Chapter 63
Huo Shu turned toward the voice.
He saw a man holding fodder beside him, leaning forward uncertainly as he peered in his direction.
Dressed in coarse linen, his weathered hands were bony, and his face bore the deep marks of years under the sun and wind, making him appear much older than he likely was.
Ji Taoyu, standing beside Huo Shu, recognized the old man as the one who had earlier urged him to look at the foal.
Surprised that the man knew Huo Shu, he then heard his companion speak: "Uncle Fan?"
"It's me, it's me!"
The old man, addressed as Uncle Fan, dropped the fodder in his hands, overcome with a mix of sorrow and joy.
"You're alive..."
He looked up and down at the tall, sturdy man before him. The face, no longer bearing the softness of youth but now hardened with resolve, still faintly resembled the boy he once knew.
Yet, after years of trials and battles, the clear, bright eyes of that boy had long been replaced by cold indifference.
Uncle Fan's eyes glistened with an indescribable mix of happiness and grief.
"A-Shu, you’ve grown into a man."
Huo Shu’s brow furrowed slightly as he replied, "Yes."
Ji Taoyu gently tugged Huo Shu’s hand and asked tentatively, "This is…?"
"Uncle Fan is an old neighbor from my hometown."
Huo Shu gazed at the man he hadn’t seen in over a decade, momentarily lost in thought.
He then said to the old man, "Uncle Fan, let’s talk somewhere quieter."
Uncle Fan glanced over his shoulder, noticing the overseers were busy supervising the loading of fodder. He nodded and followed Huo Shu to a secluded spot.
"How did you end up here, Uncle Fan?"
Seeing even the village head reduced to such a state, Huo Shu could guess the dire state of their hometown without asking.
Still, since he hadn’t returned, he wanted to hear firsthand how things had fared.
Uncle Fan sighed. "Heavy taxes and labor demands year after year, coupled with poor harvests—the land turned barren faster than ever. Not long after you left, hardly anyone remained in the village."
"Three years ago, the officials said our village had to merge with another. Outsiders took advantage of our dwindling numbers, seizing land bit by bit. Many villagers became refugees."
Their people had scattered—some fled, others died. Those who could band together were few, and in the end, even he, the former village head, was driven out.
The living still had to survive, but those who had spent their lives tilling the soil had no other skills. Even in the city, making a living was hard.
They knew some archery and horsemanship, but in the northern frontier, such skills were commonplace. Every able-bodied man could wield a bow, even many women and gers.
Beyond hunting in the wild grasslands, these skills were hardly a means of survival in the towns. The north had always been a place where the strong preyed on the weak, and venturing into others’ territories was like sending sheep to wolves.
"At first, a few of us tried to scrape by hunting in the wilds, but we were no match for our younger selves. We lost two more villagers that way. Not long after, the authorities fenced off the grasslands for horse pastures and blocked the paths to the hunting grounds. With no other options, we ended up as stable slaves."
Ji Taoyu, having grown up in the south, had rarely encountered stable slaves, though tenant farmers were common.
They were all desperate souls, toiling under cruel masters, enduring inhuman treatment.
If they were lucky enough to serve a kind landlord, they might survive. But under a ruthless one, beatings were routine.
Hearing of Huo Shu’s fellow villagers’ plight, Ji Taoyu felt a pang of sorrow.
He had thought Huo Shu’s decade-long conscription was the worst fate, but even those who stayed behind had suffered just as bitterly.
Uncle Fan forced himself to shake off the weight of the past.
Reuniting with an old friend shouldn’t be marred by such grim talk.
Looking at Huo Shu’s strong, composed demeanor, he smiled warmly. "After you were conscripted, we never heard from you again. The village assumed you were dead. Never thought I’d see you again in this lifetime. It’s a comfort. If A-Jie were still alive, he’d be overjoyed to see you."
Huo Shu’s brow tightened at the mention of the boy who had once practiced archery and raced horses with him. "How did A-Jie die?"
Uncle Fan’s eyes dimmed with grief. "He didn’t make it back from a hunt in the wilds."
Huo Shu opened his mouth, words crowding his throat, yet none seemed adequate.
In the end, all he could offer was a quiet, "My condolences."
"It’s all in the past. Everyone has their fate."
Still, speaking of his lost son, his voice trembled slightly.
"By the way, A-Shu, what do you do now? With the northern war over, survivors returned to their villages. Since you didn’t go to the capital, are you traveling with southern merchants?"
"After the war, I went south alone and settled down. This trip north is for trade."
Huo Shu glanced toward the distant stables. "The men with me are from the south. We came to sell tea and are preparing to return."
Uncle Fan nodded. "Good, that’s good."
A smile touched his eyes. "You were always capable, even as a boy. To bring goods from the south and trade here—that’s no small feat."
Then, as if remembering something, he quickly added, "Ah, A-Shou—"
Huo Shu’s expression darkened at the name, his sharp gaze locking onto Uncle Fan.
Sensing the chill in those hawk-like eyes, Uncle Fan hesitated, then swallowed his words.
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
Ji Taoyu blinked and asked softly, breaking the stillness, "Who’s A-Shou?"
Uncle Fan looked at Ji Taoyu, then at his hand clasped in Huo Shu’s, and began carefully, "He’s—"
"My half-brother."
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