Chen Ping'an saw the green-clothed girl again. She was silently following behind a middle-aged man, head lowered as she gnawed on a scallion-and-egg pancake.
The man wore an utterly dead-inside expression.
Upon seeing Chen Ping'an, the man stopped and asked, "Are you the kid I drove away last time?"
The green-clothed girl heavily bumped into the man's back, as though she had hit a wall. She raised her head in confusion, then suddenly spotted Chen Ping'an. Just as she was about to smile, she abruptly spun around with her back to him and frantically wiped at the corners of her mouth.
Chen Ping'an held back a laugh and nodded to the man. "Hello, Master Ruan."
It seemed that girl was most likely Master Ruan's daughter.
Their appearances truly did not resemble each other. Luckily, they did not.
The man Chen Ping'an had called Master Ruan was the blacksmith who, not long after arriving in town, had moved to the banks of the southern creek. He continued, "Why hasn't Liu Xianyang come to forge iron these past two days?"
Chen Ping'an had just been about to explain on Liu Xianyang's behalf when the man coldly said, "Go tell that brat: if I don't see this lord of his today, he needn't come to my shop tomorrow."
Chen Ping'an hurriedly said, "Master Ruan, something urgent happened at his home..."
The man cut him off without the slightest politeness. "That's his business. What the hell does it have to do with me?!"
Chen Ping'an had never been good with words. He froze where he stood, his face flushing red with anxiety, yet he did not know how to continue, afraid he would only make things worse. He had personally experienced Master Ruan's stubbornly blunt temper.
The green-clothed girl tried to put in a good word for Chen Ping'an, but the man, who knew his daughter better than anyone, lectured her in advance. "Eat your pancake!"
The aggrieved girl suddenly quickened her pace, viciously stomped on the man's instep, then seemed to have wind beneath her feet and vanished in a puff of smoke.
The man let out a sorrowful sigh, left Chen Ping'an standing there, and continued onward.
Chen Ping'an also sighed. He ran to a breakfast stall, bought a basket of six steamed buns, and hurried toward Mud Bottle Alley.
When he reached his own house, he found Liu Xianyang squatting atop the wall, half his body leaning toward Song Jixin's courtyard as he listened in with rapt attention.
At times, even Chen Ping'an felt that Liu Xianyang really deserved a beating.
He had no choice but to remind him, "I ran into Master Ruan just now. He told you to go help at the Blacksmith Shop today, and said that if he doesn't see you today, he'll fire you."
Liu Xianyang replied absentmindedly, "What's the rush? An apprentice like me, quick with his hands and feet and able to endure hardship, is hard to find even with a lantern. Master Ruan's just talking tough. It'll be fine if I go tomorrow."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I'm sure Master Ruan absolutely wasn't joking."
Liu Xianyang said irritably, "I'll go in a bit. Don't hold me up from serious business."
Chen Ping'an delivered breakfast to the black-clothed girl, handed three buns directly to Liu Xianyang, and kept only one for himself.
Liu Xianyang wolfed down all the meat buns in a few bites. Wiping his mouth, he whispered, "A guest just came to Song Jixin's house. One look and you can tell he's some extraordinary big shot. If I didn't get it wrong, he should be the current Imperial Kiln Supervising Official. The last time he wore his official robes to our Dragon Kiln, Old Man Yao thought you worthless apprentices were an eyesore and didn't let you show your faces or broaden your horizons. It was different for me. Old Man Yao even had me demonstrate what a 'jumping blade' was for that lord."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Everyone in town knows the new Supervising Official takes particularly good care of Song Jixin. Why are you being so suspicious here?"
Liu Xianyang said with deep worry, "A pretty boy like Song Jixin definitely can't compete with me. But what if Zhi Gui takes a liking to that distinguished official? Then my odds won't be good! When the time comes, your future sister-in-law will run off with someone else. What am I supposed to do? What are you supposed to do?"
Chen Ping'an simply went back inside.
Leaving Liu Xianyang atop the wall, wallowing in self-pity.
