Volume Two: A Sword Sharpened for Ten Years - Divine Snow Soared Where the Water Dragon Chanted

Just as Zhang Xingyan had drawn a blade and frightened off Sun Six-Finger, the ruffian who had been pestering his father, and father and son were talking beside the street, someone nearby suddenly called out in loud praise of Xing Yan.

They turned to look and saw an old man in brown stepping out from beside a stall and approaching them. Judging by his face, he seemed quite advanced in years, yet his complexion was rosy and his head covered in black hair. His steps were vigorous and strong as he came around the stall, his stride stirring a breeze; he carried no walking stick like ordinary old men. Clearly, this old gentleman knew a good deal about preserving his health.

After looking him over, Xing Yan remembered his words of praise and replied modestly,

"Oh! You flatter me, sir. All I did was frighten off a local thug. It was hardly anything remarkable."

At his modest reply, the old man's eyebrows twitched, and he said with a smile:

"You're mistaken, young fellow! I saw everything clearly from the side. The moment you saw that ruffian making trouble, you stepped forward to seize a blade and threaten him almost without a second thought. That showed your quick wits and courage in making decisions. Then I noticed whom you chose to take the blade from. Though he was a bold man of the martial world, his features were clear and open, his brow free of sharp angles-plainly no reckless brute. A man with such a face would likely stop you from drawing his blade and offer a few words of restraint, giving you a chance to utter some fierce threats and cement the ruffian's belief that you truly intended to kill him!"

This analysis left Xing Yan gaping. Everything had swept past like a gale scattering the clouds; he really had not had time to think it through so thoroughly. Yet now that the old gentleman had explained it, a little reflection showed that it did make sense. Had he chosen some rough fellow with a savage face, crooked brows, and a squint, the man might have feared only that the world was not chaotic enough. Far from stopping him, he might even have offered the blade with both hands. Then how could Xing Yan have bought himself a moment's breathing room, let alone found time for those threatening words? In that case, he truly would not have known how to carry on the little performance!

Seeing the thoughtful expression on the boy's face, the hale old gentleman knew he had hit the mark. He chuckled and continued:

"Besides, from what you said earlier, I could tell that you had judged from where the ruffian chose to lie down that he was no utterly shameless scoundrel who feared neither hardship nor death. To think so carefully in a moment that allowed not even a hair's breadth of delay-how could I fail to admire you?"

"Oh, you embarrass me!"

Hearing such praise, Xing Yan could not help feeling delighted. His father, Old Zhang, was ultimately only a blunt, honest villager. Even when his son explained everything in detail, he still could not quite grasp the trick of it. Yet this old gentleman, whom they had met entirely by chance, had analyzed his performance in shouting down the ruffian with such clarity and insight. How could this sixteen-year-old boy's heart not burst into bloom?

As he basked in his delight, the old gentleman chuckled again:

"As they say, a planned meeting is no match for a chance encounter. I imagine neither of you has eaten yet today. Why not let me play host and invite you both for a little drink? What do you say?"

The honest Old Zhang was about to decline when, without allowing another word, the old gentleman snatched up the rabbit basket he had set on the ground and strode jauntily down the street!

With things having come to this, father and son could only follow him. For Xing Yan, who had just lost his job at the Rice Fragrance House and had no idea where lunch would come from, the brown-robed gentleman's offer suited him perfectly! In his delight, his attention wandered briefly, only for him to discover that the old man ahead was walking as though his feet had wings. That moment's hesitation had already left him behind. Inwardly marveling at the old gentleman's vigor, Xing Yan hurried to catch up.

Just as father and son were growing breathless from trotting along behind him, the old gentleman stopped before a restaurant. Pausing to catch his breath, Xing Yan looked up and found the place exceedingly familiar. He had visited it only a short while earlier: it was the scene of his sorrow that morning, the Rice Fragrance House.

Now, when Manager Liu, the owner of the Rice Fragrance House, saw Xing Yan and his father coming upstairs again, he assumed the troublesome boy had returned to pester him over those wages. He was about to scold him when the elderly guest in front stopped before him, turned to point at father and son, and called out loudly:

"Hey, waiter! There are three of us. A private table upstairs, if you please!"

