Chapter 3: A Hero’s True Colors
“Public Notice: The notorious bandit leader Zhang Desheng, also known as Second Master Wu, along with six accomplices, were captured by the investigative team in his residence following a series of crimes in the southern districts of the capital. After interrogation, the accused confessed without reservation. Per legal judgment, they are to be executed by firing squad today…”
Soon, the prisoners were hauled out from the truck bed. As Second Master Wu’s associate, Chen Shi was escorted by military representatives to the front row, forced to witness the execution.
Standing on the execution ground, Second Master Wu locked eyes with Chen Shi across the distance. The man, who had once feared nothing, now had red-rimmed eyes.
Chen Shi understood. He’s not ready to die.
Second Master Wu had been a blacksmith, but he saw his trade only as a means of survival, not a calling. To him, sweating over an anvil all day held no heroism, and heroism was what he valued most.
He idolized the outlaws of Water Margin, as if the Liangshan heroes were his sworn brothers. He even made his son carry a wooden sword, calling it “a hero’s spirit.”
His real surname was Zhang, but no one remembered his given name.
Second Master Wu was a nickname given by the children in his courtyard. Every evening after dinner, he’d gather the kids and tell them stories, Wu Song Battles the Tiger on Jingyang Ridge took over a year to finish. Neither he nor the children ever tired of it. Each session began with: “Let me tell you of Second Master Wu…” until the title became his name.
The children adored him. He was poor, but they didn’t care. When he couldn’t afford candy, they’d steal coins to buy some, sharing it with him, laughing together.
Before Liberation, Second Master Wu survived as a bricklayer, petty thief, and occasional “robber of the rich to aid the poor,” using what he stole to feed the courtyard’s orphans.
After the founding of the new China, repeated political campaigns left him jobless. He registered as unemployed at the labor bureau, but illiterate and unskilled, his applications sank like stones.
As the children grew gaunt, some even dying of illness, desperation took hold. His own son lay bedridden; his two daughters weakened by hunger. So Second Master Wu returned to his old ways, targeting former landlords, believing they’d hidden treasures despite land reform.
With six men, he raided a village. But fate intervened: the “landlord” he robbed was actually a former mutual-aid team leader. The village head, visiting his old home, raised the alarm. Militia swarmed in, not just with rifles, but a damn mortar.
Second Master Wu surrendered. At the Military Control Committee, the “landlord” branded him a pre-Liberation bandit king, a murderer of men. Investigations confirmed his victims were indeed landlords, but in the new era, such justice was outlawed.
He was sentenced to death.
Yet every coin he’d stolen went to the children. Not a penny lined his own pockets.
Chen Shi exhaled. What’s the use of regret now?
The new nation was purging its past. Second Master Wu had walked into the crosshairs.
Director Wang warned, “Chen Shi, watch closely. Birds of a feather flock together. You’ve kept his company, don’t let his path become yours. You’re young. Turn back now.”
“Family members, step forward!”
Chen Shi stayed silent.
Relatives of the condemned rushed ahead, wailing, though some hung back, ashamed of the stigma.
Second Master Wu scanned the crowd. No one came.
Then Chen Shi pulled a cigarette from his pocket and walked over.
Second Master Wu grinned. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. Most men in Beijing? At best, they’ve got loyalty. But you, you’ve got the heart of a xia (knight-errant). Meeting you was worth it.”
Chen Shi lit the cigarette for him. “They call you a criminal. To me, you’re the man who saved my family. I’ll never forget you shielding us from those deserters, guns pointed at my parents.”
“Ancient history. But Chen Shi… I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“The courtyard kids are in state care now. But my daughters… my crimes will haunt them. Look after them, for old times’ sake. As for my boy… if he lives, it’s fate. When we meet in the next life, drinks are on me.”
Chen Shi nodded. “Done.”
The cigarette burned down. Time to go.
Chen Shi turned away, just as rifles cocked behind him.
A BANG. Then another, a mercy shot when the first failed.
Chen Shi’s vision blurred. He hadn’t had time to say it earlier: Years ago, when his family starved, Second Master Wu was the one who tossed stolen grain into their yard. When Japanese troops occupied the city and rice cost a sack of cash for thirteen grains, Wu kept them alive.
In this world, fair-weather friends abound. Those who aid in hardship are rare.
To the state, Second Master Wu was a bandit. To Chen Shi? A savior.
In an era where reputation meant everything, being linked to an executed criminal was social suicide. Yet Chen Shi had stepped forward, defiant.
Director Wang studied the so-called street punk. Whatever his flaws, this kind of loyalty was rare.
Her tone softened. “Chen Shi. Go home. Live rightly. Don’t follow his path.”