Craftsman

The onlookers stared at Zhang Laifu, shaking with laughter, and the other fools in the cell joined in. Zhao Guangping, the simpleminded cloth peddler, drooled as he chuckled. "This idiot doesn't even know his own name!" Pei Binru, the half-witted brick burner, laughed along. "I've known my own name since I was little—my ma told me!" Song Yongchang was pleased as well. Zhang Laifu's performance had been good—unexpectedly good. Yuan Kuilong nodded repeatedly. "This fellow truly is an idiot. Lao Song, finding a fool like this from an outside prefecture must have taken quite a bit of effort." A heavy stone lifted from Song Yongchang's heart. He offered a humble smile. "Serving Lord Long is my duty, so naturally I give it my all." Song Yongchang reminded himself to watch his words carefully. Phrases like "wholehearted devotion" or "unswerving loyalty" were not to be thrown around lightly—there was no telling what bizarre idea might cross Yuan Kuilong's mind next. Just as he thought he was safe, Yuan Kuilong abruptly asked, "Wait, I remember you saying you were looking for someone who didn't look like a fool, but was completely foolish inside. This man looks plenty dumb. Is he really suitable?" Everyone stopped laughing instantly, their eyes snapping to Song Yongchang. "He doesn't look like one on the surface, and he can distinguish certain matters quite clearly," Song Yongchang said, stepping close to Zhang Laifu and asking with an affable demeanor, "Zhang Laifu, tell everyone what your true identity is." Song Yongchang had previously stated that during filming, they would address characters, but when the cameras stopped, they would use real names. Lao Song had called him by his name, which meant the cameras were off. Zhang Laifu squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "I'm an actor." Song Yongchang asked, "What about that kick you took just now? What should be done about it?" Zhang Laifu replied with utter gravity, "The company has to pay compensation!" "And what does compensation mean?" "It means extra pay, of course!" The crowd burst out laughing so hard tears welled in their eyes. Song Yongchang remarked, "Lord Long, you see? He understands extra pay. He doesn't look foolish at all." Yuan Kuilong wiped away his tears and nodded over and over. "Well done, Lao Song. All six fools are gathered now, right?" As he spoke, Yuan Kuilong slipped the archer's thumb ring from his thumb and rolled it slowly in his palm. This thumb ring was Yuan Kuilong's bowl—a peerless bowl. Song Yongchang wanted to look, yet dared not stare. "Chief, we have them all." Yuan Kuilong rubbed the ring and inspected it closely for a long while. "If they're all here, why isn't my bowl responding?" Song Yongchang hastened to explain, "They haven't been turned to soil yet. Once we make soil out of them, the bowl will naturally sense it." Yuan Kuilong glanced at the six fools, then back at his ring, and turned to Song Yongchang. "Do it now!" Zhang Laifu clenched his fists. The Lin clan's third son silently gritted his teeth. Song Yongchang shook his head slightly. "Lord Long, the timing isn't right. Once the bowl opens, it cannot be stopped. We still need to find a good seed, and the seed blood must be absolute top grade!" "So many rules!" Yuan Kuilong slid the ring back onto his thumb. "Speaking of seed blood, I've been meaning to ask you—why did you insist on finding a fool from an outside prefecture? Isn't seed blood from outside the same as that from Wansheng Prefecture?" "It's a long story, Lord Long. Let us head back to the stronghold and discuss it at leisure..." "No need to go back. Tell me right here!" Yuan Kuilong pulled up a chair and sat down in the cell. Song Yongchang glanced around. "It would be best in private..." "No need for private, make it clear right now!" Yuan Kuilong popped a grape into his mouth. "Aside from these six fools, everyone here is our brother. What can't be spoken aloud?" At times, Song Yongchang truly had no idea how to handle Yuan Kuilong. Certain matters simply could not be voiced before a crowd. Just as Song Yongchang was trying to figure out how to frame his explanation implicitly, a bandit hurried in to report: "Chief, the young mistress wants you to come over. She says she has an urgent matter to discuss with you." "What urgent matter?" Yuan Kuilong asked, displeased. "Is it more urgent than business between me and the second chief?" The young mistress referred to Yuan Kuilong's younger sister, Yuan Kuifeng. The bandit whispered, "The young mistress said she's in high spirits today and wants to share a couple of cups with you." It was a small matter, but Yuan Kuilong's expression turned grave. If Yuan Kuifeng sent for him to drink and he failed to show, she would undoubtedly throw a drunken fit. Once she flew into a drunken rage, things would become extremely difficult to handle. After a moment's hesitation, Yuan Kuilong rose to his feet. "Lao Song, come have a couple of cups with me. Lao Zhao, you come too—toss some cucumbers for drinking