To bury the hatchet with a smile. Part 1

The Spring Festival was approaching. The three shops of the Jade Pavilion were temporarily closed, and the Ding Family was even busier than usual. The three-courtyard residence was spacious, and cleaning it took quite a bit of effort. Ding Yanshou woke up especially early, and upon opening the main gate, he was startled by the four or five men outside.

He asked, "Who are you looking for?"

The leader said, "We're looking for Ding Hanbai."

Alarm bells rang in Ding Yanshou's head. The consequence of his laissez-faire attitude was people showing up at his door. He wondered, 'Did Ding Hanbai squander money and owe a loan shark, or did his arrogance offend some important figure?'

The leader spoke again, "Boss Ding hired us to clean. He told us to come early."

A great weight lifted from Ding Yanshou's heart, and he let the men into the courtyard to work. But the employer himself was still fast asleep, curled up in the center of the bed, holding a warm body and daydreaming. After a long while, the person in his arms stirred slightly, murmuring in their sleep, crying out, "It's ruined, it's ruined."

Ding Hanbai opened his eyes. "What's ruined?"

Ji Shenyu was groggy. "The Da Hong Pao Stone carving is ruined..."

'So he was secretly thinking about the Da Hong Pao Stone,' Ding Hanbai thought, laughing to himself. Hearing people in the courtyard, he draped on some clothes and went out. Seeing the laborers, he said, "Keep it down, someone's sleeping inside."

After giving the instruction, he turned back. Ji Shenyu was already awake, struggling to sit up by himself. "Let me, let me." Ding Hanbai set aside his young master's airs and played the part of a servant, supporting him, watching him, afraid of making a single misstep.

Ji Shenyu sat on the edge of the bed with his head down, slowly getting dressed. He fastened one button, concealing a mark, then fastened them all the way to the top, hiding the entire view. Ding Hanbai, still wanting more, half-knelt to put socks on him. How lustful he had been last night; even Ji Shenyu's ankles were bruised from his grip.

He looked up and asked, "Does it hurt... down there?"

Ji Shenyu lowered his gaze and shook his head. "It doesn't hurt."

He said, "Then can I be a little rougher next time?"

Ji Shenyu kicked Ding Hanbai in the chest. Moving upward, his toes pressed lightly against Ding Hanbai's Adam's apple. "Shameless," he cursed. One curse wasn't enough; after brewing for a long moment, he choked out another, "Truly shameless."

The laborers in the courtyard were cleaning. One asked curiously, "He looks pretty young. Is he already married?"

Another said, "Sleeping in the same room, it must be with his wife."

The door creaked open, and Ding Hanbai and Ji Shenyu came out one after the other. One stayed behind to supervise, while the other went to the Front Courtyard for breakfast. The workers exchanged glances. So it wasn't his wife. To think that rich people also squeezed into one room to sleep. They instantly felt much more balanced.

This was how they spent the days before the New Year. Although Ding Hanbai liked to be idle, he truly couldn't stand boredom. Before long, he went to find Zhang Sinian. The master and disciple pair went to their old haunt, strolling slowly through the Antiques Market.

During the festival season, there were many people selling calligraphy and paintings. Whether shoddily made or finely crafted, they looked quite nice all gathered together. Ding Hanbai listened quietly as Zhang Sinian spoke intermittently about what to focus on when appraising calligraphy and paintings, what parts were most deceiving, and what parts easily revealed flaws.

Suddenly, he stopped. Zhang Sinian said, "This painting is a good copy."

It was Lin Sanzhi's "Picture of a Journey to Zhongnan". The old man had been fortunate enough to see the original before he went blind, but that was too long ago. Mentioning it only added to his sense of loss. Ding Hanbai stood to one side and said, "I quite like the poem on it."

Zhang Sinian said, "If you like it, buy it. Isn't liking something what this business is all about?"

He bought the painting. They didn't come across anything else they liked, but being picky was its own kind of fun. While Ding Hanbai was taking it easy, Ji Shenyu was in Miao'an Alley, sweating profusely as he helped Liang Hecheng clean his house.

He hadn't done anything else these past few days but clean.

The green plants had withered. Ji Shenyu's masterful hands couldn't save them, so he had to go to the alley entrance to buy a few more small potted flowers. "Master, why don't you water them?" he nagged. "This mud is piled up so thick, are you plastering the walls? The windows are even worse, a grayish-yellow paste. You don't even need to draw the curtains."

His mouth didn't stop, and with the screeching accompaniment of the boiling kettle, he went to pour water for Liang Hecheng to take his medicine. Liang Hecheng had just gotten out of bed, looking bloated in his cotton-padded jacket and trousers, which made him appear listless.

