Yang Zhi suddenly asked through heart-speech, "Could you let me have a few words with that fellow Daoist?"
Chen Ping'an stopped walking and adjusted his bamboo hat, seemingly consulting with someone.
A moment later, a string of camel bells rang out in the distance. Along the ancient road through yellow sand, the bells chimed lazily. Someone wearing a veiled hat and a jade-green robe led a white camel over at an unhurried pace.
The blazing sun hung overhead, baking the earth until even the light twisted. The drinkers playing finger-guessing games at the table inside the tavern all turned to look, whispering among themselves. A stretch of arm holding the camel's lead showed a wrist as white as lotus root, and they began guessing at the woman's age—what did she look like, could she be related to the wine-selling woman, how old was she, was she married...
But the strange sight that followed soon eclipsed that matter. A carriage and mounted escort swept over one mountain peak after another through the distant sky, racing toward the tavern like lightning flash. The inspection procession was grand indeed: civil and military subordinate officials, divine maidens and palace maids, nearly twenty figures in all. It resembled the imperial inspectors from court-case novels, wielding an Imperial Sword as gongs cleared the way, clerks carrying two placards reading "Mountains Solemn, Waters Still" and "The Living Must Give Way." The greatest difference was that one procession traveled the ground, while the other traveled the sky.
Chen Ping'an nodded to Qing Tong, who had reached his side, then lifted his gaze. In the yellow-canopied, green-oiled carriage sat a youth of strikingly noble bearing, his face white as jade and his eyes pale gold. He happened to be looking down toward the tavern. After one glance at the