Old Debts of Five Hundred Coins Come Knocking, Revealing the Warmth and Coldness of the World

On the morning of his day off, Ye Qingxuan practiced his martial arts; when evening came, he practiced again.

The gravel pit rang with a "clatter," becoming the unique dawn bell and dusk drum of this little courtyard in the Southern District.

Bare-chested, he rolled about in the pit, the flesh all over his body constantly colliding and scraping against the sharp-edged stones. At first, the agony had felt like being skinned and having his sinews torn out, but now it had transformed into a deep, marrow-penetrating ache and numbness. He circulated his qi and blood through his entire body, actively meeting the pain head-on. Every roll, every tightening and relaxing of his muscles, fit seamlessly with the mental cultivation method of Indestructible Vajra Body.

After completing a set of the technique, he sat up in the pit. Heat steamed from his whole body, his skin flushed crimson and covered in fine scratches, yet not a single place had truly broken the skin or bled.

[Merit: +3]

A flash of radiance passed through the scroll in his mind, and writing emerged.

[Name: Ye Qingxuan]

[Realm: Body Tempering First Layer Perfection]

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

He let out a long breath of foul air, went to the well, and poured a bucket of icy well water over his head. The stream washed away his sweat and dust, and the burning sensation in his flesh faded, replaced by the refreshing ease of loosened sinews and bones.

This was the reward of cultivation. Every bit of pain was repaid with Merit; every drop of sweat made the mountain standing in his way an inch shorter.

He drew water to rinse himself clean, changed into an old short shirt, then fished several dozen copper coins from the wooden chest beneath his bed, tucked them into his clothes, and left the courtyard.

In the dealings of common folk, there had to be borrowing and repayment for relationships to last. Uncle Zhang had been generous, and Ye Qingxuan could not show no gratitude at all.

He passed through several alleys and arrived at the butcher shop on West Street. The shopkeeper was a burly, fat man with a face full of fleshy ridges. He was waving a boning knife, chopping a rack of mutton ribs into several pieces.

"Shopkeeper, give me two jin of lamb ribs. I want them with an even mix of fat and lean." Ye Qingxuan spoke up.

The shopkeeper glanced up and saw a boy barely grown. His hands did not stop moving as he answered lazily, "Thirty coins a jin. Take it or leave it."

Ye Qingxuan did not haggle. He simply took out sixty coins and set them on the greasy chopping board.

Only after seeing the copper coins did a hint of a smile appear on the shopkeeper's face. He swiftly cut off a choice piece of lamb ribs, threaded it with a straw cord, and handed it over.

Carrying the lamb, Ye Qingxuan went straight to East Street.

Uncle Zhang's courtyard gate was still open. Bare-chested, he was working with a young apprentice to lift a large slab of bluestone, shouting a work chant.

"Uncle Zhang." Ye Qingxuan walked over.

"Oh, Qingxuan's here." Uncle Zhang set down the bluestone, wiped his face with the sweat towel over his shoulder, and asked with a hearty laugh, "What is it? Run out of gravel again?"

Ye Qingxuan shook his head and held out the lamb ribs. "Thank you for your help the other day, Uncle Zhang. Please accept this small token of my appreciation."

When Uncle Zhang saw the meat, he hurriedly waved his hands. "You child, why bother with this empty show? Your father and I go way back. What are a few baskets of gravel between us? Take it home and stew it into soup for your little sister!"

"If you refuse to accept it, I won't dare come to your door again." Ye Qingxuan forcibly stuffed the straw cord into his hand, bowed, and turned to leave, giving Uncle Zhang no chance to refuse again.

Uncle Zhang stood rooted to the spot, holding the not-light piece of lamb. Only after a long while did he shout at Ye Qingxuan's back, "You little rascal..."

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

Ye Qingxuan walked through the alleys, his heart clear and bright. Though this world was a muddy current, it was not everywhere filled with cold calculation. A meal's kindness or a word's favor could always leave some warmth in a person's heart.

When he passed a fork in the road, his footsteps slowed.

Not far ahead stood a courtyard enclosed by blue-brick walls and roof tiles. Its lintel was neater than those of the surrounding homes, and the gate had even been painted with fresh lacquer.

The Pan family's courtyard.

He recalled an old matter. When his father was still alive, he had dealings with the master of this household, Pan the Stonemason. Once, Pan the Stonemason's wife had fallen ill and urgently needed money. Without a second word, his father had lent out the only five hundred coins he had on him.

His father had never mentioned the matter again afterward. It seemed the Pan family had never repaid him.

Five hundred coins. In the past, Ye Qingxuan might not have cared about such an old debt. But now his appetite had increased greatly, his daily food expenses were twice what they had been before, and he still had to deal with Fierce Tiger Hall's ravenous "monthly fee." He wished he could split every single coin in half before spending it.

Five hundred coins was no small sum.

He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked toward the courtyard gate.

