Chapter 8: I Want to Learn Martial Arts

The box of pastries was opened right away for Zhao Jin to eat. Zhao Zhentang sat in a chair chatting idly with He Cuihua in the kitchen, while Zhao Jin ate and listened carefully.

Chen Sheng's grandfather, Chen Peng, had followed Qi Jiguang in campaigns north and south back in the day. When Qi Jiguang served as Regional Commander at Ji Garrison, Chen Peng asked a favor and returned to his hometown of Xuzhou.

At the time, Qi Jiguang's authority was at its peak and his influence considerable. He helped secure Chen Peng a post as an Inspection Officer. Back then, Xuzhou was still a canal hub — countless people, sums of money, and goods passed through daily, like mountains of gold and seas of silver. This Inspection Officer post was extremely lucrative. Without a powerful backer like Marshal Qi, no one could have held the position for long.

Chen Peng served for four years. When Qi Jiguang fell from power, he could no longer keep the post. Fortunately, his family was a local great clan, and during his years as Inspection Officer he had built up connections. So even after leaving the post, no one schemed after his property. Chen Peng became a wealthy man living in peace. He had one son and three daughters; the daughters all married well. His son, Chen Wu, opened his own charcoal factory. Wealthy households inside and outside Xuzhou city were particular about using charcoal for their fires and cooking. Chen Wu's business in this trade brought in considerable income.

A family with money but no official rank is just a piece of fat meat. The Chen family understood this principle well and had long since secured Chen Wu a position as a Constable in the yamen.

The Constable's position was naturally higher than that of an executioner, and the Chen family was already considered local gentry. Their power and status were far beyond what the Zhao family could compare to. So although both worked in the Xuzhou Subprefect's yamen, they naturally had no particular dealings with Zhao Zhentang. However, Zhao Zhentang also held the title of Centurion in the Xuzhou Guard, which technically made him a Rank-6 military officer. He didn't feel out of his depth before Chen Wu, and through repeated contact, the two had actually developed a bit of a friendship.

From what he'd heard over the past few days, past recollections, and Zhao Zhentang's just-now explanation, Zhao Jin finally had a complete picture in his mind.

"... Chen Wu once took down seven or eight grain-transport laborers by himself using just a scabbard. His family has a martial tradition. His eldest boy has been training for several years now — who would've thought he'd get beaten down by our little Jin..."

Zhao Zhentang sat there, speaking with great relish. He Cuihua came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of stir-fried food. Hearing this, she laughed and scolded, "The Chen family isn't all that. Didn't you also drive off four men by yourself back in He Family Village?"

Zhao Jin immediately looked up. He'd never imagined his seemingly mediocre, heavyset father had such deeds to his name. Zhao Zhentang chuckled, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Without that kind of skill, I couldn't have married you."

The husband and wife exchanged a smile, then immediately remembered the child was beside them. Zhao Zhentang gave a dry cough, straightened up, and said, "That's nothing. Zhenxing — now he's truly impressive. That time we brothers fought with kids from the neighboring village, he took down over a dozen with a pole..."

Just as he was speaking, they heard knocking at the courtyard gate. Zhao Zhentang clapped his hands and stood. "Zhenxing's here. I'll go open the gate and feed that monkey while I'm at it."

He Cuihua wiped her hands, about to return to the kitchen. Before turning, she glanced at Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin was digesting his parents' conversation, but He Cuihua thought the child had been frightened. She smiled and reassured him, "Don't be scared, little Jin. What boy doesn't get into fights? Just don't come out on the losing end."

Zhao Jin didn't take these words in. He was only thinking: his father had once been able to beat four men alone, and his uncle had actually beaten over a dozen by himself. With such a foundation and background, his decision to learn martial arts was truly the right one.

Zhao Zhenxing arrived. The dishes were laid out, and everyone took their seats. The fact that Zhao Jin had won his fight delighted all three elders. Zhao Zhentang even brought out a small jar of wine.

"Big Brother, I still think little Jin should learn martial arts. It'll benefit him!" Zhao Zhenxing brought up the old topic again. As soon as he said it, the table went a bit cold.

Zhao Jin watched the smile vanish instantly from his father Zhao Zhentang's face. He drained his wine cup in one gulp. He Cuihua's smile also stiffened. She changed the subject: "Zhenxing, the flatbread will get cold if you don't eat it. Have some, quick."

Zhao Zhenxing set down his chopsticks and said very seriously, "Big Brother, Sister-in-law, for three hundred li around Xuzhou city, everywhere you look, people are practicing with spears and staves — on the salt routes, on the river, in the government, on the estates... Whatever little Jin does in the future, having martial skills means he'll never be at a disadvantage. At the very least, he can protect himself."

