Chapter 83 — Ten Years
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 7
Black clouds coiled across the night sky, and the vault of heaven hung so low and dark it seemed to press down upon the earth. Threads of rain drifted down from the firmament, swept across the vast wilderness in the shrill, whistling wind.
A desolate place, with no village ahead and no farmland behind, wild and overgrown on every side. Only an ancient road stretched in from the distance and, all alone, stretched away again into the far-off.
Low thunder rumbled through the black clouds of the night sky, and the rain over heaven and earth gradually grew heavier.
The land was solemn and still; on the wilderness, apart from the wind and the rain, all was pitch-dark. Only at the roadside burned a single lonely lamp, shedding a little light.
It was a little wilderness inn. The owner, a middle-aged man named He, just past forty, was from Xiaochi Town a day's journey away. Here in this remote place, beside the old road, he had toiled to build himself a crude house, offering travelers from north and south a place to rest their feet and drink tea, and earning a few hard coppers by it.
At this moment Boss He sat behind the counter of his shop, listening closely to the bitter, keening wind and rain outside. His brows drew together slightly and he gave a soft sigh. In such foul weather, most likely no more guests would be coming.
His little house stood between Xiaochi Town and a great mountain to the west called Kongsang Mountain. The old road outside his door had since ancient times been a merchant route, and also the necessary way to the great city of Changhe City in Donghai further east, so travelers passed by from time to time.
Yet now, on this stormy night, in this little wilderness inn there were in fact several guests, sitting silently in the dim, yellow-lit room, sheltering from the bitter wind and wretched rain outside.
"Crackle."
The wick of the oil lamp before Boss He gave a faint sputter, waking this honest middle-aged man from his drowsiness. The sound of wind and rain outside grew sharper and sharper, moaning "woo-woo" as though sobbing. It seemed that tonight these guests would not be leaving.
Thinking so, he raised his head and looked at the guests in his shop. The crude little room held only five tables; at present three had guests beside them. At the farthest corner table sat a lone man, in a dark spot the lamplight could scarcely reach. The man sat there alone, and even his face was blurred.
At the two nearer tables: beside one sat an old man of uncommon bearing and a young girl in the first bloom of youth. By the old man's hand a bamboo pole leaned against the table, with a strip of cloth on it bearing four characters: "The Immortal Points the Way." He appeared to be a fortune-teller of the jianghu.
As for the last table, it had the most people: a merchant caravan of four, with goods piled in the corner behind them. Just now one of the younger men seemed to be softly cursing this cursed weather.
"All right, that's enough," said another of the four, an older man, chiding him. He turned his head and smiled at Boss He, a little apologetically. "Boss He, such wind and rain today, and here we've made you stay up late with us too."
Boss He smiled and shook his head. This merchant caravan often came and went along the old road, and had stopped at his little shop many times, so they counted as regular customers. He said, "It's no trouble. Staying up late is common enough for me. But since the black clouds have been pressing down since daybreak, why are you gentlemen still in such a hurry to travel?"
The old man started at that, then exchanged a glance with the others of his party and smiled bitterly. "Truth is, how could we not know the weather's bad today? But on the road, a man has his difficulties."
Boss He gave an "ah."
The old man lifted the teacup before him and drained it in one go. "Boss He, this world of ours—it's hard!"
Boss He was startled. "What do you mean?"