Chapter 23: The Locust Tree's Shade
After saying these words, the scholar laughed at himself. What value was there in being a disciple of Qi Jingchun now? The room was filled with children from the village school, each paying tuition—at most three hundred copper coins a year. Some children from poor families only brought three strips of dried meat.
Qi Jingchun looked at the young man who stubbornly refused to let go and asked, "Deep down, you don't actually want to kill him, but the problem is that this person seems determined to kill you, no matter what. So do you kill him, settle things cleanly, temporarily preserve your own life, and let tomorrow take care of itself? Or do you hope to smooth things over, make a big deal small and a small deal nothing? Am I right?"
The young man, who often eavesdropped on the neighboring students reciting poetry and prose, blurted out, "Master, how would you advise me?"
Qi Jingchun smiled. "Chen Ping'an, why don't you first try letting go of your right hand, and then decide whether you want to follow me for a little walk. There are some things I cannot shirk responsibility for; I must give you an explanation."
Chen Ping'an hesitated for a moment. After releasing the fingers of his right hand, he was stunned to discover that Fu Nanhua showed no movement at all—his gaze, his hair, his breath—all completely frozen.
With Qi Jingchun activating the grand formation, the town had returned to a state of stillness.
Qi Jingchun said softly, "Stay close to my steps, and try not to wander more than ten paces away."
His robes billowing, his body ethereal, the middle-aged scholar led the way toward the end of the alley. Chen Ping'an followed closely, glancing down at the palm of his left hand. It was a bloody mess, with bone visible, yet the blood that was plainly there somehow refused to flow.
Walking ahead, Qi Jingchun asked with a smile, "Chen Ping'an, do you believe that there are immortals, spirits, demons, and monsters in this world?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I do. When I was little, my mother often told old stories. She would tell me to believe that good deeds are rewarded with good, and evil deeds are rewarded with evil. She said that phrase the most, so I remember it well. Other things too—like how there are water ghosts in the creek that drag children down, and how at the broken ancestral hall north of town, there's an underworld official who holds court at night. She also said that the door gods we paste up actually come to life at night and help protect our house. I used to not really believe those things, but... now, I think they're probably true."
Qi Jingchun said softly, "Some of what she said was true, some false. As for the saying that good is rewarded with good and evil with evil—that's hard to determine, because the definition of good and evil differs among common folk, emperors and generals, and immortal cultivators. So each group draws very different conclusions."
Chen Ping'an hid the porcelain shard, quickened his pace, and walked side by side with the scholar. Looking up, he asked, "Master Qi, may I ask a question?"
Qi Jingchun seemed to see through the young man's thoughts and said calmly, "This town is the burial place of the last true dragon in the world—its corpse and bones lie here. Countless dragons and serpentine creatures under heaven believe this place has the most flourishing qi fortune and that one day a 'dragon will emerge.' In fact, for three thousand years, that emergence has yet to come. However, children born in this town do have far superior bone structure, temperament, and opportunities compared to their peers outside. Many famous immortal couples from East Floating Shell Continent produce offspring who are barely better. Of course, not every child in the town is gifted with extraordinary talent."
Qi Jingchun smiled and did not elaborate on this, perhaps afraid of hurting the child. He changed the subject. "Almost every senior cultivator who participated in that great dragon-slaying calamity was severely wounded. Many settled here, built thatched huts, and practiced cultivation—some even died peacefully. Some couples who survived came together naturally after fighting side by side. After three thousand years of reproduction and growth, the town has reached its current size. On the map of the Great Li Dynasty, this place was first called Great Marsh Village, then renamed Dragon Abyss by a sage himself. Later, to avoid the name taboo of a certain Great Li emperor whose personal name contained the character 'abyss,' it was changed again..."
The young man, who had been holding his words inside all along, finally couldn't hold back anymore. He interrupted Qi Jingchun's speech softly, clenching his fists, filled with longing and hope. "Master, actually, what I wanted to ask was... my parents... what kind of people were they?"
Qi Jingchun fell into contemplation. "Since that wandering Daoist has already revealed heavenly secrets to you, I can follow the opening he made and tell you some things. In my memory, your father was a simple, kind, and gentle man. His talent was mediocre, not worth taking away from town. So he became a 'chicken rib' in the eyes of certain people—a bad deal. Perhaps out of anger, perhaps because life was truly hard, the porcelain buyers from outside tampered with your father's 'fate porcelain.' After that, not only did his own life become fraught with misfortune, but he also dragged you and your mother into suffering. Later, for reasons unknown, he accidentally learned the secret of fate porcelain. He knew that once someone opened the kiln and took the porcelain away from town, that person would become a puppet on strings for life. So he secretly smashed the fate porcelain that belonged to you. If I remember correctly, it was a porcelain paperweight."
