Chapter 7: The Bowl of Water
Apricot Flower Lane had a well called Iron Lock Well. An iron chain as thick as a young man’s arm hung down from the mouth of the well, year after year. When the well had first appeared, or who had installed this lock and for what purpose—such trivial, strange matters—no one knew the truth any longer. Even the oldest person in town could not explain the whys and wherefores.
Rumor had it that there had once been a meddlesome fellow in town who tried to test how long the iron chain really was. Ignoring the old folks’ warnings about the long-standing rule passed down by word of mouth—“For every foot you pull the iron lock out of the well, you lose one year of life”—that man didn’t take it seriously at all. He pulled with all his might for the time it takes to burn one stick of incense, hauling out a huge pile of chain, and still there was no end in sight. Exhausted, he let the chain he had pulled out coil around the well winch, saying he would come back tomorrow, that he refused to believe this nonsense. After returning home, that very day, blood began to flow from all seven orifices of his face, and he died sprawled on his bed, his eyes wide open in death. No matter how his family struggled, they could not close his eyes. Finally, an old man who had lived near the well for generations told the family to carry the corpse to the well. There, the old man made the family “watch” as he lowered the chain back into the well. Only when the entire chain had sunk straight back into the deep water did the corpse finally close its eyes.
An old man and a small child walked slowly toward the Iron Lock Well. The little one was a child still with two snotty streaks hanging from his nose, yet when he told this story, his speech was clear and orderly, nothing like a village child who had only just started school half a year ago. At this moment the child looked up, his big eyes like black grapes. He gently sniffed, and the two snotty little snakes retreated. The child stared at the storyteller who was carrying a large white bowl with one hand, pouted, and said, “I’ve finished telling my story. Now you should show me what’s in your bowl, right?”
The old man chuckled. “Don’t rush, don’t rush. When we get to the well and sit down, you can look as much as you want.”
The child “kindly” warned him, “No going back on your word, or you’ll die a bad death. The moment you get to the Iron Lock Well, you’ll fall headfirst into it. I won’t fish your corpse out. Or else a thunderclap will suddenly strike you, turning you into a lump of charcoal. Then I’ll take a stone and chip you into pieces bit by bit…”
The old man listened to the child rattle off a string of venomous, unlucky words with no repeats, like beans pouring out of a bamboo tube. He found it quite headache-inducing and quickly said, “I’ll definitely show you. By the way, where did you learn those words?”
The child replied without hesitation, “From my mom, of course!”
The old man sighed emotionally, “Truly a place blessed with outstanding people and natural beauty.”
The child suddenly stopped walking, frowned, and said, “Are you cursing me? I know some people like to say nice things backwards, like Song Jixin!”
The old man quickly denied it and then changed the subject, asking, “Do strange things often happen in this town?”
The child nodded.
The old man said, “Tell me about them.”
The child pointed at the old man and said seriously, “For example, you carrying around a big white bowl and refusing to let anyone put copper coins in it. My mom said your storytelling wasn’t bad—all mysterious and vague—and that you looked like someone who was used to cheating people, so she told me to give you a few coppers. But you absolutely refused. So what’s really in the bowl?”
The old man didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It turned out that after the old man had finished telling a story under the old locust tree, he had asked this child to take him to Apricot Flower Lane to see the well. The child hadn’t wanted to at first, but the old man said his big white bowl contained something very special—a rare treasure. The child was naturally lively and restless; his parents said he must have forgotten to grow a backside when he was reincarnated. From a very young age, he liked to follow Liu Xianyang and that gang of loafers around. But if it meant catching a yellow eel or a loach, this little brat could sit motionless in the scorching sun for half an hour, showing astonishing patience.
So when the old man said there was something in the white bowl, the child immediately took the bait.
Even when the old man first made a strange request—saying he wanted to try lifting the child to see how heavy he was, to see if he weighed forty jin—the child agreed without a second thought. Getting lifted a few times wouldn’t make him lose any flesh.
