"Read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles." Fang Yizhi wholeheartedly agreed with the educational approach of Li Xingzhi, director of the Knowledge and Practice Institute.
He took He An and Fan Dazhi along the Han River and through Funiu Mountain, sometimes on foot, sometimes by hired carriage, and sometimes by boat.
They stopped often along the way. Whenever they encountered a famous scenic spot or a place with stories about local figures, he patiently explained them to the boys. His temperament was gentle and his speech unhurried, and after so many days together, the two children grew increasingly close to him.
More than a month passed before the three reached Yique County, near Luoyang City. It was already late when they entered the county town, so Fang Yizhi found an inn where they could rest. Supper was a simple meal. Afterward, Fang Yizhi began his seated cultivation and told He An and Fan Dazhi they could go out for a stroll.
Reading brought knowledge; practice put it into action. Exploring the landscapes wherever they went and experiencing the different customs of each region would also be of great benefit in the years ahead.
The moment Fan Dazhi heard they could go out and play, his eyes lit up. He nodded eagerly, grabbed He An by the sleeve, and ran outside.
The two left the inn and rounded a corner in the alley, where they saw a brightly lit street not far away.
Yique County Town stood near the Capital, Luoyang, and was remarkably prosperous. Everywhere along the street were pleasure houses and painted pavilions, embroidered doorways and pearl curtains. Now and then, carved carriages drawn by fine horses rolled past, trailing subtle fragrances and the perfume of silks. Joyful voices and charming laughter filled the willow lanes and flower-lined streets, while pipes and strings sounded from teahouses and taverns. People converged from the eight reaches of the world, and trade flowed from every nation. Treasures from the four seas gathered in its markets; exotic flavors from across the realm filled its kitchens. Flutes and drums clamored into the sky-how many households were feasting tonight? Dazzling feats astonished the eyes and ears, and lavish splendor lifted the spirits.
He An and Fan Dazhi were dazzled, unable to take it all in. As they entered the night market, the sweet scent of face powder mingled with the aroma of sugar-roasted chestnuts and dishes cooking in nearby taverns. Even the air seemed filled with bustle and delight.
Many vendors simply pushed their carts to the roadside and raised their voices to hawk their wares, their cries rising one after another.
At a glance, they saw a dazzling spread of dried fish, lamb, heads and tripe, kidneys, white sausage, quail and rabbit, fish and shrimp, plucked chickens and ducks, clams, crabs, spicy stewed meat, fragrant spiced fruit, and other foods. Some stalls also sold caps and combs, collars and chest wraps, hair ornaments, clothing, copper and iron goods, utensils, clothes chests, porcelain, and the like.
The two squeezed through the crowd, and Fan Dazhi drooled at everything he saw. Before they had gone far, he had bought two skewers of candied hawthorn, three pieces of fish in fermented rice wine, and half a pot-cooked chicken from the stalls. He shared a little of each with He An, then devoured his own portions like a gale sweeping away scattered clouds. After all those days of plain food while traveling with Fang Yizhi, he had truly been starved of treats.
A little farther on, they saw a crowd gathered around a stall, heads jostling in a lively throng. Fan Dazhi pulled He An inside.
There was a copper pot over a charcoal fire, its thick brown syrup steaming gently. Beside it stood a workboard bristling with slender bamboo sticks, and a bearded old man stood before it, blowing and shaping sugar. Before long, a lifelike little tiger appeared in his hands. With its bobbing head and endearingly clumsy air, it left He An and Dazhi staring in amazement.
The old man's business was brisk. He kept blowing sugar figures, making little animals one moment and tiny people the next, all wonderfully lifelike and entertaining.
Fan Dazhi watched with an irresistible itch to try one. He edged closer and, following everyone else's example, dropped a copper coin into the old man's money box.
The old man had just finished a little rabbit and handed it to a girl in the crowd. Turning to Fan Dazhi, he asked what he wanted. Dazhi scratched his head and thought of his father's delicious braised pork knuckle. Once he went to the imperial capital of Luoyang, he would rarely get to eat it again, so he asked the old man to blow him a braised pork knuckle.
