Chapter 12: Huang Zhong Sells His Bow

Just as Chen Cong was about to persuade Wu Xi further, a hawker’s cry echoed from the street.

“Selling a precious bow at a low price!”

Chen Cong turned to look. He saw a man, easily over nine feet tall. Though autumn had arrived, the man wore only a thin garment, making him stand out starkly amidst the crowd.

Wu Xi glanced over, sighed, and said, “That man’s surname is Huang, given name Zhong…”

“Who?!” Chen Cong’s voice rose eightfold, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground in shock.

Apparently displeased by the interruption, Wu Xi frowned before continuing, “Huang Zhong, courtesy name Hansheng, once served as a military scribe under the Right Army Captain’s command. After Chunyu Qiong was dismissed and fled, he’s been idle at home. Because his youngest son is ill, he’s had to sell off his possessions; this is the sixth time this month. The carved bow in his hand is no ordinary item. If you’re interested, you might buy it.”

“A thing that might save a life—don’t be stingy with your money,” Wu Xi added, worried.

So it truly was Huang Hansheng from Nanyang!

In Chen Cong’s memory, this fellow had always lurked in Jingzhou, only appearing when he was already old and gray. Even past sixty, he could draw a three-stone bow and battle Guan Yu to a stalemate. How had this legendary figure ended up in Luoyang? Serving as a military scribe under Chunyu Qiong?

“How do you know all this?” Chen Cong pressed.

“We once worked together at the Grand General’s residence, later became neighbors. Naturally, we’re acquainted,” Wu Xi replied.

Chen Cong asked, “Are there any others as brave as this man in Luoyang?”

Wu Xi’s face reverted to a lifeless expression, responding unpleasantly, “I only know how to forge iron. I’m blind to heroes.”

“Well… if you don’t know, you don’t know; no need to insult yourself,” Chen Cong said.

“You!” Wu Xi began, but Chen Cong ignored him, hefted the gold chest and left a corner exposed intentionally, then strode quickly after the bow seller.

“You there, selling the bow, wait!”

Huang Zhong turned, noticing Chen Cong with the divine weapon on his back and the gold chest on his shoulder, a hint of joy flashing in his eyes. He hunched forward, ending up slightly shorter than Chen Cong.

“Are you here to buy the bow, sir?”

Chen Cong smiled, “A soldier knows how to curry favor with the powerful, does he?”

Huang Zhong clenched his molars, forcing a smile. “This precious bow weighs twenty-one pounds, draws three stones at full string, and can shoot a hundred paces and startle wild geese. Even if you don’t use it, its ornate carvings make it worthy of collection at your residence.”

Chen Cong shook his head, “Your troubles, Wu Xi has already told me. Huang Zhong, let me ask you: if I buy your precious bow today, how will you get by tomorrow? Would you not rather I point you toward a brighter path?”

Huang Zhong hesitated, straightened, and clasped his fists, “May I know your name, sir?”

“Chen Cong, courtesy name Zining.”

Chen Cong? The libertine, scoundrel and idler, nineteenth-generation descendant of Marquis Quyi Chen Ping, the unlucky wretch locked in the servants’ quarters by conniving lackeys, the prospective son-in-law of the infamous Cavalry Captain Cao Cao?

Huang Zhong, for all his hardships, would never serve a traitor! He snorted coldly, took up his bow, and turned to leave.

Chen Cong stepped forward, grabbed Huang Zhong, surprised, “Hansheng, you know my name?”

Huang Zhong shook his arm but couldn’t break free, his heart pounding in shock.

He possessed immense strength, yet was held fast by a mere wastrel?

“Let go!” Huang Zhong demanded.

In that moment, Chen Cong pieced together the situation. Likely, his future father-in-law had made a grand show of his status; now all Luoyang knew Chen Cong was the Cavalry Captain’s prospective son-in-law. Unfortunately, Cao Cao was exactly the kind of man Huang Zhong despised—traitor and henchman, loathed by all honorable men. If Huang Zhong didn’t hate traitors, with his talent, he wouldn’t be so destitute.

“Come with me. I’ll say only three things. Afterward, if you wish to leave, I won’t stop you.”

Huang Zhong snorted but didn’t refuse, silently following Chen Cong into the blacksmith’s shop.

“Old Wu, I’ll borrow your backyard.”

“…”

“By the way, where’s your tea?”

“None!”

“Don’t be so stingy, I’ll pay for it.” Chen Cong untied his purse, tossed a handful of coins onto the table.

