Read Chapter 20: — THE LESSON TANG XIAO NEVER GAVE

Training began at sunrise.

Tang Zheng hated sunrise.

He had spent most of his youth surviving by wit, speed and the useful principle that people rarely struck what they were too busy laughing at.

Lin Zuo did not laugh.

“Again.”

Tang attacked.

Lin knocked the blade aside.

“Again.”

Tang attacked from another angle.

Lin swept his legs.

“Again.”

“I understand the concept.”

“Your body does not.”

By the tenth fall Tang stopped joking.

By the twentieth, he became angry.

By the thirtieth, the anger began to sharpen into attention.

Lin noticed.

Tang Xiao had once taught him the same way.

A lesson repeated across years without either teacher or student intending it.

At noon, Tang lay flat on the ground, breathing hard.

“Did my father enjoy this?”

“Very much.”

“You’re lying.”

“He enjoyed complaining about me while doing it.”

Tang turned his head.

“What was he really like?”

Lin sat down in the dust.

The question had waited ten years.

So he answered it properly.

He told Tang about the training yard in Beijing. About Tang Xiao pretending to be stern and then secretly buying sweet cakes for junior officers. About the way he polished his sword when worried. About his terrible habit of quoting poems on boats. About the night before Zhenjiang when he had visited his hidden family and returned quieter than usual.

Tang listened without interruption.

At last he asked, “Was he afraid?”

“Yes.”

The answer surprised him.

Lin continued.

“Bravery is not the absence of fear. Your father knew what he could lose. He went anyway.”

Tang looked at the wooden sword in his hand.

For the first time, his father became less like a legend.

And more like a man.