Chapter Thirty-One: Wrestling

At the break of dawn, Zhao Huai'an was jolted awake by a clamor rising from outside the tent.

"Damn it all," he grumbled, wrapping the sheepskin blanket over his head and bellowing, "Old Six, get out there and see what’s happening."

Zhao Huai'an had spent the previous night discussing battle preparations until the small hours, so Old Six was currently curled up in his own blanket, fast asleep. At Zhao's command, he remained motionless, as limp as a salted fish, completely ignoring his commander.

A moment later, a prayer mat came flying through the air, slamming into Old Six’s head, followed by Zhao Huai'an’s roar: "Old Six, you’re itching for a taste of my fist, aren't you!"

Old Six sprang up instantly, casting a resentful glance at the still-dozing Zhao Da, his lips moving in a quiet, disgruntled mutter.

"Old Six," Zhao Huai'an’s voice cut through the air again, "one more word out of you and I really will beat you to death."

Recognizing that the situation was not in his favor, Old Six scrambled up. He spotted the four short-stature youths Zhao Huai'an had taken under his wing standing guard by the tent flaps. With a gleam in his eye, he beckoned them over.

"Go on, get out there and see what the fuss is about."

Zhao Wenzhong, Zhao Wenying, Zhao Wenhui, and Zhao Wunxun, the four youths, had been standing guard in shifts throughout the night. Their eyes were bloodshot, but upon hearing Old Six’s order, they didn't hesitate for a second and bolted out of the tent.

As the curtain parted, a gust of biting wind rolled in. Old Six shuddered, cursed them as "a bunch of little fools," and pulled his sheepskin blanket tight, ready to go back to sleep.

But no sooner had he lain down than the youths burst back in, shouting, "Adoptive father! A fight! A fight has broken out!"

Zhao Huai'an, still wrapped in his sheepskin, performed a perfect carp-leap to his feet and shouted, "Quick, bring my armor!"

He delivered a swift kick to the dawdling Old Six, cursing, "Damn it, Wenzhong and the others are just children; how could you, as their uncle, bear to let them run out into the cold? Your heart is as black as coal."

Old Six didn't dare talk back after the kick; he busied himself stuffing dry grass into Zhao Huai'an’s cloth boots. Meanwhile, the four boys hoisted a wooden rack, retrieving the Mingguang armor. They helped him strap on the breastplate, the pauldrons, the skirt armor, and the leg guards. Zhao Huai'an tightened his own belt, secured the abdominal guard, and set his helmet firmly on his head.

"Old Six, get everyone up! Damn it, the enemy is coming for our heads and you're still sleeping!"

With that, Zhao Huai'an shoved his feet into his boots and scanned the room. He noticed Sun Tai and Zhao Hu were missing, but he had no time to ponder it. He shouldered his Mo Dao and strode out of the tent, followed closely by Old Six and the four youths clutching their side-swords.

...

When Zhao Huai'an emerged, armored and helmeted, the scene before him brought him to a dead halt. The camp was a sea of moving heads and thunderous cheers, but they didn't look like men preparing for battle—it looked more like they were watching a grand performance.

The center of the camp was surrounded three layers deep. Anyone standing on higher ground was crowded with spectators. The militia soldiers were perched on supply wagons or standing on wooden crates. One young man had gone a step further, having two of his own sturdy servants hoist him onto their shoulders. Everyone was lost in the excitement, waving their arms and shouting.

Zhao Huai'an’s tent stood on slightly higher ground, allowing him to see that in the center of the ring, two shirtless men were engaged in a wrestling match. He finally realized his mistake; the "fight" the boys had reported was nothing more than a wrestling bout.

Feeling rather embarrassed, Zhao Huai'an glared at Old Six before walking toward Fatty Dou as if nothing had happened.

...

Though Zhao Huai'an’s armor was eye-catching, everyone present was so engrossed in the wrestling that they barely spared him a glance. When he arrived, Fatty Dou was cross-eyed with intensity, veins bulging on his forehead, his fist raised high as he screamed, "Kill him! Kill him!"

Beside him, several men wearing black headscarves and tight-fitting green robes were shouting, "Place your bets on the red! Step up for the black!"

From time to time, hot-blooded militia members would rush over, pulling out handfuls of copper coins to bet on their chosen champion. Zhao Huai'an watched with curiosity; this was his first time seeing his Tang ancestors engaged in mass gambling. These men, who couldn't even afford straw sandals, were pulling out piles of coins.

*Truly a pack of gambling addicts,* he thought.

Seeing Fatty Dou so invested, he assumed the man had bet a significant amount and teased him: "Fatty Dou, let me see here—did you bet on red or black?"

Doulu Feng, in the midst of his roar, turned to see who was being so rude, only to find it was Zhao Da. He gave an honest, sheepish grin and quickly offered his spot to Zhao Huai'an, adding, "Zhao Da, your protégé is truly formidable."

*Huh?*

Zhao Huai'an was bewildered until he stood in Fatty Dou’s spot. He realized with a start that the two men wrestling in the ring were his own people.

