Side Story - Drunken Breeze
Zui Qingfeng has a habit of smoking.
It's not the kind of casually puffing on a cigarette to appear profound; it's a genuine, deliberate smoking, one puff at a time, slowly and deliberately, as if savoring the full spectrum of life.
His pipe was made of ebony, polished to a shine, and the bowl was engraved with a small character for "drunk." It was said to be the only keepsake his master had left him.
The Hundred Birds Gang was so poor they couldn't even afford to eat. The leader squatted on the doorstep, gnawing on half a hard steamed bun, looking worried.
One day, the gang received a big order: to escort a batch of valuable medicinal herbs to Medicine King Valley.
The eldest brother excitedly gave the order. "Simple! We outnumber them, who would dare to rob the caravan?"
Zui Qingfeng didn't speak, but leaned against the door frame and smoked. Amidst the swirling smoke, he squinted at the sky, then glanced at the sword at Chen Ze's waist, and suddenly spoke.
It will rain tonight.
"Huh?" The eldest brother was taken aback.
"But the weather is so nice..."
Zui Qingfeng exhaled a puff of smoke and said calmly.
Believe it or not, it's up to you.
As expected, a torrential downpour began in the middle of the night.
The caravan got stuck in the mud and couldn't move, while the mountain bandits who had been lying in ambush seized the opportunity to attack.
Just as everyone was in a flurry of activity, Zui Qingfeng calmly took out a packet of medicinal powder from his pocket, poured it into his pipe, and took a deep drag.
"call--"
Thick white smoke instantly filled the air, and the bandits coughed incessantly, tears and snot streaming down their faces, unable to even hold their knives steady.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Chen Ze struck, his sword flashing like snow, felling a group of people in the blink of an eye.
Afterwards, the eldest brother was dumbfounded.
"Old Zui, your cigarette..."
Drunk Breeze dusted off the cigarette ash and said casually.
"Chili powder mixed with sleeping pills can be harmful if used too much, but it works well when used occasionally."
Zui Qingfeng rarely mentions his past.
When someone occasionally asks, he just smiles and says...
"Why should a man of the martial world ask where he comes from?"
One night, while Jianyu was up late to sneak a snack, he accidentally saw Zui Qingfeng sitting alone on the roof, holding a yellowed letter in his hand.
Under the moonlight, his cigarette burned for a long time, but he didn't take a single puff.
After hesitating for a moment, Jianyu climbed up anyway.
"Hey bro, why aren't you asleep?"
Zui Qingfeng snapped out of his daze, casually folded the letter, stuffed it back into his pocket, and said indifferently.
"I can't sleep."
The fried fish blinked.
Are you homesick?
Zui Qingfeng paused for a moment, then suddenly laughed.
"Home?"
He gazed at the dark night in the distance and said softly.
"Someone like me has been homeless for a long time."
He seemed to understand the process of frying fish, but he still took out a piece of candy from his pocket.
"Here, it's sweet. Eating it will make you feel better."
Zui Qingfeng paused for a moment, took the candy, and chuckled softly.
Thanks.
After that night, Zui Qingfeng continued to smoke, continued to play chess, and continued to use his cigarettes to save the day at crucial moments.
Only occasionally would Jianyu notice a small red string on his pipe, like a blessing tied there by someone.
When the eldest brother broke his leg while dancing on the rooftop, it was Zui Qingfeng who carried him back to the clinic while smoking a cigarette.
When Chenze went mad from practicing swordsmanship, it was Zui Qingfeng who woke him up with a tap on his pipe.
When Jianyu was cornered in an alley by his enemy, it was Zui Qingfeng who scared them away for three blocks by blowing smoke rings.
But no one knows that Zui Qingfeng doesn't actually smoke.
The brass tobacco pouch at his waist was filled with calming herbs.
On New Year's Eve, heavy snow blocked the mountain, and the gang members crowded into the main room to stay up all night.
Zui Qingfeng leaned against the corridor alone, smoking, when he suddenly felt a weight on his sleeve.
The eldest brother sidled up to him at some point and covered his legs with the colorful headgear.
"Put it on a cool stone slab."
From afar came the sounds of frying fish and dog egg fighting over dumplings, and Chen Ze silently moved closer to them to block the wind.
The sparks flickered on the snowy night, brighter than any fireworks.
Zui Qingfeng used his pipe to blow out smoke of different simple shapes, from which chocolate and candy would emerge.
Later, the kids of the Hundred Birds Gang all said: Uncle Zui's pipe holds the whole world of martial arts.
The world is too harsh; someone has to be the one who stays sober.
The world of martial arts is vast, but the Hundred Birds Gang is small.
But Zui Qingfeng thought this place was quite nice.
There's a noisy and boisterous eldest brother, a cold-faced but warm-hearted Chenze, a poetic Shiyun with the sound of a guqin, a meticulous and delicious cook Xijiang, a fried fish who always wants to give him candy, and a bald chicken that curses all day long.
He leaned against the tree, lit his last cigarette, and the smoke curled up and blended into the twilight.
In the distance, the boss was shouting again.
"Old Drunkard! Come on, let's have a drink!"
Zui Qingfeng smiled, stubbed out his cigarette, and got up to leave.
The smoke has cleared, but the person is still here...
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