The Truth Revealed

Song Jixin arrived beneath the Old Scholar Tree with his maidservant, Zhi Gui, and found the shade packed with people. Nearly fifty of them sat on stools and chairs they had brought from home, while children kept tugging their elders over to join the excitement one after another.

Song Jixin stood shoulder to shoulder with her at the edge of the shade. He saw an elder beneath the tree, holding a large white bowl in one hand and clasping the other behind his back, his expression impassioned as he declared loudly, "I have just spoken of the general course of the Dragon Veins. Now let me tell you about the True Dragon. Tsk, tsk, this is truly extraordinary. Some three thousand years ago, an extraordinary Immortal appeared beneath the heavens. He first cultivated with all his heart in some Blessed Land, attained the Great Dao, then traveled the world alone with a sword in hand. The Three Feet of Righteousness in his hand revealed its sharp edge. For some reason, this man simply could not abide Flood Dragons. For three hundred years, wherever there were Flood Dragons, he slew them, killing until no True Dragons remained in the world before he finally stopped. In the end, his whereabouts became unknown. Some say he went to the Origin of the Dao, high beyond all measure, to sit and discuss the Dao with the Dao Ancestor. Others say he went to the Western Pure Land Buddhist Kingdom, far beyond all reach, to debate scriptures and expound the Dharma with the Buddha. Still others say he personally guarded the Great Gate of the Fengdu Underworld, preventing Demons and Monsters from bringing calamity upon the human world..."

The old gentleman spoke with spit flying everywhere, yet all the townsfolk below remained unmoved, every face utterly blank.

The maidservant asked curiously in a low voice, "What is Three Feet of Righteousness?"

Song Jixin smiled. "A sword."

The maidservant said irritably, "Young Master, this elder really does love showing off his learning. He cannot even speak properly."

Song Jixin glanced at the elder and said with glee at his misfortune, "There are barely any literate people in our town. This storyteller is casting seductive glances at blind men."

The maidservant asked again, "And what are Blessed Lands? Can anyone in this world truly live for three hundred years? And isn't the Fengdu Underworld a place only dead people can go?"

Song Jixin was stumped, but unwilling to show weakness, he casually said, "It is all utter nonsense. He probably read a few trashy Unofficial Histories and brought them out to fool country bumpkins."

At that moment, Song Jixin keenly noticed the elder glance at him, intentionally or otherwise. Though it was only a dragonfly touching water, a fleeting look gone in an instant, Song Jixin still caught it carefully. The young man simply did not take it to heart, dismissing it as coincidence.

The maidservant lifted her head to look at the Old Scholar Tree. Fine, fragmented beams of light filtered through the gaps between its leaves and fell over her, and she unconsciously narrowed her eyes.

Song Jixin turned to look at her and suddenly froze.

His maidservant now had a profile that had only just begun to lose its baby fat. She seemed very different from the skinny, tiny, shriveled little maidservant in his memories.

By the customs of the town, when a woman married, someone blessed with living parents and children would be hired to twist away the downy hairs on the bride's face and trim her bangs and sideburns evenly. This was called Face Opening, or Brow Raising.

Song Jixin had also read of a custom the town did not have. So, when Zhi Gui turned twelve, he bought the finest newly brewed wine in town and brought out that Porcelain Bottle he had secretly hidden away. Its glaze was exquisite, like green plums. After pouring the wine into it, he carefully sealed it with mud and finally buried it underground.

Song Jixin suddenly said, "Zhi Gui, though that one surnamed Chen, according to the teachings of our scholarly Old Ancestors, belongs among those who say, 'Rotten wood cannot be carved; walls of dung cannot be plastered,' no matter what, he has at least done one meaningful thing in his life."

The maidservant did not reply. She lowered her eyes, and her eyelashes could faintly be seen trembling.

Song Jixin continued on his own, "Chen Ping'an is not a bad person, but his temperament is far too rigid. Whatever he does, he only clings to dead rules. That is why becoming a Potter meant that, no matter how diligently he worked and practiced, he was destined never to make anything good with Spiritual Energy. So Liu Xianyang's master, that Old Man Yao, refusing to think highly of Chen Ping'an no matter what, showed a discerning eye. That is what 'rotten wood cannot be carved' means. As for 'walls of dung cannot be plastered,' it roughly means that a poor wretch like Chen Ping'an would still be a rustic Mud Leg even if you dressed him in a dragon robe..."

When Song Jixin reached this point, he laughed at himself. "I am actually worse off than Chen Ping'an."

She did not know how to comfort her Young Master.

Song Jixin and his maidservant had always been important subjects of conversation after meals and over tea among the wealthy people of Fulu Street and Taoye Lane. For that, they had Song Jixin's "cheap father," Lord Song, to thank.