And, damn it, both of them!

Sun Tai and Zhao Hu were locked in a grapple, utilizing not just traditional wrestling techniques but, from time to time, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu moves he had taught them. Zhao Huai'an’s face turned green with rage. Was the martial art he taught them meant for gambling matches?

As he was contemplating how to punish them, the match ended. Unexpectedly, the less skilled Zhao Huai'an had taught, Zhao Hu, managed a desperate counter-attack. Taking advantage of a moment of distraction from Sun Tai, he executed a takedown, pinned Sun Tai beneath him, and locked him into a submission hold.

After a brief stalemate, the match ended when Sun Tai tapped the ground.

It had ended too quickly. The cheering soldiers were stunned for a moment, followed by a chorus of earth-shattering curses. Most of them had placed their bets halfway through the match, when Sun Tai looked like the clear favorite—physically stronger and more skilled. They had expected an easy win, and now they were told they had lost?

The crowd grew restless and began to grumble, ready to demand an explanation from the bookie, Fatty Dou, only to find that he had vanished. After some commotion, they eventually dispersed, resigned to their losses.

...

Back in Zhao Huai'an’s tent, Zhao Hu and Sun Tai were kneeling on the ground. Zhao Huai'an sat on a folding stool while the four youths helped him remove his armor. Off to the side, Fatty Dou and his men in green robes were grinning from ear to ear, busily counting their copper coins. A large basket at their feet was piled high.

Zhao Huai'an never imagined that Fatty Dou had convinced his own protégés to join his betting ring—and, to top it off, to throw the match.

*Truly a talent,* he thought dryly. He had previously considered Fatty Dou a good-for-nothing, a comedic sidekick destined to be fodder on the battlefield, but it seemed the man had a knack for this.

Zhao Huai'an coughed, looking sternly at Sun Tai and Zhao Hu. "You two have really grown bold. I taught you lethal combat skills, and you’ve turned them into a circus act."

Sun Tai and Zhao Hu kept their heads bowed, not daring to utter a word. Old Six, however, looked awkward and mumbled, "You can't really blame them. I complained yesterday that we didn't have enough money for the camp. Who knew they’d go out today to earn some? Even if it didn't look dignified, their hearts were in the right place."

Zhao Huai'an was even angrier now that Old Six had spoken. As Old Six sat on his own stool, Zhao Huai'an hooked it with his foot, sending Old Six sprawling. The four youths behind him couldn't help but grin.

Old Six was incensed and began to throw a tantrum on the floor. "I’m done for! You fool, you don't manage the household, so you don't know the price of firewood! We can't even afford to buy wood right now. Niu Li has been leading the others into the mountains to chop it; their hands are frozen as swollen as steamed buns! Isn't this because you gave all our money to the likes of Fei Da? Tell me, isn't it?"

Zhao Huai'an felt a twinge of embarrassment. He was indeed used to being free with his money, and Niu Li was a good lad who had done much in silence. Feeling in the wrong, he offered a sheepish smile, righted the stool, and pulled Old Six back up. "We’ll make money. I promise, we’ll start making money today."

Old Six stopped crying and sat back on the stool, beaming.

With Old Six appeased, Zhao Huai'an turned his attention to punishing Sun Tai and Zhao Hu. "You two will go and help Niu Li chop wood. Whatever amount they cut, you will cut the same."

The two let out a sigh of relief, nodded respectfully, and were about to leave when Zhao Huai'an called them back. He went to the back of the tent, retrieved three sheepskin coats and three pairs of wool gloves, and handed them to Sun Tai.

"These were just made by Zhang the Leatherworker. One for each of you, and take the other to Niu Li."

Sun Tai and Zhao Hu were overwhelmed, their eyes welling up with tears, but before they could react, Zhao Huai'an gave them another kick. "What are you standing there for? If I catch you slacking off, see if I don't beat you to death."

They sniffled, smiled, put on the coats and gloves, and walked out respectfully.

Once they were gone, Zhao Huai'an turned to Fatty Dou. He wondered if he should mend his relationship with this man. Fatty Dou was annoying, but he was clearly adept at making money. He looked at the basket of copper coins—at least twenty or thirty strings. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to live on for years. He was in desperate need of funds, so perhaps a partnership was in order.

However, Zhao Huai'an didn't realize that as he looked Fatty Dou up and down, the man’s back was already soaked in cold sweat. With great reluctance, Fatty Dou put the coins into his basket and said with a sycophantic smile, "Zhao Da, all the credit goes to your protégés. I just set up the game; I didn't do much. Oh, right, I just remembered I have something to attend to. I’ll take my leave."

With that, Fatty Dou scrambled up, kicked his sluggish servants into motion, and scurried out of the tent.

Zhao Huai'an was left stunned, not understanding what had just happened. It wasn't until he saw the sly, triumphant grin on Old Six’s face that he realized:

*Wait? Does this fat fool think I was working a scam with Old Six to swindle him? What a ridiculous misunderstanding!*

*Damn you, Old Six! My reputation as Zhao Da will be ruined by you sooner or later!*