Chapter 6: The Two Blades Hanging on the Wall

"I really won!" Zhao Jin hurriedly argued. The matter was trivial, but having done it and not being believed made him very unhappy.

Realizing his nephew didn't seem to be lying, Zhao Zhenxing's face broke into a smile. He rubbed Zhao Jin's forehead and asked gently, "Tell your uncle, how did you win?"

What was there to say about kids fighting? That was Zhao Jin's first thought, but then he noticed his uncle Zhao Zhenxing's eyes were very serious. Zhao Jin found it strange, but he recounted the whole process anyway.

Zhao Zhenxing listened very carefully. When he finished, a look of understanding appeared on his face. He smiled and said, "The Chen family's single saber style comes from the Qi Army tradition. Chen Sheng probably started training at age five, yet you managed to knock him down. First, he lacks experience. Second, little Jin, you actually rushed right up to him and fought hand-to-hand, so he couldn't wield that short cudgel properly. Next time you fight, I reckon you won't get off so easily."

Even with Zhao Jin's level of historical knowledge, he had heard of the Qi Army—the troops of the famously renowned military god Qi Jiguang of the Ming Dynasty. But Qi Jiguang had no connection to Xuzhou City; he had no idea how the Chen family came by that lineage.

Zhao Zhenxing smiled and continued, "Chen Sheng's grandfather served as General Qi's personal guard. He used that connection to return to Xuzhou and get a patrol officer post. Their family blade technique is a battlefield combat style—very practical."

At this point, Zhao Zhenxing shook his head and said self-deprecatingly, "Why am I rambling on about all this? You wouldn't understand anyway."

After that self-deprecating remark, Zhao Zhenxing asked Zhao Jin, "Little Jin, what did you come to see your uncle about? Afraid you'll get scolded by your parents for fighting when you get home? Don't worry, your uncle will plead your case!"

Qi Jiguang's personal guard, a patrol officer post in Xuzhou—Zhao Jin truly didn't understand these things, but he could see that his uncle Zhao Zhenxing was in a very good mood. At a time like this, the chances of a request succeeding would be much greater.

Zhao Jin lifted his head and stared at his uncle, trying his best to look serious, and said, "Second Uncle, I want to learn martial arts!"

A child is still a child after all. When they try to look serious, in an adult's eyes they just appear very cute. Uncle Zhao Zhenxing couldn't help laughing and was about to tease him a bit, but then he registered what Zhao Jin had said and froze. He asked, "Little Jin, you want to learn martial arts?"

Zhao Jin nodded firmly. He knew adults didn't take children's requests seriously, but at lunch today, Zhao Zhenxing had very earnestly suggested to his parents that he learn martial arts. And in his memories, Uncle Zhao Zhenxing had brought it up more than once. It was just that his parents had never agreed, and the old Zhao Jin was timid and afraid of hardship, unwilling to endure suffering, so it had never happened.

Zhao Zhenxing stared at Zhao Jin for a while. He realized his nephew's expression was very earnest. Zhao Zhenxing's own expression grew more serious, and he asked solemnly, "Little Jin, you were never willing to play with blades and spears before. Why do you want to learn martial arts today? Why?"

"I want to beat other people!" Zhao Jin said loudly. He had reacted very quickly, and this reason was also one people could more easily accept. Things like "I need to strengthen myself, the paths of scholarship and commerce are too hard for me" naturally couldn't be said.

Uncle Zhao Zhenxing nodded slowly. After a boy wins a fight, that feeling of victory is incomparable. His nephew had been cowardly before; this time he happened to win a fight, and perhaps that had sparked the desire to learn martial arts. A smile appeared on Zhao Zhenxing's face. He had always wanted this sole sapling of their family to learn martial arts, but had never succeeded. His elder brother and sister-in-law doted on the child, and Zhao Jin himself was timid by nature. This matter had always made Zhao Zhenxing very anxious.

He had traveled far and wide and was widely experienced, understanding the ways of the world far better than his elder brother and sister-in-law, who had never left Xuzhou. He knew that as a male, one absolutely had to possess martial skills and the ability to protect oneself. Zhao Jin had never been particularly clever since childhood; he struggled in private school, and other paths were even less viable. The only way out was learning martial arts. But no one listened no matter what he said, and the older the child got, the more troublesome learning martial arts became. Zhao Zhenxing had always carried this worry in his heart. He never expected that today Zhao Jin would bring it up himself.

The smile on Zhao Zhenxing's face grew thicker and thicker. He patted Zhao Jin's thin shoulder and said with a laugh, "As long as you follow your uncle and train hard, you'll definitely be able to beat others. But telling your uncle is useless—your parents have to agree. Tonight, your uncle will go talk to your parents. When I ask little Jin if you're willing to learn martial arts, what will you say?"