"It's the same whether I take it or not. It's useless," the old man said.

Ji Shenyu asked, "Then is Tianma Chicken Soup useful?" He had started stewing it last night, reducing a whole pot to three bowls. One for his master and Madam at home, and the other he brought for Liang Hecheng.

Liang Hecheng said, "Then I'll drink the chicken soup. You stop working and take out the few scrolls of calligraphy and paintings from the cabinet."

This was to be a lesson. Ji Shenyu hurriedly went to the outer room to search, finding seven or eight scrolls neatly stacked in velvet bags. He thought, 'Calligraphy and painting are the hardest to copy. Could it be that Liang Hecheng's skills in this area are lacking, which is why they're stored at the bottom of a chest?'

Outside, the festive atmosphere of the New Year was bustling. Inside, the old man and the young man were holed up in the inner room for their lesson. Liang Hecheng groggily drank his soup while Ji Shenyu unrolled the largest painting, which stretched from the head of the bed to the foot, its end draping onto the floor.

"It's this long?" He was slightly startled. After seeing it clearly, his surprise turned to shock. "The 'Picture and Record of Zhoujintang,' the genuine one is a world-class national treasure over ten meters long?!"

The original of this painting had long been collected by the Museum. Ji Shenyu never expected someone could produce such a vivid copy. He examined the seal, the lines and colors in every inch of the scroll. He couldn't look enough, couldn't sigh enough. He stared blankly, raising his eyes as if to bore a hole through Liang Hecheng with his gaze.

Liang Hecheng said, "It wasn't me. Little Fang painted it. I took him in back then because he was skilled at painting."

Ji Shenyu thought of Fang Huaiqing, and his surprise turned to regret. To have been noticed by Liang Hecheng, he must have been extraordinary. But no matter how great his skills, they were glories of the past. Having both his hands chopped off at the wrists, after the immense pain, the man whose brushstrokes were divine was reduced to a cripple who needed to be fed. This was a pain that would linger for the rest of his life.

Since ancient times, heroes have cherished heroes. Ji Shenyu felt exceptionally regretful. He knelt by the bed to examine it closely. The forgery of the canvas's color and texture was extremely realistic; even the flaws didn't look man-made. He asked, "Master, how did you make these tiny holes?"

Liang Hecheng said, "Leave an open bag of worm-infested rice flour on it. A few bites from the worms, and it looks more real than anything."

Ji Shenyu laughed heartily, but his laughter froze midway. "Master, why are you sweating so much?" He felt a sudden panic, raising a hand to wipe Liang Hecheng's cheek. Reaching inside the cotton-padded jacket, he found the undershirt soaked through with sweat.

He asked, "Master, are you hot?"

But Liang Hecheng said, "I'm cold..."

"Master, are you feeling unwell? Lie down, quick!" he shouted, getting off the bed to wring out a towel.

Liang Hecheng leaned stiffly against the headboard, trying to place the half-empty bowl of chicken soup on the table. But the edge of the table seemed to waver, unsteady and uncertain, and it took him a great deal of effort. Ji Shenyu had just poured a basin of hot water when, from the inner room, there was a crash! Something had shattered.

The small bowl never made it to the table. It shattered into pieces, splashing across the floor. Liang Hecheng's withered body slumped to the side, his eyes rolled back as he fainted, half-dead. Ji Shenyu was terrified. He pressed the philtrum, checked for a pulse—there was no phone here. He had no choice but to struggle to carry Liang Hecheng on his back and run outside.

He had traversed this not-so-long alley many times, but this time it felt endless. He carried the master he had accepted partway through his journey on his back, with the savings the old man and young man had scraped together in his pocket. He took a taxi to the hospital. The doctors took over the emergency rescue, and he slid down against a wall to the floor.

A nurse asked, "Are you a family member of the patient?"

Ji Shenyu said, "I am."

He signed the papers and completed the admission procedures. When he was done, he slid back down to the floor. His clothes were always clean, he didn't smack his lips when he ate, his room was cleaned daily... He was so proper, yet at this moment, he sat stunned on the ground, heedless of his posture.

Liang Hecheng had lung cancer. He had known since the day he met him.

That the terminal illness was incurable by medicine, and that he was just dragging things out until death, he understood that too.

Ji Shenyu was clear about everything, and even clearer that sooner or later, the day would come when he would see the old man off. But it still felt sudden, too soon. It was the New Year period. Many old people passed away in winter, but he had fantasized that Liang Hecheng would be able to pull through.

