Chapter 22: The Young Hero

After bidding farewell to Xu Sanjin, Lu Xin left the southern courtyard and went straight to the northern courtyard where Cao An lived. If there was any friend among the servants in the Xu residence, Cao An was his only one.

Lu Xin’s temperament was not suited to opening his heart easily. Before crossing over, he had virtually no friends at school; in the eyes of teachers and classmates, he was withdrawn. After class, others would gather in groups to socialize, while he would either sleep or secretly play on his phone. To Lu Xin, social interaction was exhausting and troublesome.

But Cao An was different. Bound by shackles himself, he had offered Lu Xin a touch of warmth when Lu Xin was at his most helpless. Perhaps it could not be called a debt, but it was affection, loyalty. The ancients valued righteousness, holding it higher than the heavens. Lu Xin had long regarded Cao An as a brother, someone with whom he could drink and laugh.

Cao An seemed to have known that Lu Xin would leave. Half a month ago, he had hidden a jar of plum wine under his bed. The two had no dishes, spoke few words, and drank together for an hour. The smell of the stables was not pleasant, but at least there was no one to disturb them. They lay on soft, dry straw, content and at ease.

“I’ll have to set out later, so keep the rest of the wine for yourself. Also, after I’m gone, if you run into trouble, go find Uncle Wu.”

“Alright, I’ll remember.”

Cao An saw Lu Xin put down his bowl and suddenly turned away to wipe his tears. Lu Xin didn’t dare look at him, his nose stung, afraid he might cry as well, though he hadn’t shed tears in a long time. In truth, Cao An’s age was similar to Lu Tingfang’s, much older than Lu Xin. Yet whenever they were together, Cao An always seemed like a younger brother.

“I’m leaving. Take care!”

“Xin, wait—I have something I need to say.”

Lu Xin turned to leave, but Cao An hurriedly stood up. His expression was conflicted, as if he wanted to speak but was burdened by secrets. The young man looked back at him, his gaze grave, exhaling deeply.

“I know what you want to say. Back in Qingshui Alley, when Yan Qi suddenly mentioned Liangzhou, your expression changed. It told me you’re hiding a secret, and it’s connected to Liangzhou. You said you were sold into the Xu household by your father at nine, and hadn’t seen your family since. I always wondered, if your father sold you, why did he never come to see you?”

In this era, it was not uncommon for poor people to sell children they couldn’t raise to wealthy households as servants. Having lived in the Tang Dynasty for over two years, Lu Xin understood this well. To serve as a slave was better than starving or dying of illness. But because of that, parents who sold their children often visited them. The love that flows in the blood would not be dulled by time.

“I know you’re very clever, I couldn’t hide this from you. I kept silent to spare you trouble. But now you’re leaving, and after this parting, who knows when we’ll meet again across thousands of mountains and rivers. If I don’t tell you now, you might never know who I really am, and that’s not the way of brothers. Xin, actually… actually I am a Turk. My real name is Ashina Anluda.”

“What, you’re a Turk?”

Cao An’s words stunned Lu Xin completely. He had thought Cao An was from Liangzhou, perhaps displaced by war, like Yan Qi, escaping to Yuezhou. But now it was clear the matter was far more complicated.

“Are you frightened? Someone like me shouldn’t have any friends in the Tang Dynasty.”

Cao An had clearly drunk too much; his voice was low, and he seemed tormented, barely able to stand. Lu Xin hurried over to steady him, helping him sit down again.

“Don’t let your thoughts run wild. I’m not frightened. It’s just that, with the Tang and the Turks at war year after year, it’s dangerous for an outsider like you in the Tang realm. I’ll keep your secret; don’t let anyone else know. Alright, brother Anluda. I’ll remember your real name. Sleep well, keep the rest of the wine safe, and when I return, we’ll drink together again.”

By the time Lu Xin left the northern courtyard, dusk had already fallen. There was still one place left in the Xu residence he hadn’t been, and one person he hadn’t met. But he dared not see that person, for he could not bring himself to say goodbye.

Yet Dumb Wu was neither in the outhouse courtyard nor inside his room. Lu Xin searched everywhere, and at last found a letter from Dumb Wu left at his own bedside.

“Xin, I know your heart. Parting has always been the deepest sorrow. If you see me, you’ll surely bid farewell with great ceremony, which is not what I wish. Those who achieve great things do not cling to trifles. You must have lofty ambitions, but also heed the warnings of those who came before. The world is vast, wander as you wish. Look up to the high mountains, and a gentleman is mindful even when alone. I have spent ten fleeting years merging swordsmanship with the Dao, cultivating both mind and blade. One who wields the sword must possess sword virtue. If virtue does not match position, calamity will surely follow. Ahead lies Chang’an, with fate unknown, the Tang newly founded, tempestuous and shifting. This world is never calm; when the undertow rises, you must tread carefully, step by step. Go now. If fate allows, we shall meet again. If not, let it be a glimpse of a soaring swan, cherished in memory…”

Dumb Wu’s letter was written with brush and ink. It was the first time Lu Xin had seen him use a proper brush to write. Lu Xin knew nothing of calligraphy, yet Dumb Wu’s characters seemed fused with sword movements—calm, neither arrogant nor impatient, but with the force of the sky itself. Spirit merged within, united with heaven, indescribably subtle. It was less a letter, more a sword manual, a page of Daoist teaching.

When the sword enters the Dao, it follows the law of heaven!

“Uncle Wu, perhaps you are the one who understands me best in this world. We are destined to meet again.”

Lu Xin naturally understood Dumb Wu’s intentions; seeing the letter instead of the man was meant to dispel his urge to linger. Dumb Wu was to Lu Xin both mentor and father, and how could he not heed his words? After reading the letter, the young man began packing, preparing to leave that very night. He didn’t have much—one horse, one sword, a string of copper coins, a few ounces of silver, and two sets of clothes, just enough to fill a bundle.

For Yuezhou City, Lu Xin felt no attachment. After leaving the Xu residence, he spurred his horse, quickly reaching the outskirts. That spring, the official roads were especially crowded. He’d heard from the household that early in the year, the Tang emperor had sent messengers to every prefecture and county to announce the opening of the Imperial Examination, recruiting talent for the court. Imperial examinations were a major event in ancient times. Especially when the emperor himself oversaw them, the selected scholars would be highly valued and promoted. This was different from the usual examinations.

To avoid colliding with travelers on the main road, Lu Xin took a narrow path soon after leaving the city. Though it was rugged and narrow, it was unobstructed. Before setting out, he had asked Xu Sanjin for the quickest route to Chang’an: through Shanyin County, passing closest to Hangzhou City. He hadn’t intended to meet Tian Gui and Tian Yuer again, but since he would pass by, he thought it fate and planned to visit the mountain.

Spurring his horse, Lu Xin bounced along the mountain road, traveling smoothly for most of an hour. Just as he was about to leave the path and join the main road, the sound of fighting erupted ahead. Lu Xin quickly pulled his reins to a halt. A hundred paces away, he saw a prison cart; soldiers escorting it were locked in battle with a group of men in black. Blades flashed, many had already fallen.

Lu Xin had no intention of meddling and was about to turn away when one of the soldiers shouted angrily. The voice sounded familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before.

“You brazen thi