Chapter Fifty-Six: Accepting the Inheritance

Zhao Haikun told me that during the War of Resistance, when the Japanese entered Zhaojialou to conduct a sweep, they came down with a strange illness before three days had passed. More than a dozen of them died, and they had no choice but to withdraw.

Curious, I naturally asked Zhao Haikun what sort of disease could be so formidable.

“I don’t know what kind of illness it was either,” he replied. “All I know is that it was contagious…”

At this point, Zhao Haikun smiled faintly. “Perhaps it was Heaven’s retribution! So many Japanese soldiers died in just three days that they no longer dared remain here. They dragged the bodies back to Jinan.”

But Zhao Haikun went on to say that the Japanese were unwilling to let the matter rest. The following year, they returned with “ghost soldiers” who had “pig snouts” and “fly eyes” to search Zhaojialou. They even took away several corpses of Zhao family ancestors for “research.”

They became frequent visitors to Zhaojialou.

For as many years as the war lasted, the Japanese tormented the village. They came almost every year, and whenever they did, they took something away—from ancient books to the dead. Yet no one ever knew what their true purpose was.

After all that harassment, the Zhao family fell into complete decline. Many of the Zhao descendants abandoned their homes and wandered far away, never to return.

After hearing this, I looked at the blank stele and said, “The Zhao family’s decline was all the fault of the Japanese. It seems to have had nothing to do with him anymore.”

Zhao Haikun nodded slightly. “Perhaps. But no matter what the truth of those events was, the fact remains that this man invited wolves into the house and allowed the Japanese to stay at Zhaojialou. That cannot be changed.”

Zhao Haikun did not continue, but his meaning was already perfectly clear.

That man had invited wolves into the house and brought ruin upon Zhaojialou.

Regardless of the truth, that alone was enough to have him nailed forever to the pillar of shame by later generations, forced to bear this blank stele.

And this stele was proof of that man’s ultimate disgrace.

Curious, I could not help asking the man’s name.

But Zhao Haikun’s answer left me utterly stunned.

“I don’t know,” he told me. “No one ever mentioned his real name. Whenever anyone in the clan spoke of his story, they simply called him ‘Zhao the Sinner.’”

“Zhao the Sinner?” I exclaimed.

Zhao the Sinner—the sinner of the Zhao family.

I could understand it to some extent. When people become furious over someone’s character or crimes, they often stop using that person’s actual name and replace it with a derogatory epithet.

For instance, that charlatan who pretends to command Heaven—I much prefer calling him Duan the Fraud.

In time, a person’s original name gradually disappears into the river of history.

Such was the case with the man known among the Zhao family as “Zhao the Sinner.”

At that moment, Zhao Haikun patted my leg and suddenly said, “Tian Bu’er, I want to say something to you—to you, in front of all our kinsmen…”

Seeing the solemn expression on his face, I nodded just as solemnly. “I’m listening, Uncle-Master. Please go on.”

Zhao Haikun grew somewhat agitated. “I’ve told you everything I know about the Zhao family’s story. The reason I told you all this is because I’ve decided…”

He had spoken only halfway when he suddenly found himself unable to continue. His emotions became so intense that he choked up for a long while before finally announcing to everyone:

“Here, in front of all our relatives, friends, and elders, I declare that this nephew-disciple of mine, Tian Bu’er, is recognized by the Zhao family! He is loyal and righteous in equal measure. He wore mourning for my second brother. He is an abbot capable of supporting the pillars of my Five Organs Temple, and he is the inheritor of the Zhao family’s culinary tradition…”

His words filled me with a warmth I could not describe, and they erased the final barrier between us.

Had he finally acknowledged me as his nephew-disciple?

Wasn’t recognition precisely what I had wanted most?

I knew that Zhao Haikun had initially been somewhat resistant to my presence. Though I called him Uncle-Master, he had refused to accept me on the grounds that neither I nor my former squad leader had formally completed the rites of master and disciple. Even when I repeatedly hinted that I wanted to help and become involved in the Zhao family’s affairs, he turned a deaf ear, and at times even seemed hostile.

Of course, I understood that this was not his fault.

After all, the Zhao family had endured one upheaval and blow after another. It was difficult for them to trust an outsider easily. With schemers like Lei Ren and the Heaven-Cutting Master constantly stirring up trouble, it was hardly easy for Zhao Haikun to tell friend from foe.

Fortunately, after everything we had been through, Zhao Haikun finally trusted me and accepted my intentions.

Then he took my hand and said, “Nephew-disciple, from now on, the Zhao family is your family—your family! You have a place in the Zhao family’s inheritance.”

I understood what he meant.

Zhao Haikun was granting me the same status and recognition as a member of the Zhao family.

It also meant that from this day forward, my place in the lineage of the Five Organs Temple had been formally acknowledged.

In other words, among the cooks of the Five Organs Temple, I was no longer an unofficial disciple. I had roots.

From that day onward, I ceased to be merely an apprentice. I formally became the abbot who would shoulder the burden of the Southern Shandong Confucius Temple, and I officially became a son of the Zhao family of Zhaojialou in southern Shandong.

Although this status had not been bestowed upon me by my master, but by my uncle-master, he possessed the authority to grant it.

He was the last heir of the Zhao family’s main branch, and could also be regarded as the final clan leader of the Zhao family of southern Shandong.

And I might very well become the first heir from another surname in the Zhao family’s six-hundred-year history.

His trust alone moved me deeply.

In that moment, everyone present was touched.

Lei Ren was the quickest to react. He cupped his hands toward Zhao Haikun and offered his congratulations.

“Congratulations, Brother Haikun. The Zhao family of southern Shandong has an heir once more. How truly noble and far-sighted of you!”

The moment Lei Ren opened his mouth, I sneered inwardly.

The drunken old man’s true intention had nothing to do with the wine. How could a shrewd old fox like him possibly pass up an opportunity to make a request while everyone was in such high spirits?

Sure enough, in the very next instant, Lei Ren’s tone shifted. With a sly grin, he said to Zhao Haikun, “Brother Haikun, you have shown such great righteousness. I’m sure your word is as good as gold. Haipeng has now been safely buried, so perhaps it is time we discussed the matter between us. And then there is that cleaver…”

At once, I understood.

A leopard never changes its spots.

The merchant’s fox tail had revealed itself before he could even be asked. The reason he had inserted himself into the matter was still that family heirloom cleaver.

My former squad leader’s bones were not even cold, yet he was already scheming over the inheritance. He truly did not regard himself as an outsider.

Faced with Lei Ren’s “reminder,” my uncle-master, Zhao Haikun, snorted unhappily. His expression darkened.

“I’ll naturally let you see the cleaver. What are you in such a hurry for? We’ll discuss it after we return.”

Having received his answer, Lei Ren nodded with a smile and withdrew to the funeral procession. In doing so, however, he drew a string of contemptuous looks.

After that unpleasant interruption, the entire funeral procession quickly fell silent. Everyone lowered their heads and returned wordlessly to Zhaojialou Village.

Once we were back in Zhaojialou, Zhao Haikun, Zhao Shuihe, and I hurried about preparing another banquet, serving the villagers who had come to the funeral.

It was not until afternoon that we finally saw off the last group of mourners.

Afterward, Zhao Haikun, his nerves taut, called me aside.

I knew he had something important to discuss with me.