Half-Taels of Old Debt Urgently Called, Worldly Affairs Reveal Warmth and Cold

In the early morning of his day off, Ye Qingxuan practiced his cultivation. By evening, he practiced again.

The rattling sound from the sand and gravel pit became the unique morning bell and evening drum of this small courtyard in the Southern District.

He stood bare-chested in the pit, rolling around. His skin and flesh constantly collided and rubbed against the sharply angled stones. The initial pain, like being skinned alive and having his tendons pulled, had now transformed into a bone-deep ache. He channeled his blood and qi throughout his body, actively embracing the pain. Each roll, each tensing and releasing of his muscles, was perfectly aligned with the cultivation technique of the Indestructible Vajra Body.

After finishing a set of exercises, he sat up in the pit, steam rising from his body. His skin was a deep red, covered in fine scratches, yet not a single spot had truly broken the skin and bled.

[Merit: +3]

A scroll flashed in his mind, and text appeared.

[Name: Ye Qingxuan]

[Realm: Body Tempering First Level, Perfected]

[Martial Art: Indestructible Vajra Body (Realm: Minor Accomplishment, Progress: Two Inches, Merit: 9/45)]

He exhaled a long breath of turbid air and walked to the well, pouring a bucket of ice-cold well water over his head. The water washed over his body, carrying away sweat and dust. The burning sensation on his skin subsided, replaced by a refreshing feeling of his muscles and bones stretching.

This was the reward of cultivation. Every bit of pain was compensated with Merit; every drop of sweat made the mountain ahead shrink by an inch.

He rinsed himself clean with water, changed into an old short shirt, and then, from a wooden chest under his bed, he took out several dozen copper coins. He tucked them into his bosom, and left the courtyard.

In the bustling marketplace, relationships are built on give and take, which is the path to longevity. Uncle Zhang had been generous, and he, Ye Qingxuan, could not show no appreciation.

He walked through several alleys and arrived at the butcher shop on West Street. The shop owner was a burly man with a face full of rough flesh, wielding a boning knife and chopping a rack of lamb ribs into several pieces.

"Boss, two jin of lamb ribs, with a good mix of fat and lean," Ye Qingxuan said.

The boss glanced up, saw a young teenager, and continued his work, lazily replying, "Thirty wen per jin. Take it or leave it."

Ye Qingxuan didn't haggle. He simply took sixty wen from his pouch and placed it on the greasy cutting board.

Seeing the copper coins, the boss's face finally showed a smile. He nimbly cut off a piece of prime lamb ribs, threaded it with straw rope, and handed it to him.

Ye Qingxuan carried the lamb and headed straight for East Street.

Uncle Zhang's courtyard gate was still open. He was bare-chested, working with a young apprentice to lift a large bluestone, shouting out a rhythm.

"Uncle!" Ye Qingxuan walked up.

"Yo, Qingxuan, you're here." Uncle Zhang put down the bluestone, wiped his face with the sweat towel on his shoulder, and asked with a chuckle, "What, are you short on sand and gravel again?"

Ye Qingxuan shook his head and handed over the lamb ribs. "Thank you for your help a few days ago, Uncle. Please accept this small token of my appreciation."

Uncle Zhang saw the meat and quickly waved his hands. "You child, why bother with these fancy gestures! Your father and I were old friends. A few baskets of sand and gravel are nothing! Hurry and take it back for your sister to make soup!"

"If Uncle doesn't accept it, I won't dare visit again," Ye Qingxuan said, forcefully stuffing the straw rope into his hand. He bowed and turned to leave, giving Uncle Zhang no chance to refuse again.

Uncle Zhang held the heavy lamb, standing stunned in place. After a long while, he shouted after Ye Qingxuan's retreating figure, "You rascal..."

He shook his head, but his face was full of smiles.

Ye Qingxuan walked through the alleys, his heart clear and calm. Although this world was a turbulent current, it wasn't entirely filled with cold calculations. A favor for a meal, a kind word, always brought warmth to one's heart.

As he passed a fork in the road, his steps slowed.

Not far ahead was a courtyard with blue brick walls and tiled roofs. The eaves were more orderly than those of the surrounding houses, and the door had been freshly painted.

Old Pan's courtyard.

He remembered an old matter. When his father was alive, he had some dealings with the owner of this house, Pan the Stonemason. Once, when Pan the Stonemason's wife was ill and urgently needed money, his father lent out the only half-tael of silver he had without a second thought.

His father never mentioned this matter again. He assumed the Pan family had never repaid it.

Half a tael of silver, five hundred wen. In the past, Ye Qingxuan might not have given this old debt a second thought. But now, his appetite had increased significantly, and he consumed more than ever each day. He also had to deal with the Fierce Tiger Hall's "monthly allowance," which was as fierce as wolves and tigers. Every coin had to be stretched.

This half-tael of silver was not a small sum.

He stopped for a moment, changed direction, and walked towards the courtyard gate.

The courtyard gate was ajar. He reached out and knocked three times on the door.

