Chapter 18
Jet Li
Jon and Qingshan made their way through the market toward Yulian's stall, eager for the promised drink. As they approached, Qingshan's pace slowed, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Where could he have gone, that man?" he murmured, scanning the area where Yulian usually set up. The stall was conspicuously empty, not a single chilling potion in sight.
Jon felt a twinge of disappointment too. He had been curious to meet Yulian again, not just for the innovative cold drink but to probe deeper into his theory about her possible origins. Someone who had walked the same mysterious path as him could indeed reveal shortcuts back to his own world—or so he hoped.
"Looks like we'll have to make do with what we've already got," Qingshan said, his voice tinged with disappointment as he turned to Jon. They retraced their steps, picking up a couple of the less exotic, but still refreshingly cool beverages from another vendor.
As they walked back toward the fields, Jon's gaze wandered to the spot where the old man with the wood had been sitting earlier. It was now just an empty patch of ground. Even the donkey was gone, only a few scattered straws marking where it had once stood. That old man's intense gaze flashed through Jon's mind. Well, that seals it. Disappearing act, mysterious vibe—this old man’s definitely some hidden cultivator. Jon mused, his thoughts betraying his state as he was almost pale thinking about it.
if this was a territory already claimed by another cultivator, things might go bananas very fast. Jon was already thinking of leaving the place right after seeing Yulian.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of children’s laughter. Big Dawg was in the midst of a group of young villagers. To say he was 'playing' might have been a stretch; it was more an exercise in patience as the children clambered around him, their hands eager and their voices high with excitement.
Jon and Big Dawg locked eyes for a moment, and Jon offered a sympathetic grimace. In response, he could have sworn Big Dawg sighed, an almost human expression of resignation to his fate as the village's temporary plaything.
Qingshan chuckled beside him, nudging Jon gently with his elbow. "Seems like your dog has become quite the star among the kids."
Jon smiled, his attention shifting from the playful scene back to Qingshan. "Yeah, he’s a good sport. Keeps the kids entertained and gives the parents a break, I guess."
They continued their walk back to the fields, their arms now laden with bottles of various sizes. The midday sun was high in the sky, casting short shadows on the ground and highlighting the vibrant colors of the market.
As they neared the fields, Jon noticed the villagers' energy had shifted during their short absence. The break was over, and it was back to work, with the rhythms of rural life resuming in earnest. The men and women picked up their tools, their movements synchronized with a practiced ease that spoke of years tending to the earth.
Qingshan handed out the drinks, his broad smile bringing a wave of gratitude from the workers. Jon helped, passing bottles around, enjoying the simple pleasure of being part of this community, if only for a moment.
"Thank you, Li," one of the older women said, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she accepted the drink from Jon.
"Just Jon is fine," he replied, returning her smile.
"But isn't 'Jon' your family name?" she inquired, with genuine interest.
Caught off guard by her question, Jon mentally kicked himself.
In his rush to blend in, he hadn't considered the complexities of names in this world, forgetting he had never been good at fabricating stories. "Oh, actually, 'Lee' is my family name, my name is Jon," he stammered, cobbling together an explanation on the spot.
Just then, Li Xin, overhearing the conversation, joined in with a hearty laugh. "Oh, you are a Li then? Me too! Hahaha! Where do you hail from then? Perhaps we're closer than we think!"
Jon's mind raced as he tried to navigate the conversation without digging himself deeper. "Uh, from Hainan," he replied, clinging to the only geographical name he knew here, thanks to Huo Zheng.
Li Xin's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Ooh! I have cousins in Hainan. Do you perhaps know Brother Li Sanping?" His enthusiasm only tightened the noose around Jon's neck.
Desperate, Jon blurted out, "I—I was actually rarely there. We traveled a lot, my father and I, back in the days." The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he internally cringed. Oh no, why did I say that? He’s going to ask about my dad, isn’t he?
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Li Xin tilted his head, intrigued. "I see. If you don't mind me asking, who was your father? I have no memory of a merchant from the Li's in Hainan."
Oh, Fuck you, Curious George, he thought, his gaze briefly noting that Li Xin did, in fact, have a somewhat monkey-esque quality about him, with his bigger than average ears.
"Well," think of something, think of something, Jon's thoughts scrambled frantically for an exit. Under pressure, his mouth moved faster than his brain. "His name was Jet Li," he blurted out, then internally screamed, Fuck!
There was a beat of silence, Li Xin blinking, processing the name. Jon held his breath, mentally preparing to either bolt or burst out laughing at the absurdity of his own answer.
Li Xin's confusion cleared, replaced by a laugh. "Jet Li, huh? That’s a unique name! Never heard a Li with that name in Hainan, but then again, it's quite a widely shared family name. Must have been quite the character!" He clapped Jon on the back, his earlier suspicion seemingly dissolved in the face of Jon's apparent openness.
