Returning as a Prodigal Son
Preface: I've seen Liangshan Marsh vanish into thin air, and the heroic spirits of Liaoerwa extinguished. In this life, I simply wish to be a spectator. Yet, though these eyes saw the end, this heart... ultimately failed to harden into stone.
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In the fifth year of Zhenghe, autumn, Daming Prefecture.
The hustle and bustle of the market seemed to drift through a thin veil, hazily entering my ears. The cries of peddlers, the clatter of carts and horses on the bluestone pavement, the crisp clacking of the storyteller's clapping stick on the table in the teahouse...these sounds were both familiar and unfamiliar.
Yan Qing suddenly opened his eyes.
He laid there in a daze, his body a long-lost litheness and youthfulness, free from the scars of years of wandering, and without the piercing loneliness of retreating to the mountains.
He raised his hands, showing long, strong fingers, smooth skin, and distinct wrist bones. These were not the hands that had weathered the wind, frost, rain, and snow, covered with tiny scars.
Memories came flooding back like a tide, carrying with them the coldness and heaviness of past lives.
The heroes gathered at Liangshan Mountain to enforce justice... the poisoned wine at Liaoerwa... the turbid and unwilling look in Lu Junyi's eyes when he fell into the river... the helpless sigh of Song Jiang before his death... and himself, sailing for thousands of miles, disappearing into the mist and rain of Jiangnan, and from then on living alone, facing the green mountains and clear waters, those days that seemed carefree, but in fact, every midnight he was awakened by old friends and old memories year after year.
He, Yan Qing, the prodigal Yan Qing, actually came back.
He returned to Daming Mansion, back to the time when he was still the handsome and extremely handsome personal servant of Yu Qilin Lu Junyi, with a body as white as snow, proficient in all kinds of romantic skills, able to shoot a crossbow, and sumo wrestle, and also dressed in embroidered clothes.
He lay quietly for a long time, until the sun rose higher outside the window, casting a warm spot of light on the blue brick floor in front of the bed. He did not exclaim, nor did he feel ecstatic, only a deep sense of bewilderment and exhaustion that penetrated to his bones.
What’s the point of living again?
In his previous life, he had seen through the so-called "loyalty and righteousness," the seemingly bright but thorny dead end of the road of amnesty. He had once advised his master, Lu Junyi, "Master, haven't you heard that Han Xin achieved ten great feats, only to be beheaded in the Weiyang Palace? How Peng Yue was minced into meat sauce? How Ying Bu was made into a bowstring and medicinal wine?" His words were still fresh in his mind, but his master wouldn't listen, and neither would his brother Gongming.
In the end, it was all just a big dream, vanishing into thin air.
What else could he ask for in this life? Fame, wealth, and power? What a joke. Brotherhood? The blood-stained Loyalty Hall, the scattered stars, had already chilled his heart.
"It's better to go home..." He whispered to himself, his voice hoarse from just waking up, but revealing the desolation of someone who has experienced the vicissitudes of life. "In this life, I will find a place with beautiful mountains and rivers, retire early, and no longer worry about the right and wrong of the martial arts world or the disputes in the court."
He stood up, his movements smooth and graceful, as if this young body had never experienced the estrangement of decades. He walked to the bronze mirror, which reflected a handsome face with red lips, white teeth, and picturesque eyebrows. The corners of his eyes and eyebrows still had a bit of youthful vigor and vitality, untainted by the later gloom and vicissitudes of life.
Yan Qing looked at himself in the mirror and slowly forced a smile, one that was three parts self-deprecating and seven parts distant. Very good, the skin remained the same, but inside was a soul that had experienced many vicissitudes of life.
He changed into his usual blue satin clothes, tied his hair, and donned his usual Sichuan crossbow and the short sword that could cut hair with a single blow. He opened the door, and the bright autumn sun blazed in, causing him to squint slightly.