snacks!" Lao Song let out a long breath of relief. Just as he prepared to leave, Yuan Kuilong asked, "Lao Song, you traveled all the way to an outside prefecture; didn't you bring me back something nice?" "It was a hasty trip. I truly didn't have the time to look for anything." "Surely not. You're an educated man—how could you neglect courtesy?" "Chief, this was my fault. I will certainly make it up to you next time." "Don't wait for next time. You definitely brought something back. Are you just too embarrassed to take it out? If you won't show it, I'll have someone search you!" Yuan Kuilong ordered two hostage guards forward to search him. Song Yongchang was the second chief of Hunlong Stronghold. For Yuan Kuilong to have him searched in front of so many men was a bitter pill to swallow. Yet Song Yongchang swallowed it whole. He allowed the hostage guards to search his person and even opened his luggage for Yuan Kuilong to inspect. After searching Lao Song, they moved to Lao Yu and Lao Zheng. Lao Yu glared at the hostage guard, intimidating him, but the guard's hands did not waver. He conducted a thorough search and found nothing. Yuan Kuilong watched closely from the side. Song Yongchang had employed no tricks and hidden nothing away. "Lao Song, that's not very upright of you. Did you really come back empty-handed?" Song Yongchang apologized once more. "Chief, next time I travel, I will definitely bring back a grand gift for you." "Fine, I won't nitpick with you. This fool counts as a grand gift in his own right. Come drink with me." The crowd filed out, leaving only the six fools in the cell and the two hostage guards keeping watch over the hostage quarters. It was close to three in the morning now. Four of the fools had grown drowsy and fallen asleep. Zhang Laifu remained awake. He glanced around the prison cell, but the moment he looked, a hostage guard strode over and kicked him repeatedly. "You don't even know your own name—what are you living for? Tell me, what are you living for?" Zhang Laifu had no idea why he was being kicked; he bore no grudge against this hostage guard. This was simply the guard asserting dominance. Anyone entering the hostage quarters for the first time received a beating so the captives would learn to fear the guards. The hostage guard walked out the door, yawned, and said to his partner outside, "I'm going to catch some sleep. Keep watch first, and we'll switch shifts in a bit." Hostage guards worked in pairs. Normally, both guards had to stand watch together through the night. But now the hostage quarters held only a bunch of fools. Since even Yuan Kuilong showed little concern, the guards had grown lax, taking turns sleeping during the night. Zhang Laifu had heard their conversation about shifting watches clearly. There were several other matters he also saw with great clarity. Taking advantage of the moment he looked at Han Yucheng, Zhang Laifu had memorized the layout of the hostage quarters. From the chief's words, Zhang Laifu gathered that the bandit leader genuinely took him for a fool, as did the two guards. They likely had no guard up against him at all. During the search, Zhang Laifu noticed that these two guards held lower status than Lao Yu and Lao Zheng, and they visibly feared Lao Yu. Lower status meant they were almost certainly less capable in a fight than Lao Zheng and Lao Yu. A lack of fighting prowess combined with lowered vigilance meant an opportunity to escape. The urgent priority now was the cotton still clinging to his body; he needed to strip it off. Strand by strand, Zhang Laifu picked the cotton from himself. Although Lao Song was away, he could not be reckless. He tore off a little at a time, hiding it underneath his body or stashing it beside one of the sleeping fools... Lin Shaocong crawled over to Zhang Laifu and asked in a low voice, "You're a captive?" Zhang Laifu turned his head. "I don't have lines. Don't talk to me." Lin Shaocong glanced around and noticed a hostage guard patrolling outside the cell. He whispered to Zhang Laifu, "The script changed. You have lines now." Zhang Laifu was skeptical. "Do you have the script? Let me see it!" The guard outside overheard them talking about scripts and actors again, chuckled aloud, and leaned against the doorway to watch the two fools. Lin Shaocong told Zhang Laifu, "I really do have a script. Follow my lead, and we'll put on a grand play." "What kind of grand play?" "Watch this!" Lin Shaocong reached into his trousers and pulled out a sticky, yellowish mass. It truly was a massive lump. At the sight of it, the hostage guard outside nearly retched. This third son of the Lin clan was utterly revolting. The room was full of fools, yet not one was as disgusting as him. The guard didn't dare make a fuss either. If word got out, he would surely be the one ordered to clean up that pile of filth. Better to pretend he hadn't seen it and leave it for the next shift to handle. The guard pinched his nose and walked away. Zhang Laifu, however, could not leave. Staring