More than ten years ago, before Fei Yike had managed to cozy up to the mighty Fei family, he was already a not…
More than ten years ago, before Fei Yike had managed to cozy up to the mighty Fei family, he was already a notorious figure in Zhaozhou.
Back then, he did not yet bear the surname Fei. His family had long since fallen on hard times. His parents died early, and even his given name was so little used that he had nearly forgotten it himself. All he had was a nickname, the kind people slap on you at a glance.
And that name was coined by people who cursed him.
A vendor whose buns he had stolen would yell, "Mole-Face, you damned brat! Who the hell do you think you're stealing?"
An old woman he had cheated out of two eggs would curse him too. "Mole-Face, you little rogue!"
But nobody could do much about him.
Years of scraping by in the streets had made his hide thicker than the walls of Zhaozhou itself.
The streets taught him how to flatter, how to trim himself to the wind, how to scheme, and how to stay alive in troubled times.
All he had to do was drop to his knees. Let them curse him. Let them beat him. So long as he could fill his belly at the end of it, none of it mattered.
Those who cursed him out, he met with a grin. Those who despised him, he answered with easy good cheer.
Only when someone called him a wretch with no parents would a flicker of anger rise in him.
But even that would pass in a moment. He would fill a gourd with water and pretend it was wine, then amble off to West Tower to listen to the storytellers.
The storytellers at West Tower knew many tales. But the one he liked best was the Three Kingdoms.
Because he remembered something his mother had once told him when he was small. She had said that her own family were descended from Fei Yi, a famous minister from the Three Kingdoms era.
He did not really know who Fei Yi was.
But that did not stop him from listening to the tales.
When he heard of Lyu Bu shooting the halberd at the camp gate and hitting his mark, his blood stirred. When he heard Zhuge Liang's famous memorial before setting out to war, his eyes filled with tears.
And then there was Liu Bei. He won the title of Imperial Kinsman, gathered heroes to his side, took the land of Shu, and made a great name for himself.
Fei hated that he could never be like Zhuge Liang and help restore the Han. More than that, he regretted that he did not even have a name grand enough to carry the same weight as Liu Bei's.
But the storyteller told him this: a famous name is something anyone can borrow. The Tang emperors dressed themselves in Laozi's lineage. Liu Bang reached back to the ancient sage-king Yao. In this world, there has never been any shortage of people borrowing glory from the past.
Borrowing a name is easy. Living up to it is hard. Plenty of people know how to borrow one. Very few know how to make use of one. A name rests on the person, yes, but even more on what he does. That is what matters.
He asked the storyteller whether he too might first claim a name for himself.
The storyteller said he could.
Then, uneasy, he asked whether he might take the surname Fei, after the line his mother had spoken of.
The storyteller said, "That would do as well."
In that instant, something in him clicked. From then on, the jianghu knew no more Mole-Face. There was only Fei Yike.
To borrow a name was to borrow power. Taking a name was only his first step. He had already done the sums. If he could use that borrowed name to climb step by step, then one day even the great might come to cling to him in turn.
As he left West Tower, he heard people talking.
"Have you heard? General Wang Qing of the central army is a true hero!"
Fei Yike was immediately intrigued. He gave a slight cupped-hands salute.
"And where might this General Wang Qing be found?"
"To the north. You've heard of Wang Qing's name, haven't you?"
Fei Yike spurred his horse and rode north in a cloud of dust, never once looking back.
A name rests on the person, but even more on what he does.
As for how exactly to put that name to use, he thought, that could wait until he was ready to place a truly grand wager.