Huo Yan · Conversa

Spring, the tenth year of Zhaoming. Chang'an. Huo Yan was perched atop a high wall. He didn't actually need to scale walls. He possessed a command token and could have walked straight through the main gates. But he found that too troublesome. He wanted to take a shortcut. Climbing walls was second nature to him—he scaled camp walls at the northern frontier and scaled manor walls back in the capital; he was thoroughly accustomed to it. One leg had already swung over the top of the wall, and he was just about to leap down. Then he saw them. Someone was standing on the other side of the wall. Right beneath him. He looked down at that person, and that person looked up at him. Their eyes met. A loud buzz rang through Huo Yan's head. His first thought was: *Can I pretend to be a stone statue?* His second thought was: *Stone statues don't straddle walls.* His third thought was: *Then pretend to be a cat. Cats straddle walls.* But he was far too big. No cat was ever this humiliating. So he just sat there, straddling the wall. One leg on this side, one leg on that side, looking entirely like a pair of trousers hung out on a clothesline. The breeze stirred the stray strands of hair over his forehead. His face turned crimson. His ears turned crimson. His neck turned crimson. He felt heat steaming off him from head to toe. The person didn't leave. They just stood below, head tilted up, watching him. Huo Yan felt like he was being roasted alive. He wanted to jump down and run away. But that would be even more humiliating. He wanted to pull back. But that was equally humiliating. So he remained straddled there. Unable to climb up, unable to get down. He opened his mouth. He wanted to say something. He wanted to say, "Just passing through." Straddling a wall and saying, "Just passing through." Even he found that absurd. He wanted to say, "I'm taking a shortcut." Taking a shortcut right in front of someone's face. He wanted to say, "Don't misunderstand." Misunderstand what? Even he didn't know. In the end, he squeezed out: "I'm practicing martial arts." Straddling a wall, claiming he was practicing martial arts. The person watched him. He watched them back. He felt he had never been this utterly embarrassed in his entire life. Taking a blade wound on the battlefield hadn't been half as humiliating. With one leg dangling on one side and the other dangling on the other, straddling the wall completely, he had claimed he was practicing martial arts. Practicing what arts? Wall-straddling arts? He decided to ride the lie all the way through. He said, "Practicing... practicing Qinggong." Practicing lightness skill while straddling a wall. The person still didn't leave. Huo Yan felt disgraced from the roots of his hair down to his heels. Straddling that wall, his face burning a bright scarlet, only one thought occupied his mind: *My life is over.* He added, "Really. Qinggong. It... it has to be practiced from high places." He glanced down at himself. One leg draped across the top of the wall, one leg hanging outside, looking like a salted fish hung out on a bamboo pole. He felt this "high place" wasn't very convincing. He hastily tacked on, "A wall top is a high place too." Of course a wall top was a high place. But the way he was straddling it looked nothing like practicing martial arts. It looked like fleeing for his life. It looked like thievery. It looked like being caught red-handed while stealing. The person tilted their head slightly. Huo Yan felt as if he were being inspected from top to bottom. He felt like a melon being picked over at a market stall. He straightened his back, wanting to look less guilty. But when he straightened up, he almost tumbled off the wall. He quickly grabbed the wall top to steady himself. After grabbing hold, he realized the posture looked even weirder. He looked like a gecko plastered against a wall. He decided to switch tactics. He said, "You... don't stand down there. Step back a bit. So I don't crush you when I jump down." He had finally said something normal. But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized saying that was practically admitting he intended to jump down all along. Not practicing martial arts. Just scaling a wall. He had dismantled his own lie with his own hands. He wanted to slap himself across the face. Bracing himself, he leaped down. His foot clipped a brick on the way down. He stumbled upon landing, nearly doing a split. He leaned against the wall, steadying himself. He felt he had never been this humiliated in his entire life. He stood there, head lowered. He didn't dare look at the person. He stared fixedly at the tips of his boots. There was a bit of mud on them. He thought: *There's mud on the boots.* Then he thought: *Why am I looking at my boots?* And then he thought: *Can I just vanish on the spot right here, right now?* He stood there for a while. The person still hadn't left. He could feel their gaze resting on the crown of his head. It felt like a hole was about to be burned through his hair. Plucking up his courage, he lifted his head and stole a glance at them. The person was looking at him. He instantly averted his eyes. After looking away, he couldn't resist looking back again. He took another glance. Their eyes were very pretty. He didn't know why he was thinking about that at a time like this. He looked away again. He felt like a complete fool. He wanted to leave. He ought to leave. Staying here would only bring more humiliation. But his legs wouldn't move. He didn't know why. He stood there for a very long time. Long enough that he felt his feet had taken root in the ground. Long enough that he felt he had melded into one with the wall behind him. Long enough that he felt he might stand there for the rest of his life. Finally, he forced out a sentence: "When... when did you get here?" The moment he said it, he regretted it. Those words showed he admitted to having no idea how long they had been standing there. They showed that when he climbed over the wall, he hadn't bothered to check if anyone was on the other side. They showed how rash and reckless he was. He had exposed himself all over again. Standing beneath the wall, he looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes. In a muffled voice, he cursed under his breath, "Huo Yan, you've lost your damn mind."