Chapter Three: A Farewell Both Near and Far

Bang! Compared to Tang Bo, Wang Husheng was much less polite. He had never knocked with his hand, always using his foot instead. This was exactly why, unlike the courteous Chen Qingzhi or the by-the-book Tang Bo, Chen Cao had always been closest to Wang Husheng—they both cared little for trifles, which matched Chen Cao’s temperament. After all, his own father hadn’t come from humble beginnings either, and had fought his way to the top of the world’s wealthy, so all that etiquette was just for entertaining children. What was the point?

“Ergou, did you need something from me?” Wang Husheng asked as he straightened his parted hair.

“Sit down,” Chen Fusheng said coolly.

Wang Husheng glanced around at Chen Cao and the others with a playful look. After earning a round of eye rolls, he deliberately sat down next to Tang Bo, fiddling with the antique teapot on the coffee table.

Chen Fusheng seemed long accustomed to Wang Husheng’s temperament. He tossed a pack of cigarettes across the table to Wang Husheng, stubbed out his own cigarette in the ashtray, stood up, and straightened his suit.

Today, Chen Cao realized he had completely forgotten it was his own birthday, which also meant it was the anniversary of his mother’s death. He remembered because the old man was wearing a black suit today.

“I’ve gathered you all here today to discuss the promise made to the Cao family eighteen years ago. I think, as those present, none of you have forgotten that promise, have you?”

Chen Fusheng dispensed with any preamble, standing up and speaking bluntly.

No one responded. The usually outspoken Wang Husheng lowered his head to smoke in silence. Tang Bo poured more tea into his cup, eyes downcast, while the reticent Chen Qingzhi ran his fingers along a blade, his chilling presence making everyone shiver.

Only Chen Cao stared at them all in confusion, unable to grasp what was happening.

“Alright, I know what you’re all thinking. Truth is, this kid has lived pretty decadently these past years. There are times even I can’t stand it!” Chen Fusheng sat back down, stuck the half-finished cigarette back in his mouth, took a deep drag, and looked at Wang Husheng. “I know you’re all reluctant to let him go. Don’t think I don’t know how many fights you sent Jiefang to settle for him at school, Wang Husheng, or how many times you, Qingzhi, quietly cleaned up his messes over women. And you, Tang Bo—even threatened the mayor for him! In the end, the fault lies with this kid.”

Chen Fusheng paused, took another puff of his cigarette, and fell silent. Wang Husheng could only grin foolishly. Chen Qingzhi’s pale face blushed faintly, while under Chen Fusheng’s sharp gaze, Tang Bo simply looked away.

“Clearly, none of you want to mention that promise. And I know, as soon as I bring it up, you’ll object. Fugui’s car is already downstairs. If you’re confident you can defeat him, I have nothing left to say,” Chen Fusheng declared, ignoring Chen Cao’s bewildered expression.

“Uncle is here too? The division commander uncle, who is busy and rarely comes back, is actually here today? This...this can’t be good...” Chen Cao sensed something was wrong.

“You’ve already made up your mind—you just called us here to inform us, right? All these years, who’s ever opposed you? I bet you and Fugui already settled this between yourselves!” Wang Husheng, uncharacteristically serious, stood up and said this, his words brimming with hostility. The antique teapot in his hand shattered abruptly.

“I respect promises, but I also don’t support fulfilling this one,” Chen Qingzhi, unusually verbose today, added, his words faintly tinged with sarcasm.

The two of them looked expectantly at Tang Bo, who was trying to keep a calm facade. At this moment, Tang Bo carried the most weight in the room—after all, it was common knowledge that, as the family steward, he had been instrumental in Chen Fusheng’s ascent.

Chen Fusheng, clearly adept at balancing rivalries, simply maintained his silence in the face of their anger and ridicule.

All eyes fell on Tang Bo. He appeared unshakably calm, like a mountain, unwavering and silent, methodically pouring tea from the kung fu tea set.

The silence was shattered by the honking of a car downstairs.

“Wait, everyone—could someone please tell me what’s going on?” Chen Cao, feeling frozen by the tension, spoke so softly he could barely hear himself.

“Is this a place for you to speak?” Chen Fusheng’s tone made Chen Cao feel he had somehow shrunk a few inches.

Oddly, even Wang Husheng—who usually cracked jokes on his behalf—didn’t come to his rescue. That made Chen Cao’s heart sink even further. “This is bad, really bad. Could this promise be something like joining a cult? Or is my father only rich because of some secret deal?” His mind raced with wild speculation, scenes from TV dramas flashing before his eyes.

“Let’s go,” Chen Fusheng turned his back, waving his hand. Those two simple words seemed to decide Chen Cao’s fate, and from the long sigh that followed, one could hear a faint note of regret in Chen Fusheng’s voice.

