A Thread of Fate

He looked at Scholar Lu and beckoned, "What are your thoughts?"

Scholar Lu's eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the "old man" kneeling on the ground. Grinding his teeth, he said after a long moment, "Can he be made to return the money to this junior?"

"The money you gave him willingly."

Jiang She said with amusement, "Wasn't it supposed to be for becoming an immortal master's disciple, establishing a household, securing an official post, and marrying a princess?"

"How can it be taken back?"

Scholar Lu was momentarily at a loss for words.

After a long pause, he spoke.

"If I could become an immortal master's disciple and pursue the Great Way, giving up these fleeting riches would mean nothing. But these people are nothing but swindlers, petty con artists roaming the rivers and lakes. This junior... is unwilling to hand over his money to such men."

Lu Pei quickly added.

"This junior wishes to bow and take you as his master!"

"Master handles affairs with unruffled calm, and those you associate with are figures like a local mountain deity. You have a kind heart, willing to set things right. Even a fraud like that, you would show the way."

"Today, I have seen the Way you walk. It is the Great Way."

"I wish to become a disciple beneath the immortal master!"

With these words, he performed a grand bow and was about to press his forehead to the ground.

But somehow, as he bent his knees, Lu Pei found he could not kneel at all, as if blocked by something profound and inscrutable.

Hearing this.

The surrounding guests and servants all stared intently.

The mountain deity watched from the sidelines, also sizing things up in secret.

Li Bai even lifted his head directly, staring wide-eyed at Lu Pei. He had seen this man before—nothing more than a bookish pedant, mediocre in learning, utterly clueless about poetry. How had he mustered the audacity to seek to become the master's disciple?

Jiang She smiled.

His tone was very gentle.

"Do not teach one who is not the right person; do not impart what is not true. The fate between you and me does not lie here."

"You cannot enter the chamber."

The meaning was clear and plain.

If you are not the right person, you will not be taught the path to immortality. If you do not seek with sincere devotion, you will not be given the true immortal arts.

You will not be my disciple.

Old Deer Mountain God stood to one side, like an attendant guardian at an immortal's seat, or a clerk wielding a brush at a magistrate's side.

He pointed out in a single sentence.

"Do you think just anyone can become the master's disciple?"

The words were like bone-chilling cold water, drenching Lu Pei. All his hidden expectations and hopes, the secret self-regard in his heart, the lingering delusions of luck—all were extinguished by this one sentence.

The night was dark and low, with no lamps lit. The crowd could not see Scholar Lu's face turn deathly pale.

Li Bai lifted his head, watching from the side.

This question was asked not only of Scholar Lu, but also of those in the courtyard holding their breath, peering and unwilling to leave—guests, apothecaries, and servants alike, all yearning for the immortal path.

Lumen Mountain Deity had sat upon this land for eight hundred years, long accustomed to watching mortals toil bitterly in their quest for immortality.

Some were born with excellent aptitude but only heard of the Way in old age, regretting never meeting the true path before, dying with unresolved resentment and long cries of pain. Others resigned from office to seek the Way, walking for forty years, gaining a little, only to die as a guest in some temple on a drizzly spring night.

Pang Degong was not the first.

Scholar Lu would not be the last.

Since you are already people of the mortal world—a husband and wife, two or three children, guarding the four seasons, eating the five grains each day, unable to escape the six paths of reincarnation, unable to let go of the seven emotions and eight sufferings, the nine relations and ten kinsfolk—

Why be lost on the path of the Way?

The Great Way is difficult. Is it so easy to walk?

To have this karmic connection today, to see an immortal's face, to encounter immortal fate—this is already something countless living beings could only pray for.

To seek to become a disciple?

Even Lumen Mountain Deity shook his head at these people's foolish devotion.

He advised the mortals in this courtyard.

Think no more of it.

Above, a bright full moon spilled silver light across the ground.

Jiang She looked leisurely at the crowd. The night could not hide his gaze.

He looked at Scholar Lu, half-kneeling and half-bowed, and at the faces of the people in the courtyard, their eyes bright as twinkling stars, faces full of longing.

Not far from Scholar Lu, the account book in the steward's hands had long since fallen to the ground with a thud. Beside him, the master and two disciples of the swindling trio sat slumped on the ground, listening to the questions—a few words that rang like thunder, utterly unaware that the account book they had so desperately sought earlier lay right behind them.