But then something happened that made the child roll his eyes. The old man, holding the bowl in his left palm, used his right hand to try lifting the child five or six times, but he couldn’t succeed even once. Finally, the child glanced sideways at the old man’s thin arms and spindly legs, shook his head, and thought to himself, “Another skinny pole, but Chen Ping’an, that pauper, is way stronger than this geezer.” But remembering he hadn’t yet seen what was inside the white bowl, the child—who seemed naturally precocious—held back the words that would embarrass the old man. You see, in Mud Vase Lane and Apricot Flower Lane, when it came to arguing, cursing, and especially speaking sarcastically, this child ranked third. Second was the scholar Song Jixin, and first was this child’s own mother.
The old man reached the well but didn’t sit on its rim.
The ancient well was built of green bricks.
Unconsciously, the old man’s breathing became heavy.
The child walked to the well, turned his back to the opening, and jumped backward, landing with his bottom squarely on the rim.
This sight made the old man break out in cold sweat. If the little brat slipped, he would fall straight in! With this ancient well’s history, recovering the body would be nearly impossible.
The old man slowly moved forward a few steps, squinted, and bent down to examine the iron chain. One end was tied in a tight knot around the base of the well winch.
“A geomantically superior site, the best in the whole prefecture.”
The old man looked around, overcome with emotion. He thought, “And who knows who will end up with this great treasure in the end?”
He extended his free left hand and stared at his palm.
The lines on his palm were mottled and complex.
But a new line had appeared, slowly extending, like a crack spreading on porcelain.
A divine being observes a palm as if viewing mountains and rivers.
But this old man, at this moment, was only looking at himself.
He frowned and sighed, “In just half a day, it’s already come to this miserable state. What about the others?”
The child was now standing on the rim of the well, one hand on his hip, pointing at the old man with the other, shouting impatiently, “Are you going to show me the white bowl or not?!”
The old man said helplessly, “Get down, get down, quickly. I’ll show you the big white bowl right now.”
The child was skeptical but finally jumped down from the rim.
The old man hesitated for a moment, then said solemnly, “Little fellow, you and I have a connection. It’s not impossible to show you the marvel of this bowl. But after you’ve seen it, you must not tell anyone else, not even your mother. If you can promise that, I’ll let you see it. If you can’t promise, then even if you curse me behind my back, I won’t show you a single glimpse.”
The child blinked. “Let’s begin.”
The old man ceremoniously walked forward to stand beside the well. He looked down and found the little brat had now changed to sitting on the rim with his legs spread apart. The old man began to regret provoking this unruly child.
He gathered his thoughts, faced the well, grasped the bottom of the big white bowl with five fingers, and began to tilt his palm very slightly—so slightly it was almost imperceptible.
The child felt he had waited quite a while. He still saw no movement from the white bowl above his head, and the old man remained frozen in that pose.
Just as the child’s two snotty streaks were about to reach his lips and his patience was about to run out—
A stream of water as thick as a finger poured from the white bowl, falling into the depths of the well, silent and invisible.
The child bared his teeth, about to break into curses.
Suddenly he closed his mouth. He was startled. After a moment, his expression shifted from shock to bewilderment. Then fear crept in. He snapped back to reality, jumped off the well rim, and fled toward his home.
It turned out that the amount of water the old man had poured from the white bowl into the well was already many times more than a large water vat could hold.
Yet the water kept flowing out from the white bowl.
The child thought he must have seen a ghost in broad daylight.
——-
Liu Xianyang casually broke off a newly sprouted branch from a roadside tree and began practicing his swordplay. His body spun wildly like a rolling cartwheel, not caring in the least about the new boots on his feet. Dust flew up from the path in great clouds.
The tall youth left the town, heading south. After crossing the covered bridge that Magistrate Song had funded, he would walk another three or four li to reach the blacksmith forge run by Master Ruan and his daughter. Liu Xianyang had always been proud and aloof, but Master Ruan had won his complete admiration with a single sentence: “We came here only to light the furnace and forge swords.”
Sword forging was great. Thinking that he would soon have a real sword, Liu Xianyang couldn’t contain his excitement. He threw away the branch and started running and shouting, howling like a ghost.
While running, Liu Xianyang practiced the boxing stances Master Ruan had taught him in private. They looked quite good, full of force and vigor.
