A Leisurely Life with General Wu

Chapter 1

The clanging of the blacksmith’s workshop started bright and early. Gu Dan was used to the noise, so he just pulled the blanket up higher, hoping to sleep a little longer. He’d been dreaming of pizza and fried chicken — hot, cheesy pizza and golden-fried chicken wings — and he longed to return to his dream and sleep forever.

But the crowing of the chickens outside his door and the grunts of the pigs were a clear reminder of all the farm chores waiting for him. The sound from the workshop meant its owner was busy and wouldn’t be doing any farm work or cooking, so it was all up to Gu Dan.

The chicken coop was built in the southeast corner of the yard, made of rammed earth and mud with a gourd trellis on top. The pigpen was on a small slope behind the house, a stone shelter tucked among a cluster of green bamboo, accessible by a narrow path that wrapped around the building.

Gu Dan sat up in bed and slowly reached for his clothes. He grabbed a wide, coarse linen top with a crossed collar, but quickly tossed it aside, pulling a faded shirt from the pile instead. As he was about to put it on, he noticed a faint bruise on his shoulder — the result of a strong hand pressing down on him last night. Unfazed, Gu Dan dressed and opened the door.

He headed to the kitchen first, kneeling by the stove to burn some kindling and reheat a few leftover flatbreads from the day before. Sitting on a small stool, he used a thin bamboo stick to poke at the burning twigs and leaves in the stove, making the flames burn brighter. It took a while to boil a pot of water and steam the food. While he waited, Gu Dan went to the vegetable garden to pick some greens, which he chopped up and carried in a small bamboo basket to feed the chickens in the yard.

As he walked past the blacksmith’s workshop window, the rhythmic clang of hammers filled the air, and sparks flew everywhere. Inside, a master and his apprentice were hard at work. The master was a burly, bearded man who looked to be about thirty. The apprentice was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, and despite his age, blacksmithing had already given him a muscular physique. The master was the owner, known as “the blacksmith,” and the apprentice was called A-Du.

A-Du spotted Gu Dan walking by and a wide smile broke across his face. He had a still-faded bruise on his nose from a fight he’d gotten into while drinking at a village feast a few days ago. “Brother Gu, is there anything to eat? I’ve been working with master since before dawn. I haven’t had a bite and I’m starving!” he called out.

The blacksmith stopped his work and looked up at Gu Dan. His dark hair was messy, and sweat dripped from the ends, running along his chiseled brow and down his tensed neck and chest. With his sharp features and fierce eyes, he looked like a dangerous man who had faced death, but the look he gave Gu Dan was calm, even a little tender.

“I’m heating up the flatbreads now, I’ll bring them over in a bit. You won’t starve,” Gu Dan said, heading off to feed the chickens. A-Du wasn’t the only one waiting to be fed.

Wu the blacksmith’s main job was, well, blacksmithing. Raising chickens wasn’t even a side hustle. As Gu Dan stood among the clucking chickens, scattering the chopped vegetable leaves, he wondered if Wu had even owned chickens when he’d first taken Gu Dan in. Come to think of it, he hadn’t started raising pigs yet, either.

After feeding the chickens, Gu Dan walked past the workshop window again and saw that Wu was gone. A-Du was already wolfing down a flatbread, the impatient boy eating it before it was even fully steamed through.

Wu had washed his face and came into the kitchen to put out the fire. He took the steaming hot flatbreads out of the pot and set them on the wooden table. Gu Dan came in and was about to eat, so Wu motioned for him to sit down, giving him a thick flatbread. There were two more on the clay plate in front of him. Wu quickly finished his and said, “Wash the clothes on my bed for me. I’m going out tomorrow.”

Gu Dan picked up his flatbread with chopsticks, eating it slowly and elegantly. He hadn’t even finished one yet when he reluctantly replied, “Okay.”

He didn’t specifically look at Wu, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw him slowly stand up. He was a magnificent sight — strong and powerful. A nine-foot giant whose shoulders could run horses and whose arms could lift cauldrons, just like the storytellers described.

Gu Dan calmly ate his last bite of flatbread and brushed the crumbs from his hands. He felt something touch his hair and looked up to see Wu’s large hand. He also caught a glimpse of Wu’s lips, which seemed to be subtly curving upward beneath his beard.

In theory, he shouldn’t have been able to see it. The man used his beard to hide half his face, as if he were afraid to show his true self.

Gu Dan took Wu’s clothes down to the stream to wash them. His clothes were full of dust and sweat, and they were a real pain to scrub clean. As he crouched by the stone bridge over the stream, scrubbing away, Gu Dan suddenly stopped what he was doing and squashed a leech that was trying to crawl onto his toe. He quickly pulled the clothes out of the water, shook them a few times, and wrung them dry.

Even with the trees obscuring the view of the house, the sound of the blacksmith’s hammer echoed through the valley — clang, clang, clang — day and night without stopping. It was only quiet when Wu went out to sell his ironware or took a day off.

A set of coarse clothes hung on a rope in front of the house, their faded lake-blue color looking dull and grayish as they dried in the blazing sun. Wu’s blacksmithing clothes were tattered and torn, so this was one of his better outfits. He was a large man who used a lot of fabric. Otherwise, a well-known blacksmith like him would have no trouble affording new clothes.

The clothes flapped in the wind. It wasn’t just a tunic hanging on the line; there was a pair of undergarments as well.

In the afternoon, Gu Dan returned with a basket of pig feed and a sickle. He pushed open the gate, only to be greeted by Wu’s undergarments fluttering in the breeze. He felt incredibly conflicted. He was too lazy to wash his own clothes, yet he was now washing someone else’s underwear.

