Kindness

Noon, three days later, outside the side gate of the Shen Mansion.

Chen Jianghe took off the coarse, fishy-smelling work tunic he had worn for three years and changed into the patched clothes he had brought with him.

Uncle Liu leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching him in silence for a long while.

Finally, Uncle Liu spoke, his voice low: "Are you really leaving?"

Chen Jianghe held out the folded work tunic with both hands: "Uncle Liu, I owe you for looking after me these past three years."

Uncle Liu didn't take it, just stared at him: "Jianghe, tell me the truth. Is this because of that business with the Black Tiger Gang? Did that piece of trash Wang Biao go to your place to collect debts again?"

Chen Jianghe shook his head: "No. I've made up my own mind."

"Made up your mind?" Uncle Liu's voice rose sharply.

He immediately lowered it, glanced around, and pulled him into a corner: "What have you made up your mind to do? Martial arts? Is that something people like us can touch? Yes, I heard you saved up enough for the apprenticeship fee—ten taels of silver, right? But that's just the beginning! What about later? Eating meat, tonics, medicinal baths... which of those isn't expensive? How many coppers can your mother earn weaving nets?"

He caught his breath, and seeing Chen Jianghe listening quietly, he grew even more anxious: "Listen to your uncle's advice. Stay at the Shen Mansion, and I'll put in a good word with the head steward to get you a long-term contract. You'll be in charge of the meat station, earning one tael and two maces a month—steady as can be. In a couple of years, I'll help you find a sensible girl, and you can bring your mother out to a small place of your own. Isn't that a solid life?"

Chen Jianghe waited until he finished before speaking: "Uncle Liu, everything you said is right."

"Then why—"

Chen Jianghe raised his head, his expression solemn: "But I want to try. When my father went to serve his corvée for my uncle, he told me that in this world, those without ability don't even own their own lives. I don't want to reach a day where someone asks me to die for them, and all I can do is nod."

Uncle Liu opened his mouth to argue, but not a single word came out.

He remembered what Chen Jianghe looked like when he first arrived three years ago—thin as a reed, afraid even to watch a chicken being slaughtered. Now, the boy standing before him had broader shoulders and a steadier gaze, but his words made one's heart ache.

Uncle Liu let out a heavy sigh: "Fine, fine!"

He reached into his tunic, pulled out a small cloth bundle, and shoved it into Chen Jianghe's hand: "Take it."

Chen Jianghe opened it to find dozens of copper coins and a small piece of broken silver.

"Uncle Liu, I can't take this."

Uncle Liu put on a stern face: "Shut up. It's not a gift. Be at the corner gate at three quarters past the hour of the Dog tonight."

"Uncle Liu?"

"I said be there!" Uncle Liu waved his hand and turned to walk back inside. Halfway there, he looked back and whispered: "Watch yourself on the road."

Chen Jianghe gripped the cloth bundle tightly and bowed deeply toward Uncle Liu's retreating back.

At three quarters past the hour of the Dog, the corner gate creaked open a crack.

Uncle Liu poked his head out, saw that Chen Jianghe was indeed there, and beckoned him inside.

The two walked one after the other through the darkness to a small utility room behind the slaughterhouse.

Uncle Liu lit an oil lamp, its dim yellow light illuminating an old bamboo basket in the corner.

He lifted the cloth cover to reveal several pieces of meat wrapped in oil paper: pork liver, half a pig's trotter, and a few strips of dried salted fish.

"Just some scraps; the mansion doesn't keep count of them," Uncle Liu said, pushing the basket toward Chen Jianghe.

"Since you're set on practicing martial arts, you can't let your blood and qi run thin. I'll get you some of these every few days, and you can take them back quietly."

Chen Jianghe looked at the basket, his throat tightening: "Uncle Liu, if the steward finds out, then..."

Uncle Liu waved his hand: "He won't. I've worked at the Shen Mansion for over twenty years; don't I have that much discretion?"

He paused, his voice dropping: "When I was young, I wanted to practice martial arts, too. Pity, I didn't have the talent, nor the fate. Later, I married a wife and tried to save some money, but she fell ill and passed away, leaving me without a son or daughter."

Uncle Liu looked up at Chen Jianghe: "You're a steady, hardworking boy with nimble hands. I truly think of you as... as my own nephew. If you want to strike out on your own, I won't stop you. But you must promise me two things."

