Zanxing (Retranslated)

Chapter 200 - Wuyou (1)

The light from the illumination charm gradually faded, and the surroundings became clearer. The morning white mist, carrying the cold dew of the night, slowly spread across the sky and the earth. In the courtyard, there was a crisp sound of ding ding dong dong.

It was a snowy morning.

“Chai Sang, you’re forging swords this early?” A voice rang out, carrying a friendly tease: “Trying to forge a few more swords to save up for your daughter’s dowry?”

“Heh heh.” The person being teased was not upset; he just gave a simple, honest smile.

Chai Sang? Zanxing was slightly taken aback. Wasn’t that the swordsmith of the Wuyou Sword? Was this a memory of the Wuyou Sword?

In the center of the courtyard stood a middle-aged man. Compared to the profound and always silent swordsmith, this man looked more like an ordinary craftsman. He was short, with rough, dark skin, and an appearance that could even be described as ugly. Hunched over, he was hammering away at the anvil by the furnace.

The courtyard was covered in snow, and despite the cold winter, he worked shirtless, sweating profusely. His pants, washed to a faded white, were covered in patches, indicating that his family was not well-off.

Zanxing walked over to him. Chai Sang was completely unaware, focusing intently on his work.

This was a memory of the Wuyou Sword, and the people within the memory could not see Zanxing.

As he worked, a sudden eek eek sound of a baby crying came from the house. Chai Sang froze for a moment, dropped his tongs, and rushed into the house. Zanxing followed curiously and saw that in the dilapidated, precariously standing red clay house, Chai Sang was standing by the bed, clumsily changing the baby’s diaper.

“Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry, Daddy’s here. Daddy will protect you,” the man awkwardly comforted the baby in his arms. “Our Wuyou is the most well-behaved.”

Wuyou?

Zanxing looked at the baby in the swaddling blanket. She appeared to be a baby girl, no more than three or four months old, wrapped in a floral swaddle, showing a sweet smile at Chai Sang, who was making funny faces.

Wuyou was Chai Sang’s daughter. He named the sword after his daughter?

The craftsman would not answer Zanxing’s question, so she could only follow the memory of the Wuyou Sword.

Next was a period of Chai Sang caring for his young daughter.

Craftsman Chai Sang was a swordsmith from the Yuezhi Kingdom. It was said that his family had been swordsmiths for generations, with their ancestors even forging swords for the royal family and high officials. However, over time, their family had gradually fallen into decline, and by Chai Sang’s generation, they were struggling to make ends meet, barely having enough to eat. As for the so-called prestigious swordsmith family, the neighbors just laughed it off.

Chai Sang’s parents had passed away early, and his wife died shortly after their daughter was born, leaving behind only the infant daughter, Chai Wuyou.

Chai Sang doted on this daughter.

Every day, he worked hard to earn extra wages, spending it all on food and clothing for Wuyou. During the day, he would both forge iron and care for Wuyou, and at night, he would light an oil lamp to make shoes and socks for her and mend her small clothes.

At first, he didn’t know how to do it. His hands that held the tongs were awkward with the embroidery needle, often clumsy and unsure, just as his rough palms felt awkward holding his daughter’s delicate little hands. Over time, he gradually became more skilled. His sewing was more delicate than that of the neighbors’ wives, and his braids were even better than those of the most fashionable girls in the city.

Everyone praised him for his skilled hands. Though Wuyou had no mother, she remained carefree and beautiful.

The baby quickly grew up, transforming into a rosy-cheeked little girl, then into a graceful and elegant young woman, and finally into a strikingly beautiful eighteen-year-old.

While Chai Sang worked at the forge in the courtyard, a neighbor passing by smiled and asked the girl who was embroidering at the door, “Wuyou, when you grow up, you should find a husband who treats you as well as your father does.”

The girl replied defiantly, “I don’t want a husband like my father. If I marry, I want a talented scholar who can read and write!”

“Reading and writing? You just want a handsome man,” the neighbor’s little tiger teased, making a funny face. “You just think your father is ugly!”

Wuyou, fuming, stood up from her stool and chased after little tiger, exclaiming, “Nonsense! My father isn’t ugly at all! He’s not ugly at all!”

Chai Sang watched their playful scuffle while hammering away, his eyes filled with a gentle smile.

He was short and his appearance was rough, yet he had a daughter as beautiful as a flower. Youth and old age, beauty and ugliness, like spring shoots and withered wood, fresh flowers and decaying mud.

When Wuyou turned seventeen, she was promised to a family.

The suitor was a young master from a scholarly family, distinguished and refined, with a handsome appearance just as the neighbors had described. More importantly, he was humble, gentle, and talented, often secretly buying apricot flower cakes for Wuyou.

Everyone said that Chai Sang had found a good son-in-law. However, the craftsman privately felt troubled. Although the suitor wasn’t from a high-ranking or wealthy family, they were well-off compared to Chai Sang’s own family. The bride price was not low, and as a father, he naturally wanted to prepare a substantial dowry for his daughter to avoid being looked down upon by the in-laws.

After Wuyou fell asleep at night, the craftsman put on his clothes and lit a lamp, sitting at the table to calculate how much money he could still scrape together. He couldn’t afford to repair the house or the estate, but besides saving a bit of money, he wanted to buy Wuyou the most beautiful wedding dress.