The gate was ajar. He raised his hand and knocked three times.

"Who is it?" a woman's wary voice came from inside.

The gate opened a crack, and a woman around forty poked her head out. Her disheveled hair was puffed up, and her face bore the sleepy weariness of someone not yet fully awake. When she saw Ye Qingxuan outside, she froze.

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

"Aunt Pan." Ye Qingxuan nodded.

Aunt Pan forced a smile and opened the gate a little wider. "Oh, it's Qingxuan. Today's your day off? Come in and sit. What brings you here?"

Ye Qingxuan stepped into the courtyard. It was kept much cleaner than his own, and several autumn chrysanthemums grew in the corner.

He did not enter the house, merely standing in the courtyard as he got straight to the point. "Aunt Pan, I came because of an old matter."

"An old matter?" Aunt Pan's smile stiffened slightly, and she rubbed her hands awkwardly against her apron.

Ye Qingxuan's gaze was calm as he looked into the woman's eyes and spoke clearly, one word at a time. "When my father was alive, he lent Uncle Pan five hundred coins. My family is in difficult circumstances now, so I'd like to ask Uncle Pan... to repay the debt."

The air in the courtyard fell silent in an instant.

Aunt Pan's smile scattered like smoke blown away by the wind, vanishing without a trace. She opened and closed her mouth, and only after a long while did she manage to speak. "This... this matter... How come I don't remember it?"

"Aunt Pan truly doesn't remember?" Ye Qingxuan asked in return, his voice still steady.

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

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

"Husband, it's... it's that boy from the Ye family." Aunt Pan turned around, her voice somewhat flustered.

When Pan the Stonemason saw Ye Qingxuan, a warm smile first piled onto his face. But after hearing his wife's words, half that smile froze. He stepped forward and patted Ye Qingxuan on the shoulder.

"Qingxuan, look how big you've grown. Your father... ah, he was a good man!" After sighing and lamenting for a while, he changed the subject. "What were you just saying to your aunt? What money?"

Ye Qingxuan repeated what he had just said.

After listening, Pan the Stonemason slapped his thigh in sudden realization. "Oh! Now I remember! It did happen, it did happen! Ah, just look at my memory!"

He pulled Ye Qingxuan toward the house, grumbling nonstop at his wife. "You woman, your memory is even worse than mine! How could you forget such a major matter?"

Aunt Pan followed behind them, her face alternating between red and pale as she muttered something under her breath.

Once inside, Pan the Stonemason enthusiastically offered Ye Qingxuan a seat and poured him tea. The tea was murky, and bits of tea leaves rolled up and down in the bowl.

Ye Qingxuan did not touch the tea.

Pan the Stonemason sat opposite him, rubbing his hands with an expression of embarrassment. "Qingxuan, it's not that your uncle doesn't want to repay you. But look, you came so suddenly. We... we really can't come up with that much money at the moment."

"That's right, that's right." Aunt Pan chimed in beside him. "There are all the household expenses, and your older brother Pan works outside. Which of those things doesn't cost money? Our money pouch is cleaner than our faces."

Ye Qingxuan said nothing, merely sitting there in silence.

Seeing him like this, Pan the Stonemason's eyes shifted. Then he changed to a tone filled with earnest advice.

"Besides, Qingxuan, you're serving in the Fengtian Division now and drawing a government salary. You're not short of a few scraps of change. When your father lent us money back then, that was friendship—he saw our family in trouble. You're still young, so you should take the long view. Don't learn from those petty-minded market folk who stare only at money all day."

At those words, Ye Qingxuan's hand resting on his knee slowly clenched.

The debtor was actually lecturing the creditor now.

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

"Uncle Pan's advice is sound." He spoke, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger. "It's just that my appetite has grown lately. Without those five hundred coins, I'm afraid I'll be going hungry next month."

The smile on Pan the Stonemason's face stiffened.

Aunt Pan could not help interrupting. "You child, how can you talk like that? Could five hundred coins really starve you to death?"

"Aunt Pan is right. It won't kill me." Ye Qingxuan nodded. "But I'll be terribly hungry."

He said no more and simply sat upright in the chair, his body straight as a ramrod, like a stone statue.

If they did not pay, he would not leave today.

The atmosphere in the room turned strange. Pan the Stonemason and his wife exchanged a glance. They had thought a few words would be enough to send the young man away, but they had not expected this boy to be an impervious, taciturn gourd.

Pan the Stonemason coughed twice more, trying to say something else. But when he met Ye Qingxuan's tranquil eyes, all the grand principles that had reached his lips suddenly became impossible to utter.

This boy's gaze did not resemble that of a nineteen-year-old youth. Instead, he looked like an old hand who had spent years making his way through the streets—steady enough to bide his time, and solid enough to hold down the whole scene.

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

This small debt dispute remained locked in a stalemate inside that room, which was filled with the mingled scents of dust and tea dregs.