"Who is it?" a vigilant female voice came from inside.

The door was opened a crack, and a woman around forty years old peeked out. Her hair was messy, and her face showed the fatigue of just waking up. She saw Ye Qingxuan outside and froze.

"Is that... Qingxuan?" Aunt Pan rubbed her eyes, seemingly recognizing him.

"Aunt Pan," Ye Qingxuan nodded.

Aunt Pan forced a smile and opened the door wider. "It's Qingxuan! Is it your day off today? Come in and sit, what wind blew you here?"

Ye Qingxuan stepped into the courtyard. It was much cleaner than his own home. Several autumn chrysanthemums were planted in the corner of the wall.

He didn't go inside, but stood in the courtyard and got straight to the point. "Aunt Pan, I've come about an old matter."

"An old matter?" Aunt Pan's smile faltered, and she nervously wiped her hands on her apron.

Ye Qingxuan's gaze was calm. He looked into the woman's eyes and said clearly, word by word, "When my father was alive, he lent Uncle Pan half a tael of silver. Now, I am in financial straits, and I would like to ask Uncle... to repay this money."

The air in the courtyard suddenly fell silent.

The smile on Aunt Pan's face vanished like smoke blown by the wind. She opened her mouth and, after a long pause, managed to say, "This... this matter... I don't remember it?"

"Aunt Pan, you really don't remember?" Ye Qingxuan asked back, his voice still steady.

Just then, a slightly hoarse male voice came from inside the house, "Who's outside?"

A tall, thin middle-aged man with a goatee walked out of the house. He was the owner, Pan the Stonemason.

"Honey, it's... it's that kid from the Ye family," Aunt Pan said, turning back with a hint of panic in her voice.

When Pan the Stonemason saw Ye Qingxuan, his face first broke into an enthusiastic smile, but upon hearing his wife's words, the smile faltered. He walked forward and patted Ye Qingxuan on the shoulder.

"Qingxuan, you've grown so much. Your father... alas, he was a good man!" He sighed and lamented for a bit before changing the subject, "What were you just saying to your aunt? Something about silver?"

Ye Qingxuan repeated what he had said earlier.

After listening, Pan the Stonemason slapped his thigh in realization. "Oh! I remember now! It did happen, it really did! Oh my, my memory!"

He pulled Ye Qingxuan inside, constantly grumbling at his wife, "You woman, your memory is worse than mine! How could you forget something so important?"

Aunt Pan followed behind, her face flushing and paling, muttering something under her breath.

Inside the house, Pan the Stonemason enthusiastically offered Ye Qingxuan a seat and poured him tea. The tea was murky, with tea dust swirling around in the bowl.

Ye Qingxuan did not touch the bowl of tea.

Pan the Stonemason sat opposite him, rubbing his hands together, a look of difficulty on his face. "Qingxuan, it's not that Uncle doesn't want to repay you. You see, you've come so suddenly, and we... we don't have this much money on hand right now."

"That's right, that's right," Aunt Pan chimed in from the side. "Household expenses, your Uncle Pan working outside, everything costs money! Our money pouch is cleaner than our faces."

Ye Qingxuan remained silent, just sitting there quietly.

Seeing his demeanor, Pan the Stonemason's eyes darted around, and he changed his tone to a more earnest one.

"Besides, Qingxuan, you're working for the Fengtian Division now, eating the imperial grain. You don't lack this little bit. Your father lent us the money out of goodwill, seeing that our family was in trouble. You're a young man, you should have a broader perspective, don't be like those petty merchants who only stare at money all day."

As soon as he said this, Ye Qingxuan's hands on his knees slowly clenched.

The debtor was now lecturing the creditor.

He raised his head and looked at Pan the Stonemason's "heart-to-heart" face.

"Uncle Pan's teachings are correct," he said, his voice betraying no emotion. "It's just that I've developed a bigger appetite lately. If I don't have this half tael of silver, I'm afraid I'll go hungry next month."

The smile on Pan the Stonemason's face froze.

Aunt Pan couldn't help but interject, "How can you say that, child? Half a tael of silver, will it starve you to death?"

"Aunt Pan is right, it won't kill me," Ye Qingxuan nodded. "But it will make me very hungry."

He said no more, simply sitting upright in the chair, his posture straight, like a stone statue.

If they didn't pay, he wasn't leaving today.

The atmosphere in the room became strange. Pan the Stonemason and his wife exchanged a look. They had expected to send the young man away with a few words, but they hadn't anticipated that this kid would be so stubborn and unyielding.

Pan the Stonemason cleared his throat again, trying to say something more, but when he met Ye Qingxuan's calm eyes, all the grand principles that had reached his lips failed to come out.

The young man's gaze wasn't like that of a nineteen-year-old; it was more like that of an old hand who had been navigating the streets for years, steady and commanding.

Time ticked by, and the tea in the bowls had long since gone cold.

This small debt dispute had reached a stalemate in this room filled with the scent of dust and tea dregs.