Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Temporary Pause

"Deal with him? Why bother? I’m alive and well, aren’t I? So many people have died today; let’s not add more bloodshed. As the Buddhists say, saving a life is more meritorious than building a seven-story pagoda. Amitabha." Zhang Xuan pressed his hands together, adopting the pose of an enlightened monk. Coupled with his blood-stained clothes and face, and the solemn words about saving lives, he looked so absurd that one couldn’t help but want to give him a good beating.

"Buddhism? Little Xuan, you believe in that? I don’t buy it! I can’t stand seeing you spout nonsense with such a straight face," Yang Zaixing mercilessly exposed Zhang Xuan’s lie, raising his middle finger at him. "Let him go? You say you’ll spare him, even after he ordered an attack on you? Let me feel your forehead—are you feverish? Since when were you so forgiving? Did you check the almanac before leaving home today?"

Zhang Xuan truly felt his big brother was getting cheekier by the day. Indeed, proximity breeds similarity. He decided he’d better keep some distance between him and Old Master Tong. Look at Yang Hu, who isn’t close to Old Master Tong, and he’s not half as mischievous. Zhang Xuan nodded to himself, convinced of his reasoning.

Meanwhile, not far away, Old Master Tong suddenly sneezed. Yang Bo came over and asked what was wrong. Old Master Tong waved it off, saying it was nothing, probably just that young man cursing him. Both men chuckled, but anxiety lingered in their hearts.

"Brother Tong, should we go look for them? We’ve been sitting here a long time. If something happens, what then?" Yang Bo couldn’t help but ask.

"It really has been a long while. We should follow the road we came and see if they’ve just fled. Let’s hope nothing bad has happened," Old Master Tong said. The two rose, mounted their horses, and rode swiftly back the way they had come.

"Back to business. Zhang Yan, Chief Chen, take your men and bury the bodies of our fallen brothers. If you know where their families live, bring them back for a proper burial. Otherwise, give them a grave here, or take them elsewhere for interment. We can’t just leave them to rot here. Or gather them and burn them together? Zhang Yan, you decide; I’m only making a suggestion."

Zhang Yan lowered his head in thought, then looked at Zhang Xuan; so did Chief Chen. He hadn’t expected this young man to entrust him with such duties, but even without Zhang Xuan’s request, he would have done so. As for Zhang Xuan’s true intentions, perhaps when he first helped Yang Zaixing deal with the corpses, it was partly for show. Now, though, he simply wanted to give these men a final resting place. If there was any hidden motive, perhaps it was not wanting passersby, especially officials, to witness such a scene. Though these men were bandits, they were dead; there was no need for further disturbance. Of course, if Zhang Xuan knew he could claim a reward for them, he might have thought differently.

Zhang Yan couldn’t fathom Zhang Xuan’s thoughts. Seeing no jest in Zhang Xuan’s face, he bowed to him and Yang Zaixing, then went to speak with the bandits. Many of them bowed to Zhang Xuan and his companions in turn, making Zhang Xuan feel quite embarrassed. After all, it was his group who had killed them. Now he only wanted to ensure they had a proper burial, and yet they thanked him for it—he could only think this bunch was endearingly simple. The bandits began moving the bodies, though the process was slow; just hours ago, these had been their comrades, chatting and boasting together, now separated by life and death.

Zhang Xuan, Yang Zaixing, and Yang Hu stood aside, watching the bandits tidy up. Though Yang Zaixing wanted to tease Zhang Xuan, perhaps ask why he didn’t profit from the dead, seeing Zhang Xuan’s grave expression, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He watched Zhang Xuan, lost in contemplation himself—sometimes so frivolous, sometimes so deep, sometimes so diligent, sometimes… He really couldn’t understand Zhang Xuan at all. Who knew what would come from following him?

Zhang Xuan noticed Yang Zaixing watching him, glanced at his elder brother, and smiled, suddenly remembering something. "Big brother, you were about to tell me something earlier. Now that there’s nothing pressing, you can say it, right?"

"Was I? I don’t recall… Let me think. Now that you ask, my mind’s a bit muddled. Let me mull it over; I’ll tell you when it comes to me." Yang Zaixing pressed his temples, a big question mark floating in his mind.

"Tell me when you remember. But really, Old Master Tong and Yang Bo, saying they wouldn’t bother with us, actually went and did just that. If something had happened to us, wouldn’t they be wracked with regret? Those two have such broad hearts. Next time I see them, I really need to scold them. Not that I could take them in a fight—just nag them a bit. But just nagging doesn’t seem to do much; what do you think, Brother Hu?"

Yang Hu heard Zhang Xuan call him and looked over. "Little Xuan, you called me? What were you saying? I didn’t catch it—say it again, I’m listening this time." He grinned, scratching his head. Zhang Xuan waved him off. "Nothing much, just calling you, thanking you for your hard work this afternoon. That’s all." Yang Zaixing watched this exchange and couldn’t help but laugh.

"Little Xuan, what were you thinking just now, looking so serious? Is your stomach acting up again?" Yang Zaixing recalled Zhang Xuan’s grave expression, but couldn’t quite place it, so he asked.

"Just now? Honestly?" Zhang Xuan found a tree, sat down, and leaned against it, as if preparing to deliver a lengthy monologue. "Of course honestly—why would we keep secrets from each other? It’s rare to see you so serious."

Zhang Xuan looked at Yang Zaixing and said, "Actually, not much. Mainly, I was feeling reverence for the dead. Big brother, you say people only have a handful of years—what is life really for? Sometimes a single misstep can cost everything, like those men. If they’d just farmed and lived upright lives, would things have turned out differently? Or maybe, if they’d chosen farming, life might have been even harder than being a bandit—who’s to say?"

Yang Zaixing listened, walked over to Zhang Xuan, and patted his shoulder. "Little Xuan, don’t go getting all philosophical—it doesn’t suit you. Just live true to yourself, don’t overthink. As long as you don’t waste your time in this world, that’s enough. As for how long you’ll live, only heaven knows. Thinking too much is just asking for trouble."