Without wasting words, the old man stirred the charcoal a few times, scooped a spoonful of syrup from the copper pot, spread it on the board, then swiftly picked it up with his hands. The syrup was scalding hot, and he rapidly kneaded it, passing it between his hands. His left thumb pressed swiftly into the oval lump of sugar, while three fingers of his right hand deftly drew it out into a tube. He quickly pinched it off and brought it to his lips, blowing gently until the sugar slowly swelled.
As the old man worked, the shape of a pork knuckle gradually emerged. He quickly dipped a finger into some starch on the board and rubbed it over a protruding section, making it look just like the bone. Then he scooped a little more syrup from the copper pot and gently drizzled it over the top. The crimson syrup looked like a coating of braising sauce, instantly transforming it into a glossy red pork knuckle that made mouths water.
The people nearby burst into laughter. He An had never seen sugar figures before and had no idea how long they would keep. Remembering that Dazhi had promised to bring Miao Feifei something tasty and fun, he thought she would surely like one of these.
Suddenly, a soft laugh sounded behind him. He An turned and saw a girl about his own age. She wore a moon-white top with a lute-shaped overlapping front, a gauze skirt embroidered with a hundred flowers and tied with a red twin-phoenix sash, and a patterned satin cloak lined with fox-flank fur. She stood out strikingly in the crowd.
Her hair was arranged in a tassel bun, her features were as lovely as a painting, and her smile was enchanting. She said to a woman beside her who wore a headscarf, "Aunt Xue, that boy even wants his sugar figure made into a pork knuckle. What a glutton!" Then she suddenly noticed He An watching her. Pouting, she shot him a fierce glare. But her clear black-and-white eyes and long, thick lashes held no menace at all; instead, she looked utterly adorable.
Seeing that He An was still gazing at her, she flicked out her small pink tongue and quickly licked the sugar rabbit in her hand. Then she linked her arm through the woman's and walked away, looking indescribably mischievous and sweet.
He An watched the girl disappear into the crowd with her arm linked through the woman's. Holding up his braised pork knuckle, Fan Dazhi squeezed over to him and said, "Xiao An, try some. It's sweet, too... mmm... it's really good!" Unable to resist, he licked it again and sucked gently on it.
He An laughed. "I thought you were buying all these things to take something back for Miao Feifei. Turns out they're all going into your own belly!"
Fan Dazhi crunched noisily on his sugar figure, then slapped his forehead. "Oh! If you hadn't said anything, I would've nearly forgotten!"
They continued strolling with the crowd until He An stopped at a stall selling hair ornaments and jewelry.
This spot was relatively out of the way, with few passersby. The stallholder sat listlessly behind a display filled with all kinds of central hair ornaments, forehead ornaments, full crowns, crown pins, temple ornaments, flower-shaped appliqués, headbands, bun rings, hairpins, earrings, and more.
After looking for a while, He An picked up a peachwood butterfly hairpin. Its design was simple and elegant, with beautiful patterns carved into its curved shaft. Two peach leaves had been ingeniously attached to its head and trimmed into butterfly wings. Two fine filaments projected from the front, each tipped with a bead the size of a grain of rice, like a butterfly's antennae. As he held it, the two leaves fluttered in the breeze and the antennae trembled, making it seem like a real butterfly dancing in flight.
Fan Dazhi's eyes lit up. He asked the stallholder the price, then casually took a few copper coins from inside his robe and handed them over. He An said, "Miao Feifei will definitely like this hairpin. When the time comes, just tell her you chose it!"
He was about to hand the hairpin to Fan Dazhi when a voice suddenly sounded behind him. "Wow... what a beautiful hairpin!"
He An turned and saw the same girl with the tassel bun. With one arm linked through the woman's, she pointed at the hairpin in He An's hand and told the stallholder, "Sir, I want one like that, too... yes, exactly like the one he's holding!"
The stallholder scrunched up his round, bun-like face and said in a muffled voice, "This is a small business. There's only one of each item. Miss, why not choose something else? Look at this dragon-and-phoenix hairpin..."
