Yellow Bird

If he had never been to Fulu Street or Taoye Lane, Chen Ping'an might never have realized in his life just how dim and narrow Mud Bottle Alley was. Yet rather than feeling dejected, the straw-sandaled youth finally felt at ease. Smiling, he stretched out both hands, and his palms happened to touch the yellow mud walls on either side. He remembered that three or four years ago, only his fingertips had been able to reach the mud walls.

When he reached his home, he found the courtyard gate wide open. Thinking a thief had broken in, the youth hurried into the yard, only to find a tall young man sitting on the threshold with his back against the locked door, yawning in boredom. The moment he saw Chen Ping'an, he sprang up as if his backside were on fire, rushed over, seized Chen Ping'an by the arm, and dragged him hard toward the house. Lowering his voice, he said, "Open the door, quick. I have something important to tell you!"

Chen Ping'an could not break free from this fellow's grip and could only let himself be dragged over to open the door. The sturdy youth, two years older than him, quickly flung Chen Ping'an aside, crept onto Chen Ping'an's plank bed, pressed his ear tightly against the wall, and listened at the base of the neighboring wall.

Chen Ping'an asked curiously, "Liu Xianyang, what are you doing?"

The tall young man ignored Chen Ping'an's question. About half an incense stick later, Liu Xianyang returned to normal and sat on the edge of the plank bed, his expression complicated—somewhat relieved, yet somewhat regretful.

Only then did Liu Xianyang notice that Chen Ping'an was engaged in something strange. Squatting inside the doorway, his body leaning outward, Chen Ping'an used a thumb-sized stub of candle to burn a sheet of yellow paper, letting all the ashes fall beyond the threshold. He seemed to be muttering under his breath as well, but Liu Xianyang was too far away to hear clearly.

Liu Xianyang was the Final Disciple of Old Man Yao, the master of an old-established Dragon Kiln. As for dull-witted Chen Ping'an, the old man had never truly acknowledged him as a disciple from beginning to end. Locally, if a disciple had not offered tea to his master, or if the master had not drunk that tea, then there was no master-disciple bond. Chen Ping'an and Liu Xianyang were not neighbors; their ancestral homes stood quite far apart. The reason Liu Xianyang had introduced Chen Ping'an to Old Man Yao was an old grudge from their younger days. Liu Xianyang had once been a famously unruly youth in town. Before his grandfather died, at least there had been an elder at home to keep him in line. But after his grandfather succumbed to illness, the twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy—already as tall and strong as any strong young man—became a troublemaker who gave every neighbor a headache. Later, for some unknown reason, Liu Xianyang angered a group of Lu Family youths and was blocked tightly inside Mud Bottle Alley, where he received a solid beating. They were all hot-blooded youths in their prime and never cared how hard they struck. Liu Xianyang soon vomited blood without stopping. The ten-odd households in Mud Bottle Alley were mostly lowly artisan families who made their living at the small Dragon Kiln; who would dare wade into such muddy waters?

At the time, Song Jixin was utterly fearless. Rather than being frightened, he squatted happily atop a wall to watch the spectacle, hoping the world would fall into chaos.

In the end, only a skinny child slipped out of his yard and ran to the mouth of the alley, where he screamed toward the main street at the top of his lungs, "Someone's dead! Someone's dead!"

Only upon hearing the words "someone's dead" did the Lu Family youths wake in alarm. Seeing Liu Xianyang covered in blood on the ground, the tall young man At Death's Door, those rich young masters finally felt a lingering fear. After exchanging looks, they fled from the other end of Mud Bottle Alley.

Yet afterward, Liu Xianyang not only failed to thank the child who had saved his life, but came by every few days to tease and torment him. The orphan was stubborn too. No matter how Liu Xianyang bullied him, he refused to cry, which only made the youth increasingly resentful. Then one year, Liu Xianyang saw that the little orphan surnamed Chen probably could not survive the winter any longer, and his conscience finally stirred. Having already become a disciple at the Dragon Kiln, Liu Xianyang took the orphan to the kiln beside Treasure Creek. They headed west out of town, over dozens of li of Mountain Path through heavy snow. Even now, Liu Xianyang could not understand how that little fellow, black as charcoal and with legs as thin as bamboo poles, had managed to walk all the way to the Dragon Kiln. Although Old Man Yao ultimately kept Chen Ping'an, he treated the two of them as differently as Heaven and earth. He beat and scolded his Final Disciple Liu Xianyang too, but even a blind man could sense the painstaking care behind it. Once, for example, he struck too hard and smashed Liu Xianyang's forehead until it bled. The thick-skinned youth felt nothing much about it, but Old Man Yao regretted it deeply. That taciturn old man, accustomed to maintaining his authority before his disciple, could not bring himself to say anything because of his pride. Instead, he paced circles in his home for more than half the night. Still worried about Liu Xianyang in the end, he had no choice but to call Chen Ping'an over and send him to deliver a bottle of medicinal ointment.

