Master Xin's Request, Antiques and Paintings

Qin Geng came back to his senses. Seeing Master Zhu Xin, he hurried to his feet and called out, "Master Xin's here! Boss, bring a pot of wine and two ounces of sliced pork cheek!"

Master Zhu Xin smiled and waved a hand.

He looked at Qin Geng and teased, "Xiao Wu, what's got you looking so worried again? Short on money?"

Qin Geng's heart skipped a beat. Afraid the old man would dip into his funeral savings again, he quickly waved his hands and smiled. "Nothing like that. Training's given me a huge appetite, and I'm worried this meal won't fill me up. Ha! Please don't give me any more money, Master Xin."

He truly didn't deserve such generosity.

In times like these, even fathers and sons kept their accounts straight. Master Zhu Xin's kindness weighed too heavily on him.

Qin Geng hurriedly changed the subject. "Master Xin, how are those relatives of yours? Have they all left? Is that why you've got time to come wandering around again?"

At the word "relatives," Master Zhu Xin's smile stiffened.

He lowered his head and rubbed the handle of his birdcage. After a long while, he sighed. "Yes. They've left."

An indescribable desolation hung in his voice.

"My elder brother's children. My nephew and niece, I suppose."

Master Zhu Xin raised his head. His gaze drifted toward the white steam rising from the stall. "They've done well for themselves in the city. Western clothes, wristwatches—they looked respectable enough. I thought that, at my age, anyone who came to see me must still care about our blood ties."

He gave a self-mocking laugh. "Turns out they came for my courtyard and the little I've saved. Master Xin hasn't got many days left. Couldn't they even wait that long?"

"..."

Qin Geng said nothing.

He quietly beckoned to the proprietor and had the wine that had just arrived taken away. "A pot of hot tea instead. Make it strong."

Qin Geng could almost picture it.

An old man on the brink of the grave, all his children dead, had happily prepared a table of good food and waited for his relatives to visit.

But the ones who came through the door weren't younger kin there to show him care. They were a pack of jackals eyeing the last scraps they could strip from his bones.

That kind of heartbreak was colder than the wind.

"They won't try to take it by force, will they?"

Qin Geng lowered his voice, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes. "If they do, I won't let them. Master Xin, I've reached a new level in martial arts—Bright Force. I can kill a man with one punch. If I get serious, a dozen men won't touch a hair on my head. If they dare kick up trouble, I'll make sure they come in standing and leave lying down."

"They wouldn't dare."

Master Zhu Xin shook his head, then suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit that shook his whole body.

He pulled a handkerchief from his coat and pressed it to his mouth. It took him a long while to recover.

Qin Geng had sharp eyes. By the lamplight, he clearly saw a startling smear of crimson on the gray-white cloth.

"I have the official deeds. As long as I'm alive, they won't dare seize anything outright."

Master Zhu Xin clenched the handkerchief in his fist and smiled bitterly. "But once this old man's gone, who knows? They have money and connections. They could collude with the authorities and turn a white page black."

As he spoke, he reached into his coat with a trembling hand and took out a small cloth bundle.

He unwrapped it layer by layer. Inside were several yellowed sheets of paper bearing bright-red official seals.

"I'm leaving it all to you."

Master Zhu Xin pushed the papers across to Qin Geng.

Qin Geng froze.

He looked down. The top sheet was unmistakably the deed to Number Twenty-Eight, Tanlong Alley. Beneath it lay several pawn tickets and a will marked with a thumbprint.

"To me? Don't do this, Master Zhu Xin!"

The papers seemed to burn Qin Geng's hands. He hurriedly pushed them back. "We're not even related. This is too much. I can't accept it! You should keep them for your own protection, or..."

"What's that supposed to mean? Looking down on Master Xin?"

Master Zhu Xin's face darkened. A sharp light suddenly burst from his clouded eyes, making Qin Geng feel as though the old man could see straight through him.

"In my younger days, I reached a level of my own."

Master Zhu Xin pointed to his eyes. "I worked in antiques and curios. Back then, who in Tianjin Guard hadn't heard of Iron-Eyed Zhu? With these two eyes, I could tell an antique's age and history, and spot the real thing from a fake at a glance. More than that, my iron eyes could read a man's heart!"

"Why do you think I've been guiding you? For a bowl of stewed offal? Or because you're strong?"