Qi Jingchun said in a heavy voice, "You need to know that every infant born in this town has a code name stored in secret archives. Someone in town uses a unique secret technique to extract a drop of heart's blood and infuse it into the fate porcelain that is later fired. A girl's fate porcelain must be fired for six years; a boy's even longer—nine years of continuous kiln fire without a single day's break. A child's talent is like the quality of ordinary fired porcelain—you can only leave it to fate. But the bets placed in 'porcelain gambling' are enormous. Although you are equally mediocre in talent now, you can imagine the fury of the porcelain buyers outside when your father resolutely smashed that porcelain paperweight."
"As for your mother, she was a gentle and quiet woman."
Qi Jingchun paused here and suddenly smiled. "When your mother married your father, many of the town's young men were quite upset. But to be honest, if you want me to give you details about your parents' daily life while they were alive, that's asking too much. After I came here, besides teaching, I had many other things to do."
The young man hummed in acknowledgment, turned his head slightly, and wiped his face with his hand in a messy motion. He probably forgot about the terrible condition of his left hand—his face was covered in blood, and he couldn't bear to use his sleeve to clean it.
The two passed by the Twelve-Foot Memorial Archway.
Qi Jingchun did not look at him and spoke frankly with the young man. "Back then, when the true dragon fell here, four sages personally appeared and established a covenant. They stipulated that every sixty years, one person would take turns sitting in charge here to look after the remnant qi fortune left by the dead true dragon. In fact, there was even debate back then about whether to root out the problem entirely... But telling you these unspeakable heavenly secrets would harm you. In general, members of Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism, plus the Military School—these four main factions—along with various other schools, cave heavens, blessed lands, immortal sects, and powerful clans from East Floating Shell Continent, all have certain shares and opportunities to benefit from this place. It's laughable: whether a sect or family can get a 'porcelain buying' slot within a hundred years has almost become a marker of first-rate status."
Chen Ping'an said, "Master, I don't understand what you're saying, but I've remembered it all. Still, knowing today that my parents were good people, I'm content."
Qi Jingchun smiled. "I don't expect you to understand right now. This is just groundwork. If I simply advised you not to kill Fu Nanhua, you definitely wouldn't listen. The reason I say don't kill him is not because I, Qi Jingchun, sympathize with his kind or feel grief for the fox's death, nor is it because I hope Fu Nanhua and Old Dragon City will be grateful and give me favors later. Not at all. In fact, the opposite is true. As a Confucian disciple, I advocate engaging with the world and am most opposed to the recklessness of cultivators. The two sides have been in open and covert conflict for countless years. If I, Qi Jingchun, were at the age of just entering Cliff Academy to study, that River-Cutting True Lord Liu Zhimao and the young city lord Fu Nanhua would have had no chance to live. I would have already turned them to ashes with one palm strike."
The young man noticed that at this moment, Master Qi's tone of voice remained gentle and his walking posture still refined, but he felt like a completely different person.
It was like when Old Yao got drunk and said, "The porcelain we fire is for the emperor's use—who can compare?"
When Master Qi said "one palm strike turns them to ashes," his tone was different from Old Yao's, but his expression was exactly the same.
Qi Jingchun frowned, looked up toward Mud Vase Alley, as if listening to someone speak. Although he didn't show annoyance, the displeasure in his eyes was unconcealed.
He finally said coldly, "Leave immediately!"
Chen Ping'an looked bewildered.
Qi Jingchun explained, "That's the storyteller. His real name is Liu Zhimao, his Daoist title River-Cutting True Lord. He's actually a Daoist of the heterodox sects, with decent cultivation but vile conduct. Most of the conflict between you and Cai Jinjian and Fu Nanhua was stirred up by him. Finally, he planted a sinister talisman in your heart—four characters of true words: 'single-minded desire for death.' He secretly carved those four words onto your heart. A very vicious technique."
Chen Ping'an silently memorized the name Liu Zhimao.
Qi Jingchun sighed and asked, "Aren't you curious why I didn't intervene?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head.
Qi Jingchun continued on his own, "This realm is like an old porcelain that has been weathered by wind and sun for three thousand years—it's about to shatter. You are outsiders, after all, and protected by the great formation. Whatever you do, as long as it's not too excessive, won't cause the porcelain to break. But I am the person holding that porcelain in my hands. Any move I make will affect the cracks in that porcelain. In fact, no matter what I do, I'll only cause more cracks to spread. If it were just the porcelain breaking, that would be one thing. But the present and future fates of these five or six thousand people in the town are all in my hands. How could I afford to be careless?"
But these words, pent up for years and needing to be spoken, Master Qi said too softly. Chen Ping'an pricked up his ears but couldn't catch them clearly.
