Little Red came to repay a kindness.

The older swordsman, observing Zhao Liang’s conduct, could not help but sigh, “This young man is remarkably gifted. If he were to join our ranks, the future would hold boundless possibilities for him!”
The younger swordsman nodded in agreement, sharing the sentiment.
As the crowd gradually dispersed, the younger swordsman approached Zhao Liang and asked, “Are you Zhao Liang?”
Zhao Liang, seeing their attire, recognized them as swordsmen.
When the young swordsman addressed him, Zhao Liang quickly bowed and replied, “I am Zhao Liang. May I ask what instructions you gentlemen have for me?”
The younger swordsman said, “We are disciples of the Dragon Palace of the Eastern Sea. Passing through here today, we witnessed your act of justice—defending the weak and confronting the strong. You possess the qualities of a true hero. We feel a connection with you and wish to take you as a disciple of our Dragon Palace. Would you be willing?”
Zhao Liang saw both praise and expectation in his gaze, but accepting a master was a weighty matter. He had grown up in the Charity House, and such a decision must be discussed with Uncle Tian and Mr. Jiang. It could not be made lightly.
“Well… Let me consider it,” Zhao Liang replied after some thought.
The younger swordsman had expected Zhao Liang to accept with delight, but to his surprise, Zhao Liang said he needed to consider. He stood there, stunned.
“If there’s nothing else, I should be heading back now,” Zhao Liang said, cupping his fists in farewell, and walked toward Tianjia Village.
Really—how could he be so indifferent? Our Dragon Island is one of the six great sects of cultivation! Though you are the protagonist and exceedingly talented, you shouldn’t disregard us so thoroughly.
When Zhao Liang had gone, and the crowd had dispersed, the younger swordsman finally recovered from his shock, his face flushed with indignation. “To think that Eastern Sea Dragon Island is renowned throughout the world, and so many dream of joining us—yet this boy says he needs to consider! Infuriating!”
The older swordsman chuckled and patted his companion’s shoulder. “Brother, you are too impatient. Perhaps the time is not yet ripe for this child. When fate is ready, he will join us. We need not force the issue. Our business is urgent—let us depart.”
The two of them summoned their flying swords, rose into the air like meteors, and sped toward Linzi, the capital of Qi.
Tianjia Village’s Charity House was modest, with only five thatched huts—three for living quarters, one as a kitchen, and one as a schoolroom, all overseen by Tian Yi and Jiang Ran.

Tian Yi, in his thirties, was burly and rugged, with a bearded face that looked fierce but concealed a kind heart. He was an excellent cook as well as a skilled hunter, often returning from the woods with game for the children. The children adored him and called him Uncle Tian.
Jiang Ran was a scholar who had settled in Tianjia Village ten years prior, often likening himself to Guan Zhong and Le Yi, lamenting that he never found a worthy master to employ his talents.
The villagers knew well who Guan Zhong was, but they despised Le Yi, so Jiang Ran’s self-comparison earned him little esteem.
Jiang Ran, uninterested in arguing with them, spent his idle hours teaching the children to read and write at the Charity House. In time, this became his main occupation, and eventually he moved in, living alongside the children. He never put on airs as a scholar, and the children were fond of him, calling him Mr. Jiang.
Early that morning, Zhao Liang rose to chop firewood, preparing to help Tian Yi with breakfast. He was working vigorously, sweat streaming, when the wooden door of the Charity House creaked open and a small head peered through.
Hearing the door, Zhao Liang turned and saw it was Xiao Hong. He put down his axe and said, “Little sister Xiao Hong, what brings you here? Come in!”
Xiao Hong slipped inside, her twin braids askew, and asked Zhao Liang mysteriously, “Guess what I’ve brought?”
Zhao Liang smiled wryly, “How could I guess? I can’t very well run to the City God Temple at the east end of the village and ask Lord Anping what you’ve brought today.”
Seeing his difficulty, Xiao Hong relented, taking two eggs from her pocket. “Here—two eggs! My mother said she was grateful for your help the other day, and whenever there’s good food, she wants to save some for you. Today, she boiled four eggs and sent me to bring two to you first.”
Zhao Liang hastily waved his hands. “That won’t do! Helping you was only right—I can’t accept your eggs. I absolutely mustn’t.”
Xiao Hong, seeing Zhao Liang refuse, was nearly in tears. “Brother Zhao Liang, do you think less of us because we are just a mother and orphan, and that’s why you won’t accept them?”
Zhao Liang quickly comforted her, “That’s not it at all. I’ll take the eggs, and you tell your mother thank you. I’ll visit you both another day.”
Xiao Hong smiled through her tears, cheered, and skipped away.
Zhao Liang held the eggs with gratitude—and sadness.
Though Xiao Hong lost her father young, at least she still had a loving mother. He, on the other hand, had never known his parents—not even if they were dead or alive—and had never seen them.

According to Tian Yi, fifteen years ago, one morning, Tian Yi and Tian Fang, who used to run the Charity House, found Zhao Liang at the door, barely alive. It was only thanks to Tian Fang and Tian Yi’s efforts that he was saved from death’s door.
Later, they found a jade pendant in his bundle, inscribed with “Zhao Liang.” Thus, he was the only child in the Charity House with the surname Zhao; all the others were surnamed Tian or Jiang. Strictly speaking, he was not an orphan, but an abandoned infant.
Zhao Liang stood lost in thought for a while, then subdued his sadness and brought the eggs to Tian Yi and Jiang Ran. The two ate with relish, praising Widow Tian’s eggs as delicious.
Zhao Liang spent the whole day chopping firewood for Tian Yi. Tomorrow marked the fifteenth anniversary of the Battle of Jimo, and the children of the Charity House would go to the mass grave outside Jimo to honor their families. Tian Yi steamed many cornbread buns to serve as provisions for the journey.
Though their parents had all perished in the Battle of Jimo, the children, anticipating the ritual of tomb sweeping, were abuzz with excitement, their chatter drowning out any sorrow.
That was precisely what Tian Yi and Jiang Ran hoped for; they did not want the children forever mired in grief for their lost parents.
Zhao Liang worked until dusk, while the children chattered away inside. Alone in the yard, he watched the sunset slowly fade.
The empty yard stretched his shadow long, making him seem solitary and forlorn.
Night enveloped the Charity House, and the stars quietly emerged.
The elders in the village said that after death, people become stars in the sky.
Were his parents still alive?
Or had they become stars above? If so, which ones were they?
Zhao Liang gazed at the vast, starry sky, lost in thought, until Tian Yi called him to dinner and he finally returned to himself.