The blacksmith shop in Shu Jing.
As the only blacksmith shop in town, it welcomed a very special guest today: the swordmaster, Piandao.
Of course, being a swordmaster alone would not have earned him such warm, almost eager hospitality.
The real reason was that Piandao was not only a master swordsman, but also a master swordsmith and a renowned calligrapher.
His swords, calligraphy, and paintings were all considered extraordinary.
They were sought after by officials and nobles alike, to the point that even a single piece of his writing or art could be nearly impossible to buy at any price.
So when Master Piandao personally stepped through the door, the blacksmith was overwhelmed.
Despite his fame, Piandao had always kept a low profile.
He was modest to the point of simplicity.
“Master Piandao, your presence honors this humble shop,” the blacksmith said.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll do everything I can.” The blacksmith respected Piandao so deeply because part of his own sword-forging craft had come from him.
Strictly speaking, though, he could not really be called Piandao’s disciple.
Back when Piandao had practiced forging swords in this shop, he had paid for the use of the forge by teaching some of his own techniques in exchange.
To Piandao, it had been a fair trade.
To the blacksmith, Piandao was his benefactor.
Piandao drew Ren out from behind him and nodded.
“This is my disciple, Ren.
I want him to learn the basics of sword forging here.
“There’s no need to treat him specially.
Just consider him an ordinary apprentice.” The blacksmith nodded to show he understood.
Piandao turned to Ren.
“Go on.
Everything you learn now is another pass of the whetstone across your edge.
When you can forge a sword that truly belongs to you, you will have completed your training.” Ren nodded seriously.
… That night, the moon was clear and bright.
Zuko was still in the training yard, working hard at his dao blade forms.
He wiped the fine sweat from his brow.
The stone bench behind him no longer held that familiar, half-asleep figure, and he found himself a little unused to it.
Zuko knew Ren had gone to learn sword forging.
He also understood what that meant.
Strangely, when Azula surpassed him in firebending and earned Father’s approval, Zuko felt jealousy.
But with Ren, it was the complete opposite.
Not only was Zuko not jealous, he was genuinely happy for him.
In fact, Ren had been leaving early and returning late these past few days, collapsing into bed the moment he came back.
Zuko was starting to worry that something might have gone wrong with the sword-forging lessons.
Even Zuko himself did not understand why he felt this way.
Azula was his family.
Ren was only his friend.
Maybe it was because Ren had no talent for firebending.
But Zuko felt that even if Ren did have that talent, he still would not be jealous of him.
Why was that?
He sheathed his twin dao together and looked at the paired blades fitted tightly into one scabbard.
Then, all at once, Zuko understood.
It was because he deeply admired Ren.
Ren came from such a broken background—his father had passed away, his mother had remarried, and no one had ever truly shown him affection.
Yet despite all of that, the guy had never once given up on himself.
He actively embraced every single day.
Under the dim glow of candlelight late into the night, he would meticulously dissect the finest nuances of his forms.
Even when he already performed them flawlessly, he relentlessly kept pushing to refine his skills.
He cherished his life so fiercely, like a moth flying into flame, as if he meant to burn everything he had on the path of the sword.
If Zuko could look at someone like that and feel jealousy instead of admiration, then he really would deserve to slap himself twice.
With that knot in his heart finally loosened, Zuko drew his dao blade beneath the bright moon and moved again.
This time, his blade work flowed in a smooth, unbroken circle, effortless and alive, without the slightest hesitation.
He had fully integrated the twin-dao sword techniques Master Piandao had taught him.
Zuko had already decided what he would do.
If Ren’s sword-forging lessons were going badly, he would comfort him properly.
If they were going well, then he would celebrate with him.
Before he could finish rehearsing what to say, a familiar voice came from nearby.
“Zuko, you’re still awake?” Ren let out a massive yawn as he greeted his friend.
“Uh… Ren, how is the sword forging going?” Seeing how exhausted his friend looked, Zuko chose his words carefully.
Ren rubbed his eyes, still short on energy, but he heard the concern in Zuko’s voice.
He smiled at once.
“Don’t worry.
It’s going smoothly.
I’m already the best sword-forging apprentice in the shop.” Hearing the confidence in Ren’s voice, Zuko’s unease finally settled.
“Right, come out to eat with me later,” Ren said as they walked side by side.
“Same little place as last time.
And don’t refuse.
I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help.” “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Zuko said, a little embarrassed, but completely sincere.
“You’ve been helping me this whole time.” Ren casually slung an arm over Zuko’s shoulders.
Seeing the serious look on his face, he almost laughed.
“Are you really going to compete with me over who gets to say thanks?
Fine, fine.
Let’s call it mutual achievement.
“Let’s go back and rest for a bit first.
Then we’ll eat.
I have something for you then.” “What is it?” Zuko asked, instantly confused by Ren’s mysterious expression.
Ren placed a finger to his lips.
“Secret.
You’ll know in a while.” The two of them went back, bathed, changed into clean clothes, and headed out again.
After they sat down at the little eatery, Zuko asked curiously, “Ren, what was that thing you said you wanted to give me?” Ren handed him a wooden box with a small smile.
“Open it.” The box looked perfectly ordinary.
Zuko opened it carefully.
Inside lay a hairpiece crown, quiet against the wood.
It was silver-white all over, with fine flame patterns traced in cinnabar along the edges.
Zuko lifted it out and studied it closely.
Only then did he notice a line of tiny cinnabar characters carved on the inside.
—To my friend Zuko.
May you stand tall in high places, unafraid of the biting wind and cold; and though you may sail through a thousand storms, may you never lose the heart of a youth.
Ren picked up some food with his chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully before speaking.
“Well?
I poured everything I’ve learned these past few days into making that.
The materials are a bit ordinary, so don’t look down on it!” Zuko gripped the crown tightly with both hands.
Though it was made of cold metal, it felt incredibly warm in his palms.
“How could I?” He turned his face toward the window and let out a long breath before speaking again.
“I don’t think I’ll ever receive a gift more precious than this.”