at the yellow lump, he shook his head vigorously. "I can't act in this kind of play. That guy kicked me several times earlier, and the company already owes me extra pay for that. If you make me handle something so disgusting, how much more are you going to pay me..." Lin Shaocong did not explain. Listening to the receding footsteps outside, he knew the guard had moved off. He scooped up a lump of the sticky substance, kneaded it with his hands for a few minutes, and shaped it into a dagger over seven inches long, handing it to Zhang Laifu. Zhang Laifu took it, and upon feeling the texture, realized it wasn't what he had thought. It was clay. "Is this a prop?" "A prop, the most advanced prop there is." Lin Shaocong shaped another dagger for himself, then took another small piece of clay and molded two pins. "Let me explain the scene to you," Lin Shaocong whispered in the lowest possible voice. "Right now, you're not an ordinary captive. You're a captive carrying an important mission. "The other captives are all fools, but you and I aren't. Only the two of us know this. "In a moment, I'll unlock the cell door. There are two bad guys outside. You take one, and I'll take the other. We follow the script and kill them." Zhang Laifu pondered the general procedure and asked, "What's the right way to kill them? Rip out their hearts, or slit their throats?" Lin Shaocong considered it. "The script requires slitting the throat—one cut is enough! The movement must be fast and precise." Zhang Laifu felt a little troubled. "This is an action scene. I don't have training for this. I'm afraid I might hurt someone." Lin Shaocong reassured him, "Clay is soft; it can't possibly hurt anyone. A scene like this doesn't require training, just the guts to strike. Remember, aim right for the throat. They're wearing protective props, so don't worry." Zhang Laifu agreed. "This scene requires extra pay too." Lin Shaocong nodded repeatedly. "You'll get it, absolutely. Once we kill the two hostage guards here, you'll have to carry me out on your back." "What are the hostage quarters and hostage guards?" "The hostage quarters is this prison, and the hostage guards are the villains." "Why do I have to carry you?" Lin Shaocong pointed to his left leg. "The character I'm playing has an injured leg—badly injured, unable to walk at all. You need to carry me all the way down the mountain." Zhang Laifu said, "That's hard labor. It needs extra pay too." "Done, I'll pay double! Once we reach the foot of the mountain, we run all the way back to Heishakou, and this scene wraps up!" "Which way to Heishakou?" "I know the way; I'll tell you which path to take. Do you understand how to act this out?" "More or less. When do the cameras roll?" Zhang Laifu gripped the dagger tightly. Lin Shaocong waved his hand gently. "Don't grip it too tightly. Relax your hand—this blade moves on its own." "It moves on its own? Is that technology too?" "It's all advanced technology. You need to master it quickly!" Zhang Laifu loosened his grip, his finger joints somewhat stiff. "I'm afraid I can't use this blade or act in this scene. I'm wearing props that regulate my performance movements." As he spoke, Zhang Laifu gently peeled some white fluff from the back of his hand and offered it to Lin Shaocong. "This is cotton... there's a craft at work here..." Lin Shaocong asked Zhang Laifu, "Where did this cotton come from?" Zhang Laifu said, "Lao Song gave it to me." Lin Shaocong shook his head. "You can't use this prop right now. In an action scene, your body needs to move freely. This cotton will ruin your performance." He rolled a ball of clay and placed it on Zhang Laifu's palm. The clay ball rolled from his palm to the back of his hand, slipped into Zhang Laifu's sleeve, circled his body, and emerged from his collar. When it popped out, the clay ball had grown several times larger, wrapped in thick layers of cotton. "This prop is way too advanced," Zhang Laifu remarked in astonishment. Lin Shaocong formed several more clay balls and rolled them over Zhang Laifu until he was sure no cotton remained on his body. He cautioned, "The blade in your hand is even more advanced. Remember, never grip it too tightly." Crawling to the door, Lin Shaocong molded a key out of clay, inserted it into the keyhole, and silently unlocked the door. He crawled out of the cell first. Catching sight of a hostage guard's back, he threw the dagger straight out. The dagger flew through the air, and the seemingly soft clay pierced right through the hostage guard's neck. Without a sound, the guard slumped to the ground. Lin Shaocong looked back at Zhang Laifu. His legs made it impossible to move freely; the next person had to be handled by Zhang Laifu. Clutching the dagger, Zhang Laifu crouched low and crept out of the cell. Lin Shaocong felt a knot of worry. This fool had likely never killed anyone, and there was no telling if he would have the nerve to strike. Hunched over, Zhang Laifu crept along the narrow corridor. The other hostage guard was leaning against