The Lu Mansion remained exactly as he remembered it, with deep courtyards and servants moving about in an orderly fashion. Upon seeing him emerge, they all respectfully addressed him as "Brother Xiaoyi." Yan Qing nodded in response, his demeanor calm and unaffected, as usual. Only in the depths of his overly calm eyes did a subtle sense of change pass through him.
He knew the current time. Mr. Lu was still enjoying his wealth and prosperity in his mansion, and had not yet been framed by Wu Yong, the resourceful star of Liangshan Lake. The disaster that would change everyone's fate had not yet arrived.
This is good, Yan Qing thought. He only needed to find the right moment to declare his feelings to his master, seek freedom, and then he could drift away, realizing the "retirement" he hadn't fully desired in his previous life.
Strolling out of Lu's mansion, he needed to feel the real world, to confirm he wasn't dreaming. Damingfu, the capital of the Northern Song Dynasty, was as prosperous as Bianliang, the capital of the capital. The streets were lined with shops, wine flags fluttering, and people flowing.
He habitually walked towards a well-known teahouse in the city, where all kinds of people gathered and where the news was most up-to-date. At the door, he paused almost imperceptibly.
Sitting by the window was a skinny man with a pointed mouth and sunken cheeks. He was sipping tea with his head down, but his eyes were looking around furtively and shrewdly.
Time moves on.
Yan Qing's heart felt as if it was gently pricked by an extremely thin needle.
Shi Qian, the flea on the drum, ranked 107th among the 108 generals, known as the Earth Thief Star. In his previous life, he was a thief with limited skills, but he caused considerable trouble. After joining Liangshan, he mostly engaged in spying and burning supplies within the army, making him hardly a core figure. He died of illness in Hangzhou during the campaign against Fang La.
An insignificant little person.
Yan Qing should have walked right past him, as if he hadn't seen anything. He had already decided to retire, and whether these people from his past lives rose to prominence or fell into poverty, it had nothing to do with him anymore.
His pace slowed down.
He remembered that Shi Qian hadn't yet been apprehended by Zhujiazhuang for stealing a chicken, nor had he encountered Yang Xiong or Shi Xiu. He was merely a homeless, low-class man, relying on his meager skills to survive in the underworld. On the table before him lay a pot of the cheapest, crudest tea, not even a plate of decent snacks. His clothes, while not tattered, were washed pale, and the cuffs bore barely noticeable wear.
Shi Qian seemed to sense the gaze and raised his head to meet Yan Qing's. He clearly recognized the "Prodigal Son Yan Qing," the most popular figure in Daming Prefecture. A fawning, almost fawning, yet also slightly fearful smile immediately appeared on his face, and he nodded and bowed hurriedly.
That smile reminded Yan Qing of Shi Qian's previous life, when he occasionally wore the same expression, either when he received a reward or returned from a mission. He had once considered him despicable and unfit for any important task. But now, looking back, behind that smile lay the humble struggle of a small figure struggling to survive in troubled times.
Yan Qing's footsteps stopped completely.
The idea in his heart of "retreating to the mountains and forests and not caring about worldly affairs" formed a sharp conflict with the face in front of him with a flattering smile.
To save or not to save?
Saving him meant, from that moment on, he had intervened in the trajectory of his destiny. What kind of storm would a gentle flap of his wings, a reborn butterfly, unleash? Would his resolve, so hard-won, be shaken by this insignificant glance?
Not saving him, turning around and leaving, letting Shi Qian follow the predetermined trajectory, stealing chickens, being captured, going to Liangshan, and finally dying of illness in Jiangnan... This is the most correct choice for a person who is determined to retire.
Shi Qian saw that Yan Qing was just looking at him without saying a word. His eyes were so deep that they made him feel a little uneasy. The smile on his face gradually froze, and he became uneasy, not knowing where to put his hands and feet.
Just when Shi Qian was almost unable to bear the silent pressure and was about to get up and slip away, Yan Qing moved.
He slowly walked over to Shi Qian's desk, flicked his robe sleeves, and sat down in a leisurely manner. Dr. Tea immediately came over and greeted him attentively: "Brother Xiaoyi, what would you like?"