The black-clothed girl sat beside the table, her back ramrod straight, one hand gripping her sword hilt as if facing a formidable enemy.
Sweat beaded on her forehead.
This was the first time Chen Ping'an had seen the girl with such an expression. Though her body was taut with vigilance, her eyes gleamed, eager for a fight.
Chen Ping'an retreated to the threshold. She asked, "Do you know the identity of the guest next door?"
Chen Ping'an answered, "Liu Xianyang said he's the current Kiln Affairs Supervisor of our town. He seems quite amiable. At the alley entrance just now, he even gave way to me."
The girl sneered. "Those are the truly frightening ones."
Chen Ping'an was baffled.
She asked, "When people walk by the roadside and see ants, do they step on them?"
Chen Ping'an thought about it and answered, "Gu Can definitely would. He often pours water into anthills or blocks their exits with rocks. Liu Xianyang probably would too when he's in a bad mood."
The black-clothed girl was left speechless.
Chen Ping'an grinned. "I understand what Miss Ning means."
She asked in surprise, "Really?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I think you meant two things. First, that the ordinary people of our town are ants crawling beneath the feet of Outsiders like you. Second, that even among Outsiders there are ranks. Fu Nanhua and Cai Jinjian are like children such as Gu Can—they would find it amusing to hold ants' lives and deaths in their hands, or think them an eyesore. But the official who came to our Mud Bottle Alley is different. Everything he says and does suits his status, so he appears especially polite. Miss Ning, am I right?"
The girl asked, "How did you figure that out?"
The youth jokingly replied, "After picking my life back up, it seems my brain got a little sharper."
The black-clothed girl asked solemnly, "What did you see before you nearly died?"
"I didn't see anything." Chen Ping'an was somewhat puzzled, but he still answered honestly. "Actually, in that alley, I didn't think much from beginning to end. Miss Ning should ask Fu Nanhua and Cai Jinjian that question instead. Maybe they saw something."
She snorted coldly. "Oh? Big words!"
After saying that, she stared fixedly at the straw-sandaled youth for no apparent reason.
Her gaze made Chen Ping'an uneasy. "What's wrong?"
The girl furrowed her brows tightly. Somewhat vexed, she muttered to herself in her hometown dialect, "My Household's sword arts—whether sword formulas and cultivation methods, or techniques for tempering the body and soul—are all secret teachings passed down by no one else. I haven't even learned them all myself. How could I dare teach them to another? Besides, I've never studied those crude, shallow things from other worlds. Otherwise, I could at least point him toward a clear path, even if only to strengthen his body and prolong his years. Where am I supposed to find a beginner's manual with the lowest possible threshold now?"
The girl's eyes lit up. "Robbery? No, no, not robbery. I'll borrow a secret manual from someone. Borrow it and return it—that's perfectly proper."
Unfortunately, her expression quickly darkened. She said bitterly, "Damn old eunuch! Just you wait. I'll turn your imperial palace upside down."
With a mournful face, she said sadly, "Do I really have no choice but to seek out that swordsmith surnamed Ruan? I'm passable at cutting people down—I inherited forty or fifty percent of my mother's true skill—but asking favors is something I'm really not good at."
The straw-sandaled youth sat on the threshold, watching the girl named Ning Yao talk to herself, her expression changing unpredictably like clouds on the horizon.
The handsome man in white robes and a jade belt stood in Song Jixin's room. He looked around and frowned faintly. "That Song fellow arranged such a shabby place for you?"
Song Jixin pressed his lips together and said nothing.
The maidservant Zhi Gui had already sensibly retreated to her side room.
According to the most widely circulated story in town, Lord Song, the former Supervising Official, had been incompetent at his duties and failed to produce imperial tribute porcelain satisfactory to the court. Relying on that small amount of hard work, he left behind a Covered Bridge before returning to the capital to take up office. Naturally, he also left behind Song Jixin, his illegitimate son. He had only bought him a personal maidservant to attend to his daily needs, then "entrusted the orphan" to a friend—the new Supervising Official who replaced him, who was said to be surnamed Song as well.