“Go? Go where?” Before Chen Cao could process it, Tang Bo had already stood up, walked to him, and patted his shoulder. “Let’s go, child.”

“Tang Fu, you old bastard! You’re with Ergou—well, I’m done with this!” Wang Husheng yelled, smashing the broken pieces to the floor and storming out first.

Chen Qingzhi closed his eyes again, shuddered, and seemed to fall asleep.

Thus ended the brief and bewildering argument. Chen Fusheng seemed to have won, and yet perhaps also lost.

Chen Cao followed Tang Bo out of Chen Fusheng’s study, a room that had always filled him with dread since childhood. Even now, he felt a lingering unease. Was today really such an important day? No, even if it was his mother’s death anniversary, his father wouldn’t act like this, would he?

Walking down the winding corridor, watching Tang Bo’s heavy steps, Chen Cao felt more and more unsettled.

Chen Fusheng stood at the floor-to-ceiling window. Downstairs, a military-green Cherokee was parked. The tall Chen Fugui, in a full army general’s uniform and sunglasses, waved in their direction before ducking into the vehicle.

“Qingzhi, do you blame me? I feel as though I’ve taken away everything you’ve invested in for the past decade,” Chen Fusheng said, staring into the blinding sunlight, his voice tinged with defeat.

Chen Qingzhi, still clutching his broadsword, eyes closed, replied, “Chen Cao is a promising young man. You shouldn’t have treated him as you have all these years. I believe he could have prospered under our care.”

“I only hope he can live a peaceful life,” Chen Fusheng laughed. “Do you really think this kid, raised by the likes of you and especially that scoundrel Wang Husheng, could ever become anything?”

At this, Chen Qingzhi’s face softened, a faint smile appearing. “Maybe he’ll carve out a new path for himself. He’s already mastered half my sword techniques—he won’t suffer in the army. Though I’m reluctant, a man should see the world. Maybe when he returns, he won’t be the brash boy he is now.”

Thirty minutes later.

Before the grave, Chen Cao knelt and bowed three times heavily to his mother’s tombstone, then stood up. Tang Bo now held a simple bundle in his hands.

Looking at Tang Bo, Chen Cao asked, “Tang Bo, is the old man kicking me out?”

Tang Bo’s face grew gentler, as if he were looking at his own grandson. He said, “A man should have aspirations beyond home, child. Don’t forget the skills I taught you. Practice them well. Remember to act honorably—don’t use those underhanded tricks you learned from Wang Husheng.”

Off to the side, Wang Husheng bared his teeth and shouted, “Old man, can’t you say something nice behind my back for once?”

Tang Bo shot him a look and snorted, “I always criticize you openly! This child is kind by nature. It’s good for him to leave for a while—at least he’ll be safe from your bad influence!”

“Tang Fu, at a time like this, can’t you let me keep some dignity in front of the kid?” Wang Husheng paced back and forth.

Beside him, Wang Jiefang patted Wang Husheng’s shoulder in comfort. “Cousin, the kid’s leaving, but it’s not like he won’t come back. Chin up.”

Thud! Wang Husheng kicked Wang Jiefang to the ground, smoothing his hair with one hand, kicking with the other, striking a stylish pose as he cursed, “You damn jinx! I told you not to jinx it!”

Wang Jiefang, seemingly used to his cousin’s beatings, didn’t even grunt. Instead, he turned to Chen Cao. “Kid, don’t forget that set of tricks Uncle Wang taught you for dealing with older women. Remember, step one, two, and three—don’t forget!”

“Hmph!” Chen Qingzhi scoffed, turning away in disdain.

Chen Cao, torn between laughter and tears, looked at these men who were mentors, fathers, and friends all at once. He hadn’t expected parting to come so suddenly. Tears welled up in his eyes as he choked out, “Uncle Wang, Tang Bo, Little Uncle Wang, Uncle Chen—don’t worry. Once I leave, I’ll work hard, study military skills with Uncle, serve the country, make something of myself. I won’t let you down!”

With that, he turned away, wiping his tears, glancing at the military vehicle ahead. A barely perceptible smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Damn, I’ve finally escaped this suffocating place! Even if the army is strict, at least I won’t have to chop trees until my hands cramp, squat in horse stance until I lose control of my bowels, or face the wrath of those old men when I mess up. And all those messy affairs in Zhongzhou—good riddance! The army’s full of female soldiers, too... Ah, freedom at last...”

Of course, he couldn’t let these sentimental old men know any of that. So, as he turned back and took the bundle from Tang Bo’s tear-filled eyes, he squeezed out another two tears, his expression a careful blend of sorrow and resignation.

“Damn, I’m a born actor.”

“So moving!” Wang Husheng sobbed, wiping his nose and tears on Wang Jiefang’s crisp suit.

Even the iron-willed Chen Qingzhi had red-rimmed eyes, turning away to hide his tears.