The youth and the covered bridge were drawing closer.
At the north end of the bridge, four people sat on the steps. A plump, graceful beauty held a boy in a bright red robe in her arms. The boy raised his chin high, like a general fresh from a great victory. At the other end of the steps sat a tall old man with frost-white hair, quietly comforting a little girl who was puffing with anger. She was delicate as a porcelain doll, her skin like the most exquisite porcelain in the world. In the sunlight, her tender skin was crystal clear, so much so that one could clearly see the blue veins beneath.
The two children had just finished arguing. The little girl looked on the verge of tears, while the little boy grew even more smug.
The old man was stocky, like a small mountain. The woman beside him cast an apologetic glance, but the imposing old man pretended not to see it.
At the foot of the steps stood a young man surnamed Lu, the eldest grandson of the Lu family patriarch, named Lu Zhengchun. Perhaps it was true that a particular place nurtures particular people; those born and raised in this town always seemed to have better looks than those elsewhere. But Lu Zhengchun had long been hollowed out by wine and women. To the four sitting on the steps, he was even more unsightly. The Lu family’s dragon kilns, both in number and scale, were unmatched in the town. They were also the clan with the most members who left the town to spread their branches elsewhere. But Lu Zhengchun, who usually strutted around town with great authority, was now nervous and pale, his whole body tense as if the slightest mistake would lead to his entire family being executed and his clan exterminated.
The boy said something the townspeople couldn’t understand: “Mother, this little insect surnamed Liu—his ancestor really was that…”
Just as he was about to say the name, the woman quickly covered his mouth. “How many times did your father warn you before we left? Here, you must not casually name anyone.”
The boy pried open her hand, his eyes burning, and lowered his voice, “Did his family really pass down the divine armor and the sword scripture for generations?”
The woman stroked her youngest son’s head affectionately and said softly, “The Lu family swore with half their genealogy that both items are still hidden in that youth’s home.”
The boy suddenly acted spoiled, “Mother, mother, can’t we swap treasures with Little Bai’s family? That divine armor we’re after is just too ugly. Think about it—if we got the sword scripture, we could use flying swords to take heads in dreams, unseen and unheard. Isn’t that way more powerful than a turtle shell?”
Before the woman could explain the origins and reasons, the little girl from the other side snapped angrily, “You dare try to covet our lost mountain-guarding treasure? We came here to rightfully recover what belongs to us. Not like some shameless people who act like robbers, thieves, or even beggars!”
The boy turned and made a face, then sneered, “Stinky girl, you said it yourself—it’s a ‘mountain’-guarding treasure. That’s just a sect seniority thing. As if that’s impressive?”
The boy suddenly changed his joking expression. Standing up from his mother’s embrace, he looked down at the little girl with pity, like a school tutor scolding a naive child. “The great path of longevity defies heaven’s will. Everything is about striving. If you don’t understand even this principle, how will you inherit the family legacy or uphold the ancestral teachings? Your Zhengyang Mountain descendants must raise the mountain at least one hundred zhang every thirty years. Stinky girl, do you think it was easy for your grandfather or your father?”
The little girl seemed to lose momentum. She drooped her head, not daring to meet the boy’s eyes.
The burly old man with frost-white hair spoke gravely, “Madam, though children’s words are harmless, if they cause my young master’s heart to be clouded, you will bear the consequences.”
The woman smiled charmingly and pulled her sullen son back into her arms. With a soft but sharp edge, she said, “Children just arguing and bickering, that’s all. Senior Ape, why must you take things so seriously? Don’t ruin the thousand-year friendship between our two families.”
The old man, however, had a fiery temper. He shot back directly, “My Zhengyang Mountain has been established for two thousand six hundred years. We repay kindness, even after a thousand years we do not forget. We repay grievances, and we never let them linger overnight!”
The woman smiled but did not engage in a war of pride.
This trip to the town was of grave importance for everyone. For her especially, she had staked everything—her own life, her son’s future, and the foundation of her mother’s family—in one desperate gamble.
Though her clothing was plain, this woman carried an air of grace and dignity. The townsfolk, lacking worldly experience, could not perceive the subtleties.