But as for what the truth really was, those involved were lost in the maze, while onlookers might not necessarily see clearly either.
Song Jixin himself did not know what relationship this fellow before him had with that man surnamed Song. Were they close official colleagues? Former schoolmates from their years of study? Or opponents from other factions in the capital's court? Before leaving, the man surnamed Song had briefly mentioned that once the new Supervising Official arrived in town, he would soon take Song Jixin and his maidservant away from town and bring them to the capital. As for that lord, Song Jixin had been instructed that he must treat him with the utmost respect and show not the slightest neglect.
Perhaps because he hated the house and its crow, Song Jixin had not the slightest favorable impression of the imposing man from the capital before him.
The confidence Song Jixin had displayed before the maidservant Zhi Gui, and his calm composure about leaving his hometown, were merely born of a youth's pride.
The man smiled. "Forget it. That sour scholar surnamed Song has always been cautious to a fault. He doesn't resemble a real man at all—more like a woman. Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent him here to watch over you."
Song Jixin's brow darkened.
The man casually glanced at the large chest where the youth stored his belongings. He curled his lip, his expression full of disdain, and slowly said, "Before coming here, I met Fu Nanhua from Old Dragon City. What an unlucky wretch—he nearly had his Dao heart shattered even here. Continue your business with him as before. Whether you profit or lose is your own responsibility. I won't meddle in such sesame-seed-and-mung-bean scraps of nonsense. But before leaving, you must accompany me to the Covered Bridge and kowtow a few times. After that, you'll have nothing more to do here. Come home with me, do what you ought to do, sit in the seat you ought to sit in, fulfill the duty you ought to fulfill. It's that simple. Do you understand?"
"Of course I understand. Lord Song's words are hardly obscure."
The youth sneered. "But why?"
The man smiled. Turning around, he looked this youth squarely in the eye for the first time and asked in return, "That effeminate man surnamed Song said your talents were outstanding. That appraisal truly isn't afraid of biting his tongue. Why don't you guess? What do you think gives me the right?"
If one looked closely, one would discover that the two actually bore several similarities, both in appearance and spirit.
Song Jixin's anger grew heavier, but he continued to restrain himself without letting it erupt.
The man stopped beating around the bush and said teasingly, "Why? Naturally because this prince is a Heavenly grade unlucky wretch. Imagine that—I happen to be your dear uncle."
Song Jixin's heart shook violently, and his face turned faintly pale.
The man in white paid this no heed. With both hands resting on his jade belt, he looked toward the sky beyond the window and smiled. "And because this prince is the foremost Martial Cultivator in the Great Li Dynasty."
In truth, another way of putting those words would have been even more intimidating. But the man would rather be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix. He felt that as long as he stood behind others, even by merely one or two places, it was not worth boasting about at all.
The man thought of the Confucian Sage holding this place in check. His lips curled with contempt, and he snorted coldly.
He could not stop thinking about it.
If I weren't within this patch of heaven and earth, this old man could crush the likes of Qi Jingchun and the Three Teachings' immortals to death with one hand.
Inside the thatched cottage of the school, Mr. Qi was listening to the clear, ringing recitations of the children receiving Elementary Education.
He sat with his clothes properly arranged and his posture upright.
Truly upright in the strictest sense. Even Reading Seeds such as Song Jixin and Zhao Yao found it difficult to grasp the essence of it.
Confucianism had a classic on establishing teachings and founding a school, titled The Great Rites. Its Chapter on Self-Cultivation specifically stated that a gentleman should sit like a corpse, for a corpse was an image of the gods. If one's seated posture resembled a corpse, the solemnity and reverence of it could well be imagined.
At this very moment, Qi Jingchun seemed to have heard every word of the white-robed man's inward mutterings. Calm as drifting clouds and gentle winds, he smiled. "A Martial Cultivator ruling the state—remarkable, truly remarkable. Yet a white dragon clad in fish garb is no auspicious omen."
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