Zhao Jin understood this routine perfectly, of course, and immediately answered loudly, "I'll say I'm willing!"

Zhao Zhenxing nodded with a smile, then looked Zhao Jin up and down and shook his head. "First, go to your uncle's room. Let me wipe all this mud off you, or you'll get scolded again when you go home!"

Zhao Jin breathed a sigh of relief. His goal of learning martial arts was achieved. At lunch, his father Zhao Zhentang had said of his uncle, "You do have a fine set of martial skills." He remembered that line very clearly. To learn martial arts, one naturally had to find someone with real ability who would teach with dedication. His steady, reliable uncle was the best choice.

The old Zhao Jin had been timid and shrinking; he had come many times to call Uncle Zhao Zhenxing for meals but had never dared to enter. The current Zhao Jin didn't care about that and followed Zhao Zhenxing into the side-courtyard room.

The place wasn't large. Inside there was a heated brick bed, spread with a wolf-skin mattress. The window paper was yellowed, but had no holes, making the room quite warm. Zhao Zhenxing told Zhao Jin to sit for a while while he went to fetch water.

Zhao Jin looked around. Several things caught his attention. A long spear hung from the ceiling, a full nine chi in length. A bow rested on a wooden chest by the heated bed, its string already removed, with two feathered arrows lying casually beside it. The walls had no New Year prints or the like pasted on them, but two blades hung there.

These two blades were very out of place in this room. One was just over a chi long, with a curved blade body and a black leather-wrapped scabbard. On the scabbard was a circular emblem: the design was a horizontal bar above and three black dots arranged in a triangle below—black symbols on a gold background. Both the black leather and the gold emblem were very dull, and the blade itself was quite worn. The other blade was not nearly so refined; it didn't even have a scabbard. The blade was simply covered with a cloth sack. It was over four chi long, with a thick spine and a square tip. The wooden handle was wrapped with cloth strips, and on those strips were some dark purple stains that looked like years-old blood.

The long spear and bow and arrows were all of Han style—the old Zhao Jin had seen them many times on various occasions. But that short blade was clearly a Japanese sword form, what they called a "wakizashi." And that thick-spined, square-tipped blade—Zhao Jin had seen ones like it in places like museums and folk-culture villages. It should be a blade used by the Miao or Yao peoples of the southwest.

How did his uncle come to have a Japanese sword and a Yao blade? In this era, many people never left their hometown their entire lives, let alone had specialty goods from different regions circulating. How had these blades, separated by thousands of li, been acquired? Could it have been from Japanese pirates? But then how did he get the Yao blade?

As he was pondering this, Zhao Zhenxing walked in carrying a basin of water. The advantage of being a child was that you could ask whatever you didn't know at any time, and no one would blame you for it. Zhao Jin pointed at the two blades on the wall and asked curiously, "Uncle, what are those?"

Zhao Zhenxing glanced over and said indifferently, "The one with the black scabbard is a Japanese sword—the kind military officers and their household retainers over there wear at their side. The other is a Yao blade, used by the tribal chieftain's guards in Guizhou."

"Uncle, how did you get these two blades? Did you buy them?" Zhao Jin asked with feigned innocence. In truth, a child should have asked where Guizhou and Japan were, or even what a tribal chieftain was—not this.

But Zhao Jin's question clearly stirred Zhao Zhenxing's thoughts. Zhao Zhenxing had been bending over to pat the dust off Zhao Jin's clothes; hearing this, his body stiffened for a moment. In the end, he sighed softly and said in a deep voice, "Spoils of war from back in the day."

Spoils of war? Capturing just one type might be plausible, but a Japanese sword and a Yao blade would never appear on the same battlefield. This uncle of his not only possessed fine martial skills, but also had many stories.

Noticing that Zhao Zhenxing's mood had turned somber, Zhao Jin tactfully asked no further.

After Zhao Zhenxing finished patting the dust off Zhao Jin, he dampened a cloth and began wiping. Zhao Zhenxing's movements were very meticulous. The care of an elder was something Zhao Jin had only felt in this lifetime, and at such moments he always became very quiet. But Zhao Jin also noticed that Zhao Zhenxing's health was truly very poor. Even the motion of wiping clothes seemed to pull at something, making Zhao Zhenxing clench his teeth against the pain from time to time.

Once everything was more or less tidied up, Zhao Zhenxing smiled again and said to Zhao Jin, "Little Jin, you head home first. Tell your mother that your uncle will be coming over for dinner tonight."

Zhao Jin quickly agreed. Zhao Zhenxing added another smiling instruction: "Don't mention the martial arts matter yet. Wait until your uncle comes over to bring it up."

Zhao Jin naturally understood this way of handling things, but he still nodded firmly in agreement.