“…”

In the yard, Chen Cong and Huang Zhong sat cross-legged, two bowls of plain tea before them. Outside, Wu Xi hammered iron for Chen Cong, the noise conveniently masking their conversation. Chen Cong got straight to the point.

“Dong Zhuo is a traitor who usurped the state—everyone wishes him dead.”

Huang Zhong merely sneered, not replying.

“My father-in-law serves the traitor only to kill him. In seven or eight days at most, three or five at least, Dong Zhuo will surely lose his head.”

Huang Zhong looked up abruptly, stunned.

“But my father-in-law is willing to risk death; his family is innocent. I ask you, Hansheng, to protect them for a time. In gratitude, my father-in-law will write a letter and secure you a position. With that, you need no longer bow for gold or silver.”

Three sentences delivered, Huang Zhong’s pride vanished, replaced entirely by astonishment.

He couldn’t fathom how he’d come to know such earth-shattering plans!

Chen Cong’s words, Huang Zhong believed ninety-nine percent. After all, entrusting one’s family was not something done lightly; Huang Zhong had never seen someone so ruthless as to use their own kin to deceive.

His lingering doubt was not about Cao Cao’s plot to assassinate Dong Zhuo, but rather the depth of trust—why would Chen Cong reveal such secrets to him?

“I am blind to true worth, forgive me, sir. But… your request is mislaid. My son is gravely ill, our home impoverished; before long, I must return to Nanyang.”

Chen Cong knew this was his only chance. If he missed it, he’d lose half his life.

“Hansheng, do not worry. My father-in-law is acquainted with the imperial physicians; your son’s illness is difficult to treat here, but perhaps not for the palace doctors.”

Huang Zhong hesitated, “Truly?”

“It’s better than wandering the streets in vain.”

Imperial physicians—perhaps ineffective for emperors, but for commoners, with fewer restrictions, they could easily cure most ailments. Without real skill, one couldn’t be an imperial physician.

“Huang Zhong is grateful for your kindness, but has one question—may I ask?”

“Speak.”

“Matters of life and death—do you truly entrust them to an outsider?”

Now was the moment. Chen Cong recalled all his heartbreak from two lives, forcing himself to muster a sorrowful expression.

He sighed deeply, drained his tea bowl, thought about smashing it for effect, but remembering Wu Xi’s deadpan face, he simply set it down gently.

Ahem~

“The plan to kill the traitor is momentous. My father-in-law would not endanger others. At this moment, there is no one trustworthy at the Cavalry Captain’s side but me. Consider it a desperate plea for help.”

Truthfully, asking Huang Zhong to protect his family had another motive—an extra layer of security for his betrothed. If, with someone as formidable as Huang Zhong guarding them, disaster still struck…

Well, if luck was that bad, so be it.

Huang Zhong was moved, bowed deeply, “Though humble, I know the meaning of gratitude and duty. I will not fail what you entrust to me!”

“No time to waste. Let’s fetch the family first, then discuss matters after the imperial physician’s visit.”

“Thank you.”

As they departed, Wu Xi saw Chen Cong still carrying the gold chest, opened his mouth to warn Huang Zhong about something, but the two left too quickly for him to speak.

…

The Huang family lived in the Western Market.

A low-fenced house, truly bare of all possessions—even the roof leaked. Inside were his wife, Lady Yan, his young son Huang Xu, and a little girl… not present.

Unlike most children, Huang Xu was thin, his hair dry and yellowed, face wrinkled, but his eyes bright.

“Big brother, you look so nice, just like Aunt Wu next door.”

Chen Cong staggered; had he not established himself as a tragic figure in front of Huang Zhong, he would have liked to give this brat a good smack. The unlucky child’s compliments were worse than insults.

“Xu’er! Mind your manners—he’s our benefactor!” Huang Zhong admonished softly, scratching his head in embarrassment.

Should he discipline him? He might kill him. But if he didn’t, the boy was fine in every way—except for his mouth.

Huang Xu, unaware of his father’s inner turmoil, struggled to sit up.

“Father’s guilty. Yesterday I saw you staring at Aunt Wu in a daze.”

Huang Zhong was shocked, “Nonsense!”

Chen Cong felt content—one jab for each, fair and square.

Huang Zhong was less pleased, chased around the house by Lady Yan brandishing a broom.

“Wife, I was thinking about how to ask for a loan, a loan!”

“Benefactor,” Huang Xu said softly.

“Hmm?” Chen Cong looked down.

Huang Xu gazed toward his parents’ playful bickering, a bitter smile on his lips.

“Please save me. If I die, father and mother will never be happy again.”

Chen Cong gently placed his hand on the boy’s head and ruffled his hair.

“Alright.”