Chapter Three: A Modest Display of Skill

I thought I might never see Liu Hao again, but on the third day, when I opened my eyes, he was sitting at my bedside, still holding a knife—except this time, he was peeling an apple. It was hard for me to imagine that the same hand so accustomed to wielding a blade for violence could pare an apple so thinly and skillfully.

I couldn’t move; the anesthesia from the wound below me had just worn off, and the searing pain muddled my consciousness. I couldn’t quite make sense of why Liu Hao was here.

I’d just had surgery for acute appendicitis. It was Xiao Lianshan who carried me on his back to the hospital. He left together with me that day. On the way back, he was as reticent as ever. When I asked him why he didn’t take the money, he said it was dirty and wouldn’t bring peace of mind. Perhaps it was because we were about the same age, but I always felt a certain kinship with Xiao Lianshan.

In the end, we talked about everything except our pasts, which neither of us mentioned a word about. It was clear he, like me, was a man with stories he’d rather leave untold. Later, I realized I had misjudged Xiao Lianshan—he was quite the talker once he warmed up, though his introverted nature kept him quiet at first.

We’d ridden in Liu Hao’s truck to get there, but Xiao Lianshan and I chose to leave with pride. I could almost picture Liu Hao watching us go, a defiant yet helpless look on his face. Our pride was short-lived, though; after trekking for more than ten miles, I began to miss Liu Hao—or more precisely, his truck.

For days, I’d had a dull ache in my lower right abdomen. Growing up in the mountains, we weren’t precious about our health; if the pain was bearable, we ignored it. But this pain grew steadily worse. Though I chatted with Xiao Lianshan, my forehead was covered in cold sweat, and I pressed my abdomen, pushing myself forward until I finally collapsed and lost consciousness.

Xiao Lianshan carried me to the hospital. After a quick diagnosis, I was told I had acute appendicitis. A small white payment slip barred my way into the operating room; the surgery would cost over two hundred yuan, and even after turning out all his pockets, Xiao Lianshan only had seventeen.

I writhed in agony on a bench in the hospital corridor, hovering between life and death. Xiao Lianshan, desperate, grabbed every doctor passing by, begging them to save me first, but all he received were three cold, indifferent words—colder than their white coats.

“Pay first.”

Seeing me in such pain, Xiao Lianshan took off his coat, rolled it up, and placed it under my head.

“Hang in there. I’ll find a way.”

Through a haze, I watched Xiao Lianshan’s figure slowly disappear. For a laborer who lives hand-to-mouth, two hundred yuan might as well have been the sum of the stars. I didn’t know what plan he had, or even if he would return.

Finally, the pain made me faint dead away on the bench. The next time I opened my eyes, the first person I saw was Liu Hao peeling an apple. When Xiao Lianshan came in carrying a thermos of warm water, I suddenly understood what his “plan” had been.

Of all the people Xiao Lianshan knew, only Liu Hao could come up with two hundred yuan at short notice. Though I hadn’t known Xiao Lianshan long, I knew well enough how hard it was for him to ask for help. I didn’t know what he’d said to convince Liu Hao.

When I looked up, I saw a bandage on Xiao Lianshan’s forehead, a faint trace of blood soaking through. I wanted to ask, but in the end, I didn’t. Unless Xiao Lianshan wanted to tell me, prying words from his lips was harder than taking his life.

Liu Hao handed me the peeled apple. I didn’t know what prompted him to save me, but without him, I wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed—I’d be in the morgue. So I forced a weak smile.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Liu Hao grinned roguishly, slapped Xiao Lianshan on the shoulder, and said with meaning, “He’s the one who saved your life. If you want to thank someone, thank your brother here. He’s loyal—Liu Hao respects that.”

I tried to sit up, but Xiao Lianshan pressed me back onto the bed.

“Your wound hasn’t healed yet. If you mess around and split your stitches, you’ll suffer even more. The doctor said seven days of bed rest, and you’ll be fine. Once the stitches are out, you can go home.”

Next to the bed were cans of preserves, baby formula, and other nutritional supplements I’d never seen before—expensive things that neither Xiao Lianshan nor I could afford.

“Liu Hao bought them for you. He even left a thousand yuan, said to ask if it wasn’t enough,” Xiao Lianshan explained, noticing my puzzled look.

I lay in that hospital bed for seven days, and through eating, drinking, and sleeping, Xiao Lianshan ran himself ragged taking care of me. I never once said thank you, because as the books say, a kindness as small as a drop of water should be repaid with a bubbling spring—let alone a life. Words could never repay such a debt.

Liu Hao came every day. Over time, I realized he wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. He just wasn’t good at expressing himself. Each time, he’d peel an apple: if I was awake, he’d hand it to me; if I was sleeping, he’d leave it at the bedside, then leave without a word.

On the day my stitches were removed, Liu Hao arrived early. The moment he entered, I sensed something was off. He looked pale and drawn; his brows were sharp as knives, his features tense—a face beset by disaster, destined to lose wealth to save his life, or else wind up dead in a strange land.

