Chapter 7: Memories

At this moment, Mei Qinghe looked at Zhao Dehua, who was begging for mercy, and all her thoughts abruptly ceased.

The enmity between Mei Qinghe and Zhao Dehua was, in truth, a story as old as time.

When Mei Qinghe was a child, her family were merchants—not wealthy, but comfortably provided for. Fifteen years ago, when Mei Qinghe was five, her mother wished to return to her hometown for a visit.

As previously mentioned, long journeys in ancient times were far less convenient than today, especially for a lone woman traveling with a small child. Mei Qinghe’s father thus sought the services of the local Tiger Guard Escort Agency. At that time, Zhao Dehua was an obscure member of the agency and took on the task of escorting Mei Qinghe and her mother back home.

It ought to have been a straightforward assignment. Mei Qinghe’s mother carried little of value, and their route was not particularly dangerous. There should have been no mishaps.

But fate is capricious.

A notorious outlaw, pursued by the imperial guards in the capital, had fled to the region of Qilu. There, he chanced upon Zhao Dehua and his charges.

The outlaw took a liking to Mei Qinghe’s mother and demanded that Zhao Dehua hand her over.

Zhao Dehua, then a young man, was not skilled in martial arts but was filled with idealistic fervor. Knowing he was outmatched, he nonetheless raised his sword to protect Mei Qinghe and her mother, aiming to delay the outlaw and give them a chance to escape.

He overestimated his abilities.

In an instant, Zhao Dehua’s sword was knocked aside, his face pressed into the dirt, his mouth and nose filled with earth.

The outlaw toyed with him, slicing him with a blade, dislocating and resetting his joints, and applying pressure to his acupuncture points.

He poured insects into Zhao Dehua’s ear, forcing him to listen to the crawling of bugs upon his eardrum.

Young Zhao Dehua finally understood that the so-called code of chivalry could not make him strong. In the outlaw’s eyes, he was nothing more than a fool with mediocre skills, ignorant of his own limits.

The sense of righteousness he thought he possessed was shattered in less than half a day.

Fear took hold.

He began to beg for mercy.

He cursed Mei Qinghe’s mother for seeking his help, for resisting, for not yielding to the outlaw.

He even began to resent her, asking why she could not sacrifice herself and spare him the suffering.

His hatred grew.

The outlaw ordered him to restrain Mei Qinghe’s mother, and he obeyed.

The outlaw told him to join in her torment, and he complied.

He vented his inexplicable resentment upon Mei Qinghe’s mother.

Until she died.

When it was over, the outlaw, satisfied, tossed to Zhao Dehua a manual of claw techniques and departed.

All that transpired was witnessed by the five-year-old Mei Qinghe.

Zhao Dehua wished to silence her, to wipe away all traces of what had happened. Yet, a shred of conscience remained, and he could not bring himself to do it. He reasoned that a five-year-old would not survive in the wilderness, so he took all the provisions and abandoned Mei Qinghe in the mountains, returning to the Tiger Guard Escort Agency.

Mei Qinghe’s father reported the crime, but the agency used its connections to suppress the investigation. He spent all his wealth searching for Mei Qinghe and gradually vanished, likely dying along the way.

The outlaw was eventually hunted down and killed by the imperial guards.

After that, Zhao Dehua gave up the sword, relying instead on the claw technique manual bestowed by the outlaw, and gradually became the pillar of the Tiger Guard Escort Agency.

Zhao Dehua was courteous and just in his dealings, earning a good reputation. Under his leadership, the agency flourished and prospered.

He believed the past was behind him. His daughter was gifted, and her skills were growing; in a few years, she would succeed him, allowing him a peaceful retirement, free from the petty intrigues of the martial world.

He thought the events of fifteen years ago were forgotten, that he had moved on from Mei Qinghe’s mother.

Until now, when he saw Mei Qinghe’s face.

Mei Qinghe resembled her mother closely; he recognized her at once.

Cold sweat broke out across Zhao Dehua’s face, his hands trembled uncontrollably, and his ears rang, as if insects were crawling inside, scraping with a faint, rustling sound.

That face, which had appeared countless times in his dreams alongside his younger self—asking, mocking, reviling him—now looked upon him again.

Under the moonlight, that once-beautiful face gazed at him, full of hatred.

And fifteen years ago, Zhao Dehua seemed to come alive within him once more.

With a thud, Zhao Dehua fell to his knees, bowing repeatedly to Mei Qinghe.

“Madam Mei, Madam Mei, I was wrong, I was wrong!”

“Rest in peace, rest in peace, I beg you, rest in peace!”

“My martial arts were lacking, I could not defeat him, I just did not want to die, I had no choice!”

Mei Qinghe watched Zhao Dehua, slowly approaching him.

Seeing her advance, Zhao Dehua suddenly stumbled backward, crawling away desperately on hands and feet.

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer!”

“Madam Mei, don’t come for me—go to him, he forced me!”

“I wanted to protect you, I let you go—it was you who moved too slowly! It’s not my fault!”

“I did not want to do those things to you, but he made me!”

Zhao Dehua crawled to the wall, cornered, tears streaming down his face.

“He tortured me, it hurt so much! He cut me, I was covered in blood, he was a monster—it was all his fault!”

“He put insects in my ears, they crawled inside, I could hear them!”

He suddenly smashed his head against the ground, digging frantically at his ears with his fingers.

“Get out! Get out!” As if the insects were still there.

Mei Qinghe watched as Zhao Dehua seemed to lose his mind, then turned to Li Miao, who stood nearby, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Li Miao smiled, took a packet of powder from his pocket, and tossed it onto the floor.

“I told you, you could never beat him.”

“Your martial arts are indeed better—he’s second-rate, you barely qualify as first-rate. With swords, he couldn’t last thirty exchanges against you.”

“But tonight, since you came for him, he’d use this to deal with you.”

In the martial world, outside the arena, skill is seldom the final arbiter of victory.

Traps, smoke, poison, hidden weapons—each can kill a master.

Last night, Zhao Dehua was ambushed by Mei Qinghe; tonight, he would surely be prepared, with traps laid in the room, waiting for her to walk into them.

He had also prepared a mind-altering poison, meant for Mei Qinghe, to make her reveal her origins and motives for enmity, so he could plan his response.

But Li Miao used it on him instead.

Li Miao spoke calmly, “I am no hero, but I do expect those who serve me to have some measure of integrity.”

“Your loyalty to Mount Hua is admirable, but I also wish to know your true character.”

“He prepared this, so let him speak honestly. I want to hear the truth.”

“Now I understand enough.”

“If you wish to seek vengeance, do as you see fit.”