From start to finish, Lu Zhengchun kept his back to the bridge steps.
Earlier, the first time he had seen these honored guests at the Lu manor, his own younger brother—young and impetuous, lacking self-control—had momentarily forgotten their grandfather’s warning and couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at the beautiful woman’s bosom. Their grandfather, trembling with rage, had had him dragged away and beaten to death with clubs in the courtyard. The brother’s mouth had been stuffed with cotton cloth during the execution, so Lu Zhengchun, who stayed in the hall to continue the discussion, heard neither his brother’s miserable screams nor saw the bloody mess. By the time the meeting ended and they went out to find the Liu youth, Lu Zhengchun stepped over the threshold and found the courtyard already cleaned of bloodstains. The four guests from afar, even the two children who seemed like golden lads and jade maidens, showed no sign of disturbance, as if this were only natural.
At that moment, Lu Zhengchun felt a pang of bewilderment.
One person died—how was that worse than one dog dying?
Even more, that person bore the surname Lu. The night before, when drinking to steel their courage with this brother of his, he had been ecstatic, saying they would surely rise in the world, bring glory to their family, and no longer be frogs at the bottom of a well. They would join forces and make their mark outside.
Even after leaving the Lu manor, Lu Zhengchun’s mind remained blank.
After that, fear began to take hold. When the honored strangers asked him questions, his voice trembled. When leading the way, his steps drifted. He knew he was making a fool of himself, disappointing his grandfather, bringing shame to the family. But the young man simply couldn’t control his terror—it felt as if cold air seeped from his very bones.
Last year at the New Year, their grandfather had taken the two brothers into a secret room and told them news: the Lu family would soon serve certain noble guests—a great blessing. They must act with care. If they succeeded, the reward would become the key for the brothers to advance. If the nobles nodded in approval, then a broad road would appear beneath their feet, leading to unimaginable wealth and honor. Only then did he understand why he and his brother had been forced since childhood to learn so many strange dialects.
Lu Zhengchun watched Liu Xianyang approach the bridge. A surge of hatred rose within him. This pauper, whom he had once cornered in an alley with his gang, had lain on the ground like a dead dog. If not for some little bastard running to the alley mouth shouting that someone had died, he and his cronies would have already pulled down their trousers and rained a sweet shower on that ungrateful youth’s head. Even now, Lu Zhengchun didn’t understand why these lofty nobles thought so highly of Liu Xianyang. As for their talk of divine armor, sword scriptures, Zhengyang Mountain, the great path of longevity, competing for opportunities and luck—Lu Zhengchun seemed to understand but really didn’t.
One thing, however, he was certain of: he desperately wanted Liu Xianyang dead right here.
As for the true reason, Lu Zhengchun didn’t dare admit it and didn’t want to think too deeply.
Deep down, he absolutely did not want the lowly dog Liu Xianyang to see that he, the pampered young master of the Lu family, had sunk to the same level as that Liu bastard.
No greater humiliation could there be.
The beautiful woman murmured, “He’s coming.”
The tall youth had been practicing his boxing all the way. His punches grew faster and more ferocious until his entire body seemed to be swept along by the momentum, staggering slightly.
To the eyes of a master, this fledgling boxing intent was already revealing a hint of the perfected style of combining hardness with softness.
A fundamental saying in the martial arts path: “Without the true intent of boxing, you remain a layman for a hundred years. Once you understand the true intent of boxing, you can fight ghosts and gods in ten years.”
The beautiful woman felt relieved. Just as expected, this Liu youth was exactly the one they were looking for. His talent was indeed remarkable. Even among the immortal mansions of their world, his bone structure and aptitude could not be underestimated.
Of course, in the vast world of the beautiful woman and the white-haired old man, these kinds of people were the most numerous.
The beautiful woman stood up and ordered Lu Zhengchun, who was still at the foot of the steps, “Go and tell that youth. Ask him what he wants in exchange for the two family heirlooms—the armor and the book.”
Lu Zhengchun turned around as he bowed, answering in a certain dialect that the townspeople would never understand: “Yes, madam.”