Zhao Jin listened to his uncle's words with rapt attention, afraid of missing a single sentence. The elders had never spoken of such things in front of Zhao Jin before.

Zhao Zhentang slammed his wine cup heavily onto the table and said in a muffled voice, "Learn martial arts? What use is it? To strengthen the body? Look at all the injuries you carry. Fiddling with blades and spears day in and day out — one slip and your life is gone. Plenty of people wave spears and staves around, but the ones who walk the straight path are all dirt-poor. You want little Jin to go down a crooked road?"

As the brothers' tones grew heated, He Cuihua looked back and forth between them and quickly interjected to smooth things over. "What's the use of you two brothers arguing so much? It still depends on whether little Jin himself is willing or not."

In He Cuihua's view, her son had a soft, timid nature. He blushed just speaking loudly to anyone. Normally, he didn't even dare look at Zhao Zhentang's executioner's blade, the one used for beheading. A child like that wouldn't dare learn martial arts at all. Asking him would be the perfect way to shut her brother-in-law's mouth.

"Little Jin, are you willing to learn martial arts?" He Cuihua asked gently. Zhao Zhentang and Zhao Zhenxing stopped arguing and turned their heads to look at Zhao Jin. A trace of a smile hid in Uncle Zhao Zhenxing's eyes. He had meant to ask himself; he hadn't expected his sister-in-law to speak first.

Zhao Jin looked left and right, deliberately hesitating a moment so his parents would think he'd at least given it some thought. Then he said loudly, "Dad, Mom, I want to learn martial arts. I want to learn from Second Uncle!"

He Cuihua had never expected Zhao Jin to answer like that. Her eyes widened in shock. She quickly said, "Little Jin, don't talk nonsense. Learning martial arts is very hard. Think about it again?"

"Mom, I've thought it through. I want to learn martial arts from Second Uncle," Zhao Jin answered crisply. Zhao Zhenxing coughed and spoke up, "Big Brother, Sister-in-law, little Jin has said so himself. What do you say?"

"Learn what? Learning martial arts leads to no good end. Little Jin can't study, but he can still inherit my head-chopping trade. He'll still eat white flour and mutton every day — no worse than a landlord." Zhao Zhentang refused to engage at all, just speaking in a gruff voice.

Zhao Jin had no way to interject in this situation. He had plenty of sound reasoning in his belly, but if he spoke words that didn't match his age, not only would no one listen, it would frighten people and bring about unnecessary consequences. Zhao Jin actually found it strange. His uncle Zhao Zhenxing's reasoning was persuasive enough, and his parents, Zhao Zhentang and He Cuihua, weren't the type to spoil a child without limits. Why were they so stubborn?

Zhao Zhenxing leaned forward, his face full of earnestness. "Big Brother, our Zhao family's roots are in the Xuzhou Guard. Being in the military, you must have martial skills. Sooner or later, they'll be needed. Without good martial skills, just thinking about doing the executioner's trade — that's not a long-term plan, and there's no future in it..."

Before he could finish, Zhao Zhentang slammed the table heavily. The wine cup by his hand fell and shattered, startling Zhao Jin. Zhao Zhentang raised his hand and pointed at Zhao Zhenxing, glaring and roaring, "Roots in the Xuzhou Guard? What does that dog-fucking guard unit have? Haven't you seen them selling their sons and daughters? Haven't you seen them making their own wives whore themselves out? Haven't you seen them turn bandit?"

After these three rapid-fire questions, He Cuihua quickly reached out to stop him. "Head of the house, head of the house, don't yell at his Second Uncle. The neighbors will..."

"This doesn't concern you! Second Brother, I know you look down on my head-chopping job. But when you came back to Xuzhou to die, it was the money from this job that bought your medicine and kept you alive until today. When we were little, how many full meals did we ever eat? Now we have meat at every meal — and it's all because your big brother goes and chops heads! Fine martial skills? What damn use are martial skills? What I learned as a child, and what I use now, is just that one downward chop. You learned well enough — and what did it get you? Nearly ten years teetering between life and death, and in the end you came back covered in injuries. You want little Jin to walk your path? Don't even think about it!" Zhao Zhentang pointed at his younger brother's nose and roared out these words.

Zhao Jin, at the side, was dumbstruck. How had this suddenly turned into a quarrel? He rarely saw his father in such a furious rage. The content of the words was even more thought-provoking. So many things had happened back then.

