Chapter 8: The Tare
After Chen Ping'an returned to the courtyard, his eyelids kept twitching. Left eye twitched for wealth, right eye for disaster.
So Chen Ping'an sat down on the threshold and began to imagine himself throwing clay on the wheel, his hands suspended in midair. Soon, the straw-sandaled boy entered a state of self-forgetfulness. The boy's diligence was one thing, but this practice also helped stave off hunger, which was equally important. Thus, Chen Ping'an had developed the habit of throwing clay whenever he had something on his mind. Pottery firing was most dependent on the will of heaven, because before the kiln was opened, no one knew whether the glaze color and shape of a piece would ultimately match one's intentions; one could only resign to fate. However, before firing, throwing clay was undoubtedly the most crucial step. But since Chen Ping'an was considered by Old Yao to lack talent, he mostly did the physical labor of kneading clay. Chen Ping'an could only carefully observe from the side, then knead clay himself, throw clay himself, seeking to find the feel.
The sound of a wicker gate being pushed open came from the neighboring courtyard. It turned out to be Song Jixin returning from the private school with his maidservant Zhigui. The handsome teenager sprinted, easily vaulted onto the low wall, and crouched down. He opened his palm, revealing all fingernail-sized pebbles in various colors—mutton-fat white, pea green, white lotus root, and so on. These worthless stones of varying sizes were everywhere in the town's creek beds. Among them, the bright red stones that looked like they were oozing chicken blood were the most popular. The school's Mr. Qi had carved a seal for his disciple Zhao Yao, which Song Jixin found quite appealing to the eye. He had tried several times to trade for it, but the other party absolutely refused.
Song Jixin tossed a pebble, not with much force. It hit Chen Ping'an in the chest, but the latter remained unmoved.
He tossed another. This time it hit the straw-sandaled boy on the forehead. Chen Ping'an still didn't budge.
Song Jixin was used to this. Crackling, a handful of seven or eight pebbles flew out in succession. Although Song Jixin intended to make Chen Ping'an flinch in pain, he deliberately didn't aim at Chen Ping'an's arms or fingers, because Song Jixin felt that would be an unfair victory.
After throwing all the pebbles, Song Jixin clapped his hands. Chen Ping'an let out a long breath, shook his wrists, completely ignoring Song Jixin. He thought for a moment, then lowered his head, his left hand's five fingers forming the shape of holding a carving knife.
The technique of tiao-dao carving was not anyone's unique specialty among the old potters of the town, but if anyone saw Old Yao's tiao-dao technique, they would give him a thumbs up.
Old Yao had taken several apprentices, but none had truly satisfied the old man. It wasn't until Liu Xianyang came along that he felt he had found someone to inherit his legacy. Before, when Liu Xianyang practiced, Chen Ping'an would crouch beside him and stare fixedly, as long as he had nothing to do.
Liu Xianyang cared most about face, and he also knew that Chen Ping'an was tight-lipped. So he often used Old Yao's secret teachings to intimidate the latter, such as, "If you want the knife's path to be steady, your hand can't be stiffly steady. In the end, it's the heart that must be steady."
But when Chen Ping'an pressed for what it meant for the heart to be steady, Liu Xianyang was at a loss.
Song Jixin watched for a while, found it boring, and jumped down from the wall into the house.
The maidservant Zhigui stood by the wall. If she didn't stand on tiptoe, only the upper half of her face was visible. Even so, one could already see that the girl was a beauty in the making.
She thought for a moment, gently rose on her toes, and let her gaze fall on the poor boy's surroundings. Finally, she spotted two pebbles on the ground that she liked: one was bright red and translucent, the other was snowy white and glossy. Both were ones her master had just discarded.
She hesitated briefly, then lowered her voice and said timidly, "Chen Ping'an, could you pick up those two pebbles for me? I quite like them."
Chen Ping'an slowly raised his head. His hands didn't stop moving, still very steady. He gestured with his eyes for her to wait a moment.
Zhigui smiled radiantly, like the first green sprout on a branch after spring arrives, extremely beautiful.
But the boy had already lowered his head, missing this touching sight.
The corners of her mouth curled up. Her eyes sparkled with radiance, as if there were extremely faint living things swimming gracefully in them.
When Chen Ping'an stopped what he was doing and asked which two pebbles she meant, the maidservant Zhigui's eyes returned to normal, as soft as mud after rain.
