In the blink of an eye, another three months passed.
As soon as Meng Xihong came off duty, he hurried home. Madam Bai was still waiting for him in the courtyard. The difference was that now, in her arms, there was a tiny infant wrapped in soft swaddling clothes.
That was their eldest son, Meng Yanqing—the first of the family’s “Yan” generation. This generational character carried Meng Xihong’s hopes for the next generation: that they would keep faith and stand by their word, understand reason, and cultivate themselves. It symbolized the Meng family stepping into a brand-new chapter.
Meng Xihong’s gaze fell upon the child’s peacefully sleeping brows and eyes, and his heart felt as though something had struck it hard—soft and warm all at once.
The character “Qing” had lingered in his mind for a long time before he finally settled on it. It not only echoed the deeper meaning of the “Yan” generation, but was also an ancient title for noble and eminent officials. It bore his deep expectations as a father: that his eldest son would become a pillar of the family, shouldering its heavy responsibilities.
“Ah-ya-ya.”
The baby waved his two fair, chubby little hands in Madam Bai’s arms, his eyes wide open, his ink-black pupils staring fixedly at Meng Xihong.
“Husband.”
Madam Bai called softly to Meng Xihong and gently placed the baby in his arms.
The baby who had just been wriggling about instantly stopped moving once he was in Meng Xihong’s embrace. His whole body lay soft and limp in his arms, his tiny head lifted high, the corners of his mouth seeming to carry the faintest hint of a smile.
Meng Xihong played with the child for a while. A child’s energy was limited after all, and before long, he drifted into dreamland, falling into a deep sleep with a smile still at his lips.
Madam Bai busied herself in the kitchen with tonight’s meal.
After Meng Xihong carried the baby back to the cradle he had made for him with his own hands, he went into the courtyard and began practicing his punches over and over again, tirelessly.
The fist art Meng Xihong practiced was the Long Fist that all the yamen runners of Wufeng County could learn for free.
Long Fist had eighteen forms in total. Each form was extremely basic, yet together they encompassed every move and technique of fist arts.
With the support of his martial root, after practicing Long Fist continuously for three months, Meng Xihong could already faintly sense the existence of Ming Jin.
It was just that this feeling always flashed by in an instant, difficult to grasp.
However, Meng Xihong was not impatient. He simply practiced Long Fist again and again in silence.
After completing all eighteen forms of Long Fist in full, Meng Xihong was just preparing to rest for a moment before going through them again when suddenly, that wisp of opportunity he had kept missing appeared once more.
And this time, the Ming Jin he sensed was far clearer than ever before.
Meng Xihong understood at once and did not dare delay. He hurriedly steadied his mind and, with full concentration and tireless focus, began performing the eighteen forms of Long Fist again.
An unknown amount of time passed.
Meng Xihong suddenly perceived the existence of Ming Jin with incomparable clarity. And as he completed one form after another, that sensation grew ever stronger.
Until, when Meng Xihong calmly and methodically finished the final form of Long Fist, strange cracking sounds suddenly rang out from all around his body, as though every bone in him were growing, colliding, and grinding against one another in that instant. The qi and blood within him surged endlessly.
He had succeeded!
After three months of practicing his punches over and over again, Meng Xihong had finally stepped from being an ordinary person into the threshold of martial artists. He had comprehended the existence of Ming Jin, and could now barely be considered a third-rate martial artist.
On the path of martial arts, third-rate martial artists needed to comprehend the existence of Ming Jin and make use of it for themselves. Second-rate martial artists needed to comprehend An Jin. First-rate martial artists needed to comprehend Hua Jin.
A first-rate martial artist was already enough to be considered a great figure in martial arts. Looking across the whole of Wufeng County, there was not a single first-rate martial artist.
Above first-rate martial artists was the Houtian realm, whose practitioners could be called grandmasters, or Houtian martial artists.
To become a Houtian martial artist, one had to comprehend the existence of Dan Jin, guiding one’s inner qi through internal breathing or focused intent and gathering it in the dantian. This was what it meant to store qi within oneself.
