Chapter Twenty-Six: Farewell, My Sworn Brother

The moment the door swung open, Zhang Yu immediately put down his chopsticks, arranging himself in a perfectly upright posture, just as he used to do when the homeroom teacher burst in while he was secretly playing with his phone during study hall.

He looked up, and before Zhao Yun could speak, Zhang Yu’s gaze was already drawn to the object in Zhao Yun’s hand.

It was a half-face silver mask, covering most of the nose and upper face. There were no intricate patterns or beautiful decorations, only a feather-like effect along the edges that made it somewhat unusual.

“Once you wear this, many troubles will surely be avoided. But if you wish to captivate the world, your elder brother will protect you,” Zhao Yun said.

Zhang Yu laughed heartily, “Brother, what are you saying? I was just troubled because I had nowhere to find a mask to hide my face. Your younger brother is very low-key indeed.”

“Of course, I understand,” Zhao Yun replied, and Zhang Yu always felt that his glance carried a deep meaning—could this ancient man be any more subtle?

“Come, try it on and see if it fits.”

Taking the mask, Zhang Yu felt an unexpected warmth from Zhao Yun’s hand, rather than the coldness he had anticipated. He smoothed the strands of hair that fell beside his forehead and pressed the mask to his face—it fit perfectly, as if it had been sculpted according to his own features.

The inner side of the mask was not pure silver, but lined with silk or some other soft material, so it didn’t feel uncomfortable or chafe.

Most miraculous of all was that, despite having no straps or ties, the mask stayed securely in place once he wore it, like a lock tightly fastened, only able to be opened by its matching key.

“Brother, why is this so?” Zhang Yu felt a slight unease—if this strange thing couldn’t be removed, his future would be bleak indeed.

Though he could rely on his talent, he rather preferred to rely on his looks.

“Don’t worry, try placing your hand on the mask and gently push,” Zhao Yun instructed.

“Is it really so magical?” Zhang Yu wondered. He supported the mask with his right hand and moved it slowly; with a soft “pop,” it detached easily and he took it off. Delighted, he looked at the ordinary-looking mask in his hand, like a child with a favorite toy; he put it on, took it off, put it on, took it off...

“This was crafted by an exceptionally skilled artisan in Changshan City whom I just found. Though some disdain such ‘clever tricks,’ there are things even I must admire,” Zhao Yun said.

“‘Clever tricks’—these are treasures of the Chinese nation! My brother, you’re mistaken! Are there masks like this in later ages?” Zhang Yu grumbled inwardly, feeling a pang of regret. Through thousands of years, as humanity advanced, countless treasures vanished into obscurity.

But at least he had one now, and to witness it was a blessing. With food in front of him, Zhang Yu set aside his worries and invited Zhao Yun to share a satisfying meal, then returned home with the mask.

The next morning, the group set out on their journey back to Zhongshan.

Once again immersed in the pure embrace of nature, Zhang Yu was overcome with emotion.

The environmental issues of later generations need no elaboration—the conflict between human civilization and the natural world has raged ceaselessly since the Industrial Revolution and the advent of machines, growing ever fiercer. By the time he crossed over, blue skies and white clouds, green mountains and clear waters had become luxuries; beneath the dome, half the city was shrouded in dust.

Yet here, the flowers and grasses, bubbling springs and streams, the azure sky and white clouds, even the earth beneath his feet, were all so clean.

Clean enough that Zhang Yu felt his eyes washed anew, moved almost to tears.

Now, the road was not flanked by barren fields, but had led deep into the heart of nature. He had missed it on the way here, dozing off, but now, the sight stirred his soul.

Golden waves of wheat stretched like an endless sea. Though the chaos of war and banditry had robbed the autumn harvest of its usual fervor, the expanse of gold was still enough to intoxicate the heart. The mountain stream sang beside them, clear springs bubbling, filling the mind with coolness.

The blue sky soared above, grasslands so green that the eyes relaxed naturally, clarity without limit, and high mountains rising into the clouds nearby. Zhang Yu thought, why not settle here with a beloved companion, living self-sufficiently for the rest of his days?

As he walked, Zhang Yu recited:

“In youth, I lacked the common touch, my nature loved hills and mountains.
Mistaken, I fell into the web of dust, gone for thirty years.
A caged bird yearns for its old forest, a pond fish longs for its ancient deep.
Clearing land at the southern wilds, keeping simple ways, returning to the garden.”

Zhao Yun and the others listened quietly, not daring to interrupt. They were not poets, lacking such talents, but praised him nonetheless.

After a pause, Han Long asked, “Young master, why thirty years?”

How could I know why Tao Yuanming wrote it that way? Doesn’t ‘sixteen years’ sound rather low?

“Because your young master is blessed with extraordinary talent—my one year counts for two of others; these sixteen years feel as matured as thirty! Brother, why are you laughing… do you agree or not?”

“If you’d said this sooner, I’d have yielded to you without question,” Zhao Yun replied.

What? Is this really Zhao Yun? That retort had some force—I wasn’t sure how to respond—but of course, I managed.

“No, no, though I’ve matured early, my elder brother is hardly ordinary. His unmatched skills in martial arts leave few rivals in the world.

As the saying goes, ‘Understanding comes at different times, expertise has its own focus. The accomplished go first.’ With such mastery, even a genius like me must concede.”

After these days together, everyone was fully acquainted, especially the two brothers. Zhang Yu’s occasional bluntness and sharp wit contrasted amusingly with his distinguished demeanor, making Zhao Yun all the fonder of his extraordinary younger brother.

There was no distinction of master or servant along the way, nor of elder or younger; they spoke freely, sharing laughter and stories. Not long after midday, the city of Lunu came into view.

“Brother, I have escorted you to your destination,” Zhao Yun said.

“Won’t you come in, brother? It’s getting late—traveling in the dark…”

“Do you think any bandit could stop me?” Zhao Yun immediately raised his spear, striking a heroic pose.

Zhang Yu forced a laugh, “I was overthinking. Who knows when we’ll meet again after today…”

Never before had Zhang Yu felt such a need for QQ or WeChat.

“There will come a day. A true man shouldn’t act like a woman—go home, don’t keep your father and mother waiting.”

A woman’s manner? Didn’t you hold hands and shed tears when you parted from Uncle Liu? Perhaps you couldn’t help yourself seeing him cry.

“The road ahead is long—I await your fame throughout the land!”

“Hahaha, good!” Zhao Yun declared, brimming with spirit. “Thanks to your guidance, I have no more doubts. The bond between us cannot be severed by distance. When you reach maturity and assume your rites, I will come to see you, even if it’s at the ends of the earth.”

And he didn’t forget to mention his own feats of one versus two… My elder brother is certainly not the straightforward, honest type.

“Then let us part here!” Zhang Yu rode into the city, Han Long, Zhang Biao, and the others saluted Zhao Yun and followed Zhang Yu.

Zhao Yun turned his horse, moving slowly. After a short distance, just as he was about to gallop off, he heard Zhang Yu shouting behind him.

He turned suddenly, and saw Zhang Yu standing atop the city wall of Zhongshan, black hair fluttering, white robes billowing, his right hand lifting the silver mask—truly, a peerless gentleman.

“Brother, I have a poem for you!”

The guards atop the city wall, seeing it was the treasured young master of Zhongshan, did not hinder him, letting Zhang Yu shout freely from the heights:

“Thousand miles of yellow clouds dim the sun,
North wind drives wild geese, snow swirling as one.
Fear not the road ahead for lack of a friend,
In all the world, who does not know you?”