Old Liu was a doctor, benevolent in heart. Though he couldn't afford to give people rare herbs, he could still manage to bring home enough to boil a bowl of porridge.

The youth's surname was Chen.

As for his given name, the youth was unwilling to disclose it.

Liu Zheng had no mind to ask. When he returned home, he didn't even feel like eating; instead, he buried his head on the bed, touched the wounds on his face, and grew angrier the more he thought about it.

He clenched his fists, pounding the bed several times!

But he worried about pounding too hard and breaking the bed, which would require money and time to repair.

That night, he lay down to sleep, but in the dead of night, he awoke again, consumed by fury.

Liu Zheng couldn't let it go, got up, and following the faint moonlight, wandered out to the small courtyard.

There was a chicken coop in the courtyard, and a flock of roosters crowed loudly toward the heavens!

Liu Zheng scratched his ear. The anger within him refused to dissipate. The wounds on his face remained; touching them inadvertently, he winced in pain with a sharp "hiss."

That thought surfaced again.

He clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with anger, seized the heavy knife, and took out a sharpening stone.

Scraping sounds began to rise.

He sharpened faster and faster, thinking of using this knife to slice Zhao Guanren's head like cutting wood. The sporadic sparks from the sharpening flashed vividly against the night.

In the dark, something flickered and approached.

Suddenly, Liu Zheng saw an indistinct shadow. Instinctively, he raised the knife and slashed forward.

But the knife stopped mid-air.

Liu Zheng froze for a moment, and when he regained his senses, his wrist was already grabbed by someone.

"What are you sharpening the knife for?" the person asked.

"It's you?" Liu Zheng, guilty in heart, jumped in fear. "I'm sharpening it to saw wood!"

Thinking he could muddle through with this excuse, the youth surnamed Chen spoke his next words, which nearly scared Liu Zheng into wetting his pants.

"Saw wood or commit murder?"

Liu Zheng was stunned, his palm trembling uncontrollably.

"I've heard your story; killing isn't as simple as it seems."

The youth spoke leisurely:

"People who often kill know this: killing might be easy, but disposing of the body is much harder. Let alone the fact that the one you want to kill is a notable figure in this town. Whether you escape or not, others will know it was you who committed the murder.

You've had conflicts with him recently; your grudge is public knowledge. The government won't have trouble investigating you. And when they do, you'll face execution.

Your sentence will be reported to the court, but before you're led to your execution, you'll likely perish in prison. The government office will thrash you first, neglect to treat your injuries, and leave you to spend days with rats and insects in confinement. In no time, you'll be dead."

Liu Zheng snapped out of it, panic-stricken: "Nonsense! I wasn't planning to kill anyone!"

The youth merely chuckled and let go of his hand.

.........…

The youth stayed at Liu's house for three to five days, drinking two bowls of watery porridge every day.

Occasionally, Liu Zheng would see him stroll around and stretch his limbs. At other times, he went out and claimed he was gathering information. But most of the time, the youth remained alone.

Another four or five days passed, and the youth left.

Thinking back to the night of knife-sharpening, Liu Zheng let out a sigh of relief.

During these days, he had sharpened the blade so well that even a light touch from him had cut his skin.

The night before Zhao Guanren hosted his son's wedding, Liu Zheng packed up his household belongings.

He caressed the heavy knife and couldn't sleep the entire night. He sat dry-eyed on the bed for hours, his bloodshot eyes piercing the darkness.

The youth's words haunted his ears like a spell.

Liu Zheng turned to gaze at the courtyard. Old Liu had been a Jianghu doctor for over thirty years, saving enough money to purchase this home. Liu Zheng grew up here, became an adult, and later went to the capital to learn the craft of woodworking.

His mother was always cheerful, but she passed away early. Her coffin was small, and on the day of her burial, Old Liu hadn't uttered a word. Yet, late that night when Liu Zheng got up, he found Old Liu crying silently with his head bowed.

This was his home. He was only thirty and had plenty of time to save enough to marry a good wife someday. But if he committed murder today, everything would be gone.

If he killed…

He himself wouldn't live…

Nor would Old Liu......

Liu Zheng was restless throughout the night. Even as the wedding procession appeared and he grasped the cloth-wrapped heavy knife, he still didn't know what to do.

Should he let out his instant rage and live the life of a fugitive, or suppress his anger now and sell off his family's assets?

The wedding procession was long and bustling. Zhao Guanren's son was getting married, and a host of servants carried bright red lanterns, forming an ordered line.

Liu Zheng was in turmoil. When he saw Zhao Gongzi, dressed in red from head to toe, riding a horse and sweeping his gaze like hunting crickets, he froze.

"Little Liuzi, have you gathered the money yet?"

Zhao Gongzi, full of cheer, asked with a smile.

Liu Zheng was dumbfounded for a moment, gripping the cloth-wrapped heavy knife tightly.

Seeing this, Zhao Gongzi, as though accustomed to the look of obsequious astonishment in people, began to laugh heartily:

"You're fortunate. Today is my joyous day. My father has decided to waive ten taels for you. You need only pay forty taels now."

Forty taels?

Liu Zheng paused. If he sold off everything valuable in his house, he could indeed scrape together enough.

A myriad of thoughts flashed through his mind—imagining how everything would be lost if he killed, condemning himself to wander like a bandit. Finally, with an abrupt motion, Liu Zheng fell to his knees and burst into loud wails.

"Thank you, Zhao Gongzi, for your great benevolence! Thank you, Zhao Gongzi, for sparing me and my father!"

He kowtowed deeply, and the heavy knife he had sharpened over the last ten days fell to the ground.

Zhao Gongzi tugged at his reins, laughing heartily. Whether he viewed it all as a humorous spectacle or basked in a sense of bestowed mercy, his laughter carried along the street lined with red lanterns as he rode off to his wedding.

Through it all, a faint, silvery thread seemed to approach silently.

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