For all these years, Chen Ping'an had always envied Liu Xianyang.

It was not that he envied Liu Xianyang's talent, strength, or popularity. He simply envied Liu Xianyang for being Fearless of Heaven and Earth, for being carefree wherever he went, and for never thinking that living alone was some terrible thing. Wherever Liu Xianyang went and whoever he spent time with, he could soon throw an arm around their shoulders, call them brothers, drink, and play finger-guessing games. Because his grandfather had been in poor health, Liu Xianyang had become self-reliant at a young age, becoming something like a child king. Catching snakes and fish, raiding bird nests—he was skilled at all of it. Wooden bows, Fishing Rods, slingshots, bird cages—Liu Xianyang seemed able to make anything. Especially when it came to catching loaches in country field ridges and fishing for eels, the youth was undoubtedly the best in town. When Liu Xianyang had dropped out of the village school back then, Mr. Qi had even gone specially to visit his bedridden grandfather and said he would not charge a single coin. But Liu Xianyang refused no matter what, saying he only wanted to earn money and did not want to study. Mr. Qi said he could pay Liu Xianyang to serve as his book boy, but Liu Xianyang still would not agree. In truth, Liu Xianyang had lived quite well. Even after Old Man Yao died and the Dragon Kiln was sealed, he was spotted by the blacksmith of Qilong Alley within days. He had started building thatched huts and furnaces in the south of town and was busy every day.

Watching Chen Ping'an blow out the candle and place it on the table, Liu Xianyang asked quietly, "Do you ever hear any strange sounds at Qingchen, like..."

Chen Ping'an sat on the long bench and Waited Quietly for the rest.

After hesitating for a moment, Liu Xianyang actually blushed slightly for once. "Like cats yowling in spring."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Was Song Jixin imitating a cat, or was it Zhi Gui?"

Liu Xianyang rolled his eyes and stopped playing the lute to a cow. Bracing both hands on the bedboard, he slowly bent his elbows, then straightened his arms, lifting his backside off the bed and both feet off the ground. With his rear hanging in midair, he curled his lip and mocked, "What Zhi Gui? Her name is clearly Wang Zhu. The one surnamed Song loved showing off nonsense since he was little. He saw the two characters 'Zhi Gui' somewhere and used them blindly, without caring whether their meaning was any good. Wang Zhu really must have committed sins in her last life to end up with a Young Master like that. Otherwise, she would not have come to Song Jixin's side to suffer."

Chen Ping'an did not echo the tall young man's words.

Still holding that pose, Liu Xianyang snorted. "Do you really not understand? Why do you think Wang Zhu stopped chatting with you after you helped her carry a bucket of water just once? It must have been Song Jixin, that petty little man, knocking over the vinegar jar and threatening Wang Zhu not to Exchange Meaningful Glances with you. Otherwise, he would use the family rules on her—not only break her legs, but throw her into Mud Bottle Alley too..."

Chen Ping'an truly could not bear listening any longer and interrupted Liu Xianyang. "Song Jixin isn't bad to her."

Liu Xianyang flew into a rage from embarrassment. "What do you know about good and bad?"

Chen Ping'an's gaze was clear as he said softly, "Sometimes when she is working in the yard, Song Jixin sits on a bench reading some County Annals from somewhere. Whenever she looks at Song Jixin, she often smiles."

Liu Xianyang stared blankly.

All of a sudden, the flimsy plank bed could no longer support Liu Xianyang's weight and snapped in half down the middle. The tall young man landed flat on his backside.

Chen Ping'an squatted on the ground, pressing both hands against his head as he sighed in distress. His head hurt a little.

Liu Xianyang scratched his head and stood up. He did not say anything apologetic, merely gave Chen Ping'an a light kick and grinned. "All right, it's just a lousy little bed. I came today to bring you tremendous good news. It's worth far more than this broken bed of yours!"

