Zhang Huaishen

One afternoon, Huaiyue ran back to the Zhang Mansion in a rage, dragged a Mo Blade almost as tall as herself, and turned to leave. Huaishen, standing under the corridor, stretched out his leg to stop her. His eyes glanced at the bruises on her face: "What are you going to do with it?" "Kill someone!" "That Li fellow's mouth is foul! He said it's enough that I can read, who am I studying to show off for!" "I'll make him see that Zhang Huaiyue not only can read, but can also wield a blade!" "Let's go." Without another word, Huaichen took the saber and slung it over his shoulder, clean and decisive. As if if his elder sister were going to kill someone, he'd be too slow just handing her the blade. Suo Jing, who had been waiting for Huaiyue anyway, also dropped his book and followed closely, saying nothing, yet his gaze never left Huaiyue, always wanting to take the heavy blade for her. Zhang Qiu, returning with a large rock in his arms, happened to run into the three of them charging out with murderous intent. At that moment, he forgot all about learning stone-carving and hurriedly followed them out. Just like that, Huaishen led the way with the sword on his shoulder, striding forward, and the group rushed to the Li Mansion in a fury. That Li lad, upon seeing Huaishen, involuntarily took half a step back, but his mouth refused to yield. "The tomboy brought reinforcements? Oh, it's Zhang Huaishen, the fatherless boy! And Suo Jing, the eternal second place, here to make up the numbers? And that useless Qiu! Haha, a bunch of losers..." Huaishen's fist was faster than words, landing solidly on his face. Several others nearby rushed to help, but were blocked firmly by Suo Jing. Huaiyue, disregarding all else, brandished the blade, ready to strike. Poor Zhang Qiu, wanting both to help and to mediate, got shoved around, and his head took a blow from someone's club... For a moment, dust flew, clubs clashed, and the sounds of crying for parents and begging for mercy filled the air. Zhang Qiu honestly explained the whole story. Hearing it, Zhang Yichao sighed helplessly. But in front of the Li family, he had to scold them a bit, so he told the children to go home and reflect, and not to cause any more trouble. At midnight, four small figures slipped onto the city wall as if by agreement. They sat side by side, breaking round pancake, gazing at the round moon, letting the moonlight wash away the dust and grime. "I say, you guys were way too slow! Should've punched him a few more times to really vent!" "Fists and feet have no eyes, I was protecting you." "Hmph!" When they talked about what happened during the day, the four laughed endlessly. Their laughter drifted into the night wind, growing farther and farther until it was swallowed by the snowstorm. Huaishen pillowed his arms and looked up at the sky, letting the snow fall on his face. The noise of frolicking beside him entered his ears, bringing him immense peace of mind. On this night, there were still twenty-one years until Zhang Yichao put on his armor and returned to the Tang Dynasty, and twenty-one years until Huaishen took command of the Guiyi Army. It would be another forty-four years before Huaishen fell seriously ill, and Huaiyue besieged the Governor's Residence with troops. At this moment, they were just four innocent teenagers, unfamiliar with the ways of the world. Sitting on the high city wall, they shared a single sesame seed cake and gazed at the same moon.

The wind on Wuwei Mountain is cold, the snow is sweet, and the plum blossoms are astringent. Zhang Huaishen has tasted them all. He loves riding alone to the heights. The wind is fierce at the mountain top, squinting his eyes, Liangzhou City looks no bigger than the palm of his hand. A friend once invited him: "Lubo, when shall we view the mountains together?" "Next month." Which day next month? It didn't matter much to him or his friend. When the mood struck, he would casually throw on a fur coat, over the years, he had lost countless ones, left in the mountains after getting drunk, torn during sword fights with others, or given to shivering old men in the snow. He would carry a flask of River All Red in his arms. If he didn't meet his old friend at the top, he would pour himself a drink, to comfort friends who had already left, or to toast bosom friends who had not yet come. Before he set off, a little incident happened. His young brother Huaiding rushed over, hugged Zhang Huaishen's legs, and pestered him to stay. So he took him along. Laughing loudly, he lifted the young boy onto the horseback. The white horse neighed, shaking the snow off the branches. Everyone in Liangzhou remembered him. Few people had such a fast horse, or such sharp hearing. Zhang Huaishen's hearing was indeed excellent. The oaths of Sister Yue, Huaiding's coquetry, the worries of farmers, Zhang Qiu's recitations, Suo Jing's qin playing, and the cries for help from old men on snowy nights, he heard them all clearly. Gradually, more and more people became constant companions on his journeys: Huaiyue, Huaiding, Suo Jing, the old man, Zhang Qiu, and even bosom friends met by chance. Their weight piled up on the saddle, yet it never slowed his horse down. The white horse ran faster and faster, so fast that his young brother's exclamations were shattered by the wind. The scenery blurred all around. Shouts came, whether from within his embrace or behind him, now distant, now near, as if chasing or pleading, Zhang Huaishen could not be bothered to tell. "Brother, slow down!" "We need to go faster." Who in the world can stop a young man's fast horse? Who can put out a fire that is determined to burn brightly to the end, leaving not even ashes behind? "Where are we going?" "To keep an appointment." "With whom?" He smiled, raised his whip, and pointed toward the snowstorm covering the sky.