Being mistaken for a waiter nearly left Manager Liu, the owner of the whole establishment, choking with indignation. He was about to erupt, but the old gentleman's commanding manner clearly marked him as no ordinary old man. Manager Liu could only curse his bad luck inwardly. Outwardly, he dared show no neglect and respectfully led the three to a quiet table beside an upstairs window.

Xing Yan remembered that table perfectly well. Three days earlier, Ju Ying and her Uncle Cheng had sat there. As the saying went, familiar things brought familiar people to mind. Seeing the arrangement of table and chairs, he remembered the little girl's adorable eagerness to tackle a plate of pig's trotters. A faint smile unconsciously rose to his face-just as Manager Liu happened to glance at him and caught his former young waiter smiling.

Grinning like that-most likely the brat saw me mistaken for a waiter and is secretly enjoying it!

Manager Liu speculated with a rather petty mind:

That little wretch! What an odious brat!

After the brown-robed old man had ordered, Manager Liu returned sulkily to the back rooms, intending to change quickly into a brighter, finer robe before coming out to inspect the restaurant again.

Leaving aside Manager Liu's attempts at dressing up, once the food and wine arrived, the hale old gentleman began drinking cup after cup and warmly urged father and son to eat and drink. Apart from that, he said not a word.

Although Xing Yan ate and drank as the old gentleman wished, he was not as oblivious as his father. Once their host had downed five or six cups, Xing Yan finally could not contain himself. He laid down his chopsticks and asked with great courtesy:

"May I ask, sir, why you've shown me such favor when we've only met by chance, and even invited my father and me here for such a fine meal? Surely it can't be merely because of something as insignificant as my driving off Six-Finger?"

"Ha ha ha!"

The brown-robed old man, who had been steadily pouring wine down his throat, burst into laughter at Xing Yan's question. His booming voice rolled through the restaurant, making every diner on the second floor stop eating and turn to look.

"A fine question, young fellow! But there's something you don't know. You and I have long been acquainted in spirit!"

"Oh? But I don't believe we've ever met, sir?"

At these words, Xing Yan searched his memory. Yet however hard he racked his brains, he could not recall ever becoming acquainted with this old gentleman. As he sat utterly bewildered, the old man continued cheerfully:

"Oh, and you needn't keep calling me 'sir.' If you don't mind, just call me your elder brother."

"Actually, we became acquainted only yesterday. Surely you haven't forgotten so quickly?"

"Yesterday?"

Clever as Xing Yan normally was, he now hesitated, straining to think as he sorted through everything he had experienced the day before:

Yesterday morning, I slept at the Peaceful Inn in Poyang County until the sun was three poles high. At noon, I went to the Waterside House on Nanji Island to eat shad-could he have been eating shad there too? But there weren't many people in that dining room. If I'd seen this old gentleman, I certainly wouldn't have forgotten him. Or was it in the afternoon? What happened yesterday afternoon was so heart-stopping that I'll never forget it as long as I live. Could he have been a passenger aboard that painted pleasure boat? But I don't remember him there either... Who exactly is this old gentleman?

Seeing his confusion, the old man chuckled and said:

"You're quick-witted in dealing with things, young fellow, but your memory isn't very good. Yesterday on Poyang Lake, you kindly spread the tale of my deeds from years past, and even presented me with a poem at the end. How could you forget so quickly?"

Even after hearing this, Xing Yan remained puzzled. The sinister, uncanny spectacle on Poyang Lake yesterday afternoon had been far too shocking. Then, immediately afterward, he had been dazzled by a beauty, leaving him utterly dazed. By now, his recollection of what he had done before that upheaval in the heavens was truly a muddle.

Seeing that Xing Yan was still bewildered, the old man offered no further explanation, merely saying:

"I've heard the sages say: 'Good done with intent earns no reward, though it be good; evil done without intent earns no punishment, though it be evil.' What you've done these past few days was precisely an immense act of unintentional good!"