“Brother Liu, what year were you born?”

“…” Liu Hao blinked, confused by the sudden question. “1954. Why?”

Just then, Xiao Lianshan finished the discharge paperwork, and the three of us headed out. As we walked downstairs, I calculated quickly with my left hand. 1954 was the year of the Wood Horse; Liu Hao was born in the year of the Horse. Today was the seventh; from Rat to Horse is seven steps. Wood meets Metal, which is baleful; Metal corresponds to the West. Today, his fate was clashing—short life, broken promises, endless obstacles.

Just as we reached the hospital’s main entrance, I grabbed Liu Hao.

“You can’t leave through the main entrance today. If you want to live, take the side door.”

“Why?” he asked.

I didn’t know how to explain, so I pulled him along as I spoke. “Today, your fate clashes at the hour of Horse. The year is Wood Rat, Horse at the Gate of Victory, the hospital faces west. Wood meets Metal—Metal in the Eight Trigrams corresponds to the west. Go out the main entrance, and you’ll meet death for sure.”

Obviously, Liu Hao didn’t understand, but maybe because I’d been right about the water in the tomb, he half-believed me and followed me out the back door. We’d barely gone a few steps before a group of people surrounded us.

Before we could react, several machetes were at our throats, and we were shoved into a van.

Liu Hao recognized the men. As soon as we got in, he shouted, “Fatty Luo, business is business! This has nothing to do with them—if you’re out for blood, take it out on me, but let them go.”

I’d imagined many outcomes, but never that Liu Hao would say something like that. I wasn’t worried, though—if he listened to me and avoided the western main entrance, he’d be shaken but unharmed. He didn’t know that, and in moments of life and death, a man’s true character is revealed.

“At a time like this, you’re worried about others?” Fatty Luo chuckled, his jowls wobbling. If not for the knife in his hand, he could’ve passed for the Laughing Buddha. “Everyone says you’re loyal, Liu Hao. Seems they weren’t wrong.”

“Say what you want to say and do it quick. Don’t drag it out like a woman,” Liu Hao said, head held high.

“This is Yuzhou, not your turf. You crossed the line to make a buck and broke the rules. If I finished you off right now, your boss couldn’t say a word. But luck’s with you today—our boss said, if you went out the main entrance, you’d be dead on the spot. If you left by the back, you keep your life, as a favor to your boss.”

Liu Hao stared at me, stunned and speechless. I guessed he wanted to ask how I could’ve predicted the outcome. This was my first time reading someone’s fortune since leaving Master Qin. Though fate is fixed and wealth decreed by heaven, there’s a mystery to it all.

The arts of divination are vast and profound. It’s because they help people avoid misfortune that so many have chased after them for thousands of years. When I first came to Yuzhou, I thought the skills I’d secretly learned were useless, but today, with a modest effort, I’d saved a life.

“You can go—but the goods stay.”

I watched as Fatty Luo took a package from Liu Hao. Though there was obvious reluctance on his face, Liu Hao knew better than to challenge the local kingpin. As he got out, Fatty Luo called him back.

“Wait. Our boss is about to turn fifty. You broke the rules, but we won’t forget courtesy. Pick one item from these as a birthday present for him.”

I saw Fatty Luo open the package; inside were several small antiques, clearly treasures Liu Hao had dug up from that flooded Western Han tomb.

I kept my eyes on Liu Hao. He was focused on a kneeling gold figurine holding a lamp—small, but exquisitely made, a real treasure. Seeing him reach for it, I was a little disappointed. I’d thought that someone who could find a Han dynasty tomb would have some discernment, but watching Liu Hao’s choice, I realized I’d overestimated him.

Suddenly, I snatched up a palm-sized bronze beast before Liu Hao could move. Fatty Luo, seeing I hadn’t picked the gold figurine, breathed a visible sigh of relief, as if afraid Liu Hao would change his mind. He hurriedly packed up the rest, while Liu Hao’s hand hovered in midair. Only after Fatty Luo and his men had gone did Liu Hao burst out,

“You just grabbed some worthless thing. How am I supposed to explain this to the boss?”

I didn’t know how to explain its value to Liu Hao, who clearly had no idea. I stuffed it into his hand and said,

“This is worth a fortune—a hundred times more valuable than the kneeling gold lamp bearer.”

“This piece of scrap is worth a fortune?” Liu Hao, who hadn’t even flinched with a knife at his throat, now squatted on the ground like a sulking child, at a loss. “How am I supposed to explain this?”

Liu Hao had saved my life, after all. Seeing him so flustered, I couldn’t help but feel sorry. After a moment’s thought, I said,

“How about…I go and explain it to your boss?”

Liu Hao’s eyes lit up. He stared at me for a long moment, then broke into a meaningful grin.

“Deal! I’ll take you to see the boss.”