a stack of straw by the wall, sound asleep. Zhang Laifu aimed the dagger at the guard's neck. Lin Shaocong's heart leaped into his throat. What if this fool chickens out? If I crawl over myself, I'll definitely make noise, and if that guard wakes up, we're done for. If he doesn't dare strike, I'll have to do it. There's no other way right now, but if push comes to shove... Zhang Laifu laid the dagger against the guard's throat and drew it across. Having no experience, he didn't apply enough force at first, but the dagger lent its own strength, moving with Zhang Laifu's hand to sever the guard's windpipe. Fresh blood sprayed across Zhang Laifu's face, warm and sticky. The guard's eyes snapped open, hands clutching his throat as he tried to rise. Zhang Laifu planted a solid kick into the guard's chest. The kick landed squarely. The guard tried to cough, but could produce no sound; after a few spasms, he went still. Lin Shaocong beckoned to Zhang Laifu, gesturing for him to carry him. Zhang Laifu stood rooted to the spot, motionless for a long time. Lin Shaocong grew anxious, fearing Zhang Laifu might suddenly bolt and leave him behind. Zhang Laifu did not run. Truth be told, he had no idea where to run anyway. Beads of blood mingled with sweat, trickling down his face. This was just acting. If you act, you have to get into character. You have to commit. Zhang Laifu walked over to Lin Shaocong, pointed at the blood on his face, and said, "This prop is too realistic. It's even warm." Lin Shaocong replied with utter gravity, "There are even more realistic ones outside. No matter whether you see severed heads or limbs, remember—they're all props." Zhang Laifu hoisted Lin Shaocong onto his back and asked, "What's the name of the character you're playing?" Assuming Zhang Laifu was probing him, Lin Shaocong made no attempt to hide it. "You've probably heard Lao Song mention it. My name is Lin Shaocong, and I sculpt clay figures." "What's the name of the character Lao Song plays?" "His name is Song Yongchang. He fluffs cotton—probably a master of intricate schemes, or maybe even a grand pillar." A cotton fluffer. Zhang Laifu recalled that familiar sound: Clang, ting-ting-ting! "What do 'master of intricate schemes' and 'grand pillar' mean?" Zhang Laifu asked, somewhat bewildered. "It doesn't matter if you don't understand now. You'll get it later!" Carrying Lin Shaocong on his back, Zhang Laifu reached the entrance of the hostage quarters. Lin Shaocong gripped two clay daggers and dispatched the two sentries posted by the door. A head rolled to Zhang Laifu's feet. Zhang Laifu nodded repeatedly. "This prop is crafted well. It looks just like the real thing!" Lin Shaocong whispered, "According to the script, West Mountain has a slope called Guaizi Slope. It's too steep to walk, so virtually no one guards it. We'll descend the mountain from there." Zhang Laifu asked, "If you can't walk that slope, how are we going to get down?" "That's just the setting in the script. Why take it so seriously? It's all fake." Zhang Laifu glanced at the severed head on the ground. "You're right. It's all fake." Carrying Lin Shaocong on his back, Zhang Laifu set off down the mountain trail. Before they had gone far, an errand runner barred Zhang Laifu's way. Errand runners were another category of bandits in the stronghold—swift of foot and familiar with the terrain, but poor fighters. Their daily duties consisted of carrying letters, passing messages, and running errands. "What are you doing?" The runner did not recognize Zhang Laifu, but he recognized the man on his back. This was the third young master of the Lin clan, the captive the second master had brought back. Why was he being carried out of the hostage quarters? Lin Shaocong grew tense. This runner had a loud voice and was sharp-witted, his eyes glued to Lin Shaocong. Killing him wouldn't be hard, but the danger lay in him raising an alarm. Zhang Laifu remained completely calm. He told the errand runner, "The second master ordered me to bring this man to Reckoner Yu." The runner froze. Was 'Reckoner Yu' a name someone could just casually utter? Was this man well-acquainted with Lao Yu? He eyed Zhang Laifu up and down. "You mean Headman Yu? What are you going to him for?" Zhang Laifu glared. "Is that any of your business?" The runner pursed his lips. "Well... the trail is slick in the dark. Watch your step." Zhang Laifu took a step forward, but the runner still felt something was off. "Do you know tonight's password?" "I do!" Zhang Laifu nodded, drew his dagger, and slit the runner's throat. The runner clutched his neck, staring at Zhang Laifu. Zhang Laifu delivered a follow-up thrust to his forehead, and the runner collapsed to the ground, motionless. Lin Shaocong praised him, "Laifu, your hands are getting quicker." "Acting skills are honed through practice," Zhang Laifu replied, continuing to run with Lin Shaocong on his back. "Your performance just now wasn't up to par. You need to get into character—your heart has to live in the scene!"