Chapter Twenty-Two: Fearless of Heaven and Earth

That day, Shao Qiu once again stepped out of his room. Staying inside any longer seemed impossible. He had heard that a ghost once haunted his room, and unless absolutely necessary—like having to sleep at night—he was usually reluctant to stay there.

Outside, the deserted village was eerily silent. Only the sound of the little river flowing eastward murmured gently, as if whispering and urging him not to stay in that haunted room, warning of a vengeful spirit lurking within. But at this moment, Shao Qiu no longer cared about such things. In the dead of night, there was not a soul in sight. If there had been a few people around, he might have felt less afraid. But where could he find anyone now? The village was utterly empty.

A gust of wind blew past, reminding him again of the ghost in his room. He shuddered, fearing the spirit might pay another visit. He hoped it wouldn’t come back; otherwise, it would be truly terrifying, especially since no one else was around at night. He wondered, too, where the villagers had all gone—why did no one appear once night fell? This was indeed a troubling question.

But then, no one was no one. He was no child—what was there to fear? Yet, despite his protestations, a flicker of fear still lingered. He slapped his own face hard, cursing himself for being so useless.

After a while, he observed the outside scenery before retreating back into his room. Sitting at his desk, he opened a book and began to read. Only by immersing himself in books could he quell the dread of that frightening legend.

At that moment, through the glow of a kerosene lamp outside, he noticed Dog Ye standing there once more. Dog Ye was arguing with an elderly man sporting a white beard about a foot long, which fluttered wildly in the breeze.

But this was none of Shao Qiu’s concern. He was just inside reading. “Hear no news from outside, focus solely on the sages’ teachings”—that perfectly described him. He paid no mind to the quarrel.

Suddenly, the argument escalated. Dog Ye placed both hands on the old man’s shoulders. From the posture, it seemed as if he wasn’t facing an elder but his own son.

“Among three people walking, one can surely be my teacher...” Shao Qiu ignored it all. Now that there were people around, even if the room was haunted, he felt less afraid. He continued reading, though others mistook his reading for shouting insults.

Outside, Dog Ye’s temper flared. He slapped the old man, who was no pushover and retaliated with a punch. Dog Ye then kicked him.

“Choose the good and emulate it; correct the bad in oneself...” Shao Qiu persisted in his reading, indifferent to the chaos.

The white-bearded old man began to weep, but the villagers paid no heed. Instead of sympathy, they hurled curses at him.

“Damn your mother, crying like that is ridiculous. Do you think such tears bring luck?” someone jeered.

The old man stopped crying. Dog Ye patted his shoulder, signaling he would cease the beating. The old man, clutching his beard, slowly walked away along the village’s dirt path. Dog Ye, unwilling to linger at Shao Qiu’s doorstep to keep him company for free, also dispersed.

Once again, the deserted village fell silent, save for the river’s eastward murmur, like the words of sages.

After reading for some time, Shao Qiu noticed the moon had already begun to wane in the west. It was getting late. Reading further would strain his eyes. He opened the door to step out and relieve himself before bed.

Suddenly, a heavy rain began to fall. The village plunged into pitch-black darkness; no one walked the paths, and no voices echoed.

Only one person remained on the road, his clothes dampened by the rain yet somewhat shielded beneath an umbrella. He walked the muddy path unsteadily, clutching a cane. Having drunk a bit, he had intended to return home under cover of darkness but was caught in the downpour mid-way.

He stumbled through the mud, cursing loudly at the sky, “Damn it! I’m walking here, and you start raining! Are you deliberately messing with me? What kind of heavens are you? If you can’t manage it, just let me handle it!”

His curses echoed unheard by the village, or else they would have thought him mad.

Through his drunken, blurred vision, he suddenly saw a tall figure blocking his path. It stood in the middle of the road, seemingly intent on vexing him, even barring his way.

He shouted, “Go away!” and the figure actually rolled aside, vanishing beneath his gaze.

He was fearless in his shouts—people called him that because he seemed afraid of nothing but the heavens.

After driving off the figure, he limped into his modest room. Though small, it brought him great joy. He kept a dragon there—a black one with stripes. In summer, it chased away mosquitoes; in winter, it stood guard at the door, warding off wolves and wild beasts.

Being fearless, in his free time he would take the dragon for walks around the village—some might call it “walking the dragon.” Few did such a thing, but he was different. After finishing farm work, he’d stroll about with his dragon, wandering endlessly.

Of course, the dragon was no mere toy. It was slender and lean. Villagers said it had little flesh because it often bit him, and when it bit, it took big chunks. But he didn’t care—he loved the dragon and wasn’t bothered by the bites. “Bite away,” he’d say; “I’m not going to die.”

That night, Shao Qiu, afraid of the ghostly tales and especially lonely, left his room to wander the village under moonlight. When he reached the doorstep of the fearless man’s house, he found him cursing his dragon fiercely, pants down, shouting wildly.

Shao Qiu was displeased and approached. “Why are you awake at this late hour, cursing your dragon?”

The fearless man said nothing, only continued cursing. His arm was blood-red, freshly bitten, while the dragon calmly feasted nearby, seemingly accustomed to its owner’s temper. The bite was a mere morsel, and the master showed no sign of complaint; otherwise, the dragon wouldn’t be so relaxed, like a dog gnawing on a bone.

“If it wants to eat your flesh, why keep it?” Shao Qiu asked.

But as soon as he spoke, he noticed the man’s arm had miraculously healed, the wound sealed—an extraordinary sight.

Meanwhile, the fearless man’s dragon was nowhere to be seen, perhaps out hunting or strolling through the woods like a human—no one knew.

Shao Qiu glanced once at the fearless man, then dared not look again. To do so would surely invite nightmares.

The fearless man suddenly burst out of the house, pantsless. The door remained wide open; if thieves came, everything inside would be lost.

Shao Qiu dared not linger either. If the fearless man’s temper flared and he took offense, it would be a costly trouble to bear.