Chapter Eighteen: Calling for Reinforcements

“小 Xuan, are you just going to let them go like that?” Yang Zaixing couldn’t help but ask Zhang Xuan.

“What else can I do? I’m not bloodthirsty. It’s not easy for them either, and after all, you two already took all their money—left them with nothing. Giving them a lesson is enough. Besides, who knows if we’ll ever cross paths again? Then again, maybe we’ll meet tomorrow, or the day after.” Zhang Xuan glanced back with a hint of meaning in his eyes.

“Ah Xing, Xuan, there are two tails behind us. Want me to take care of them?” Yang Hu came up and asked.

“Let them follow. Why do you think I’ve been running so slowly? I’m just making sure they can keep up. Looks like there will be more spoils to collect soon. I can’t wait,” Zhang Xuan replied. Yang Hu, on hearing this, simply accepted it—he was used to following orders, and didn’t bother thinking in circles. Otherwise, he’d only bring himself trouble.

“Xuan, you noticed them early on? I was wondering why you suddenly slowed down. I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well, or that little gang leader hurt you more than I thought. Looks like I was overthinking it. Aren’t you worried about being late, running at this pace?” Yang Zaixing asked.

“We’re going to be late anyway, a little more won’t matter. It’s not like being on time saves us from grilling meat,” Zhang Xuan shrugged it off, utterly unbothered. “Besides, big brother, the meat is mostly for us. We run every day, burning so much energy. If we didn’t have this meat to replenish ourselves, do you really think we could keep going for so long?”

Yang Zaixing thought about it and realized it was true—he, Xuan, and Hu did eat the most. “Now that you mention it, Xuan, that makes sense! So from now on…”

“Big brother, don’t worry about ‘from now on.’ When it’s time to complain, complain; when it’s time to eat, eat well. What you eat is yours, after all. Just take what I said as me consoling myself for being late—don’t take it to heart, and don’t mention it to Old Man Tong or Uncle Yang.”

“Xuan, I know what to do. Same as always. We’ve rested enough, let’s get moving,” Yang Zaixing nodded in understanding.

Old Man Tong and Uncle Yang had already hunted some game, though today’s haul wasn’t great—probably because they were so close to the village. These days, villagers often come up the mountain for meat or firewood to supplement their households. It was thanks to Tong and Yang’s experience that they managed to bring anything back at all; if they’d sent Zhang Xuan or Yang Zaixing, they would’ve returned empty-handed.

“Old Tong, they’re a bit late today. Do you think something happened?” Uncle Yang looked anxious, glancing toward the path where Zhang Xuan and the others should appear.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be here soon. There’s no use worrying over nothing. You can’t protect Zaixing forever. Let go a little; it’ll help him grow. Sometimes you have to trust them. If you look at how Zaixing and his friends have been lately, you’ll see they’re growing much faster than we expected. Who knows where Zhang Xuan picked up his odd ways, but they work. Just be patient; worrying won’t help,” Old Man Tong reassured him.

“Sure, you’re right. But as long as they’re not back, I can’t help but worry. I’ll go gather some more firewood—sitting idle just makes me think too much.” With that, Uncle Yang headed into the woods. Old Man Tong watched him go, thinking that concern often leads to confusion, but whether fortune or misfortune comes, it’s best to give the young men a chance to gain experience.

Meanwhile, Zhang Xuan and his friends were deliberately slowing down to let their pursuers catch up. “Xuan, what if they bring a hundred men back with them? What do we do then?” Yang Zaixing asked.

“If they really bring a hundred people, then we run. I don’t believe they can outrun me. Once they’re tired, we double back and fight—they won’t have any strength to fight back then. Anyway, worst comes to worst, Old Man Tong and Uncle Yang are still there—they’ll hold the sky up if it falls. Don’t worry about it,” Zhang Xuan replied, completely unconcerned by his friend’s anxiety.

“Xuan, Xing, we’re here. I see Old Man Tong, but not Uncle Yang. Maybe he got back early today? But that’s not likely…” Yang Hu’s voice trailed off. Zhang Xuan couldn’t quite catch what else he said, but by now he was used to Yang Hu’s rambling; if he didn’t hear it clearly, it probably wasn’t important. If it was, well, sometimes that’s just how things go. Later, though, there was a time when missing Yang Hu’s words cost Zhang Xuan a great opportunity.

The three of them reached Old Man Tong and instinctively started the fire. They knew better than to resist—better to get to work than to be scolded or beaten. After a while, Uncle Yang returned, carrying a bundle of firewood. Seeing Zhang Xuan and the others had arrived, he exchanged a glance with Old Man Tong and nodded in satisfaction.

Elsewhere, the little gang leader whom Zhang Xuan’s group had robbed finally made his way over a hill and into a dilapidated temple. The place was empty. He looked around, then whistled. Instantly, dozens of men emerged from hiding.

“Well, if it isn’t Boss Chen! Done for the day so early? Did you find a fat target or something? Wait, that can’t be. If you had, you’d have gone to town first to celebrate before bragging. Looks like you ran into tough luck instead, am I right?” someone jeered, drawing laughter from the crowd. Boss Chen looked embarrassed.

Seated at the head, a man gestured for silence, and the temple soon quieted down.

“Boss Chen, you only come to this shabby temple besides tribute day when you’ve got trouble. Tell us what happened—let us have some fun at your expense,” the man at the head, known as “Swallow,” teased, prompting more laughter.

“Swallow, I really did run into trouble today. Not only did I fail to rob them, I got robbed myself. The three of them look young, but they’re all well-trained fighters. My men and I couldn’t beat them—I’m still sore right now. I came here to ask for backup, hoping you’d help me out for old times’ sake, since I’ve always paid my dues on time.” As he spoke, Boss Chen rubbed his belly and face, then looked up at the man on the dais.

Swallow stared at Boss Chen, tilting his head thoughtfully. The others watched as, during this pause, Boss Chen surreptitiously signaled to someone in the crowd. That person caught on and stood up, preparing to speak to Swallow and the others.