Chapter 70: Xiao Jian talks about the Jianghu, poetry and wine in youth
The old locust tree in the backyard of the Fang residence cast a thick, canopy of shade. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting a shimmering pattern of light across the bluestone slabs. Xiao Jian had just sheathed his sword, the red silk ribbon still swaying gently at his waist. He picked up the bamboo flute from the stone table, caressing its warm body with his fingertips. Turning, he saw Fu Erkang and Fu Ertai approaching, treading on the scent of locust flowers.
"Brother Fang Yan!" Fu Erkang stepped forward quickly, the hem of his dark blue robe brushing the stone steps. His gaze fell on the flute in Xiao Jian's hand and the sword at his waist, his eyes filled with unconcealed yearning. "I've long heard of 'traveling the world with a flute and a sword.' Seeing you today with your flute and sword, I know the rumors are true!"
Fuertai, carrying a heavy tin wine pot, bounded over to the stone table and placed it on the table with a thud. The aroma of wine mixed with the sweet fragrance of locust flowers filled the air. "My brother always recites these lines at home! He says there's also 'A pot of wine that reflects eternal love and hatred,' right? Brother Fang Yan, tell me, what is the real Jianghu like?"
Xiao Jian smiled at that. He placed the bamboo flute horizontally against his lips and blew a clear, melodious note. The sound swept across the branches, startling a few sparrows into flight. He tapped the flute with his fingertips, his eyes alight with the experience of the martial arts world. "Indeed, wanderers often say these words: 'A flute and a sword roam the world; a pot of wine reflects eternal love and hatred. With two feet, I have traversed the mortal world, with the sky as my roof and the earth as my home.'"
"This poem is so fitting!" Ertai's eyes shone like stars as he poured himself a glass of wine, which shimmered in the glass like an amber glow. "'A pot of wine can resolve a thousand years of love and hatred.' Does this mean that no matter how great the grudge, a glass of wine can resolve it?"
Xiao Jian picked up the wine pot and poured himself half a cup. He tilted his head back and took a sip. A spicy warmth flowed from his throat to his heart. "Almost. Once in Jiangnan, I encountered two families who had been arguing over an ancestral property for three years, and the government couldn't reach a conclusion. When I passed by, I played the song 'Jieyuan Diao' in front of their door. I also drank three pots of aged wine with the elders on both sides. Under the influence of alcohol, we talked things out. In the end, the two families shook hands and recognized each other as relatives. It really lived up to the saying 'love and hatred through the ages can be resolved over a pot of wine.'"
Falcon listened intently, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of his teacup. "What about 'walking all over the world'? Have you really traveled all over the world?"
"I've walked most of it." Xiao Jian looked at the skyline beyond the courtyard wall, his voice as light as the wind across the water. "From the misty apricot blossoms of Jiangnan to the lonely smoke of the desert in the northern frontier; from the plank roads and green mountains of Shu to the coconut-lined beaches of Lingnan. My feet were calloused from the day's travels, so I tapped them with my sword sheath and kept going. At night, I stayed at an inn if I could find one, but if not, I'd find a dilapidated temple or rest under a tree."
"So that's how the saying 'the sky is our roof and the earth is our home' came about?" Ertai asked, leaning closer. "What if it rains? What if it gets cold?"
"When it rains, I hide in a cave," Xiao Jian laughed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes revealing stories of the Jianghu. "Once, we were caught in a rainstorm in Huangshan. Three of my Jianghu brothers and I huddled in a cave, holding a wine jug on our swords and taking turns drinking. We played the flute to the sound of the rain. It was warmer than staying in an inn. When it got cold, we'd pick up some dry branches to make a fire, wrap ourselves in cloaks, and sleep on our swords. The sky was my blanket, the ground my bed—it was quite comfortable." He paused, his fingertips tapping lightly on the stone table. "Back then, I always felt that 'a flute and a sword' represented courage, 'traveled everywhere' represented the path, the 'wine jug' held friendship, and 'the world as my home' represented freedom."
Falcon sighed softly, his eyes filled with longing. "I've been studying the 'zhihuzheya' since I was little, learning the rules of the imperial court. I always feel like I lack the free and easy spirit of the martial arts world. Hearing what you said, I really envy those days where 'the sky is my roof and the earth is my home.'"
"I'm free and easy," Xiao Jian said, his gaze turning to the crabapple tree in full bloom in the corner of the courtyard. The wind blew a few petals off, and his tone softened. "But after walking for a long time, you start to yearn for a real home. Last year, at the ferry, I saw a family, young and old, seeing their husband off on a business trip. The wife stuffed a bag of pastries into his hand, and the child clung to his clothes and cried. It was then that I suddenly understood—no matter how wonderful it is to 'travel the world,' it's not as good as the warmth of a lamp at home; no matter how free it is to 'live under the sky and on the ground,' it's not as good as having parents and sisters by your side."
He picked up the bamboo flute, gently placed it on the table, and patted the sword at his waist. "Now, I don't play the flute often, and I use my sword mostly for self-defense, not for wandering the martial arts world. I used to 'travel the martial arts world with a flute and a sword', but now I 'guard the martial arts world with a family and a courtyard' - the roof of this mansion is now my 'sky' and 'earth'."
Ertai nodded, seeming to understand, and raised his glass. "Whether you're traveling the world or guarding your home, your story is enough for us to drink three pots of wine! Come, let's toast to 'a flute and a sword', to 'the world as our home', and to our peaceful life now!"
"cheers!"
Three wine glasses clinked gently on the stone table, spilling a few drops onto the blossom-covered slab, quickly dried by the wind. The leaves rustled, as if whispering a few lines of jianghu poetry. As Xiao Jian gazed at the wine swaying in his glass, the vicissitudes of life faded, leaving only the gentle resolve of protecting his family.
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