The firewood in the medicine furnace had nearly died out, occasionally kicking up a few sparks in the plant ash. The medicine boy's eyes were bright as he craned his neck toward the courtyard. Beside him, Physician Luo stood motionless, staring in a daze. A maidservant in the courtyard clutched a needle case, a servant carried a medicine chest, completely unaware that Grand Matriarch Lu had actually long since woken and was listening to these words with her eyes closed.

Under the locust tree in the courtyard, Yuan Danqiu's eyes gleamed sharply, glancing between Li Bai and the man before him.

Though the night made it hard to see, the guests still crowded together, staring in that direction. Meng Haoran's legs had gone stiff and numb, yet he couldn't bear to move.

Even after ten years of lodging here, seeing these ancients still made Jiang She's mind wander for a moment.

He suppressed the feeling of drifting in a foreign land.

The robes and caps of the Tang dynasty were all before his eyes. Their gazes were full of longing, heads raised in reverence. Whether wonder or joy, this was a rare encounter in their lives.

Life is but a sojourn—why dwell on it?

Though he would not take disciples, he might as well add another stroke.

"Though there is no fate of master and disciple,"

Jiang She said:

"Today I came here, entrusted by a kind soul, and bound by the fortune of the heavy rain. So... I will grant you all a thread of fate."

"Whether you can obtain it, and what you gain from it, depends on yourselves."

Hearing this, the crowd's hearts stirred.

All were filled with anticipation.

With that, Jiang She turned to the Old Deer Mountain God and said warmly:

"I trouble the Mountain God to guard their path for a while."

Scholar Lu woke from a nap, his head dizzy.

The matter of meeting an immortal was too bizarre. The money he'd been swindled out of was divided among his elder sister, who now managed the household. Lu Pei, frustrated, called some friends to drink. They leaned against the locust tree in the courtyard, sharing a jar of Yellow Mash Wine until it was empty.

He'd only slept halfway when someone roused him.

The man claimed to be an envoy from the Huaian Kingdom, inviting him for a visit.

He saw a small green-oiled cart, hitched to four horses, with attendants flanking left and right—seven or eight people in all. Lu Pei saw the cart, its trappings beyond what commoners should have, and felt some belief stir. He followed them to the Ancient Locust Kingdom.

The scenery and customs of the Ancient Locust Kingdom were nothing like Xiang Prefecture.

After traveling several dozen li, the carriage entered the city walls. There, the kingdom's envoy stood before the gate, inviting him inside.

Around him, coachmen reined in their horses to make way, pedestrians stepped aside. Scholar Lu lifted a corner of the curtain, saw the crowd parting on the main road, and felt a strange, absurd pride rise in his chest.

Outside the palace gates stretched a long wedding procession. Lu Pei's sharp eyes even spotted a familiar face from his hometown among them.

The Right Chancellor, named Meng Haoran, adorned in jewels and fine robes, personally led him inside.

The hall was carved beams and painted rafters, guards stern and imposing—a sight to marvel at.

The kingdom's lord said:

"I have a daughter, not yet wed. I wish to give her to you as a wife."

Lu Pei grew suspicious.

"A noble princess like that—why marry me?"

The kingdom's lord replied: "I hear you are a man of learning, who, amid hard study, never forgot to care for your grandmother. Your filial fame has spread through Xiang Prefecture and reached the Ancient Locust Kingdom."

This matched Scholar Lu's own experience, so he believed it. They agreed to hold the grand wedding ceremony in a few days.

Back at the guesthouse, Lu Pei still felt something off. He seized a chance to wander out. He came to a temple where incense never ceased, and saw a man dressed like a Daoist setting up a fortune-telling stall by the gate. Thinking of his impending marriage to a princess, he felt a strange pride and walked over.

The Daoist's surname was Luo. He had Scholar Lu shake a divination stick.

"In the light of the Northern Dipper, a command post opens; on the southern branch's flowers, a marriage pact knots. If you ask what your life's wish is—golden waist, purple robes, bowing to the phoenix pair."

Scholar Lu held the stick, but before he could hear the interpretation, three men stormed out of the temple, brandishing brooms, and chased the fortune-telling stall away.

A passerby laughed.

"Daoist Zhang, Daoist Wang, Daoist Song—you're late today. That stall had already swindled quite a bit of money."