Chapter Two: Uncle

The next day dawned, the morning mist not yet lifted.

Li Zhi'an was woken by sheer hunger.

Yesterday, in a fit of excitement, he had practiced the Mountain-Moving Stance for an entire day, and the result was that now his stomach was so empty it ached, his limbs weak and sore.

Gritting his teeth, he crawled up from the straw bedding and worked his stiff spine. With a "crack," there followed an indescribable sense of relief.

Li Zhi'an was surprised to find that, although his whole body felt weak right now, his spirits were unusually good, his body lighter than ever before, with a warmth coursing through him.

He quickly gnawed down the leftover bran cake from last night in a few bites, but he could still feel the emptiness in his belly.

"This won't do—the body simply can't hold up on just this."

On ordinary days, one or two bran cakes could carry him through a whole day, but after taking up martial arts, this little bit was clearly nowhere near enough.

Not only too little, but also without nourishment.

If this went on a few more days, then the Red Tiger Gang wouldn't even need to make a move—he'd ruin himself first!

But right now he had only thirty-four wen to his name, and even being frugal, it wouldn't possibly last seven days.

Li Zhi'an's brows knit tightly, and in the end he could only let out a long sigh:

"I'd better go borrow a little from Uncle."

His uncle worked as a steward at the Hu family's rice shop. Though his monthly wage wasn't much, helping out with a few meals' worth of money shouldn't be a problem.

Li Zhi'an walked out the door and melted into the thin mist that had yet to disperse in the morning.

Treading the familiar dirt road, his surroundings gradually shifted from quiet to bustling.

Although Anping Street was also in the shantytown, its conditions were already much better.

Sunlight could reach this place, and the stench in the air was considerably fainter.

Li Zhi'an stood before the door of a low earthen wall, hesitated a moment, then finally pushed it open after all.

"Uncle."

Li Jian, who had been lying on a reclining chair with his eyes half-closed, resting, heard Li Zhi'an's voice and teased:

"Oh, little An is here!"

"Quick, sit down. Your aunt's nearly done with the meal—eat a bit with us in a while."

Li Zhi'an nodded and took the initiative to greet Madam Qin in the kitchen.

Back when he still lived at his uncle's house, he and Madam Qin had clashed quite a bit, but after he moved out, the conflicts naturally faded.

In fact, when he had just moved out, she had even tacitly allowed his uncle to bring him some food.

A classic case of a sharp tongue but a soft heart.

After exchanging pleasantries with his uncle for a while, Li Zhi'an cut straight to the point: "Uncle, the Red Tiger Gang came looking for me this morning."

The smile on Li Jian's face instantly froze. He frowned and asked, "Tell me the reason—maybe I can help."

Before Li Zhi'an could speak, Madam Qin suddenly ran out from the stove, looking at him with deep worry:

"What's going on? You've been living such a peaceful life—how did you..."

Seeing Madam Qin's face full of concern, Li Zhi'an didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and recounted what had happened.

"Are you planning to agree?"

Li Zhi'an gently shook his head.

"Then what do you plan to do? This Red Tiger Gang has no conscience. Not to mention that if you refuse and stop selling straw sandals, you still won't escape disaster."

"Even if they let you off, do you really intend to leave the trade you finally learned unused and go back to slaving away as a laborer at the docks?"

"Take my advice—agree to it."

Li Jian held his dry-tobacco pipe, puffing away, sitting in his chair, calmly analyzing.

"That's right, little An. Agreeing won't cost you half a pound of flesh."

"You should know there are people who want to join the Red Tiger Gang but have no way in!"

Madam Qin hastily chimed in from the side, afraid that Li Zhi'an would stubbornly refuse to listen.

And what she said was the truth, too. Although the Red Tiger Gang's reputation was a bit foul, there was no denying the benefits.

"No. I want to take up martial arts."

Li Zhi'an gently shook his head.

The moment the words fell, Li Jian, whose face had been calm, suddenly opened his half-narrowed eyes wide, his face full of disbelief: "Martial arts? Do you really not know what you're saying?"

"Have you forgotten what happened to your second great-uncle..."

Li Jian's voice cut off abruptly. He jerked his head away and silently puffed on his pipe.

Li Zhi'an had heard about the matter of the second great-uncle too.

Back then, supporting this second great-uncle's martial training had drained generations of the family's accumulated wealth.

After he failed, he ended it all with his own death, but the rest of the large family was forced to move outside the city, reduced to lowborn status.

Some fled, some died.

More than twenty years had passed, and of a family that had once numbered over thirty, counting him, only six people remained.

"Little An, don't let this Red Tiger Gang drive you out of your senses. Is martial arts something the likes of us can practice?"

"It demands both bone-root talent and money."

"Back then your second great-uncle was such a clever man, yet he drained the whole family of more than a hundred taels of silver and still didn't succeed. And even if you had that talent, we couldn't afford to support you now."