Seeing the young man wiping his face with his right hand from time to time, the two had already arrived near the Iron Lock Well in Xinghua Lane. A woman was bending over to draw water there. Qi Jingchun asked, "If a stranger fell into a well, and you knew that saving them would cost you your life, would you save them?"
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and asked back, "I want to know—could I actually save that person?"
Qi Jingchun didn't answer the boy's question. He just smiled and said, "Remember: the gentleman does not rescue."
The young man was taken aback. "Gentleman?"
Qi Jingchun hesitated for a moment, then crouched down. He first straightened the straw-sandaled boy's collar, then used his hand to wipe away the blood stains. He said softly, "When you encounter misfortune, you first feel compassion. But a gentleman is not an inflexible fool. He can go to the well to save someone, but he will never put himself in a deadly situation."
As if stirred by this question, the young man asked seriously, "Master, can I still survive now? And if I can, how much longer can I live?"
Qi Jingchun thought carefully, slowly stood up, and said decisively, "If you're not afraid of a rough road ahead and suffering great hardships, then yes, you will survive."
The young man's face immediately lit up with a bright smile. "I'm not afraid of hardship!"
Qi Jingchun, thinking of how calmly the boy had endured everything along their walk, relaxed. "Come, I'll take you to a place. Although I, Qi Jingchun, can't help you much, since things have come to this, letting you get through this tribulation is by no means breaking the rules. In fact, you should have been given some compensation—a stroke of fate—in the first place."
The young man was still somewhat confused.
The two arrived at the old locust tree. For some reason, the whole town was silent, inside and out. Only this old locust tree seemed an exception—its leaves rustled faintly, swaying gracefully.
Qi Jingchun stopped. His expression turned grave. He made a deep bow, then looked up and asked, "Can Qi Jingchun beg you for one locust leaf, so that this young man can one day leave the town safely, and for at least three years, avoid the calamity of backlash?"
The thousand-year-old locust tree was silent, without a sound.
Qi Jingchun asked again, "I have sat in charge here for fifty-nine years. Even if I have no great merit, I have at least worked hard. Can I not even beg for one ancestral shade locust leaf? Besides, this young man is a native of your town. Venerable sages, why must you be so stingy?"
Still, the old locust gave no response.
The silence at that moment was like a silent mockery.
You, Qi Jingchun, may have vast supernatural powers, but after all, you are one person within this realm—and even more so, that pitiful man who controls the formation's hub. We simply refuse to give away this incense and fate connection for free. What can you do?
Qi Jingchun's expression shifted between gloom and brightness. In the end, he could only sigh. He looked down, filled with guilt.
The young man grinned. He consoled him in return, "Daoist Lu said that as long as I go to the south of town and find a blacksmith surnamed Ruan to become his apprentice, I have hope of surviving. Master, without this... locust leaf, I believe it'll still be fine!"
Qi Jingchun smiled and asked, "Are you sincere?"
The young man scratched his head shyly. "No."
Qi Jingchun smiled knowingly.
Suddenly.
A lush, deep green locust leaf, tender and fresh, drifted down from the very top of the canopy.
The young man simply extended his palm, and the leaf landed on its own.
On the leaf, a golden character flashed and vanished.
Qi Jingchun was stunned for a moment, then said solemnly, "That character is 'Yao.' Chen Ping'an, are you willing to repay gratitude to the Yao family, regardless of life or death? To be honest, even without this leaf, you might not be without a sliver of hope. I can tell you that clearly. So think it over carefully!"
The young man asked, "Is it Master Yao's Yao character?"
Qi Jingchun nodded. "Yes."
The young man pressed his palms together, gently holding the locust leaf between them, and looked up, shouting loudly, "As long as I live for one day, for any person surnamed Yao related to you—like Master Qi said before, even if they fall into a well, even if saving them means certain death, I, Chen Ping'an, will definitely save them!"
Heavenly silence fell.
Qi Jingchun smiled. "Let's go."
As he led the young man away, he quietly turned his head to look at the highest point of the locust tree. A hint of mockery appeared in his eyes.
"Chen-surnamed" locust leaves were not absent—in fact, there were more than one or two. But in the end, knowing full well that this place was about to collapse, they would rather seek other hosts, even if that host didn't bear the surname Chen, than offer a single piece of ancestral shade incense to the straw-sandaled boy of Mud Vase Alley.
Qi Jingchun turned his head back and patted the young man's head. He teased, "If it were someone like Song Jixin, Zhao Yao, or Gu Can, making such a great vow like you just did, it might have resonated with heaven and earth."
The young man's smile was sunny. "That's none of my concern. I just do my own thing."
Qi Jingchun asked again, "Are you being sincere this time?"
The young man laughed. "Yes!"