Just as he was thinking this, his uncle Zhao Zhenxing slowly stood up. A wave of disappointment washed over Zhao Jin's heart. He thought the two sides had reached an impasse and his uncle was about to leave. Tonight's persuasion attempt had probably failed.

Unexpectedly, after Zhao Zhenxing stood, he didn't leave. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Zhao Zhentang and said, "Big Brother, our parents died early. You raised me. After I came back, you and Sister-in-law took care of me again. I hold this in my heart. Big Brother, let me ask you one thing. If you didn't have this Centurion title, could you keep this head-chopping trade for long?"

Hearing this, Zhao Jin was taken aback. This question seemed completely unrelated to him learning martial arts. But he could reason out the logic. The executioner's job was unlucky and inauspicious, yet it was a lucrative post. Many people wanted it. Even if you had the guts to do it, you still needed the ability to hold onto it. Zhao Zhentang, as a Centurion of the Xuzhou Guard — no matter how much civil officials were valued over military ones — was still a man of background and official rank. Others wouldn't dare make a move against him lightly.

Zhao Zhentang nodded. Zhao Zhenxing asked in a muffled voice, "Big Brother, how did you get this Centurion post? Do I need to say it?"

Zhao Zhentang, who had been about to continue his tirade, immediately lost all his fire upon hearing this. His expression shifted for a moment, and finally he let out a long sigh. Zhao Zhenxing pressed on, "Big Brother, Sister-in-law, in my condition, every day I live is a day borrowed from fate. I'm having little Jin learn martial arts — could it possibly be for my own sake?"

At this, even He Cuihua had no words. Zhao Zhentang casually grabbed an empty bowl, poured it full from the small wine jar, raised it, and drained it in one gulp. He lowered his head, stared at the table, and said, "Learn. Let little Jin learn from you!"

Hearing this, Zhao Jin at the side let out a breath of relief. Zhao Zhenxing nodded, a look of solace appearing on his face. Just as he was about to speak, he choked, covered his mouth with his hand, and began coughing violently.

Once Zhao Zhenxing started coughing, he couldn't stop. He bent over at the waist, his face full of agony. Zhao Zhentang looked up at him with concern. He Cuihua hesitated a moment, then ladled out a bowl of soup and brought it over, setting it on the table. "Zhenxing, have some soup to settle it."

The coughing finally stopped. Zhao Zhenxing wiped his mouth with his hand and spoke in a hoarse voice, "Big Brother, Sister-in-law, I'll head back now. Tomorrow morning, get little Jin's training gear ready and send him to my place."

With that, he left his seat. He reached out as if to pat Zhao Jin on the forehead, but after extending his hand, he pulled it back. Zhao Jin stood frozen in place. He didn't even notice Zhao Zhenxing force a faint smile at him. Zhao Jin had seen that his uncle Zhao Zhenxing's palm was covered in bloody stains.

The room was very quiet. As Zhao Zhenxing reached the doorway, Zhao Zhentang finally asked in a muffled, thick voice, "Are you still taking that medicine? When it runs out, I'll get you more!"

"I'm still taking it, but this medicine only suppresses things. It can't cure the root. Big Brother, don't waste your money." Zhao Zhenxing looked back and finished speaking, then turned and walked out the door.

"Little Jin, go see your uncle off." He Cuihua finally reacted. Over on the other side, Zhao Zhentang let out another long sigh, filled his wine bowl to the brim, and drank it down in one breath.

Zhao Jin followed Zhao Zhenxing across the courtyard. The monkey had already crawled into its den to sleep. The courtyard was very quiet. By all rights, uncle and nephew should have been elated, having achieved their goal. But after that conversation in the house just now, the atmosphere was inexplicably heavy. They remained silent all the way to the gate.

"Little Jin, are you learning martial arts just to win fights?" At the gate, Zhao Zhenxing asked another question.

Zhao Jin thought for a moment, then answered cautiously, "Right now, I am learning just to win."

Hearing this ambiguous answer, Zhao Zhenxing smiled but didn't continue. He turned and went back inside.

By the time Zhao Jin returned to the house, Zhao Zhentang had drunk himself red in the face. Seeing Zhao Jin, Zhao Zhentang cursed with a thick tongue, "A coward like you, learning martial arts? A good-for-nothing who gets scared to death just watching a beheading. Sooner or later you'll come back crying."

He Cuihua didn't want to continue this topic. She urged Zhao Jin to go to bed quickly. Zhao Jin agreed and headed toward

his room. From behind, he heard a sigh: "I've let Zhenxing down...!" Then the door to the room closed, and the sounds outside became indistinct.