Chen Ping'an raised his head.

Liu Xianyang said smugly, "After my Master Ruan left town, he suddenly said he wanted to dig several wells by that stream in the south. They were short-handed and needed people to help, so I casually mentioned you. I told him there was a Short Winter Melon whose strength was passable. Master Ruan agreed and told you to go over by yourself sometime in the next couple of days."

Chen Ping'an shot to his feet, just about to offer his thanks.

Liu Xianyang raised one hand. "Stop, stop! Great kindness needs no thanks! Just keep it in your heart!"

Chen Ping'an bared his teeth in a grin.

Liu Xianyang looked around. A Fishing Rod leaned diagonally in the corner, a slingshot lay by the window, and a wooden bow hung on the wall. The tall young man seemed to want to say something, but in the end he held it back.

He strode over the threshold, his boots clearly and deliberately stepping around the ashes from those talisman papers.

Chen Ping'an watched that tall figure from behind.

Liu Xianyang suddenly turned around to face Chen Ping'an inside the threshold. The tall young man crouched low, his feet never leaving the ground. After charging forward several steps, he threw a heavy punch, then withdrew his fist, straightened his waist, and laughed loudly. "Master Ruan told me in private that if I only practice this fist technique for a year, I'll be able to beat people to death!"

Liu Xianyang seemed to feel that this was still not satisfying enough. He performed a bizarre kicking movement and laughed. "This is called, 'A good kick must enter the crotch—kick a stubborn mule dead and make it collapse!'"

Finally, Liu Xianyang raised a thumb and pointed it at his own chest, saying arrogantly, "When Master Ruan taught me boxing, I had some thoughts and insights, so I talked with him about them. For instance, my understanding of Old Man Yao's unique porcelain-making art, 'Jumping Blade.' Master Ruan praised me as a martial arts genius seen once in a hundred years. Just follow me from now on, and you'll never lack fine food or strong drink!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Liu Xianyang caught sight of the maidservant next door entering the house, and his interest in playing the hero immediately vanished.

He casually said to Chen Ping'an, "Oh, right. When I passed the Old Scholar Tree just now, there was an old man there calling himself a Storyteller. He was setting up a stall and said he had a bellyful of tales about extraordinary people and interesting things to tell us. Go take a look if you have time."

Chen Ping'an nodded.

Liu Xianyang strode away from Mud Bottle Alley.

Many stories circulated through town about this proud youth who came and went alone. But the youth liked to claim that his ancestors had been generals who led troops into battle, which was why his family possessed that Treasure Armor passed down generation after generation.

They called it Treasure Armor, but Chen Ping'an had seen it once with his own eyes. It was actually ugly in appearance, resembling both a wart on a human body and a knotty scar on an old tree.

But Liu Xianyang's peers did not tell it that way. They only said that Liu Xianyang's ancestor had been a deserter who fled to this town, became a live-in son-in-law, and escaped the authorities' pursuit by good fortune. They spoke as if it were nailed to the board, as though they had personally seen Liu Xianyang's ancestor flee the battlefield and wander through hardship all the way to this town.

After thinking for a while, Chen Ping'an squatted beside the threshold and lowered his head to blow away the ashes.

At some unknown time, Song Jixin had appeared by the courtyard wall with the maidservant Zhi Gui beside him. He called out, "Want to come play by the scholar tree with us?"

Chen Ping'an raised his head. "No."

Song Jixin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "No fun."

He turned to his maidservant and smiled. "Zhi Gui, let's go! I'll buy you a whole General's Belly jar of Peach Blossom Powder."

She said shyly, "A little cricket jar will be enough."

With both hands Behind Back, Song Jixin raised his head and puffed out his chest as he strode forward. "We Song Family people are Bell-Ringing, Pot-Eating, with Generations of Officials. How can we be so petty and stingy? Would that not disgrace our Family Style?!"

Chen Ping'an sat on the threshold and rubbed his forehead. This Song Jixin was actually not unpleasant when he was not saying strange nonsense. But at times like this, if Liu Xianyang had been present, he would definitely have said he wanted to smash a brick down onto the back of Song Jixin's head.

Chen Ping'an leaned sideways against the door, thinking that tomorrow would probably be like today, and the day after tomorrow like tomorrow. Repeating on and on, Chen Ping'an would keep walking through his life this way, until in the end he became much like Old Man Yao.