Madam Qin only felt a wave of headache. How could this child be so set on taking up martial arts? But she could only take Li Zhi'an's hand and earnestly plead with him.

"Aunt, don't worry. Since I dare to say it, I'm certainly sure of it."

Li Jian turned his head back and cut in with a question.

"Are you planning to secretly go buy one of those martial arts manuals?"

Li Zhi'an nodded.

Unable to afford training at a martial hall, this was naturally the only route.

This matter wasn't hard to guess.

"Then let me ask you—once you've bought the manual, do you know how to practice it, how to fight with it, how to recuperate with it?"

Having gone through the second great-uncle's experience, their family knew a fair bit about matters of martial training.

Martial arts weren't as simple as ordinary fist forms and moves; within them, practice, combat, and recuperation each had their complete secrets.

For instance, a martial hall that practiced the Iron Mountain Lean surely had specialized methods for treating external injuries.

These secrets, passed down only by word of mouth from master to disciple, were the true keys to martial training.

The idea that picking up a martial arts manual lets you master a peerless divine art is all nonsense—that sort of thing only exists in those storybooks and novels.

True to his ability to manage a rice shop, Li Jian struck straight at the heart of the matter. Li Zhi'an's face showed difficulty:

"Uh, this part I'm sure about."

He could hardly just come out and say he had a golden finger and didn't need to worry about this, could he?

It wasn't that he didn't trust his uncle's family—it was just that the fewer people who knew about this matter, the better.

Seeing that Li Zhi'an couldn't answer, Li Jian gave a cold snort: "If you can't say, then forget about practicing martial arts."

Seeing there was no getting through, Li Zhi'an simply laid his cards on the table:

"Uncle, actually, I already bought it yesterday."

"You!"

Li Jian's trembling finger pointed at Li Zhi'an, unable to spit out a single word for a long while, only his chest heaving violently.

Li Zhi'an just watched silently, his eyes fixed intently on Li Jian.

Madam Qin, off to the side, wanted to cut in, anxiously glancing left and right, but not knowing what to say, in the end she could only hold it back again.

The whole scene fell into a deadlock for a time.

In the end, it was Li Jian who relented, lamenting aloud:

"Fine. Then, seven days. If you can't cross the threshold in seven days, you stop right there."

"By then, either you agree to the Red Tiger Gang, or I'll go personally beg the master for a errand-runner's spot for you."

Li Jian's voice was extremely decisive, leaving not the slightest room for negotiation.

With that, he took a pouch from his waist and tossed it to Li Zhi'an.

"There's eighty-four wen in here. Take it."

Li Zhi'an was stunned, and hurriedly explained:

"Uncle, this is too much."

Heaven and earth as his witness, he really had only come here to borrow a few meals' worth of money.

"I'm giving it to you, so take it. With that little money of yours, what can you do after buying the manual? Do you mean to practice martial arts on an empty stomach? Take it back and eat some meat, get some medicine and such, so you don't wreck your body with the training."

"Uncle, I really can't take this much."

Li Zhi'an took out a handful of coins and tucked them into the sweat-cloth at his waist, then grabbed Li Jian's hand, trying to return the pouch.

Having lived together for so many years, he knew his uncle's household situation all too well.

In a good month, his uncle could bring in over seven hundred coins.

Not what you'd call wealthy—just barely enough to keep their family of four fed, enough not to starve or freeze to death.

Especially now, with their one son and one daughter gradually growing up, the expenses were mounting too.

These eighty-four wen were probably the savings they'd scrimped out of their own mouths one coin at a time this year, set aside to buy a few nice things for the New Year.

Li Jian glared at Li Zhi'an and forcefully pulled his hand free.

"When others take up martial arts, their families support them with all they have. You want to train, and I, your uncle, shouldn't show a little gesture?"

"Your uncle may be of no great use, but coming up with this little bit of money to support you is no problem at all."

Then he simply gave a hearty laugh and teased:

"Or could it be you no longer want to acknowledge me as your uncle?"

"How could that be?"

"Then take it."

Li Zhi'an fell silent and quietly tied the pouch to the sweat-cloth at his waist. Before leaving, he patted his chest and assured Li Jian:

"Uncle, trust me—I'll definitely make something of myself in martial arts."

Li Jian didn't reply, only waved his hand, signaling for him to hurry and leave.

……

"Husband, are you really at ease letting little An take up martial arts?"

"What if he gets hurt, gets crippled—what do we do then?"

Madam Qin watched Li Zhi'an's departing figure, her face full of worry.

"Little An is young and has spirit—that's a good thing."

"It's only seven days of training. If he makes nothing of it, no harm will come of it either. Better to let him give up the notion sooner rather than later."

"That way he can settle down with peace of mind in the future and make a proper life for himself."

"Set your heart at ease. I know what I'm doing."

Li Jian shook his head, turned, and went into the house.