Wei's fingers dug hard into his palm. The pain only sharpened his mind.
"You are talking nonsense," he shouted. "What the hell are you saying? 'Cliff Tiger', have you lost your mind?
Dragging my father into a story like this.
What do you want?"
'Cliff Tiger' straightened his back.
He was already shorter than Wei, who was still barely out of boyhood, but now he forced himself upright, as if trying to make up for the difference with sheer will.
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick, solid arms hardened by years of labor.
The mountain axe hung at a slant in his grip, its blade catching the firelight and flashing with a cold gleam.
"I am not lying," he said. His voice was tight, strained. "I saw it with my own eyes."
The air snapped taut, like a rope pulled to its limit.
Chun stepped forward at once. She raised her hand and pressed it firmly against the axe handle, stopping it from lifting any higher.
"'Cliff Tiger'," she said in a low, steady voice. "You need to explain this properly."
The night wind howled around them.
Wei seemed to smell it then, the mingled stench of damp earth, blood, and scorched wood, thick enough to cling to the back of his throat.
'Cliff Tiger' spoke slowly, as if forcing himself to remember every detail.
"The general's voice was calm. Truly calm. He did not sound like someone about to kill. He stood there and talked to your father the way old friends talk, like they were catching up after a long time."
Wei's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
'Cliff Tiger' dragged a hand through his hair.
"I did not catch every word. My head was a mess. But there is one thing I am sure of."
He looked straight at Wei.
"He knew your father well."
"That is impossible," Wei said at once.
The words came out sharp, almost reflexive. Yet his voice was lower than before.
"My father has never had anything to do with a general," he said.
"When he was young, he was a traveling fur trader. He went from place to place, buying hides, trading them for salt and cloth."
He spoke faster, as if trying to convince himself. "How could he possibly know a general?"
The sentence broke off halfway.
Wei suddenly fell silent.
Images he had carefully avoided for years surfaced in his mind, unstoppable.
When he was small, his father only came home once a year, sometimes for barely a month.
There were years when the door was never knocked on at all.
Yet every time his father returned, his back was straight, his posture firm. His eyes were calm in a way that never quite matched the life of a merchant.
He brought Wei dried fruit so sweet it made his teeth ache.
He brought Wei's mother brightly colored cloth and delicate ornaments.
He brought his grandmother thick fur blankets, heavy and warm.
But he never spoke about the road. Never once.
Wei pressed his lips together.
What if it was true? Even if only a little.
Then what had all these years been?
Standing in the village, telling his friends again and again that his father was a trader who traveled far and wide. Watching them nod with envy. Feeling proud of it.
Had he been helping a liar keep up a story all along?
Was the father he admired, the image he clung to, nothing but a carefully built illusion?
Wei shook his head hard, as if trying to fling the thought away.
"No. That cannot be right," he muttered. "How could my father lie to me for so many years?"
He remembered clearly how his father would bring food back, feed him with his own hands, smiling as he said, no matter how bitter it is out there, home is always sweet.
"Why would he lie to me?" Wei demanded. "For what reason?"
'Cliff Tiger' was still lost in his memories. His eyes flickered, unable to settle.
"I saw it clearly," he said again. "Your father's chest .... rising and falling."
He hesitated, searching for the right words.
"But his expression… I cannot say for sure."
He looked uneasy, troubled by the memory.
"He did not look afraid."
-----------------
Wei's heart sank heavily.
"The general kept staring at him,"'Cliff Tiger' went on.
"Not in anger. Not in hatred. It was more like… a negotiation."
He paused, as if trying to summon the exact tone of that voice.
"Then the general asked him a question."
He slowed down deliberately.
"Why are you trying to escape?"
"He said ...not to hide behind excuses like country or people."
"He said that all those high officials who fell at your feet could speak even more eloquently than you."
The confusion in Wei's eyes deepened.
"Escape?" he thought. "Escape from what?"
"If he really was friends with those murderers, then did that mean that back then he had also… killed people? Had blood on his hands?"
The thought made Wei's stomach twist.
"Every day I sleep on the wooden bed he built with his own hands. I cover myself with the furs he brought back. Everything I eat, everything I wear, everything I use… does it all carry someone else's blood?"
The anger surged again, threatening to tear his chest apart.
'Cliff Tiger' swallowed.
"He said, 'Look at the people you are protecting.'"
"'Is anyone coming to help you?'"
"'Is anyone willing to turn back for you?'"
Wei's fingers curled tighter without him noticing.
"You must have heard wrong," Wei shouted. "Or you saw it wrong. My father was just an ordinary trader. He could not even handle a blade properly. How could he be so familiar with some general?"
"'Cliff Tiger', shut up. Stop talking."
But 'Cliff Tiger' did not stop.
"He just stood there," he said quietly. "His voice was soft, like he was coaxing someone."
"'Come back,' he said."
"'I can give those lowly people to you.'"
'Cliff Tiger' let out a bitter laugh.
"He said it so casually. Like he could make your father a city lord with a wave of his hand."
Wei's breathing slowed without him realizing it.
"Then… what happened?" he asked.
"Your father hesitated."
"I could tell."
'Cliff Tiger' lifted his head and stared at the flickering firelight.
"But he still refused."
Wei let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.
"What did he say?" Chun asked softly.
"He said, 'I just want to live in peace.'"
'Cliff Tiger' imitated the tone, though his own voice trembled as he did.
"At the end, the general laughed."
"It was not a real laugh."
"He said, 'Naive.' Just those two words."
"He said that even without them, you would still be enslaved by the old dynasty's king."
"Do not forget," he said, "that it was he who killed the king for you."
'Cliff Tiger' lifted his chin slightly, copying that condescending posture.
"He said, 'Should you not be thanking me?'"
"'I gave you more than ten years of peace, and yet you chose them. Was it worth it?'"
"'I have treated you well, have I not?'"
At that point, 'Cliff Tiger' stopped.
"The general's eyes," he said slowly.
"Those eyes did not look like the eyes of a living man."
Wei listened, his gaze flickering with uncertainty.
"But I could clearly feel something strange pass through them," 'Cliff Tiger' added.
"It was not mockery. Not anger."
"It was more like… regret."
Wei frowned.
"He said he had always admired your father," 'Cliff Tiger' murmured.
Then he added one last sentence, barely above a whisper.
"For not abandoning his own people, even when he could have walked away unharmed."
The moment those words fell, the silence around them became unbearable.
Wei stood there without moving.
Confusion and anger spread inside him like wild grass, growing unchecked.