Pei Ye walked over and hesitated. "Do I have to write it myself?"
"Naturally! You leave us your handwriting, young hero, and we give you a poem in return. That makes this an exchange of peaches and plums for precious jade. If we simply chose someone ourselves to write a poem for, it would seem rather presumptuous-oh, you can't..." The scholar tapped his head in chagrin. "My apologies. Then I'll write your name for you, and you can leave a fingerprint."
"It's all right. I can." Pei Ye picked up the brush. The two characters of his own name were the ones he wrote best, and he now set them down stroke by stroke on the paper. They were still clumsy, but at least legible.
The scholar lifted the sheet and gently blew on the ink, saying delightedly, "Then you're our first participating martial artist, young hero. May you achieve a fine result in twenty days!"
Pei Ye smiled. This sort of ceremony was rather novel to him too. He cupped his hands. "What's your name, brother?"
"Oh! My apologies, my apologies." The scholar tapped his forehead again, adjusted his cap, and cupped his hands with a solemn expression. "I am Fang Jidao, a native of Bowang, who has idled away twenty-one years. On this first meeting, I hope to benefit often from your valued instruction in the days to come."
Pei Ye cupped his hands too, opened his mouth, and fell silent for a while before saying, "Hello."
After bidding Fang Jidao farewell, he continued onward. As he walked, he noticed that the passersby's clothes were gradually growing finer. There was less hemp and more silk and satin. Gray, white, and brown were no longer the only colors; brighter hues began to appear, along with all sorts of