Chapter Seven: The Gift

Yes or no—at this moment, the question seemed tangled with uncertainty for Han Tanyi. If he were to deny it, he could not, for he was indeed the one with the golden leaf; there was no escaping it. Yet to admit it, his heart resisted, especially since he did not know who this old man truly was or what his intentions might be. In such circumstances, the best response was silence; as the saying goes, silence is golden, and in this instant, Han Tanyi embodied it to perfection.

The boat continued drifting downstream, the wind aligning with their course, billowing the sail and quickening their speed. The youth remained silent, and the old man did not speak again. Even Qiu Wan’er, usually lively and unrestrained, fell quiet and slipped to her senior brother’s side. Her face bore a trace of suspicion, as if trying to fathom the thoughts of the two before her. In this world, the hardest thing to decipher is the human heart—truly impossible to see through. Yet, in this hush, the rhythmic calls of the boatmen at prow and stern could be heard clearly. Entering the Xiang River brought a sense of leisure; the mood lightened, and there was a certain comfort in the measured beat of oars on wood.

“Young man, young lady, thank you for taking this old man aboard for a stretch. These things, I’ll leave with you as a memento—until we meet again!” Who could say how much time had passed? The silence in the cabin eventually became uneasy. The old man slowly stood and made his way to the bow. Ahead, a small village could be glimpsed through the river’s mist, its outline faint but discernible. Clearly, that was his destination. Han Tanyi had no desire to ask questions; a man of such temperament was best left alone, all the more so when their encounter was by chance and their paths bore no real intersection. More importantly, the old man knew what he had done in Xingyang City; it was better to keep a distance and avoid further unease. The old man moved unhurriedly, but the boat was not large, so he soon reached the bow. Suddenly, he turned and tossed a parcel back to them, a hint of a smile flickering across his face.

“What’s this?” Qiu Wan’er caught it at once, her gaze lingering on the old man’s face in confusion before shifting to Han Tanyi, as if seeking a definitive answer about whether to accept the gift. But her hopes were clearly misplaced; Han Tanyi himself was at a loss for how to respond. The parcel was small and light, containing little of obvious value. The old man had no intention of waiting for their reaction; with a leap, he landed upon the river’s surface, riding wind and wave straight toward the village. Only now did his voice float back across the water: “This old man has no money to pay your fare. If you want it, ask your companions in the cabin. In any case, my thanks!”

The old man vanished with astonishing speed. No boatman could possibly stop him, nor was there any reason to try. Whether two or three passengers made little difference; the journey was the same. Besides, though it was the old man who had instigated events, his life-saving intervention and the drama in the cabin more than paid for his passage. In the world of rivers and lakes, why haggle over trifles? At least, that was how Han Tanyi convinced himself. He moved a little closer to the bow to watch the receding figure, a growing sense of unresolved doubt gnawing at him.

Who was this old man? Han Tanyi had run through the names of every legendary figure he knew from the martial world, but none matched the man before him. The only certainty was that he could not be ordinary; the martial skill he displayed was far beyond anything Han Tanyi had witnessed. For most, standing upright on water was a feat bordering on the impossible, yet the old man did so effortlessly, gliding dozens of meters from the bank without even the faintest tremor. Such ability seemed almost superhuman.

“Brother, what on earth is this?” Han Tanyi’s musings were interrupted by Qiu Wan’er’s voice. He turned to see her perplexed expression, and he too felt a twinge of surprise. He hastened back to the table and finally saw what she held: a book, neither thick nor thin, its pages yellowed with age. Clearly, it had weathered many years. Even the cover was faded, but one could just make out the three characters for “Dao De Jing.” As for the smaller seal script in the corner, those were beyond deciphering.

“I thought that odd old man might give us something good—not that we care for gold or jewels, but at least a martial arts manual would have been a treasure. Why be so stingy, giving us this worthless book? Even beggars wouldn’t want it!” Seeing Han Tanyi approach, Qiu Wan’er seized the opportunity to vent her frustration, shoving the book into his hands with a grumble. Han Tanyi could only accept it awkwardly, glancing at the cover. Indeed, a Dao De Jing was hardly a prize; one could buy such a book at any street vendor’s stall. Worse yet, reading had always given him a headache, and he had never lacked excuses to avoid it. “Let it be, Junior Sister. Given his age, this may be all he could offer. We may not like it, but Master is fond of such things. An ancient book like this would make a fine gift. Weren’t you just worrying about what to get him? Here’s your answer—call it fate. Take it, keep it safe.”

He handed the book back. Persuaded by his words, Qiu Wan’er begrudgingly agreed. Outwardly, she could not reject her brother’s suggestion, and the book was nothing special anyway. She tossed it onto the table and thought no more of it. The Xiang carried them downstream toward Jinjiang City, one of the great southern metropolises—grander even than Xingyang. With the luminous pearl in hand, Han Tanyi was in no mood for delays. As he said himself, he almost wished for wings to fly straight to the Qilian Mountains. In Xingyang, he might have comforted himself with the thought that haste was useless, but now things were different. Jinjiang lay only a hundred-odd miles from the foothills of the Qilian; with a fast horse, it was but a day’s journey. The sooner the luminous pearl reached Yuyue Cottage, the sooner he could see that troubled face brighten with a smile, and that alone would bring him contentment—for when it came to that face, he had no resistance at all.

For Qiu Wan’er, however, the situation was quite different. Having finally seized the chance to travel, she was determined to make the most of it. What’s more, with the Qilian foothills in sight, she knew not when she might get another such opportunity. For reasons she could not explain, a vague dislike for that “Butterfly” girl had taken root in her heart. She hoped not to see her at all, nor to witness her senior brother’s attentiveness. Resolute in her decision, Qiu Wan’er showed no restraint; at the first chance, she slipped away, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Han Tanyi could only sigh in resignation—he knew his junior sister’s ways too well. Once her mind was made up, nothing and no one could dissuade her. Better to let her be; she would turn up at the Qilian Inn once her wanderlust was sated.

The Qilian Inn was not large, perched at the border of Jinjiang City and the Qilian Mountains. Travelers descending from the mountains would often lodge there, and so it was with the siblings. The place was usually quiet, with few merchants or tourists passing through. The proprietor cared little for profit, running the inn more to pass the time. Han Tanyi had stayed there once before on his way down the mountain, so he knew the way well. Set on the city’s edge, it was rather remote—especially so under the cloak of dusk, when few ventured out and the empty streets were perfectly normal. Yet as he walked along the avenue, Han Tanyi was struck by an inexplicable feeling, a sense he could not articulate. It grew stronger as he stepped through the inn’s doors, weighing on him until even his body tensed with unease.