Qiu Yuehai

At eighteen, if someone had told Qiu Yuehai that he would become a heroic swordsman defending his home and country, the young man would have casually spat out the wheat straw in his mouth and waved them off. "Go cheat someone else out of their money." He had imagined many possibilities for his life: maybe the fastest street runner in the world, a petty thief stealing gold in bustling markets, or a lazy fisherman who only caught one fish a day, just enough to eat. Either way, he'd be small, ordinary, unremarkable. After all, he had no extraordinary Martial Art Skills, just quick legs. This wasn't a storybook. Where did ordinary people get legends? Just live your life, he thought. But years later, he learned that life isn't something you can simply "live well" if you want to. The raiders who stormed into his home, burning and pillaging, didn't listen to his pleas. "Please, I don't want to meddle in anything—just let me be!" Who did he think he was? Warhorses neighed, their iron hooves shattering soldiers' armor and crushing commoners' rooftop tiles alike. So he buried the uneaten fish alongside the bodies of those who'd closed their eyes forever, gripped the last long spear in the village, nodded to a man named Lie Yan, and walked into the distance together. There, in Verdant Wilds, people were already waiting: tall and short, old and young, shadow play singers, and white-bearded elders. "Hey, I'm Qiu Yuehai. From today on, count me in."

After the Eight Talents of Hedong were scattered, Qiu Yuehai returned to being a fisherman. Every day he caught three fish. One he ate, one he released, and one he sold. From selling fish so often, he grew familiar with the fishmonger. One day, the shopkeeper asked his name. "The name's Qiu Yuehai." "Hmm, that sounds familiar... You wouldn't be that Hero Qiu from the Eight Talents, would you?" "Same name, that's all. Do I look like a hero to you?" The two burst out laughing. Qiu Yuehai then used the copper coins from selling fish to buy a jug of wine and staggered home, swinging the bottle. After the Eight Talents went their separate ways, each made their own choice—and this was his. He had always been an ordinary man. By some twist of fate, he'd briefly shone like a passing illusion. Now that the light had faded, he was still himself. As for his old comrades-in-arms, Qiu Yuehai grinned and poured a libation to the heavens. Come find me for a drink someday! Just remember—you're looking for a fisherman named Qiu Yuehai, not Qiu Yuehai the jianghu swordsman! Some people and some stories ought to end at their brightest moment.

Qiu Yuehai and Gu Le were once brothers bound by life and death. Even among the Eight Talents, none shared a bond as deep as theirs. They were inseparable—until the day they weren't. Qiu Yuehai was the first to walk away. There were many rumors about why they fell out: love turned to hate, unrequited desires... Whenever Qiu Yuehai heard such gossip, he'd spit in disgust. "A bunch of bull!" he'd snarl. In his eyes, the reason was simple: their friendship had become tangled with too many other things because of a girl. Gu Le and the girl shared a secret, yet they chose to stay silent with him. Why leave without a word? Why couldn't they be honest with him of all people? The next time they met, all Qiu Yuehai felt was an overgrown bitterness, like weeds choking his heart. You win. He would not stoop to begging for answers. So he left first, head held high.