Master Zhu Xin stared at Qin Geng and said each word distinctly. "Because these iron eyes still work! I can see you've got a backbone and an upright heart! You're no coward who'd forget loyalty the moment profit came along!"

"Those sons of bitches have disappointed Master Xin too deeply."

Master Zhu Xin slapped the deed onto the table, his voice trembling. "Keep this safe. Once Master Xin's gone, those bastards will come and make trouble. Show them this when they do. Don't hold back—if they need a beating, give them one!"

"And another thing..."

Master Zhu Xin lowered his voice and leaned closer. "The things I hid are underground. Go down the well in that courtyard and swim a while. You'll find an air pocket. Beyond it is a tunnel that leads to the Tianjin River. If you ever make enemies, you can escape that way. There are plenty of old pieces in the air pocket that I've never put up for sale. Sell them or keep them to pass down to your family, as you like."

"Just one condition—"

"They must never end up in Westerners' hands! Our ancestors left those things to us. I'd sooner see them smashed to pieces than let those foreign devils lay waste to them!"

"Pity Master Xin's too old to go underwater now. I haven't laid eyes on those fine pieces in years."

Qin Geng held the sheets of paper, light as feathers yet heavy as a thousand pounds. For a moment, something seemed to block his throat.

He had known Master Zhu Xin for two months at most.

Their friendship amounted to a few bowls of stewed offal and a few casual conversations.

Yet this old man had entrusted his affairs after death to him, along with a lifetime's savings.

Qin Geng felt his eyes grow hot and a sharp ache rise in his nose.

He wanted to refuse, but when he saw the resolve in Master Zhu Xin's eyes and the blood on that handkerchief, the words would not come.

If he refused, who could Master Zhu Xin give these things to?

Those bastard nephews and nieces waiting for him to die?

Or would they end up confiscated, falling into the hands of some corrupt official or Westerner?

"Xiao Wu."

When he saw Qin Geng accept the papers, Master Zhu Xin patted his shoulder.

"People are just trying to scrape together a living. When they can't afford to eat, that's when they're sincere, when they'll fight with everything they have. That's when it's easiest to reach the next level."

Master Zhu Xin gazed at the night sky and rambled on. "Once they reach that level, some people—Guan Ershun, Boss Lin—get money and power and settle into comfort. Their progress stops. They turn into stagnant water."

"But others want to do something real. They keep a fire burning inside, and they can keep climbing. That's living water."

"When you've made something of yourself and have real ability, Xiao Wu, do something that matters."

"Don't live like an animal, the way those bastards do."

Qin Geng took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. "I understand, Master Xin."

"All right, stop looking like you're at a funeral."

Master Zhu Xin wiped his face and hollered, "Where's that wine from earlier? Why'd you take it away? Bring it back for Master Xin! I'm happy today, and I'm having a drink!"

"Master Xin, in your condition..."

"Enough nonsense! I've only got a few days left. Can't you let me enjoy a drink?"

Qin Geng couldn't argue him out of it, so he had the proprietor bring another pot of warmed yellow wine.

At some point, fine snowflakes began to drift from the sky.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, settling on both their shoulders.

The old man and the young man sat at the stall in the bitter wind and swirling snow, trading cups of wine.

Qin Geng drank little. Most of the time, he poured wine for Master Zhu Xin and listened as the old man boasted of his glory days and told strange tales from the antique trade.

By the time he had heard them all, Qin Geng thought dealing in antiques, curios, calligraphy, and paintings sounded like a fine line of work.

At last, the wine pot was empty. Master Zhu Xin, bleary-eyed with drink, slumped over the table and fell asleep.

Qin Geng paid the bill, hoisted Master Zhu Xin onto his back, and strode toward Tanlong Alley.

Number Twenty-Eight, Tanlong Alley.

It was a large courtyard house with two successive courtyards. Though time and neglect had left it somewhat rundown, in a county town where every inch of land was worth gold, it was a substantial property.

Qin Geng settled Master Zhu Xin on the heated brick bed in the main room, took off his shoes, tucked the quilt around him, and added a few lumps of coal to the stove.

Seeing the old man's brows still knitted in sleep, Qin Geng sighed.

He checked the doors and windows, made sure they were tightly shut, then slid the bolt across the main gate from inside.

After that, Qin Geng took two running steps, planted a foot against the wall, and sprang over it as lightly as a wildcat, vanishing into the wind and snow.