Following the direction she pointed, Chen Ping'an picked up the two pebbles and walked to the wall. Just as she raised her hand, the straw-sandaled boy had already placed the pebbles on the wall top.
She took the two pebbles and gripped them tightly in her palm.
Someone who deliberately searches for such things may find it as hard as fishing for a needle in the ocean, one encounter in ten years.
But for someone fated, even inadvertently, it's like worthless junk strewn everywhere, easily obtained, and it's entirely up to their mood whether to accept it or not.
Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "Aren't you afraid that the snot-nosed kid will block your door and curse for half a day?"
She didn't admit that her master had stolen things from others, but she also didn't seem thick-skinned enough to deny the fact, so she just smiled without speaking.
In Ni Ping Lane lived a mother and son. Their skill at cursing matches was unmatched in the town. Only Song Jixin could trade blows with them. The child was especially naughty, always with two streams of snot hanging from his nose. He liked to go to the creek to catch fish and pick up pebbles. The fish he caught were kept in a large water vat, and the pebbles were piled next to the vat. Song Jixin, however, liked to provoke this little burr. Every few days, he would conveniently take a few pebbles. One day or two days, it was hard to tell, but after Song Jixin kept pocketing them, once the child confirmed he had lost his treasures, he would explode, like a wildcat whose tail had been stepped on. He could curse for an hour outside the courtyard gate. His mother never discouraged him; instead, she would fan the flames, deliberately pointing out that Song Jixin was the illegitimate son of the former Overseer. Many times, it made Song Jixin so angry his teeth itched, and he almost grabbed a stool to go out and fight. Only after much persuasion from his maidservant Zhigui was he held back.
Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out: "Song Jixin, Song Jixin, come catch the adulterers! Your maidservant and Chen Ping'an are exchanging flirtatious glances, clearly hooking up! If you don't keep your bedroom maid under control, she might climb over the wall tonight to knock on Chen Ping'an's door! Get out here quick! Tsk tsk tsk, Chen Ping-an's hand is already touching that little girl's face! You should see it, Chen Ping'an's smiling all disgustingly..."
Song Jixin didn't even show his face, just shouted from inside the house: "What's that? Last night I saw Chen Ping'an pulling and dragging with your mother. When I bumped into them, Chen Ping'an had to 'yank' his claw out of your mother's collar with great effort. You can blame your mother for that, that place of hers is truly too spectacular and full. Poor Chen Ping'an was sweating profusely..."
Someone in the alley kicked violently at Song Jixin's courtyard gate, shouting angrily, "Song Jixin, come out! One-on-one! If you lose, you give me Zhigui as a maidservant to feed me, make my bed, and wash my feet every day! If I lose, I'll give you Chen Ping'an as a servant! How about it? I'm asking if you dare! Whoever doesn't dare is a coward!"
Inside, Song Jixin said lazily, "Go cool off somewhere! Your dad here checked the almanac, and today is not suitable for beating sons. Gu Can, count yourself lucky!"
Outside, the child pounded on the door: "Zhigui, with such a spineless young master, how stifled is that! Why don't you run away with Liu Xianyang? That big simpleton looks at you like he wants to eat you up!"
The maidservant Zhigui turned and walked back into the house.
Inside the house, Song Jixin was carefully wiping a green gourd. It was an old object of unknown age, one of the "assets" left by that Mr. Song. Song Jixin hadn't cared much about it at first, but later he accidentally discovered that whenever there was a thunderstorm, the gourd would hum. However, after Song Jixin removed the lid, no matter how he shook or swung it, nothing slid out. He tried pouring water and sand into it, but when he poured them out, there was still just water and sand, no more, no less. Song Jixin was at his wit's end. Once, when he was feeling particularly annoyed by the peppery mother of Gu Can, who stood outside his door shouting insults about him being a motherless, fatherless bastard, Song Jixin took a knife and hacked at the gourd. But the result left the boy dumbfounded: the knife blade was already chipped, while the gourd remained completely intact, not even a mark left.
In a letter burned by Song Jixin years ago, it had read: "The gold, silver, and copper coins moved from the official residence to the small courtyard will ensure that you and your maid never lack for food or clothing. In your leisure time, you may collect some antiques that please your heart, just to cultivate your temperament. Though the town is small, coarse grains can nourish the stomach, books can nourish the spirit, scenery can nourish the eyes, and solitude can nourish the heart. From today on, do your best and leave the rest to fate. A hidden dragon lies in the abyss; one day, blessings will surely come."