The town had no great figures and no great storms. Thus, the Kiln Affairs Supervisor stationed here by the imperial court was undoubtedly the sort of Upright Official found in opera scripts. Among the dozens of Supervising Officials in its history, the former Supervising Official, Lord Song, had won the greatest Popular Sentiment. Unlike those lofty officials before him, Lord Song neither hid away in the government office to cultivate himself and nourish his spirit, nor shut his doors to guests and devoted himself solely to scholarly study in his library. Instead, he personally attended to every detail of official kiln porcelain production. He was practically more like a country commoner than the kiln households and Potters. Over more than ten years, Lord Song, once steeped in the air of books, had his skin tanned dark and gleaming by the sun. His usual dress was no different from a farmer's, and he never put on airs when dealing with people. Unfortunately, the Imperial Porcelain fired by the Small Town Dragon Kiln never proved satisfactory, whether in glaze and quality or in the forms of large and small pieces. To be precise, it was even slightly inferior to former standards, leaving the old kiln masters baffled beyond measure.

In the end, the imperial court probably felt that the diligent Lord Song had no merit but at least Hard Work. The order transferring him back to the capital's Ministry of Personnel at least gave him a favorable assessment. Before returning to the capital, Lord Song actually spent every last coin to fund the construction of a Covered Bridge. Later, when people discovered that no child had accompanied Lord Song's departing caravan, several of the town's great clans suddenly understood. It could be said that Lord Song had accumulated a considerable bond of goodwill with the town. Together with the deliberate care shown by the current Supervising Official, the young Song Jixin had lived these past years in the town without worries over food or clothing, carefree and at ease. As for the maidservant now named Zhi Gui, there were many different stories about her origins. Locals living in Mud Bottle Alley said that during a winter of goose-feather snow, an out-of-town girl had begged her way here and collapsed unconscious at the Courtyard Gate of Song Jixin's home. Had someone not found her early enough, she would have gone to King Yama to be reincarnated. The elder who handled odd jobs at the government office had another account. He swore with utter certainty that Lord Song had bought an orphan from elsewhere in his early years, intending to find his illegitimate child Song Jixin a close companion who knew warmth and cold, to make up a little for the debt of a father and son unable to acknowledge each other.

No matter what, after the maidservant was named Zhi Gui by the young man, their father-son relationship was considered completely confirmed. After all, the wealthy gentry of the town's great clans all knew that Lord Song treasured a certain inkstone above all else, and the two characters "Zhi Gui" were carved upon it.

Song Jixin came back to himself, his smile bright as he said, "For some reason, I thought of that shameless Four-legged snake. Think about it, Zhi Gui. I threw it into Chen Ping'an's courtyard, yet it still insisted on scurrying back to our house. Tell me, just how unwelcome must Chen Ping'an's doghouse be for it to be so shabby that not even a little snake is willing to enter?"

The maidservant thought about it seriously before answering, "Some things depend on fate too, do they not?"

Song Jixin raised a thumb and laughed heartily. "Exactly! Chen Ping'an is simply a man with shallow fate and thin fortune. He should be satisfied just staying alive."

She said nothing.

Song Jixin muttered to himself, "After we leave town, we will leave the things in the house for Chen Ping'an to look after. Do you think this fellow might steal from the very post he guards?"

The maidservant said softly, "Young Master, surely not?"

Song Jixin smiled. "Oh? Zhi Gui, you even understand what 'steal from the very post one guards' means?"

The maidservant blinked those Autumn Water Long Eyes. "Is it not the Literal Meaning?"

Song Jixin laughed. He looked southward, a trace of yearning appearing in his eyes. "I heard that the capital has more books in its collections than our town has flowers and trees!"

Just then, the storyteller was saying, "Though there are no longer any True Dragons in the world, their subordinate kindred, such as Flood Dragons, Horned Dragons, Hornless Dragons, and the like, still truly and tangibly live among mankind. Perhaps they are even..."

The elder deliberately left the matter hanging. Seeing that the audience remained unmoved and did not know how to play along, he could only continue, "Perhaps they are concealed right beside us. Daoist Immortals call this Hidden Dragon in the Abyss!"

Song Jixin yawned.

A Sophora Leaf suddenly drifted down from overhead, lush green as if dripping with moisture, and landed squarely on the young man's forehead.

Song Jixin reached out and caught the leaf, twisting its stem between two fingers.

The young man, who had been thinking of going to the East Gate to collect a debt once more, saw Sophora Leaves drifting down before him when he neared the Old Scholar Tree. He quickened his pace and reached out, wanting to catch one.

But a breeze swept past, and the leaf slipped by his hand.

The straw-sandaled youth moved with agile speed, darting sideways to intercept the leaf.

Yet the leaf spun around once more in midair.

Unwilling to accept this, the youth shifted and leaped several times, but in the end still failed to catch the Sophora Leaf.

The young man, Chen Ping'an, was helpless.

A green-robed youth skipping lessons from the village school brushed past Chen Ping'an.

The green-robed youth himself did not know when a Sophora Leaf had come to rest on his shoulder.

Chen Ping'an continued toward the East Gate. Even if he could not collect the money, it would still be good to press for it.

At the fortune-telling stall in the distance, the young Daoist priest rested with his eyes closed and muttered to himself, "Who was it that said the turning of Heaven's fortune shows no favor?"