"Please, tell me."

"First, keep yourself safe. Martial arts schools aren't exactly gentle places. Don't be reckless, and don't go looking for trouble."

"I'll remember that."

Uncle Liu pulled another small cloth bundle from his tunic, but didn't open it this time: "Second, here is five taels of silver—everything I've saved. Take it for emergencies. Don't refuse; when I die, use it to give me a proper send-off."

Chen Jianghe didn't refuse this time. He took the bundle, lifted his hem, knelt on the ground, and kowtowed to Uncle Liu.

"Uncle Liu, a great kindness cannot be repaid with words."

Uncle Liu hurriedly helped him up, his eyes reddening: "Alright, alright... go on now. It's dark out, be careful."

Chen Jianghe picked up the bamboo basket, walked to the door, and looked back one last time.

Uncle Liu stood by the oil lamp, waving at him.

The linked boats at Loach Bay rocked gently in the night.

Chen Jianghe hid the bamboo basket and stepped into the cabin. Lin was not yet asleep; she was mending a fishing net by the light of a pea-sized oil lamp. Seeing him return, she quickly put down her work.

"Jianghe, you're back? Uncle Liu, he..."

Chen Jianghe sat down across from her: "Mother. I have something to tell you."

Seeing his serious expression, Lin straightened her posture.

Chen Jianghe pulled a money pouch from his bosom and emptied the silver onto the dilapidated wooden table. "I'm going to the martial arts hall tomorrow to apprentice. The money is enough. Ten taels for a year's tuition, and there's still some left over."

Lin stared at the gleaming bits of silver, her eyes widening. "So much? Where did you..."

"I saved up nine taels and seven mace from my wages. Uncle Liu also lent me five taels, saying I can pay him back once I've made something of myself."

"Wang Biao is dead. It was likely a gang dispute; I heard he died quite miserably." Chen Jianghe's expression remained unchanged.

Upon hearing that Wang Biao was dead, Lin's hand trembled, and a needle pricked her fingertip. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed Chen Jianghe's hand. "Jianghe, you... you didn't get involved in that, did you? Those gang people..."

Chen Jianghe gripped her hand back. "No. Mother, rest assured. I'm going to the martial arts hall not just to learn martial arts. As long as I become a disciple, even if it's just in name, characters like Wang Biao of the Black Tiger Gang won't dare to touch us so easily again."

Lin looked at him, her lips moving, but in the end, she only asked, "Which martial arts hall?"

Chen Jianghe replied, "Xingyi Martial Arts Hall. I asked the broker; among the seven or eight halls in Yilin County, Xingyi has the lowest fees—ten taels for a year. The others cost at least twenty."

"The lowest, does that mean..." Lin hesitated.

Chen Jianghe's tone was firm. "The hall may have declined, but the master has real skills. Mother, people like us have no room to be picky. Being able to get in is an opportunity."

Lin was silent for a long time before slowly loosening her grip. She fished a small cloth bundle from her bosom and unwrapped it layer by layer, revealing a few pieces of polished silver and a pile of copper coins.

She pushed the bundle toward Chen Jianghe. "This is what I've saved over the years. Take it."

"Mother, keep this money."

Lin interrupted him, her tone brooking no refusal. "Take it. You can't be out there without money on you. We still have the nets, and I can still weave; I won't go hungry."

Looking at his mother's prematurely graying hair and rough, cracked fingers, Chen Jianghe felt a lump form in his chest.

He tucked away the small cloth bundle and pushed his own pouch back to her. "You keep this. I'll keep five taels on me; that's enough."

Lin wanted to say more, but Chen Jianghe had already stood up. "Mother, get some rest. I'm leaving early tomorrow morning."

He blew out the oil lamp and lay down on his cot. In the darkness, he heard his mother's soft sigh and the sound of her tossing and turning.

The next morning, Chen Jianghe set out from Loach Bay with fifteen taels of silver in his pocket.

Xingyi Martial Arts Hall was located at the west end of Yilin County's outer city, near the base of the city wall.

The area was remote and the storefront old; the two paint-peeled wooden doors were left ajar, and the plaque hanging above the lintel had most of its gold-leaf lettering for "Xingyi Martial Arts Hall" flaked away.

Chen Jianghe stood at the entrance for a moment before raising his hand to knock.

A lazy voice drifted from inside: "The door isn't locked, come in yourself."