Although Song Jixin resented that man, he knew that having money without spending it was a crime against heaven. In this simple, honest town, it was hard to be extravagant. Over the years, Song Jixin had actually grown fond of the business of collecting junk. He had a large vermillion lacquer trunk, full of such offbeat items as the green gourd. But Song Jixin had a mysterious intuition: among the thirty-odd items of various kinds in the trunk, this gourd was the most precious. Second was a rusty purple-gold bell. When shaken, the clapper could clearly be seen striking the inner wall, but instead of a crisp sound, it produced nothing, sending chills down Song Jixin's spine and filling him with wonder. Last was an antique teapot inscribed with the name "Mountain Goblin." As for the other items, Song Jixin's liking for them was shallow; he couldn't say it was love at first sight.
The child named Gu Can stood outside the gate, cursing in a loud, full voice.
Before long, the cursing stopped abruptly.
Then Chen Ping'an saw the kid suddenly shove open his own courtyard gate, his face full of panic. After bolting the door, he crouched beside it, constantly signaling Chen Ping'an with his eyes to crouch next to him.
Without knowing why, Chen Ping'an ducked over to the child's side, knelt down, and asked softly, "Gu Can, what are you doing? Did you make your mother angry again?"
The child vigorously sniffled and lowered his voice: "Chen Ping'an, let me tell you, I just ran into a strange man. The white bowl he was holding could keep pouring water forever. Look at this, the bowl is only this big, but I saw him pour water for an hour! That guy seemed to stop when he passed the entrance of Ni Ping Lane just now. Could he have seen me? Oh no, oh no..."
The child gestured the size of the white bowl with his hands, then patted his chest and sighed, "Scared the crap out of Song Jixin's dad."
Chen Ping'an asked, "You mean that storyteller under the locust tree?"
The child nodded vigorously, "Exactly! That old man has no strength in his hands, couldn't even lift me. But that broken bowl is really eerie, really eerie!"
Suddenly the child grabbed Chen Ping'an's arm, "Chen Ping'an, this time I'm not lying! I can swear it! If I'm lying, may Song Jixin die a horrible death!"
Chen Ping'an put a finger to his lips, making a shushing gesture.
The child immediately shut up.
Footsteps sounded outside the gate, gradually approaching, then gradually fading away.
Every creature has its vanquisher.
The originally fearless child plopped down on the ground, wiped his face roughly with his hand, his face pale. It was obvious that this snot-nosed kid named Gu Can had been scared half to death.
The child suddenly asked, "Chen Ping'an, that guy didn't go to my house, did he? What do I do?"
Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "I'll go with you to check your house?"
Probably waiting for exactly those words, the child jumped up abruptly, then slumped back down, his face crumpling, "Chen Ping'an, my legs are too weak to walk."
Chen Ping'an stood up, bent over, grabbed the back of the child's collar, and pulled him up with one hand while opening the door latch with the other. He walked out of the courtyard.
The child's house wasn't far away, just about a hundred steps. Sure enough, Gu Can saw that old man in his yard, and his mother had even brought the old man a stool.
At that moment, the child felt as if the sky was falling. So he chose to hide behind Chen Ping'an, letting the taller one take the brunt.
Chen Ping'an didn't disappoint the child either, deliberately shielding him.
When the brat Gu Can grabbed Chen Ping'an's sleeve, he was instantly filled with boldness.
The old man paid no attention, sitting on the stool, thinking for a moment. The white bowl in his hand vanished into thin air.
Gu Can's legs went weak again. He hid completely behind Chen Ping'an, trembling.
The old man glanced at the strangely calm country woman, then at the straw-sandaled boy with his brows knitted, and finally said to the cowering child, "Little boy, do you know what's living in your water vat?"
The child shouted from behind Chen Ping'an, "What else could it be? Fish, shrimp, and crabs I caught from the creek, and loaches and eels I fished from the fields! If you like them, take them, don't be polite..."
The child's voice grew quieter, obviously lacking confidence.
The woman smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, looked at Chen Ping'an, and said softly, "Ping'an."
Understanding her meaning, Chen Ping'an rubbed Gu Can's head and turned to leave.