The girl's eyes, dark as black grapes, shifted thoughtfully. She said to He An, "That hairpin... I really like it. Could you part with it and sell it to me? Whatever you paid, I'll give you twice as much!"
He An shook his head. "Sorry, I like it very much, too. It's for a friend of ours..."
Before he had finished, the girl took a tael of silver from a delicate little purse at her waist and offered it to He An, quirking the corner of her mouth. "Here... this should be enough, shouldn't it?"
Standing beside him, Fan Dazhi noticed the girl's bright eyes and pearly teeth, as well as her expensive clothes. He tugged lightly on He An's robe and whispered, "Xiao An... why don't we just let her have it?"
He An quietly told Fan Dazhi, "If you give Feifei another hairpin that's too expensive, she won't bear to wear it. If it's too ordinary, it'll make you seem insincere. This one is unusual, and I'm sure she'll like it." Then he shook his head at the girl again. "Sorry, it's not for sale!"
The girl's delicate brows drew together. As if out of spite, she took a gleaming little gold nugget from her purse and held out her snow-white palm, offering it to He An along with the tael of silver.
He An did not even look. He merely shook his head again, pulled Fan Dazhi along, and turned to leave. Anger clouded the girl's pretty face, and she cried sharply, "You're not allowed to leave!"
He An ignored her and quickened his pace instead. Footsteps sounded behind him, followed by a sudden rush of air past his ear. He heard the woman call softly, "Chanjuan, don't make trouble!"
He An turned as a delicate fist skimmed past his shoulder. The girl had actually attacked him. Bending his knees and raising his elbow, he instantly knocked aside her other hand as it reached to grab him.
"Well, well, you know martial arts, too!" The girl's almond-shaped eyes widened. Though she looked indignant, her expression brimmed with eagerness, like a little she-cat baring her teeth and claws.
She sprang forward and attacked again. The two dodged and shifted across the street, exchanging more than ten moves in an instant. The girl's movements were nimble and her palm techniques exquisite, but He An had been trained by his uncle He Kui since childhood. He was no ordinary opponent, and for the moment, she could do nothing to him.
"I'll ask you one more time. Will you give it to me or not?" the girl demanded, narrowing her eyes and biting her lip with teeth like tiny white shells. Her right hand changed from a palm into a beak and struck toward He An's shoulder like lightning.
"Three Pecking Strikes of the Parting Crane!"
He An had no time to think. With the Cloud-Riding Hand, he suddenly closed in. One arm blocked her left palm, then swept around to press against her chest, while his other hand became a blade, poised to chop toward her neck.
Suddenly, he saw the disheveled strands of hair at the back of her neck and skin whiter than snow. A rich fragrance like orchids and musk reached his nose. His knife-hand stopped in midair, and he could not bring himself to strike.
Caught off guard, the girl found He An close against her, his arm around her and one hand pressed to her chest. She froze for an instant, then her whole face flushed red. A swift backward elbow strike broke her free, and with a hook of her slender hand, she snatched the butterfly hairpin from He An. Stamping her foot, she cried, "You shameless wretch!" Then she turned and ran toward the woman.
He An stood rooted to the spot. Fortunately, few people were strolling through this area, and no crowd had gathered to watch their scuffle.
With the last bit of his sugar figure still in his mouth, Fan Dazhi came over and steadied He An. "Who would've thought? That little girl's pretty... and she's really good at fighting, too... so willful and fierce. Xiao An, are you all right? Did she hurt you anywhere?"
A faint trace of fragrance still lingered in the air, and the soft sensation beneath He An's palm remained with him. Suddenly, an unfamiliar feeling stirred deep in his heart. He could not help feeling that he had been too forward and had wronged the girl. It was only a hairpin, yet things had turned so unpleasant between them. Now the lights were sparse and her figure was long gone. Who knew in what year, on what evening, they might meet again? A wistful sense of loss rose within him.
Sensing that He An seemed a little downcast, Fan Dazhi said no more. They retraced their steps toward the inn. All the way back, Fan Dazhi looked this way and that, finding everything fascinating. By the time they neared the inn's entrance, his arms were once again piled high with snacks he had bought!
Before you continue