Cheng Qingshi's Thoughts

Then a thought began to grow wildly in Zhou Fan's mind, impossible to suppress.

Chen Jing was an inner-court disciple of the Lianshan Martial Arts Hall, yet he worked as a butcher on Livestock Lane. He was making the hall lose face—and Master Cheng along with it.

What would people say if word got out?

They would say the Lianshan Martial Arts Hall could not even support its own personal disciples, forcing them to slaughter pigs for money.

The more Zhou Fan thought about it, the more excited he grew. He knew that Cheng Qingshi, the young master of the hall, was proud by nature and valued the hall's reputation above all else.

If Cheng Qingshi learned of this, he might fly into a rage and report it to Master Cheng himself.

Then Chen Jing might well be stripped of his status as an inner-court disciple.

When that happened, a place in the inner court would open up again.

And he, Zhou Fan—the foremost outer-court disciple to have reached Great Accomplishment in stance training—would be the most likely to fill it.

At that thought, Zhou Fan could no longer restrain himself. He turned and ran toward the martial arts hall.

Unlike Zhang Chengji, who taught in the outer court every day, Cheng Qingshi kept to himself and focused on his training. He rarely appeared in the outer court.

Zhou Fan skipped his afternoon lessons.

When the servants were not looking, he slipped into the inner court.

He waited beside a path along the corridor for a long time before Cheng Qingshi finally emerged from the Martial Arts Arena and headed back to his room.

"Senior Brother Cheng!"

Zhou Fan stepped out and gave him a proper bow.

Cheng Qingshi stopped and glanced at him with a frown.

The young man wore an outer-court disciple's uniform, but his face was unfamiliar.

"Who are you?"

"This disciple is Zhou Fan of the outer court. I have an important matter to tell you, Senior Brother Cheng."

Zhou Fan kept his voice low, but could not hide its urgency.

Cheng Qingshi's brow tightened almost imperceptibly. "Speak."

"As far as this disciple knows, Senior Brother Chen Jing is working as a butcher on Livestock Lane."

Zhou Fan swallowed. "I fear Senior Brother Chen Jing's conduct may bring criticism upon the hall and make us a laughingstock. That is why I came to tell you."

Cheng Qingshi's pupils contracted slightly, and the fingers at his side curled into a fist without his noticing.

His face remained as cold as ever, though. After watching Zhou Fan for a moment, he asked slowly:

"Is this true?"

"I saw it with my own eyes. There can be no mistake."

Seeing that Cheng Qingshi seemed to have reacted, Zhou Fan was delighted. His courage swelled.

"Then how do you think he should be dealt with?"

Those were the very words Zhou Fan had been waiting for.

He took a deep breath and tried to sound steady and impartial, but excitement still spilled from every corner of his expression:

"Without rules, you cannot draw a square or a circle. As an inner-court disciple, Senior Brother Chen Jing should put the hall's reputation first."

"Since he has tarnished its name, I believe he should be stripped of his status as an inner-court disciple to set the record straight."

Cheng Qingshi stood with his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed at Zhou Fan.

His stern face lay in the corridor's shadow, giving nothing away.

After a moment of silence, Cheng Qingshi spoke. "Zhou Fan, was it?"

Zhou Fan eagerly confirmed it.

He waited for Cheng Qingshi's praise, for the young master to leap up in outrage and take him to see Master Cheng.

Instead, Cheng Qingshi said coldly:

"Outer-court disciple Zhou Fan, you are petty, jealous, and ill-intentioned. You have freely slandered a senior brother from the inner court."

"I will speak to my eldest senior brother and have you expelled from the hall. Your prepaid tuition will be returned."

"Now you may leave."

Zhou Fan stood frozen, as though a muffled thunderbolt had struck him. Every trace of color drained from his face.

"W-what? How could..."

"But Chen Jing clearly... Why..."

His lips trembled. His words came out in fragments, and his head rang.

He had imagined Cheng Qingshi getting angry. He had imagined him asking questions.