Deep in the woman's eyes, there was a trace of guilt hidden for this straw-sandaled boy.
She set aside her distracting thoughts, turned to the old man, and asked, "Esteemed Immortal Master who has come from afar, for this opportunity, do you intend to buy it, or steal it?"
The old man smiled and shook his head, "Buy? I cannot afford it. Steal? I cannot take it either."
The woman shook her head too, "It was like that before, but it may not be in the future."
Hearing this, the old man, who had been leisurely in demeanor, seemed struck by lightning. He abruptly waved his sleeve, his fingers moving like flying in incantation.
The old man sighed deeply, "Why must it come to this!"
The woman's face was cold; she sneered, "Immortal, how many good people do you think there are in this town?"
The old man stood up and looked deeply at the bewildered child. It seemed he had made a huge decision. With a flick of his wrist, the white bowl reappeared.
The old man walked to the waist-high water vat and quickly scooped a bowl of water.
Though the woman pretended to be calm, her palms were covered in sweat.
The old man sat back on the stool and waved at Gu Can, "Little boy, come take a look."
The child looked at his mother. She nodded, her eyes full of encouragement.
As the child approached, the old man gently blew on the water's surface in the bowl, causing ripples.
The old man said, "Open your mouth."
At the same time, the old man casually brushed his hand and retrieved a locust leaf from somewhere on the child's body.
He held it lightly between two fingers, not pinching it firmly.
The child instinctively made an "ah" sound.
The old man flicked his finger, and the emerald-green locust leaf flew into the child's mouth.
The child was stunned for a moment, then found that there seemed to be nothing unusual in his mouth.
Before the child could ask, the old man pointed to the white bowl in his palm, "Look carefully at what's in there."
Gu Can opened his eyes wide, stared intently. First, he saw an extremely tiny black dot, which gradually turned into a slightly more noticeable black line, and finally slowly grew until it seemed to become a small, mud-yellow loach, rolling happily in the ripples on the water's surface.
A spark of insight illuminated the child's muddled mind. He exclaimed, "I remember it! It's from Chen Ping'an's..."
The woman slapped her son across the face, furious: "Shut up!"
The old man was not at all surprised and said calmly, "We cultivators, for the sake of proving immortality, commit great offenses against heaven. This little competition is nothing. No need to be so tense. What is meant for your son cannot escape; what is not meant for that young man cannot be kept."
This child named Gu Can weighed less than forty jin.
But the "weight" of his "root bone" was unimaginable.
So when the bowl-carrying old man, who possessed supernatural powers, had earlier broken with tradition and used his ancestral secret technique to "weigh the bones" of the child, lifting him naturally became impossible.
This was the prerequisite for taking him as a disciple.
Otherwise, a three-year-old child carrying gold through the market—wouldn't that be seeking death?
The old man gave a carefree smile, but his eyes were cold and he said slowly, "Of course, even if it originally belonged to that young man, so what? Now that I, the old man, am personally overseeing things, it is no longer his."
The child was terrified, his teeth chattering.
The woman sighed with relief.
The old man put on a kind and benevolent face again: "Child, this bowl holds an entire river of water, and now it's also raising a little flood dragon. From now on, you are my direct disciple."
"This old man is a 'True Lord,' only half a step away from being the founder of a 'Sect.' Even though it's a junior sect... in any case, you will understand later the weight of the four words 'True Lord' and 'Founding a Sect.'"
The old man laughed heartily, "It will only be heavier than this bowl of river water."
Suddenly, the child started crying, "This isn't right! It belongs to Chen Ping'an!"
The woman flushed with anger, raised her arm high, and was about to discipline this pig-headed fool of a son.
The old man waved his hand, smiled lightly, and said dismissively, "Having such a conscience is not entirely a bad thing."
The child lowered his head, wiping his tears and snot with the back of his hand.
The woman glanced secretly at the old man.
The old man gave a knowing smile and nodded.
Those of the same mind, all understood without words.
When the child looked up again, his mother and the master who had inexplicably fallen from the sky were both showing faint smiles.
The child turned his head. Chen Ping'an had shut the courtyard gate behind him when he left.
——
The town was like a field of crops, encountering a bountiful year, a harvest season.
But some people were merely a tare plant mixed among the rice stalks, glanced at once, never to be given a second look.
For example, the straw-sandaled boy walking alone in Ni Ping Lane.