A man eats earth for a lifetime; earth eats a man once.

After closing his eyes for the last time, opening them again might be a matter for his next life.

The youth looked down at the straw sandals on his feet and suddenly smiled.

Walking on Bluestone slabs did not feel quite the same as walking through a muddy mire.

After leaving the alley, Liu Xianyang passed a fortune-telling stall, where the young Daoist priest called out, "Come, come, come. This Daoist sees that your complexion is like fierce fire boiling oil—not an auspicious sign. But do not fear. This Daoist has a method that can help you avert disaster..."

Liu Xianyang was somewhat surprised. He remembered that this Daoist priest used to interpret fortune sticks and tell fortunes. Whether he was accurate or not, the man had never actively solicited business; it had almost entirely been a matter of those willing to bite taking the hook. Could it be that now the Dragon Kiln had been shut down by the imperial authorities, this Daoist priest was suffering along with it and could no longer keep the pot boiling? Was he now willing to kill the wrong one rather than let any go? Liu Xianyang laughed and cursed, "Your method is Avert Disaster with Wealth, isn't it? Go to hell! If you want to swindle money from my pocket, wait until your next life!"

The young Daoist priest did not get angry and instead shouted after the tall young man, "Hoping all affairs prosper this year, yet who knows what calamities fate may hold? Without disaster, none will pray to immortals; if you seek peace, you must burn incense... You should burn incense..."

Liu Xianyang abruptly turned around and dashed toward the fortune-telling stall, rubbing his fists together as he shouted, "Burn incense, is it? I'll burn your stall first!"

The Daoist priest was clearly frightened badly. Once on his feet, he no longer cared about the stall and fled with his head in his hands.

Liu Xianyang stood beside the stall and laughed loudly at the Daoist priest's bedraggled figure. Catching sight of the fortune-stick tube on the table, he casually reached out and knocked it over. The bamboo sticks spilled out with a clatter, forming a fan shape across the tabletop.

Liu Xianyang pointed toward the Daoist priest, who had stopped in the distance. "Next time I see you, I'll beat you!"

The young Daoist priest cupped his hands in salute, begging forgiveness.

Only then did Liu Xianyang let the matter drop.

The young Daoist priest waited until the tall young man had gone far away before daring to sit down again. He sighed. "The world is hard, and people's hearts are no longer what they were. Even this Daoist finds it hard to make a living."

Just then, the Daoist priest's eyes lit up. He quickly shut them and recited in a Clear Voice, "The pond brims full, frog cries in chaos; what pierces the gut is the human heart. Here, fame and rank are duckweed upon water; best let the winds carry you in all four directions!"

That pair of young boys and girls had clearly heard the Daoist priest's words, but unfortunately showed no intention of stopping.

The Daoist priest cracked one eye open slightly. Seeing that another customer was about to slip away, he had no choice but to slap the table and raise his voice. "The Top Scholar is but a child of the human world; the Prime Minister is no more than a man upon the earth. Learning spans Heaven and mankind, fame shakes the city; triumphant and proud, spirit brimming high!"

Song Jixin and the maidservant Zhi Gui simply continued onward.

The Daoist priest was disheartened and muttered under his breath, "There's no living through days like these."

Without any warning, the youth turned his head and tossed a copper coin from afar toward the young Daoist priest, smiling brilliantly. "I'll borrow your auspicious words!"

The Daoist priest hurriedly caught the copper coin. Opening his palm to inspect it, he frowned deeply. It was only a single cash coin, the smallest denomination.

However.

The young Daoist priest gently placed the copper coin on the table.

In a Flash and Disappear, a Yellow Bird plunged onto the tabletop. It lowered its head and lightly pecked at the copper coin, then clamped it in its beak. Raising its head, it looked toward the young Daoist priest. The Yellow Bird's eyes were lively, no different from a human's.

The Daoist priest said softly, "Go. This is not a place to linger long."

The Yellow Bird flashed away and vanished.

The young Daoist priest looked around, his gaze finally settling on the lofty archway in the distance. It happened to face the plaque bearing the four words "Qi Chong Dou Niu." He sighed. "What a pity."

At last, the Daoist priest added, "If it could be taken outside and sold, it ought to fetch at least eight hundred or a thousand taels of silver, wouldn't it?"