In the evening, A-Du went home, and the workshop closed down for the day. Gu Dan bustled around the kitchen while Wu bathed in the stream where Gu Dan had washed the clothes. The furnace fire had been burning day and night for the past few days, and today, the last of the iron items were finally finished.

Gu Dan baked flatbreads in a small earthen oven and, while he was at it, roasted two pears. Once they were almost done, he put out the fire and sealed the oven, waiting for it to cool down a bit before taking the food out. He glanced at the sky outside the door. It was getting dark, and Wu still hadn’t returned from his bath.

Gu Dan walked out of the yard and peered through the trees at the stream down the slope, catching sight of a naked figure bathing. He muttered, “Pervert,” but stood there watching for a while before finally heading back inside as the sun completely set.

The oil lamp cast a dim light. The two of them sat together, eating flatbreads and drinking a soup made of mallow greens. Gu Dan stirred the bland soup in his clay bowl with a spoon and asked, “When are you going to make me a new bed?”

A few days ago, Gu Dan’s small, rickety bed had finally given way with a crash under the strain of two people. Since then, Gu Dan had been squeezing into Wu’s bed.

Wu broke off a piece of flatbread. His fingers were rough and thick, and his skin was covered in old scars. He heard the faint scraping of the spoon against the bowl and placed his hand on Gu Dan’s, stilling his movements. “I can make it when I get back from this trip,” he said. “What kind of bed do you want?”

Wu’s fingers moved away from the back of his hand, leaving a lingering warmth. Gu Dan stopped what he was doing and began describing what he wanted. He didn’t want a bed with a frame; he wanted a simple bed. Afraid that his words weren’t descriptive enough, Gu Dan grabbed a pen and paper and drew a modern single bed.

The piece of paper was held between Wu’s fingers. He glanced at it but said nothing. Blacksmiths often did some carpentry; they were both skilled trades, so this shouldn’t be a problem for him.

At night, the two still had to squeeze into one bed. Wu’s body was like a furnace, and in the hot summer night, lying close to him was incredibly stuffy. Gu Dan turned onto his side, trying to create some distance and get more air, but the traditional bed frames of the time had high sides, trapping the stale air. Unable to sleep, Gu Dan sighed, “Ugh, if only I had air conditioning.”

Wu, who was also still awake, asked, “Kong-tiao? What’s that?”

“You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

“Tell me. I want to listen.”

Wu’s voice was lazy, but he was genuinely curious; he seemed to find new things interesting.

“An air conditioner is a box that’s plugged into electricity. The box blows out cold air. If you put it in a room, summer feels as cool as autumn.”

“You mentioned ‘electricity’ before, that it can light things up. Can it also make things cold?”

“Of course! Electricity can even cook food. An electric oven is much better than an earthen one. You can bake sweet potatoes, egg tarts, cheesy potatoes…”

Gu Dan rattled off a list of foods, not knowing if Wu was still listening or if he even understood. Talking to a person from ancient times about modern inventions was like talking to a brick wall.

Wu didn’t know what sweet potatoes or egg tarts were, but he assumed they were all foods. Gu Dan had once said that the food here wasn’t very good, so he figured the place Gu Dan came from must have had more variety and a wider range of cooking methods.

In the middle of the night, the weather turned cooler, and Gu Dan finally fell asleep.

Before dawn, Gu Dan woke up to a sound. In the dim lamplight, he saw Wu standing half-naked by the bed, about to get dressed. Gu Dan shamelessly looked him over. In the interplay of light and shadow, his muscular physique was a perfect blend of strength and beauty, like an ancient Greek sculpture. Gu Dan had once used his brushes to capture the texture of such muscles and the grandeur of such a body.

With his clothes off, Wu was a perfect life model. Thinking back to the often scrawny or ill-proportioned models his school hired, Gu Dan couldn’t help but steal a few more glances.

“I’m going to Xuanfeng Town this trip. Is there anything you want me to buy?” Wu seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. He knew Gu Dan was awake and, pulling on his clothes, he sat down to tie the sash.

Gu Dan didn’t even have to think about it. “Could you bring back some paper and a brush?”

Wu said yes, not asking what they were for. He knew Gu Dan loved to draw, sometimes with a quick, scrawled hand (like a sketch), and other times with stunning realism.

As Wu was finishing dressing, a loud banging came from the yard gate. It was A-Du calling from outside, “Master! Brother Gu! Are you guys up yet?” He sounded overjoyed; it was a rare chance for him to get out of the village.

“I’ll get it,” Gu Dan said.

He got out of bed, wearing an old cotton T-shirt and black shorts that revealed his fair, long legs as he moved. Wu’s gaze followed him.

Soon, the master and apprentice set off, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with the farm implements, cooking utensils, and tools they had forged over the past few days. Gu Dan stood at the gate, waving goodbye. A-Du grinned and waved back, “Brother Gu, we’re leaving you to look after the place again! I feel terrible about it!”

Gu Dan leaned against the door, sighing with regret. “Tell your grandfather, the village elder, to figure something out. Without an ID card, I can’t go anywhere.”

A-Du looked confused. “Master, what’s a ‘shenfen zheng’?”

“A document, like a household register,” Wu replied.

He was just guessing.

Gu Dan wasn’t from this era, so of course, the government’s household registry didn’t have his name. If he were to wander outside the village and get stopped by officials, he’d be in big trouble, likely mistaken for a bandit or a runaway.

A “runaway” was someone who had fled their home to avoid taxes and labor, and therefore had no household registration.

Before he left, Wu gave a final instruction: “Gu Dan, lock the doors and windows while I’m gone. If any strangers come, hide and don’t make a sound.”

“Got it,” Gu Dan said. He watched the pair go until they were out of sight, then obediently went back inside and closed the door.

Notes: 9 ft is 274cm. Definitely giant, not human.

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