Old Fang set down his chopsticks and looked at Hu Da, asleep over the table, then at Fang Shuwen.
"Shuwen, go back and study."
Old Fang stood up and rolled up his sleeves.
"I'll clean up here. You're going to make something of yourself one day. You can't be doing this sort of rough work."
"Then I'll head back first."
Fang Shuwen didn't offer to help. He rose from in front of the stone table.
Some things didn't need to be said aloud.
Old Fang had his principles, even if they seemed like a joke to other people.
Fang Shuwen understood that, so he wouldn't argue with Old Fang about it.
He got to his feet and left the little courtyard without hesitation.
He kept walking, passed through the covered corridor, and turned into the neighboring courtyard.
By then, the courtyard had already been locked.
But Steward Chen had given him the key during the day. Fang Shuwen turned it in the copper lock, pushed the door open, and went inside.
He took off his outer robe and draped it over an empty weapons rack. He didn't hurry to begin. Instead, he first walked a circle around the training ground.
He slowly regulated his breathing and roused the strength within him, working off the wine he'd just drunk.
He soon settled into shape and went to stand before a Wooden Dummy.
He didn't strike at once, but first recalled his fight that afternoon with the two hooligans.
"Body Strengthening Fist has no practical fighting techniques. Its moves are too plain. It's fine against people with no training, but I'll suffer badly if I run into someone who knows how to fight."
"Besides, a level of mastery is one thing; how much strength you can actually bring out in a real fight, and the experience you've gained in combat, still depend on diligent practice."
That afternoon, both of Young Master Guo's guards had possessed the strength to make their bones ring with a single strike.
The two hooligans were certainly strong, but they couldn't beat the two guards in a fair fight.
Yet with nothing but a packet of lime powder, they'd easily taken down two guards who were stronger than they were.
This showed that a level of mastery and strength didn't necessarily equate to real combat prowess.
Even a master could capsize in a ditch.
"So from now on, whenever I have the time, I have to practice diligently."
Fang Shuwen closed his eyes, and the phantom of the giant serpent appeared in his mind once more.
This time, he "saw" it more clearly.
A snake had no limbs, yet it could constrict prey several times thicker than itself. Its strength came from twisting its spine and contracting its muscles.
From the base of its tail to its head, every vertebra could move independently, yet they could also work together in an instant, concentrating all its force in one spot and unleashing it in an explosive burst.
This method of exerting force could unleash several times, even ten times, one's strength in an instant.
He opened his eyes and stepped forward half a pace with his left foot.
It wasn't a bow stance or a horse stance, but a more natural posture.
His center of gravity shifted slightly to the right. Starting from the base of his spine, he relaxed one vertebra at a time, standing slackly, as if all the bones had been drawn from his body.
Yet beneath that seemingly slack posture, every muscle in his body held a subtle tension.
He moved.
He didn't start by throwing a punch. He started by twisting his waist.
His spine twisted one vertebra at a time, starting from its base, continuously building power.
The force gathered from his feet and hips wound its way up his spine, flowing into his right shoulder, then his right elbow, then his right fist.
His fist tore through the air.