Chapter Twelve: Cremation

“Hopefully, I haven’t bet on the wrong horse. But even if I have, it doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s take a gamble. If I win, I get beautiful women and a seaside mansion. If I lose, it seems I won’t really suffer any loss.” Zhang Xuan muttered inwardly.

“Uncle Yang, what do you think about this sworn brotherhood?” Yang Hu asked, and Yang Zaixing also turned his gaze to Uncle Yang.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t really know. I only have a feeling—this Zhang Xuan kid, he thinks highly of the young master. As the saying goes, blessings need not be avoided, and if it’s misfortune, you can’t escape it anyway. Looking at things now, we’ve been a burden to him, and knowing we have enemies, he still dares to swear brotherhood with the young master. I can’t tell whether it’s because he’s bold or simply fearless due to ignorance. Ultimately, it depends on how you, young master, view this matter. After all, you’re the one swearing the oath, and our opinions are only for reference.” Uncle Yang looked at Yang Zaixing as he spoke.

Yang Zaixing pondered Uncle Yang’s words, lowered his head for a moment, then replied, “My thoughts? Uncle Yang, I think I do acknowledge Zhang Xuan as a brother.”

“Why?”

“The reasons? First, no matter what, he saved my life. I’m not someone who forgets kindness, and my father would never allow me to do so either. Secondly, even when we were being hunted by our enemies, he was willing to declare he’d share both fortune and hardship with me. I’ve asked myself if I could do the same, and my answer is probably no. Lastly, because of his words, ‘Don’t underestimate the young and poor,’ I sense he harbors ambitions. I believe in his future. Perhaps he’s gambling on my future, but why shouldn’t I gamble on his as well? Besides, I’m considered his elder brother, so I’m not losing out. I feel, at this moment, I’d recognize him as a brother. As long as he doesn’t commit any heinous crimes or acts that offend heaven and earth, I’ll stand by him.”

Yang Zaixing spoke with utmost seriousness.

Uncle Yang nodded after hearing Yang Zaixing’s words. “Young master, I won’t interfere with your decision. To be honest, I support it. Though I don’t understand fortune-telling, Zhang Xuan’s words and actions always give me a strange feeling. I’d like to gamble on his future too. Yang Hu, what about you? There are only three of us left now. Let’s hear your thoughts.”

Yang Hu didn’t expect the conversation to turn to him. He scratched his head and spoke hesitantly, “Me? You guys decide. Honestly, Zhang Xuan seems pretty good so far. What the future holds, I won’t bother thinking about it. Anyway, if you tell me to go east, I’ll never go west.”

Uncle Yang pointed at Yang Hu with some resignation. “You—never mind, let’s gamble. Even if we lose, it’ll just mean we misjudged him. But you never know, looking at Zhang Xuan’s age and courage… perhaps he’ll be destined for great fortune.”

As Uncle Yang watched Zhang Xuan’s silhouette, he mused.

Zhang Xuan, after walking for a while, suddenly thought of something and returned, seriously addressing Uncle Yang and the others, “Should we deal with these corpses? I think it’s best to handle them. Brother Yang, why don’t you all help gather them together and burn them? Otherwise, if someone stumbles upon so many bodies, it’ll cause unnecessary trouble.”

The four of them then divided the corpses into two piles, added firewood, and Yang Hu lit them, sending these souls off to the next world.

During this process, Zhang Xuan solemnly paid his respects, perhaps out of reverence for the dead, or perhaps to ensure those with grievances wouldn’t haunt him. Likely the latter.

Once the bodies were burned, Zhang Xuan covered the ashes and remnants of Yang Zaixing’s companions with earth, saying, “Thank you for your sacrifices for my brother. Even in death, you never abandoned him. This place is a bit humble, and we don’t have the means to return you to your homeland yet. I hope your spirits in heaven will forgive us.”

Having finished, Zhang Xuan truly admired these fallen warriors. Their loyalty was unquestionable. He hoped his own future comrades and subordinates would be as unwavering, as steadfast unto death. If so, his journey would not have been in vain.

He also prayed their spirits would bless him, that he hadn’t made the wrong bet, for Brother Yang was indeed the famed general of the Song Dynasty, Yang Zaixing.

The three—Yang Zaixing, Uncle Yang, and Yang Hu—watched everything Zhang Xuan did, and suddenly their eyes grew moist. Just yesterday, they had all been traveling together, and now they were separated forever.

“Zhang Xuan, thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for them,” Uncle Yang said solemnly, bowing deeply to Zhang Xuan.

Startled by Uncle Yang’s bow, Zhang Xuan waved his hand and looked at the three, saying, “They were all heroes. Why are you crying? The dead cannot return, those who live must move forward, and live for them too! Shall we set up a memorial tablet? Maybe not, given the times. Come, gather yourselves. Let’s go, I’ll take you to see Grandpa Tong.”

Though Zhang Xuan wouldn’t deny that some of what he did was theatrical, seeing Uncle Yang bow made him feel it was all worthwhile.

Truthfully, Zhang Xuan envied Yang Zaixing for having such trustworthy companions—battle brothers. Perhaps this planted a seed in Zhang Xuan’s heart regarding how to treat others in the future. Whether that seed would take root was a story for another day.

Zhang Xuan walked ahead, clutching his recent “spoils,” while Yang Zaixing and the others followed silently behind, still immersed in sorrow. After all, they had lived together—by modern terms, they were brothers—and now, just like that, they were gone.

Zhang Xuan had done all he could; he didn’t plan to comfort them. Only they could find their own way through grief. He believed they would, for in these tumultuous times, such events were almost normal. Survival always came first.

But halfway along, Zhang Xuan realized he might have gotten lost. He couldn’t find the way back. He’d been distracted, following the glow of the fire, and hadn’t marked the path. Now night had fallen, and he felt rather embarrassed.

“Brother Yang, Uncle Yang, sorry to trouble you, but I think I’m lost. Let me try to recall the way. Please wait a moment, I should be able to remember.”

Zhang Xuan looked apologetically at the others, spreading his hands helplessly.

“It’s already dark. Try to remember carefully. You’ll figure it out, or we can look around for any firelight. Maybe that’s where you were before,” Uncle Yang said.