Chapter 15: The Horse's Dramatic Tumble

Steam rose in the air as Erhu carried the freshly steamed buns from the shop, hugging them tightly to his chest. Luo Gan was deep in conversation with Old Lin, the proprietor of the neighboring “Tiger’s Rest Pavilion,” while Han Xiaozhi stood beside them, respectful and attentive, listening carefully to their discussion.

The Tiger’s Rest Pavilion was a restaurant of some repute in and around Anping County. Though modest in size, its decades-long history lent it a certain charm. Passed down through generations, each new proprietor spared no effort in refurbishing the place, ensuring it remained vibrant and inviting. Two great pillars flanked the entrance, each carved with tigers whose squinting eyes and gentle smiles made them appear more endearing than fierce—whether this was a deliberate touch by the owner or a quirk of the game’s designers was unclear, but the result was both whimsical and aesthetically pleasing.

Old Lin himself was the manager of Tiger’s Rest Pavilion, a man of similar stature to Luo Gan and about fifty years of age. Deep lines etched his brow, the mark of years spent not in idle comfort but in the cares of his trade. Yet when he smiled, his manner was as warm as a spring breeze, cultured and articulate.

“This skinny lad, as long as he’s diligent, I can take him in,” Old Lin said.

Han Xiaozhi was overjoyed, bowing repeatedly.

“I’ll have to trouble you to look after him,” Luo Gan replied.

“As it’s a favor for Magistrate Liu, I’ll gladly oblige, though ‘looking after’ may be putting it too strongly,” Old Lin answered, his tone kindly but carrying the authority of a master. Turning to Han Xiaozhi, he continued, “Learn well—at Tiger’s Rest Pavilion, there is no such thing as lowly work.”

Han Xiaozhi nodded eagerly, and Old Lin seemed satisfied with his attitude.

Han Xiaozhi had never dealt with matters in town before; entering this place filled him with nervousness. All he had known were the wild, rustic days in the forest with Han Chong and Bamboo Zhang. His timid nature made him nothing like the reckless brothers he’d followed.

Luo Gan glanced into the shop, watching the servers carry tea and water to the tables, balancing trays of steamed meat and buns. The guests chatted and laughed, raising their cups in merriment. At that moment, Erhu arrived, gazing enviously at the lively scene inside the Tiger’s Rest Pavilion.

It was already past noon. Erhu took the buns from his coat and split them with Luo Gan. As they walked and ate, Luo Gan nibbled thoughtfully while Erhu devoured his share, quickly finishing one and grabbing another in greedy bites.

Seeing Erhu’s hearty appetite, Luo Gan, having little himself, gave him the rest. Erhu accepted without hesitation, but soon choked from eating too quickly. Luo Gan handed over his water pouch, letting Erhu wash it down.

Erhu thumped his chest to ease the blockage.

“Ah Luo,” he called.

“Yes?” Luo Gan replied.

“Those fellows—have you settled everything for them?”

“I have,” Luo Gan answered.

“You know, Magistrate Liu is really something. One word from him, and people are placed right in the county town!” Erhu said loudly, studying Luo Gan’s expression for any reaction.

“Mm,” Luo Gan replied.

“Ah Luo, we’ve been close since we were kids, haven’t we? See if Magistrate Liu has any good ideas to get us promoted too, bring us into town.”

“Oh, what’s so great about town? It has its own troubles. Just focus on your farming. Peace is a blessing,” Luo Gan replied.

Erhu was not pleased to hear this. He had never enjoyed any of the town’s comforts. He could count on a single hand the times he’d visited, his days always spent working the fields. The recent glimpses of the town’s prosperity only fueled his yearning.

“I may not know many characters, but I’ve heard the saying: ‘Princes and nobles are not born that way.’ We’re strong men; why shouldn’t we strive for a better life?” Erhu declared.

Despite his simple ways, Erhu’s words revealed a certain ambition. Indeed, in ancient times, moving between social classes was nothing like in the modern world—it took extraordinary effort to cross such divides.

Luo Gan, usually so unreadable, finally reacted. Erhu felt as though he were playing a lute to a cow, unsure if Luo Gan understood at all.

“Ah Luo, what’s wrong with you? You haven’t said a word in ages!” Erhu complained.

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand. Just do your own work well—that’s enough,” Luo Gan said, clapping Erhu on the shoulder and smiling contentedly.

Autumn had arrived. The hemp clothes offered little warmth, and the chilly wind sent batches of fallen leaves scattering across the path as Luo Gan and Erhu made their way home.

Suddenly, a runaway horse barreled toward them. Atop it sat a man cloaked in hemp, padded with cotton underneath, followed by two panic-stricken lackeys.

“That damned horse! Whoa! Stop, I say!” shouted Lackey A, smacking the horse’s rump.

“Master Wang! My lord!” cried Lackey B.

No matter how they shouted, the horse kept charging ahead, the reins lost. Though somewhat alarmed, Master Wang maintained far more composure than his attendants. His sturdy arms grasped the horse’s neck, his splendid beard streaming in the wind as he lay flat on the horse’s back, eyes fixed ahead—where Luo Gan and Erhu stood.

“Hey, you two bastards up ahead! Move! Do you want to be trampled to death?” Master Wang bellowed.

Luo Gan reacted instantly, dodging aside and pulling Erhu with him. But Erhu stood unmoving, glaring angrily.

Luo Gan glanced back at the runaway horse, urgently tugging at Erhu. “You blockhead! What are you doing just standing there?”

“My mother always said, our family might be poor, but we’re not to be bullied. Why should I let some loudmouth curse at me?” Erhu retorted.

“Are you mad? Move, now!” Master Wang shouted.

The horse thundered closer, leaves swirling in its wake. Lackey A had already given up, standing hands on hips and gasping for breath, while Lackey B still ran frantically, shouting, “Master Wang, watch out!”

Master Wang muttered curses under his breath, “You little fools—weren’t you the ones who led this stupid horse? Wait till I get down, I’ll have you cooked and eaten!”

Luo Gan, panicked, scanned for a place to hide: a cliff to the right, a muddy field to the left—nowhere to take cover. Erhu was still rooted to the spot, and Luo Gan would not let go of his grip.

Drawing a deep breath, Erhu steadied himself, muscles bulging beneath his dark skin, exuding the strength of a tiger come to ground.

The horse screamed, the shouts of men mingling in the air. In a flash, the horse reached Erhu, its forelegs rearing, letting out a piercing neigh.

Erhu seized the horse’s head with one hand, Master Wang with the other, and, with a mighty roar, threw man and beast to the ground together.

Lackey B raced over from afar, while Lackey A, seeing the tide turn, pretended to hurry, now running even faster than his companion. Both rushed to Master Wang’s side.

Master Wang lay in the mud, battered and bruised, his clothes torn and filthy—a truly sorry sight. The horse, collapsed beside him, was at last, after all its fright, finally subdued.