Word of Honor Faraway Wanderers

Chapter 3. Abandoned Shrine

Chapter 3. Abandoned Shrine

At this point in life Zhou Zishu was not in the least concerned about anything — he was familiar with courting death, after all; so the fisherman’s vulgarity all fell on deaf ears.

The boat calmly sailed across the water. On the other side of the river, a young woman called out melodiously, “Selling water chestnuts! Do you want some?” It was as if time had slowed down with the river flow to a sluggish speed. Even if I die right here, it’ll be worth it, Zhou Zishu mused.

The idea had crossed him before — back when he was in the middle of climbing the Mountain of Immortals in Penglai. But then he remembered that he hadn’t visited Jiangnan and all of its natural beauty; so down south he had gone and again had the thought resurfaced at this place. An unknown emotion surged up inside him. He bit into the dry and hard pie, trying his hardest to chew and swallow. Then he tilted his head side to side in contemplation; he was done travelling through Jiangnan, but there were still the three famous and five sacred mountains [t/n refers to the Three Famous Mountains: Huangshan, Lushan and Yandangshan; and the Five Sacred Mountains: East Great Mountain Taishan, West Great Mountain Huashan, South Great Mountain Hengshan (in Hunan), North Great Hengshan (in Shanxi), and Center Great Mountain Songshan] to see, stopping here would be a great pity.

Because of that, all thoughts about dying here were dropped.

All of a sudden, as if choked on his own saliva, the fisherman stopped swearing. He bent down, head inclined to a vague direction, unblinking.

Zhou Zishu was intrigued, so he stuck his head out from inside the boat’s deck to follow the old man’s gaze.

He saw him scrutinizing two people walking by the river bank — they were the good-looking man in gray and the pretty young lady in purple he met back at the tavern. The fisherman might be old but he was exceptionally perceptive, and when taking a closer look at him, one could see protruding temples [t/n It was once believed that men with protruding temples were more careful, perceptive and capable in finance] under unruly hair; thick, strong hands and corded muscles. It was very clear there was more to him than met the eye.

The pair whom old man was watching was definitely not ordinary either, seeing that they made him this on guard.

The pretty girl was vivacious, but she would walk a few meters [t/n Original text was one zhang, a measurement of length. A zhang is about 3.3m] behind the man without fail, never once overstepping her boundary.

A glance was enough for Zhou Zishu to know that this girl was either a maid or a concubine; she might have a bit of a wicked streak with a beauty he greatly appreciated, but at the end she already belonged to someone else, so he stopped thinking too much about it and withdrew his gaze, turning his attention back to tackling the dry hard pie.

It was jianghu after all; ambiguity was one of its staples. If the royal court was a battleground for fame and power, jianghu was a battleground between white and black. Though some were unable to understand this, and took the title of a wandering hero too seriously even until they died.

But how would all this concern an incessantly ravenous homeless man like him anyway?

Zhou Zishu felt somewhat bored after the fisherman had stopped cursing, so he goaded, “Hey old man, this pie lacks a bit of flavor. I don’t mind whether it’s bad or fine salt, so you should’ve at least put some in.”