The Uncertainty of Life

When the first ray of dawn shone into Creek River Village, the fires in the village had finally been completely extinguished.

Several collapsed, burned-out houses were still giving off wisps of bluish smoke. The air was thick with the pungent stench of charred wood mixed with blood.

Wang Chong led his men in turning the village upside down, then found two more bandits hiding in the pigsty and woodshed and killed them as well.

Of the thirty-odd bandits who had attacked, twenty-nine had been killed, while five or six escaped. It could be considered a great victory.

Yet no one could bring themselves to rejoice.

In the village square, the bodies had been divided into two piles.

On the left were the bandits, heaped together in a tangled mess.

On the right were the villagers, laid out one by one in neat rows. Aunt Zhao's family was among them.

At the end of the villagers' row, three bodies had been placed separately.

They were the young militia men who had followed Wang Chong from Shuang'an Town.

In last night's chaotic battle, they had unfortunately died at the bandits' hands.

The remaining militia men stood nearby. Like Chen Jing, all of them bore injuries to varying degrees.

Only Wang Chong had been exceptionally fierce. His face and body were covered in dried blood, but not a single drop belonged to him.

Chen Jing supported Butcher Zhang as they stood to one side.

He could feel it. In just one night,

the old butcher seemed to have aged ten years.

"Master, are you all right?"

Chen Jing asked worriedly.

Butcher Zhang did not answer at once.

He crouched down and reached out to cover Aunt Zhao again with the door curtain the wind had lifted, tucking its edges in neatly.

"Little Zhao's husband died early."

"She raised her two children by herself. Spring planting and autumn harvest, feeding pigs and raising chickens—inside and outside the home, everything fell on her alone."

"Everyone in the village said she was formidable, a woman forged from iron."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I had feelings for her. She had feelings for me too."

As he spoke those words, the corner of Butcher Zhang's mouth twitched, as though he wanted to smile, but could not.

"I'm just a rough man who slaughters pigs. What was there to like about me?"

"But we just caught each other's eye."

"Whenever she came into town to buy things, she would always circle around and stand outside my shop. Sometimes she bought a little meat, sometimes she bought nothing."

"She would just stand there, and I would talk to her."

"Later, she had someone bring me a jar of rice wine she brewed herself. It was so sweet. A crude man like me, when had I ever drunk wine that sweet before?"

Chen Jing stood beside him without speaking.

He knew Butcher Zhang was not talking to him now. He was talking to Aunt Zhao, talking to himself.

Talking to all those years that could never be reclaimed.

"She even asked me directly several times."

"But I stubbornly never gave her so much as a single word in reply."

Butcher Zhang's voice grew even hoarser.

"Why didn't you agree?" Chen Jing asked.

"I know this body of mine. It can't hold out much longer."

Butcher Zhang pounded his chest, then broke into a violent coughing fit. "I knew I wouldn't live long."

"I didn't want her to follow me, only to become a widow all over again."

"After all those years, she got angry too and stopped bringing it up."

"But never in my dreams did I imagine that, in the end, I would be the one to see her off first."

Morning light spilled through a gap in the clouds, falling over the dirt square and Butcher Zhang's graying hair.

His shoulders trembled faintly, but he made no sound again.

Chen Jing stood silently. He wanted to say something comforting, but he did not know what to say.

All he could do was reach out and hold Butcher Zhang by the shoulder.

"Master, life is unpredictable."

On the other side, Wang Chong hurriedly dealt with the aftermath. First, he called over the village chief of Creek River Village.

He said bluntly, "Creek River Village can't stay here any longer."

"Five or six bandits escaped last night. We couldn't catch them, and who knows when they'll return with more men? Staying here means waiting to die."

"All the villagers should withdraw to Shuang'an Town first. I'll discuss arrangements with the village headman and find everyone a place to settle down."

"Once the bandit problem is completely resolved, you can come back."

The village chief lifted his clouded eyes to Wang Chong. "Instructor Wang, give this old man the truth. Can these bandits really be dealt with once and for all?"

"The people of Black Stone Village have grass growing over their graves now, yet the bandits still come right to our doorstep to kill and burn."

Wang Chong fell silent.

He had no way to answer that question.

He had reported what happened in Black Stone Village to the county office long ago, but the county office had not so much as farted in response. Yet he could not tell the village chief the truth.

Because if he did, these villagers would truly have no hope left.

"They can be dealt with." Wang Chong spoke with absolute certainty. "Believe me. They will be dealt with."

The village chief sighed and nodded.

He knew Wang Chong's promise might not amount to much, but as an old man in his sixties guarding a village more than half burned down, what else could he do but nod?

"I'll arrange for the people of Creek River Village to go into town."

Wang Chong patted the village chief's shoulder and turned to leave.

But as his gaze swept over the numb, bewildered faces in the dirt square, he suddenly clenched his fists and cursed under his breath in fury.

Damn it. If the county office still refuses to do a thing, then I'll go to the county seat myself! I'll personally ask that county magistrate what the hell he thinks he's doing!

After the sky had fully brightened,

a long procession returned to Shuang'an Town.

The carts carried the wounded and the dead. The surviving villagers followed behind, each one disheveled and hollow-eyed.

As for the bandits' corpses, they had all been left in the village. There had simply been no time to deal with them.

Wang Chong feared the bandits might block their road back.

All along the way, he kept urging them onward.

The residents of Shuang'an Town had received word early. Hot water, clean strips of cloth, and door panels had all been prepared. The moment the procession came into view, they surged forward.

Back in Shuang'an Town, the taut string in Chen Jing's heart finally loosened a little. Supporting Butcher Zhang, he first took several injured young men to the clinic for treatment.

When the old physician removed the blood-soaked cloth from Chen Jing's back, he sucked in a breath. "Young Chen, if this wound had been half an inch deeper, it would have struck bone. You're blessed with a hardy life."

Chen Jing lay facedown on the wooden bed without a word as the old physician cleaned the wound, applied medicine, and stitched it closed.

Butcher Zhang had not suffered any serious external wounds, but the ordeal had aggravated his internal injuries. The physician prescribed several packets of medicine for him to take home and decoct.

After leaving the clinic, Chen Jing helped Butcher Zhang back to the butcher shop. Only then did they finally settle down.

Ever since returning from Creek River Village, perhaps because his spirit had gone out of him, Butcher Zhang's health grew steadily worse. He often coughed.

It was especially bad at night, when he would often cough so hard that he could not sleep all night.

The burden of the butcher shop fell almost entirely onto Chen Jing's shoulders.

He had to look after the shop, attend militia training, decoct and feed Butcher Zhang medicine, and care for his illness.

He was busy beyond measure.

Of course, no matter how busy or exhausted he was,

Chen Jing did not neglect his stance training, saber techniques, or spear techniques.

Every day, he rose at dawn to slaughter pigs, then went to the training ground to hold stances and practice with the spear. In the afternoon, he watched the shop and practiced with the saber when he could.

After closing the shop at night, he spent another two hours in the courtyard practicing the Fierce Tiger Stance, then practiced the Butcher Knife for an hour.

When he was so tired he could no longer lift his arms, he went to sleep.

His steadily increasing proficiency was the only calming pill for his heart amid those tangled, chaotic days.