Chapter Sixty-Three: Thoughts

The courtyard of the mountain stronghold came alive once more with the arrival of the villagers. The women busied themselves in and around the kitchen, their demeanor towards the villagers far more relaxed than it had been with the county soldiers. Yet, as they served food to the villagers, they noticed a strange glint in some of the villagers’ eyes—a look that made them uneasy.

All the villagers knew these women had been rescued from the hands of bandits. In the eyes of many, this made them “unclean.” Influenced by the deeply rooted feudal values of the Great Liang, “chastity” was deemed a woman’s most precious quality. Even though these women had suffered misfortune against their will, the villagers, while pitying their fate, could not help but be touched by ingrained notions of purity. Widows who remained chaste were lauded by society, while divorced or abandoned women, if they wished to remarry, could only hope to become concubines. Once such thoughts took root, they could not be hidden from one’s face.

The villagers’ reactions poured cold water on the fragile hope that had just begun to flicker in the women’s hearts. Qi Jun did not look at them with the same prejudice, for he had received an education far more progressive and civilized than anything this era could offer. But how many like Qi Jun existed in this time?

The women said nothing. Silently, they set down their bowls, bowed humbly and timidly to the villagers, and retreated to their rooms. This time, no one peered out from behind doors or windows. Instead, the air was filled with the sound of muffled, humiliating sobs.

Qi Jun witnessed this and felt a surge of boundless sorrow and anger. The prejudices of the age weighed upon these women like a mountain, threatening to crush them.

“Tch, I can’t eat this meal. How do women who’ve been with bandits still have the face to live?” one villager muttered quietly to his companion.

“The teacher is a man too. Who knows, maybe he has other ideas about these women…” another villager sneered.

The voices of these whispered conversations, though not loud, reached Qi Jun’s ears. He clenched his fists, unable to contain his fury. Not only Qi Jun, but even Sun Jiu’s expression shifted noticeably.

“If you can’t eat, put down your bowl and get out! I can tolerate your jokes at my expense, but I cannot stand by while you wield daggers with your words!” Qi Jun swept his cold gaze over the villagers, his expression as deep and chilling as a winter pool.

At last, his eyes fixed on the two villagers who had most brazenly insulted the women.

“Chen Yude, He Guangliang, step forward!” Qi Jun’s thunderous shout made every villager shudder involuntarily. All eyes turned to the two men.

“Teacher, what have we done wrong?” said Chen Yude, his face blank with confusion, feigning innocence as he looked at Qi Jun.

“Yes, Teacher. We followed you to fight the bandits, but what’s wrong with a few offhand remarks? What law have we broken?” He Guangliang, emboldened by his companion, recovered from his initial shock.

“You still claim innocence after what you’ve said and done?” Qi Jun looked at them in grief and anger, mourning the shameless obstinacy of the era’s feudal ignorance.

“Before the bandits dragged them here, these women were just as poor and ordinary as you and me! I don’t know whose wives or daughters they were, but I do know that before we arrived, they suffered inhuman torment and humiliation. They are living, breathing people, who—just like us—longed for home and distant loved ones under every full moon. The bandits forced misfortune upon them through their crimes, and I want each of you to understand: this is not their fault!” Qi Jun nearly ground out these final words through clenched teeth.

After his speech, all the villagers, including Chen Yude and He Guangliang, bowed their heads in heavy contemplation. For the first time, they realized that the moral code passed down from their ancestors might not be infallible.

Even Sun Jiu and the county soldiers fell into deep reflection. While they were grateful for the women’s care—preparing food, mending clothes, tending wounds—their gratitude had never gone deeper. The sort of understanding Qi Jun spoke of was entirely new to them.

Sun Jiu knew Qi Jun was right, but his mind was locked in a fierce struggle between two conflicting beliefs.

Qi Jun watched the villagers and soldiers quietly, knowing that the thoughts he had planted in their minds would spark a violent reaction, the outcome of which would only reveal itself with time.

What he did not realize was that, behind him, in the room where the women hid in shame and pain from the villagers’ looks, his words had brought them to tears. For the first time in their lives, they had heard a man publicly stand up for them.

After so long suffering in darkness, it was as if they had come to believe the world itself was black. When a tiny crack appeared in that darkness, letting in a faint but dazzling ray of light, they could not help but feel both moved and elated.

Qi Jun had thought that breaking the chains of fear imposed by the bandits on the villagers’ hearts marked the beginning of their redemption and the first victory against the era. Only now did he realize he was mistaken. The chains binding the villagers were not only those of bandit terror; the deeper shackles were the feudal codes revered as truth for millennia.

Breaking the bandits’ chains could be done openly, but fighting centuries-old feudal constraints meant standing against the prevailing beliefs of the time. In that case, his first enemies in Anqiang would not be Feng Qinian or the county magistrate, but the Liu clan elder of Dongling Village, who would stir up the villagers to drown him in their scorn.

Qi Jun let out a long, helpless sigh. He knew that to shake these mountain-heavy ideas, he could only proceed slowly and patiently.

Yet he took some comfort in the subtle changes he saw on the faces before him—his words had, perhaps, opened a tiny crack in the villagers’ and soldiers’ hearts.

“Of course, I cannot punish you. You are right; such words do not break the law, and I, Qi Jun, have neither the right nor the reason to punish you. But I hope you will each contemplate your own name, and consider what it means to be ‘virtuous,’ what it means to be ‘bright.’ The law sets the boundaries for our actions, but morality is our bottom line.”

With that, Qi Jun no longer cared whether they understood or not. He walked over to the still-stunned Deng Fang, flicked him on the forehead, and turned toward the house where the hidden tunnel had been found.

“Jun, wait for me!” Deng Fang, rubbing his sore forehead, snapped out of his daze and hurried after him.

Sun Jiu, awakened from his own reverie by Deng Fang’s call, had been turning over every word Qi Jun had spoken. Those words clashed with everything he had been taught since childhood, yet he found them irrefutable.

“Was I wrong…?” Sun Jiu muttered, shaking his head vigorously. The barrage of new ideas had left his mind swollen and overwhelmed.

Seeing Qi Jun and Deng Fang enter the house, he realized it was time to move the treasure. He quickly called a few county soldiers to follow him inside.