Relief washed over Jon, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that his cover was as thin as rice paper. He chuckled along with Li Xin, hoping his nervous laughter didn’t betray his inner turmoil. "Yeah, he was quite something," he agreed, hoping to move the conversation away from his fictional—and rather famous—father.
*****
As Jon and the other villagers bent over the fields, the quiet sound of work was suddenly pierced by the distant thunder of what seemed to be hooves. Jon paused, his hand mid-air with a clump of rice seedlings, as he tuned his ears to the sound—another perk of his newly enhanced senses. The noise grew steadily, an indication of riders approaching.
Moments later, a group of horsemen appeared on the village's main path. They were laden with game—two deer and four warthogs were strapped to the backs of their mounts.
A successful hunt, Jon noted, watching as the party drew closer. Among the riders, he spotted Yulian, her presence explaining her absence at the stall earlier. So, that’s where you were, Jon mused, a flicker of relief passing through him at the sight of her.
Qingshan, wiping sweat from his brow, glanced up and beamed. "Ha, they are finally here!" he declared, shading his eyes with a hand to get a better look. "It seems the hunt was good, hahaha, tonight will be a feast then!"
Jon, intrigued by the festive mood that seemed to grip Qingshan and the others, asked, "Is there a special event or something?"
"Oh well," Qinshan began, as he picked up his tools and gestured for Jon to follow him towards the newcomers, "with the refugees from the recent battle marching days to come here and our village's yearly festival being tonight, the chief thought it a good idea to have more meat for the feast and to celebrate their new life. You're currently the only one he hasn't met yet."
As they walked, Jon processed the information. The refugees had walked for days? The realization sent a shiver down his spine. That meant the storm that had brought him here covered the same distance. How powerful was Huo Zheng as an elder to cause such a catastrophe? he wondered, the thought of how such a strong monk had been captured for years was lingering uncomfortably in his mind.
They reached the group of hunters just as they dismounted, their horses panting and sides heaving. The chief, quite younger than Jon expected, was a robust man with a commanding presence, dark hair and eyes, a scar on his forehead, as well as a well trimmed beard. He was the first to approach. His eyes landed on Jon, assessing him with a keen but not unfriendly gaze.
"Ah, you must be the one brother Qingshan mentioned before we left," he boomed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Welcome to our village. I am the Chief, Zhen Wu."
Jon, remembering the local customs, clasped his fist against his open palm and bowed slightly. "Thank you for your hospitality, Chief Zhen Wu. I am Lee Jon and I’m honored to be here."
The chief nodded, his face breaking into a wide smile. "Good, good! You picked a fine day to get acquainted with everyone. Tonight, we celebrate not just the hunt, but also the new beginnings for those who have sought refuge among us."
Jon's gaze drifted to Yulian, who had started unloading the game with an efficiency that spoke of routine. Catching his eye, she offered a nod, her expression unreadable but not unwelcoming.
Chief Zhen Wu, still astride his horse, turned towards Jon with an apologetic expression. "I apologize for not being able to greet you more properly at this moment," he said, his voice carrying a hint of weariness, "but we have been hunting since last night, and are quite tired. We'll have time to talk later."
Jon nodded in understanding, a polite smile on his face. "Of course, Chief Zhen Wu. I look forward to it," he replied, genuinely interested in what the chief might share about the village and its customs.
The chief then saluted the other villagers, calling out greetings to Qingshan, that nosy bastard Li Xin, and the others. Jon couldn't help but notice the warm and respectful manner in which they responded.
The chief’s demeanor wasn't that of a stern ruler but rather of a respected and beloved leader.
As he watched the chief interact, he overheard Li Xin's enthusiastic reply, his voice loud enough for half the village to hear. "Back so soon, Chief? I barely had time to miss you!" The villagers around chuckled—clearly, Li Xin's humor was as well-known as his curiosity. Jon did not like that guy.
Jon’s gaze drifted to Yulian, who seemed preoccupied with her horse, checking its hooves and saddle with meticulous care. His earlier suspicion about her being a transmigrator like himself resurfaced.
If she is and she's still here, maybe she didn't find a way back. Or, what if she chose to stay? He pondered the possibility of her being the real protagonist in this narrative–if it was a narrative– a thought that unsettled yet intrigued him.
His musings were abruptly interrupted by a woman who had worked beside him in the fields throughout the day. Noticing Jon’s fixed gaze on the departing riders, she misinterpreted his interest. "You must think he's quite young to be a chief of a village like Zhilan, don’t you?" she remarked casually, wiping her hands on her apron.
Jon, caught off guard, managed only a noncommittal "Huh—" before the woman continued.
"He used to be an inner disciple of the Great Mount Hua Sect," she explained with a hint of pride in her voice. "And his father, Zheng He, was a renowned disciple there too."
Jon's interest piqued, Oh, there we go, some info about this world at last.