The woman said calmly, “Remember, when you speak to the youth, be pleasant and measured.”
The boy raised his finger, looking down sternly, “If you screw this up, I’ll skin you alive, pull out your sinews, and refine your soul into a lamp wick. Before the lamp goes out, you’ll suffer torment every moment worse than death!”
Lu Zhengchun shuddered with fright, bowed even lower, and said anxiously, “I will not fail!”
The little girl finally felt she had regained some ground. She laughed scornfully, “Putting on such a show in front of these mortals. I wonder who, on the way here, was called a bastard to his face by someone of the same path and didn’t dare fight back?”
The burly old man had had a poor impression of that snobbish mother and son from the start. He added, “Miss, you’re wrong. It wasn’t that he didn’t dare fight back. It was clearly that he didn’t dare talk back.”
The boy in the bright red robe gritted his teeth and glared at the girl with a dark expression. But he didn’t issue any harsh threats. Instead, he suddenly broke into a radiant smile.
The woman, too, kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, her expression calm and indifferent. Whether she harbored any resentment—only heaven knew.
The little girl snorted, ran down the steps, and crouched by the stream, looking down at the fish swimming in the water.
Occasionally, groups of carp swam past her view, varying in number, both red and blue.
Some of the town’s elderly, chatting under the old locust tree, often said that during thunderstorm weather, when they crossed the covered bridge, they had seen a golden carp swimming out from beneath it.
But some old men said that golden-scaled carp was no longer than a palm, while others said it was huge, at least half a person long, nearly becoming a spirit.
With so many conflicting accounts, the old folks argued endlessly, so much so that the children who heard their stories never took them seriously.
At this moment, the little girl stared at the clear stream, cupping her cheeks in both hands, eyes fixed.
The white-haired old man crouched beside her and said softly with a smile, “Miss, if the Lu family didn’t lie, then this great opportunity has already fallen into someone else’s hands.”
The little girl turned to him, grinning, “Grandpa Ape, maybe there are two of them!”
As she did, she revealed the comical sight of a missing front tooth.
She quickly realized this and covered her mouth with her hand.
The old man suppressed his laughter and explained, “Dragon-like creatures that have not yet walked the river are very territorial. They do not allow their own kind near. So…”
The little girl went “Oh,” turned back, cupped her cheeks again, and stared blankly, murmuring, “But what if there is one?”
The old man, who had always been kind and gentle to the little girl, now showed his first hint of a stern elder’s expression. He reached out and gently pressed his hand on her head, saying solemnly, “Miss, you must remember: those two words ‘what if’ are the number one enemy of our kind. You must never rely on luck! Though you are born of gold and jade…”
The little girl pulled out one hand and waved it vigorously, complaining with childish charm, “I know, I know, Grandpa Ape. My ears are about to grow calluses!”
The old man said, “Miss, I’ll go keep an eye on the commotion over there. Though they are allies on the surface to our Zhengyang Mountain, that family’s character… ah, I won’t even mention it, so as not to dirty your ears.”
She just waved him off.
He had no choice but to leave reluctantly.
This burly old man, who seemed like a family retainer, walked with his hands dangling by his knees, his back slightly hunched, as if carrying a heavy burden.
By the stream, the little girl suddenly rubbed her eyes hard.
She noticed that the water level in the stream was clearly rising, visible to the naked eye!
If this were outside the town, for example on Zhengyang Mountain or anywhere in her homeland, even if the entire stream dried up in an instant, she wouldn’t be in the least surprised.
The little girl said in confusion, “Didn’t they say that all mystical arts, divine abilities, and magical methods are naturally sealed here? And the higher the cultivation base, the worse the backlash? Grandpa Ape said even that legendary person, after staying here so long, is now roughly in the same predicament as a clay Buddha crossing a river—hardly able to stop anyone who makes a move to seize something…”
In the end, she shook her head, too lazy to think further about this puzzle.
She turned and looked at Grandpa Ape’s tall figure retreating.
She thought happily, once the restrictions here are fully lifted, she would ask Grandpa Ape to move that mountain called Piyun Peak away.
She would bring it back to her home and turn it into her little flower garden.