Above Houtian was Xiantian, which was also the end of the martial path. Even throughout the vast Great Wei dynasty, there were only a few such people.
The surging qi and blood that roiled endlessly within his body, the severalfold increase in strength throughout his limbs, and his brand-new understanding of the eighteen forms of Long Fist—all of these were the positive feedback Meng Xihong received from comprehending Ming Jin and breaking through to become a third-rate martial artist.
That night.
Meng Xihong and Madam Bai lay on the bed, gazing at the night sky beyond the window, where countless stars shared the heavens with the moon, chatting idly about the family’s future plans.
“Husband, there are still six taels of silver left at home. Tomorrow, I plan to go with Granny Wang to the tailor’s shop to cut a few bolts of cloth and make two new sets of clothes for little Qing and for you.”
“You’re very thoughtful, my wife. Don’t forget to make two sets for yourself as well.”
“.”
Madam Bai had already fallen asleep, but Meng Xihong gazed at the night sky outside the window, unable to sleep.
His eldest son had just been born, and this was precisely when money was needed. Although the family still had six taels of silver left over, making them much better off than ordinary households, as the child gradually grew older, expenses would increase as well. And once the child had to establish a career and start a family in the future, even more money would be needed. Six taels of spare silver truly did not amount to much.
Besides, Meng Xihong was still planning to have more children. It was just that this matter would have to wait until at least next year. Only after Madam Bai’s body had recovered could they think about having another child.
As for ways to make money, Meng Xihong already had a plan.
Since he served in the yamen and held the post of constable, naturally, apprehending criminals was the quickest way to earn money.
In the past, Meng Xihong would not have done this, because back then he had neither background nor status as a martial artist. The work of arresting criminals was still quite dangerous.
But now things were different.
Meng Xihong was already a third-rate martial artist, which meant he had a certain degree of ability to protect himself. Apprehending certain flower-picking bandits and the like in the jianghu could be said to be well within his grasp. As for those fugitives who had murder cases to their names and were also members of the martial world, he would not touch them.
The next day, while on duty.
Meng Xihong, rarely taking the initiative, went up to Head Constable Wang Hai and asked whether the yamen had any recent assignments to apprehend criminals.
Wang Hai was very surprised by Meng Xihong’s inquiry, since he could be considered a rare visitor in this regard. As far as Wang Hai was concerned, Meng Xihong had never shown any interest in these matters on ordinary days. In the past, if Wang Hai had not forcibly dragged him along on duty to apprehend wanted criminals, Meng Xihong would have avoided such work as quickly as possible.
Why had he suddenly changed his nature today?
Meng Xihong smiled awkwardly. “Head Constable, the baby was just born, and expenses at home have been heavy lately…”
Wang Hai smiled knowingly. As someone who had been through it himself, he naturally understood why Meng Xihong had changed. When he had first been on duty, he had been of the same mind. It was only after children were born at home that, for the sake of the whole family, he had no choice but to take on the work of apprehending wanted criminals.
“From now on, you can go out on assignments with me,” Wang Hai immediately agreed to Meng Xihong’s request to join the ranks of those apprehending wanted criminals. Taking advantage of the fact that there was nothing much to do at the moment, he pulled Meng Xihong into a corner and lowered his voice, explaining to him the tricks of the constable trade for making money.
Relying on the small stipend issued by the yamen was only enough to keep a family fed and clothed.
If one wanted the family to live well, one had to understand the skill of “reading people’s words and expressions.”
One had to learn to distinguish which wanted criminals could be squeezed for money and which ones must not be provoked.
Those with powerful backgrounds or who were jianghu martial artists absolutely could not be provoked. If you saw them, you had to take a detour.
Destitute farming households also could not be provoked. After all, their families were so poor they could barely keep the pot boiling. If you still went to squeeze money from them, and they were driven into desperation, the one who suffered in the end would still be you.
As for those wealthy households that had a bit of money, acted arrogant and domineering on ordinary days, but had no impressive background to speak of, they were the best targets to squeeze!
With Wang Hai imparting the lessons and experience he had accumulated over many years, Meng Xihong could truly be said to have benefited greatly, avoiding many wrong turns.