Never had he imagined that Cheng Qingshi would not even bother to verify the claim before expelling him from the hall.

"Even if Chen Jing truly did something to disgrace the hall, that would be for the master to judge. Since when does an outer-court disciple get to point fingers?"

Cheng Qingshi looked at him coldly. "Leave with what dignity you have left, or I won't mind throwing you out myself."

Zhou Fan stumbled back two steps. Looking at Cheng Qingshi's impassive face, he suddenly understood something he should have known all along.

At the Lianshan Martial Arts Hall, a personal disciple was a personal disciple.

Even if Chen Jing really was a butcher, an outer-court disciple like him could not shake his position.

Clenching his teeth, he turned and staggered away.

Cheng Qingshi watched Zhou Fan disappear around the end of the corridor. After a moment's silence, he changed direction and headed for the courtyard where Cheng Lianshan and his wife lived.

In the courtyard, Cheng Lianshan and Su Ru were sitting beneath the eaves, drinking tea.

Cheng Qingshi entered and bowed respectfully. "Your son greets Father and Mother."

Cheng Lianshan set down his tea bowl and looked at his son.

Cheng Qingshi was a man of few words. Since childhood, apart from his morning and evening greetings, he had rarely sought his father out for a conversation.

The hour was unusual, and his son wore that rigid expression. Cheng Lianshan could tell at a glance that something was on his mind.

"Qingshi, is something the matter?"

Cheng Qingshi recounted how Zhou Fan had reported Chen Jing for working as a butcher on Livestock Lane.

After listening, Cheng Lianshan nodded slightly.

"You handled it well. Someone of poor character should not remain in the hall."

Cheng Qingshi was silent for several breaths before saying bluntly:

"Your son thinks it is improper for Junior Brother Chen to work as a butcher."

Cheng Lianshan lifted his tea bowl and took a small sip, then chuckled. "What is improper about it?"

"Butchery is filthy, exhausting work. It takes time away from martial arts training, pays little, and invites criticism."

Cheng Qingshi laid out his reasons one by one, clear and orderly. Plainly, this was no passing thought; he had been considering it for some time.

Cheng Lianshan smiled and put down his tea bowl.

"Qingshi, you were born in this hall and have lived above ordinary folk. You have never faced the hardships of making a living."

"You must understand that honest livelihoods are not divided into noble and base."

"Third Brother already told me about Seventh Brother. He was the one who found that pig-slaughtering work for him."

"Third Brother explained the advantages and drawbacks, but Seventh Brother still made that choice. I expect he has his own plans.

"Besides, he trains diligently morning and night without pause, and his skills improve by the day. That is enough."

"A master cannot control everything. It would exhaust the master, and exhaust the disciple even more."

He paused, then said evenly, "As for reputation..."

"A martial arts hall earns its reputation through fighting, not through what people say. There is no need to fret over it."

Su Ru took up the conversation, her gentle voice touched with sympathy:

"I heard Little Jing used to make his living slaughtering pigs in Shuang'an Town."

"He works so diligently. He must have endured plenty of hardship before. Qingshi, don't be too harsh on your youngest junior brother."

Cheng Qingshi was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. Your son understands."

He bowed, turned, and left the courtyard.

Sunlight stretched his shadow long across the corridor. As he walked, he lowered his head in thought. His view had changed since he had arrived.

His father was right.

Slaughtering pigs or escorting shipments—both were ways to earn a living.

He did not have to agree with Chen Jing's choice, but he had no right to make it for him.

Meanwhile, Zhou Fan stood outside the gates of the Lianshan Martial Arts Hall.

He clutched the pouch of returned money so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He looked back at the four great characters reading "Lianshan Martial Arts Hall" on the dark wooden plaque, his eyes churning with resentment and spite.

He should have had a brilliant future!

But Chen Jing had taken his place, and Cheng Qingshi had kicked him out of the hall. Now he had nothing.

"Chen Jing." Zhou Fan ground his teeth, forcing the words through them. "I'll make you pay for this."