"A pot of the best dragon ball snow tea, paired with some exquisite snacks." Yan Qing's voice was clear and natural, with a natural calmness.
Shi Qian was even more embarrassed. He rubbed his hands and said hesitantly, "Little...Brother Xiaoyi, what are you doing..."
Yan Qing didn't look at him, his eyes fixed on the bustling crowd outside the window, as if asking casually: "Brother, you look very unfamiliar, are you not from here?"
"Yes, yes, my surname is Shi, and my given name is Qian. I'm passing by your precious place and want to make a living." Shi Qian said hurriedly.
"Oh?" Yan Qing finally turned his gaze, his bright eyes seeming to see through people's hearts. "From the look of your face, it seems you're short of money?"
A trace of embarrassment flashed across Shi Qian's face, and he hesitated, not daring to answer.
At this time, tea and snacks were served. Yan Qing pushed a plate of crystal soap in front of Shi Qian, picked up the teapot, and poured two cups of fragrant tea.
"It's fate that brings us together." Yan Qing pushed a cup of tea over, his tone calm but with a force that could not be refused, "Have a cup of tea to warm yourself up."
Shi Qian was flattered and thanked him repeatedly, holding the teacup with trembling hands.
Yan Qing watched him wolf down his snacks, his resolute determination to "mind his own business" slowly crumbling. He told himself: This isn't meddling; it's just a moment of softness. I'm giving him a meal and pointing him in the right direction, so he doesn't engage in such sneaky activities and get into trouble. That's all.
When Shi Qian had almost finished eating, Yan Qing took out an ingot of about five taels of silver from his arms, placed it on the table, and pushed it over.
Shi Qian's eyes widened instantly, and his breathing became rapid as he looked at the silver ingot.
"This...Brother Xiaoyi, how can this be done!"
"That's all right," Yan Qing said calmly. "I think you're a real man. Why bother with such petty theft and thievery that would only humiliate yourself? Take this silver and find a decent job, or buy some goods and become a peddler. It's better than living in fear."
He paused, looked into Shi Qian's eyes, and said with a stronger tone, "Remember, don't go to the territory of Yunzhou, Shandong. Especially stay away from Zhujiazhuang, Hujiazhuang, and Lijiazhuang. There... is no peace there."
Shi Qian was stunned. He had no idea why Yan Xiaoyi, a complete stranger and a far superior to him in status, would treat him so kindly, or even issue such a warning. But the silver ingot in his hand felt heavy and carried a genuine warmth. The young man's gaze was clear and serious, not as if he were teasing him.
A mixture of gratitude, doubt, and shock surged in his heart. This man, who was usually good at talking, was actually choking up. He stood up and bowed deeply to Yan Qing: "Xiao Yi Ge's kindness, Shi Qian... Shi Qian will remember it with all his heart! I will definitely obey Xiao Yi Ge's orders!"
Yan Qing waved his hand, signaling him not to be so polite. He watched Shi Qian thank him profusely, pocketing the silver, then leaving the teahouse, looking back every few steps, and disappearing into the crowd.
There were empty cups and plates on the table, and the air was still filled with the sweet aroma of tea and snacks.
Yan Qing sat there alone for a long time without moving.
He couldn't help it after all.
The memories of this first life were like a heavy yoke, but also like a detailed map. He knew where the traps were and where the abyss lay. Seeing those once vibrant lives that ultimately fell, even if it was just an insignificant Shi Qian, he couldn't truly turn a blind eye.
"Retire..." He picked up the slightly cold tea, took a sip, and a bitter smile appeared on his lips. "I'm afraid... I can retire physically, but it's hard to let go of my heart."
He put down the money for the tea and stood up to leave the teahouse. The autumn sun shone down on him, stretching his shadow very long. His figure was still handsome and elegant, but it seemed to be burdened by something invisible.
He knew that from this moment on, his envisioned second life of leisure and ease had quietly gone off track.
And all this has just begun.
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End of Chapter 1
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