A head poked out from the doorway. “Dad, why aren’t you sleeping at this time of night? What are you doing?”

Chai Sang hid the account book behind him and smiled. “I’m figuring out how to prepare your dowry.”

“What dowry?” Wuyou blushed. “Our family doesn’t have money for a dowry.”

“Even if we don’t have much money, we can’t let our daughter’s dowry be lacking,” Chai Sang said, rarely joking with his daughter. “How about I forge a sword for you to take to your new home? If anyone bullies you there, it will protect you.”

Wuyou laughed. “A sword forged by you is more suited for chopping firewood than for protection. I don’t want it.”

“Our family is a swordsmithing family,” Chai Sang pretended to be angry. “Tell me, what kind of sword do you want?”

“Heh heh, I want a beautiful one, preferably silver-white. If the hilt could be engraved with a frost flower, that would be great. I don’t like it too heavy or too cumbersome. The lighter, the better. It should look impressive at first glance… Dad, why are you leaving? I haven’t finished yet!”

Her voice gradually trailed off.

The sound of hammering in the courtyard grew more frequent.

To prepare the dowry for Wuyou, Chai Sang began taking on more work. He was no longer young, and his strength was not what it once was. Working tirelessly every day, his old ailments began to flare up again. On rainy days, his knees would hurt severely.

Wuyou noticed this as well. She pulled Chai Sang back into the house, saying, “This isn’t working. You’re not young anymore. Don’t forge iron in this weather. Come inside and rest!”

On the surface, Chai Sang agreed, but once Wuyou left, he secretly resumed his work.

The silk brocade from the city fabric store cost three or two silver coins, and it was the best choice for making a wedding dress. He was almost able to gather the money. Once he got the fabric and gave it to Wuyou, he imagined how happy she would be.

With the New Year approaching, Wuyou would be married soon after the holiday. Though he had little to his name in life, he felt very content.

Up to this point, all the memories were calm and serene. The days Chai Sang spent with Wuyou seemed to fill every corner of the memory. Fragmented yet warm, the memory persistently replayed the mundane daily life, reluctant to part with this segment of time, making it feel as though time flowed very slowly.

Zanxing did not know what the outside world was like now. Unable to detach from this memory, she could only patiently continue to watch. This was perhaps what the Wuyou Sword wanted her to see.

She thought that this might not only be the memory of the Wuyou Sword but also the memory of the young Wuyou herself.

The scenes in the memory began to blur, and the passage of time became unstable, suggesting that the following recollections were deeply painful for the memory’s owner, causing them great inner turmoil.

In the Yuezhi Kingdom, during the New Year, the land was covered in snow, and every household had lanterns hanging from the eaves and festive couplets on their doors. Wuyou carefully pasted the last window flower on the door, overhearing passersby talking outside.

“Tianxiang Pavilion has started selling spring wine again,” a passerby urged. “Hurry up, it’s twenty copper coins cheaper now. If you wait, you might not get any.”

Wuyou glanced at the sky, it was already evening.

Tomorrow was the New Year. Vendors in the Yuezhi Kingdom would not be open for business. Many vendors would sell their goods at discounted prices to clear out their stock before heading home. Buying spring wine now was the most cost-effective, as it was twenty copper coins cheaper than usual. Chai Sang liked wine but seldom drank it due to the cost.

He was still busy preparing for the New Year’s Eve dinner in the house when Wuyou put the copper coins into her purse and went out.

The memory stopped at this point.

The surroundings turned pitch black, and time ceased to flow. The thick snow of the Yuezhi Kingdom was only a figment of memory and had no real effect, yet Zanxing felt an intense cold.

It was an all-encompassing chill that seemed to seep into the deepest parts of the heart. It started from the soles of the feet, slowly spreading and invading, climbing up the limbs, penetrating the organs, and chilling to the bones.

Wuyou did not return.

After a long, long time, a thunderous boom echoed in her ears, followed by the sound of drizzling rain.

Zanxing saw Chai Sang, dragging his ailing body, searching frantically for his daughter. A wine vendor informed him that Wuyou had bought wine in the evening and then left.

But she did not come home.

The small, unremarkable man went mad with worry, searching for his daughter’s whereabouts on the New Year’s Eve. By the next day, a body was found lying on the street of the market.

The girl’s expression was one of terror, her clothes disheveled, her body covered in bruises and wounds, a sight too horrific to bear.

She died on the first day of the New Year.

The warm light faded like a receding tide, and the memory began to turn pale and dim. An overwhelming wave of despair and sorrow engulfed the entire small courtyard. Zanxing saw Chai Sang collapsed over his daughter, sobbing uncontrollably.

The man, who had lived a half-life in silence, was crying out in heart-wrenching agony, utterly desperate and helpless.

The sheer intensity of the grief almost seemed to reach out through the memory to every observer, and Zanxing could not help but feel tears welling up in her eyes.

Passersby told Chai Sang that they had seen a girl being dragged onto a carriage by a group of drunken men outside the tavern the previous night. From the appearance, it seemed to be a carriage from the general’s family in the Yuezhi Kingdom.

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ANNOUNCEMENT: From now on, I’ll be sticking to a schedule. 10 chapters will be released every Saturday. Up to 20 advanced chapters will be available, and you can purchase them using coins.