At these words, the boy who had kidnapped Shangguan and harbored guilty secrets felt his heart give a leap. He was about to speak, but the old gentleman was already continuing enthusiastically:

"Punishing the strong and helping the weak, seeking no reward for oneself-that is what fine men like us ought to do! Splendid! It calls for a great cup of wine!"

With that, the old gentleman tipped back his head, and a few gulps sent a cup of strong wine into his belly. Smacking his lips, he continued:

"Thinking of yesterday makes my heart soar! I never imagined you could compose such fine poetry. That line, 'Drunkenly leaning beneath the moon on Zhou Yu's terrace, a clear flute sends the cavern dragon to sleep'-wonderful! Exhilarating! It truly says everything to the fullest. Another great cup is in order!"

Before he had finished speaking, the hale old gentleman tipped back his head again and again, downing two more cups of strong wine. Perhaps because he had drunk too much, he was growing increasingly talkative:

"You two may not know this, but I have always hated evil as my sworn enemy. Nothing pains me more than seeing good people suffer while villains roam free! Mm... What a line, 'a clear flute sends the cavern dragon to sleep'! For that poem alone, I must give you a little gift today!"

By now, this old man with his bold, chivalrous spirits seemed thoroughly tipsy. His whole face was red, and his tipsy innocence was almost endearing. Without waiting for father and son to respond, he stood up and said indistinctly:

"Wait a moment. Let me see what I've brought in my sleeve."

Perhaps he had left home in a hurry. He rummaged through his broad sleeve for quite some time without finding anything, and his drunken face grew redder still.

Seeing this, Xing Yan said:

"There's really no need, sir. I ought not accept a reward without having earned it! To tell the truth, I don't even know what-"

He was still trying to decline politely when the old man waved a hand, interrupting him with a red face and wine-soaked breath:

"When has the Lord of the Clouds ever failed to keep his word? Don't be impatient, young fellow. Let me look a little longer!"

Father and son then watched the drunken old man in brown close his eyes and mutter incessantly, rather like the spirit mediums they had seen chanting spells in days past.

"Ha ha! Found it!"

Just as father and son were wondering whether the old man had drunk himself senseless, this "Lord of the Clouds" suddenly burst into delighted laughter and boasted:

"Ha ha! It seems my memory isn't so bad after all. I remembered to bring one or two presentable gifts before setting out-what an excellent habit! Here, this stone flute is yours. It fits that line perfectly: 'a clear flute sends the cavern dragon to sleep'! Ha ha! Wonderful!"

Praising himself as he spoke, the old man drew a jade flute from his sleeve and thrust it clumsily at Xing Yan without allowing any refusal. Seeing that he was already half drunk, Xing Yan feared they might drop and break it if he tried to decline, so he could only do as the old gentleman wished, taking the jade flute and gripping it firmly.

The old man was delighted to see Xing Yan accept it and said with a somewhat slurred tongue:

"Good! We... men... ought not copy little girls and their coy pretenses!"

Hearing this, Xing Yan swallowed the refusal already on his lips and could only gaze at the flute with a foolish smile. The jade flute he now held was made of exquisite stone, smoothly rounded and graceful, as though formed by nature itself. Its body was pale green, with faint snow-colored markings within, like wisps of milky cloud drifting through emerald valleys in the spring mountains. A plum-blossom tassel was fastened through a tuning hole at its end. Its crimson silk fluttered in the breeze, complementing the flute's clear, lustrous, softly colored body to perfection.

Above the jade flute's embouchure hole, two characters had been carved in an ancient, dignified bronze-vessel seal script:

"Divine Snow"

Those two ancient seal characters were vigorous yet subtly elegant. Like the final dots that gave a painted dragon its eyes, they instantly imbued the jade flute with an air of profound antiquity.

Just as Xing Yan was gazing spellbound at the jade flute, the half-drunken old man suddenly slapped his forehead and exclaimed:

"Look at this muddled head of mine! I'm afraid I really am a little drunk... Giving you a flute today is like giving a man a fish, so why not teach him to fish as well? What use is a flute without music? Wait, that score..."