He sat on the cold floor tiles until they grew warm. He wanted his most trusted Ding Hanbai to be with him, but he didn't dare to leave. A car accident victim was brought in; a patient injured in a fight was discharged. Finally, Liang Hecheng was wheeled out.

Ji Shenyu breathed a sigh of relief. In the hospital room, he leaned on the edge of the bed and studied him. After a long moment, he reached under the covers and secretly touched Liang Hecheng's sixth finger. The old man hadn't woken up. His peaceful sleep made him look as if he wasn't ill at all.

A doctor came by, wanting to discuss the patient's condition with the family.

Ji Shenyu asked, "Doctor, the situation is rather bad, isn't it?"

Seeing the doctor's silent affirmation, he demurred, "I'll come find you in your office later. Please wait a moment." A sudden cowardice arose in him. He didn't have the courage to find out alone. After asking a nurse to watch over Liang Hecheng, he hurriedly left the hospital.

The Antiques Market was buzzing with noise. Ji Shenyu got out of the car and dove into the crowd. The coming and going of people dazzled him. "—Senior Brother, Senior Brother!" he shouted. The people around him looked at him, but his voice didn't carry far.

Ding Hanbai was looking at a one-of-a-kind foreign item. He'd seen many while studying abroad and didn't find them rare, but now he thought it was a treasure. Zhang Sinian was squatting to the side. "My grandmother used to have a pair of aromatherapy bottles with gilded swan handles, similar to this one," he said.

Ding Hanbai guessed that this man's ancestors weren't just rich; they were likely from a family of officials. He asked, "Where did they end up?"

Zhang Sinian said, "They were given to Auntie. During that... time... her whole family moved to Taiwan, and we lost contact."

The two of them were oblivious, blocking someone's stall as they chatted idly. They only got up when they were shooed away. Ding Hanbai, holding the "Picture of a Journey to Zhongnan," heard someone calling him from a distance. He focused and pricked up his ears, actually thinking it was Ji Shenyu calling for him.

'What a love-struck fool I am, possessed. We've only been apart for half a day and I'm already having auditory hallucinations.' He shook his head and laughed secretly, despising himself for being so pathetic. Then he turned around, and in the bustling market of a hundred people, he saw the most important one. He immediately threw the painting at Zhang Sinian and took off running.

Ji Shenyu's throat felt like it was on fire. On the verge of collapse, he was grabbed by a dashing Ding Hanbai. "What are you doing here? Just browsing?" Ding Hanbai's smile was lazy, but then he noticed Ji Shenyu's expression was off. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Ji Shenyu said urgently, "Master Liang fainted and is in the hospital."

The old man and two youths wasted no more words and headed straight for the hospital. Zhang Sinian stared at the scenery outside the car window, perplexed. How had he ended up in the car so confusedly? Why was he going to see that old codger?

When they arrived at the hospital, Liang Hecheng was already awake but incredibly weak. It seemed as if one breath couldn't connect to the next. "Master, how are you?" Ji Shenyu leaned in close to hear Liang Hecheng's mumble.

Liang Hecheng said it was nothing, that he could still eat a plate of dumplings on New Year's Eve.

The two young ones stood guard on either side of the bed. Zhang Sinian paced at the foot of the bed, not having uttered a word since he entered. After a long time, Ding Hanbai said, "Master, you're making me dizzy with your pacing. Please stop for a bit."

Zhang Sinian looked slightly awkward. "What am I doing here? I'm going home for a nap!" He turned to leave, but a fit of coughing erupted from the hospital bed, one cough after another, as if he were being strangled by the Messengers of Death. "Cough, cough, cough, you're going to cough up your lungs!"

Liang Hecheng hunched over, leaning back against the headboard. "The cough of a dying man. I'll just have to bring you some bad luck."

Zhang Sinian turned back again. "What's the use of you making all those objects? Did you get to eat exotic delicacies? Did you get to drive a Cadillac? You're barely in your sixties and sick as an old man in his dotage. Why didn't you get treatment earlier?!"

It was incurable anyway. Everyone knew that, but at least every extra day of life counted.

Silence fell again. Ji Shenyu poured a cup of hot water and peeled an apple, letting the two masters pass the time. He blinked at Ding Hanbai, preparing to go find the doctor for instructions. Liang Hecheng stopped him. "Call the doctor here. I want to hear the situation too."

Ji Shenyu said, "What situation? You just didn't rest well. Don't bother the doctor."

Liang Hecheng gave a helpless smile. When his apprentice was here, he forced himself to stay alert. When his apprentice wasn't, he wished he could lie in bed all day. He couldn't get up at dawn and couldn't sleep at night. His bloated appearance wasn't because of the thick cotton jacket, but because his tumor was worsening, swelling his withered belly.