Magomet Timov - The Path of Li

"You see, Master Luo, all of them," Zicheng shook his head towards the bodies stretched out in the clearing, "we're ready to tear you apart at any moment. The only weak point in their gang was the leader himself. He shouldn't have been chatting with you about life, but just kill you right away, or at least cripple you, and then do the idle talks with you. The only thing that held them was his authority. And they repeated his mistake: they were distracted by you. Although… Three or four managed to escape," the young man laughed. Old Luo smiled as well.

The young warrior returned to his meal while Luo, looking at him, recalled their first meeting… It happened a moon and a half ago, almost on New Year's Eve. Old Tang's roadside tavern was full of customers. There were so many of them that his wife, Mrs Ki, had a hard time putting all the dishes on the tables. It seemed that the stomachs of the guests were bottomless like drunkard's wineskins! And the rain, mixed with snow, which had fallen for the second day in a row, did not allow travelling along the Northern Route, so all travellers, willing or not, ended up in this respected institution. All the king's men were there! Henchmen who went about their business; statesmen executing the orders of their prince or the Emperor himself; peasants going to the North or to the South, but always in search of a better life – all of them were held by the endless rain in the tavern that smelled of smoke from pipes and the aroma of hot stew. Companies formed at different tables according to interests, which was typical for bad days like this one. Someone gossiped about the lackeys of the young Emperor, who robbed the poor blind with their taxes. Others played mahjong, recklessly losing their last money and not really caring about how they would travel further, having lost their money and clothes here, at this table, and relying only on Luck, which they thought would certainly accompany them in the next game. Others sipped last year's sour wine and buzzing quietly about the last year's famine, which struck the southern provinces of the Celestial Empire and was about to strike the villages of the North. In the past year, there was no yield of wheat and rice, and the Jurchen raids have become increasingly impudent. This was facilitated by the great victory of their Khan Abahai, who invaded Korea with a huge army and forced it into a treaty beneficial to the Jurchens. Korea, however, generally remained loyal to the Celestial Empire and did not break its ancient ties, though it has become more alarming than ever on the northern borders. Hunger raged in the South. There were terrible rumours of mass infanticide and even acts of cannibalism. However, little trust was put into these. After all, South is South. It doesn't matter what they say about it. But the majority believed that it was the fault of the young emperor Chun Zhen, who ascended the throne a year ago and had not yet managed to halt the rampage organised by the court scoundrels.

Be that as it may, everyone agreed on one thing: one could not expect anything good in the near future. This means that, as is customary among poor people, you have to cut costs to the bone once again and hide goods in the mountains, away from greedy officials and grasping robbers. However, no one could say where the border between the first and the latter lied anymore. Luo Yang came in from the rain, brushing drops of cold water from his wide-brimmed straw hat. He could not wait to throw off his soaked raincoat. Old Tang rushed to meet him, habitually groaning about the nasty weather and the permanently bad roads. Luo listened to his lamentations and, catching a pause in the words of the eloquent master, quietly asked: "Is there a room for a lonely wanderer?" "A room? Yes, yes, of course, we've got several beautiful rooms to choose from," the innkeeper muttered as usual, but Luo stopped him with a gesture. "Several?" He asked incredulously, looking around the crowded hall. The innkeeper choked and stared at the old man, looking puzzled and then embarrassed. "Well, to be honest, I only have one, that is, just one mat in a room, and I rented it to that young warrior," the owner waved a towel, which he did not part with, regardless of being at the counter or in the hall, somewhere in the direction of the far corner of the hall. There, a silhouette of a man in leather armour was dimly visible. "Who is he?" Yang made sure that the interest in his voice didn't sound too obvious. The innkeeper shrugged.

"Well, a casual traveller. He says that he served a prince in the province of Gansu, where he fled from the tyranny of dignitaries." "A deserter?" The owner shrugged. "Doesn't look like one. Deserters are nervous, and they drink a lot; they constantly bully someone… I've seen many of them. But this one is calm and confident. He has money. He probably quit his job or is going home on vacation. Well, at least that's how it looks at first glance." Tang was embarrassed by his own self-confidence and began to fussily smile at Yang. The man nodded slowly.

"Bring me some stew and wine at his table. I am thinking of sharing a meal and shelter with him", said the wanderer and moved towards the young warrior's table. The owner rushed to fulfil the order of the honourable guest. There was hardly anyone in the northern provinces of the Celestial Empire who did not know the wandering philosopher Luo Yang! The warrior reacted to the old man's appearance with only a short nod and buried his face again in his cup of wine. Yang sat down on a bench that had been wiped down to the shine of ivory by the underpants of many guests and also nodded slowly to the warrior. The innkeeper brought a plate of steaming stew and a jug of wine. Luo slowly took the first sip straight from the jug without waiting for the cup to be placed in front of him. Burping contentedly, he proceeded to his stew. The warrior watched him mockingly. Yang pretended not to notice. When he emptied the bowl and wiped it thoroughly with his bread, putting the rest of the contents into his mouth, the warrior dared to ask the first question: "There are free seats in the hall. Why did you honour me with your attention?" Luo chuckled.

"Because of all those sitting in the hall, only you have what I desperately need." The warrior raised his eyebrows in surprise, which Yang liked – the guy was in no hurry with questions and was correct, as if he had received a court education. "Then maybe you could share with me what is this "valuable thing" that I have but don't know about? "The mat in your room that no one has occupied yet," Luo explained calmly. The young man chuckled. "What if I say no?" "You won't," Yang answered confidently and explained to the warrior's surprised look: "You need a calm neighbour today, and tomorrow you will need a reliable and wise companion and mentor at the same time. So why wait for another gift of fate?" "As far as I understand, you are the gift, old man?" "Exactly, young Man. Luo Yang, at your service…"

The warrior jumped up and bowed low: "Excuse me, sir! I have been on long hikes and have lost the last traces of courtesy while having to deal with the wild mountaineers!" Yang chuckled, stood up and put his hand on the warrior's shoulder, forcing him to sit back. "During my travels, I have met few interlocutors more courteous than you, someone who allegedly lost his courtesy", he laughed. The warrior forced himself to smile in response. The wise man sat down and continued: "Now that you know who I am let's figure out who you are… You served in the prince's army?" "Yes, sir." "Gansu province?" "Yes, sir." "And your name is…"

"Li Zicheng, sir…" "Stop calling me sir. To you, I'm just a Master Luo. Got it?" "Yes, sir… Master Luo… It will be an honour for me to share the shelter with you, just like I had shared my meal before!" Noticing that Li Zicheng was ready to bow down again, Luo Yang placed his hand in his palm, pressing it against the darkened tabletop. "I don't think we should attract too much attention now.