After rattling off all this in a single breath, the drunken old man's tongue tangled again:

"The score, I... I should have brought it too? Wait a moment, young fellow. Let me take my time getting it out!"

Once again, Xing Yan watched the old man close his eyes and mutter for a while, then proudly pull something from his sleeve. Looking closely, Xing Yan saw that it was an ancient silk-bound book. Its deep ocean-blue cover bore a background pattern of seaweed and dragons. On the snow-white title panel, three large black seal characters stood out:

"Water Dragon's Chant"

Having produced the book, the old man once again thrust his gift forward in a jumble. Afraid that the pristine silk cover might get stained with grease or wine, Xing Yan could only obediently accept it as well. Pleased by his readiness, the old gentleman raised his cup and laughed:

"Ha ha! Splendid! These past two days, I've witnessed your gallant deeds in punishing evil and helping the weak, and you've also done me the kindness of spreading my story and presenting me with verse. The other day, I helped you glimpse that person's true face. Today, I've been able to give you a score and a flute. That settles this matter on my mind."

"Ah, I mustn't drink any more. If I do, I'll be drunk!"

"You two, I'll take my leave now!"

Having fired off this string of remarks, the already thoroughly drunken old man rose unsteadily, still mumbling indistinctly:

"Ah, whatever heroes... mighty men they were, after a thousand years... how many still know them!..."

"Waiter! Bring the bill!"

As he spoke, the old man beckoned and pointed, calling the nearby "waiter" over to settle the bill.

The man he had singled out was Manager Liu, now changed into a splendid robe. Unable to believe that this strange old man was still calling him, he kept looking this way and that. While he was craning his head about, the drunken old man suddenly gave another loud, peculiar shout:

"What are you looking around for? Yes, you! Hurry over with the bill!"

Once that was confirmed, Manager Liu deflated like a punctured ball, inwardly cursing his bad luck. Unable to vent his anger, he could only put on a smile and shuffle over to tell the old man how many copper coins the meal cost. After hearing the total, the ruddy-faced old gentleman called out through a cloud of wine fumes:

"Here! Take this silver ingot! Give the change to this young fellow."

As he spoke, the drunken old man crookedly handed "Waiter" Liu a horseshoe-shaped silver ingot, then muttered:

"You old waiter, dressed up in all those gaudy colors, yet you're still nowhere near as sharp as that first waiter!"

With that, he swayed from side to side toward the stairs.

"Sir! Mind your footing! Wait a moment and let me help you."

Seeing that the old man was very drunk and staggering badly, Xing Yan feared he might fall and called out for him to slow down. At the warning, the old gentleman turned and gave a toothy grin:

"Not to worry! I'm no stupid drunk!"

With that, he continued swaying forward. Xing Yan was about to go and support him when Manager Liu stopped him:

"Listen, you little brat, what are you fussing over? That old fellow's crafty. He's not going to fall so easily! Here, this is the change from your meal. Ah, fools really do have a fool's luck. Who knows what kind of fool's fortune you stumbled into today, finding yourself such a gullible moneybag-"

Manager Liu's mocking tirade stopped abruptly. He lifted his head and exchanged a horrified stare with his former waiter-

The change he had counted out to Xing Yan matched, down to the last fraction, the wages he had withheld from the boy earlier!

"..."

As the two stared at each other in stunned disbelief, they suddenly heard a thump, followed by a rattling, tumbling clatter. Xing Yan turned in alarm at the sound. It was the drunken old man: his unsteady feet had indeed betrayed him, and one careless step had sent him rolling down the stairs!

Hearing that tumbling clatter, Xing Yan inwardly groaned. With no time left to wrangle with Manager Liu, he hurried downstairs with his father, Old Zhang.

Yet when they reached the downstairs hall and went straight out through the restaurant's front entrance, they found the street bustling with an endless stream of pedestrians. The drunken old man who had given him the flute and book, however, had already vanished without a trace...