Chapter 33: The White Dragon in Fish Scales
Chen Ping'an once again saw the azure-clad girl, quietly following behind a middle-aged man, lowering her head to nibble on a scallion egg crepe.
The man wore an expression of utter hopelessness.
Upon spotting Chen Ping'an, the man stopped and asked, "Aren't you that kid I chased away last time?"
The azure-clad girl bumped hard into his back, hitting the "wall" that was her father. She lifted her head, dazed, and suddenly saw Chen Ping'an. Just as she was about to smile, she abruptly turned her back to him, frantically wiping the corner of her mouth.
Chen Ping'an suppressed his laughter and nodded to the man. "Hello, Master Ruan."
It looked like that young lady was probably Master Ruan's daughter.
But father and daughter really didn't resemble each other in appearance—and fortunately so.
The man Chen Ping'an addressed as Master Ruan was the blacksmith who had moved to the small stream in the south not long after arriving in town. He continued, "Why hasn't Liu Xianyang shown up to work the forge these past two days?"
Just as Chen Ping'an was about to explain for Liu Xianyang, the man snapped coldly, "You go tell that brat: if I don't see his exalted face today, he doesn't need to come to my shop tomorrow."
Chen Ping'an hurriedly said, "Master Ruan, something urgent came up at his home..."
The man cut him off bluntly, "That's his business. What’s it got to do with me?!"
Chen Ping'an was never good with words. He stood there dumbfounded, face red with anxiety, not knowing how to speak, afraid he might make things worse. He had personally experienced Master Ruan's stubborn temper.
The azure-clad girl tried to say something good on Chen Ping'an's behalf, but the man, knowing his daughter all too well, preemptively scolded her, "Eat your crepe!"
Full of grievance, the girl suddenly quickened her pace and stomped hard on the man's instep, then shot off like the wind, disappearing in an instant.
The man sighed wearily, leaving Chen Ping'an standing there, and continued on his way.
Chen Ping'an also sighed. He went to a breakfast stall, bought a steamer basket with six buns, and headed to Mud Vase Alley.
When he reached his own house, he saw Liu Xianyang squatting on the wall, half his body leaning toward Song Jixin's courtyard, eavesdropping with intense concentration.
Sometimes Chen Ping'an felt that Liu Xianyang really did deserve a beating.
He had no choice but to remind him, "I just ran into Master Ruan. He wants you to go help at the forge today, and said if he doesn't see you, he'll fire you."
Liu Xianyang said absentmindedly, "What's the rush? An apprentice like me, quick and hardworking, is hard to find even with a lantern. Master Ruan is just blowing off steam. Going tomorrow will be fine."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I'm sure Master Ruan wasn't joking."
Liu Xianyang said irritably, "I'll go in a bit. Don't bother me while I'm doing something important."
Chen Ping'an brought breakfast for the black-clad girl. He directly took three buns for Liu Xianyang and only bit into one himself.
Liu Xianyang wolfed down all the meat buns in a few bites, wiping his mouth and whispering, "Just now, a guest came to Song Jixin's place. Obviously some big shot. If I'm not mistaken, it's the current official kiln supervisor. Last time he wore his official robe to our Dragon Kiln, Old Man Yao thought you useless apprentices were an eyesore and didn't let you show your faces to gain some insight. Not me—Old Man Yao even had me demonstrate the 'jump knife' technique for that gentleman."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "It's common knowledge in town that the new supervisor favors Song Jixin. What are you being suspicious about?"
Liu Xianyang said worriedly, "A pretty boy like Song Jixin can never compete with me. But if Zhigui falls for this impressive official, my chances are slim! If your future sister-in-law runs off with someone else, what do I do? What do you do?"
Chen Ping'an walked straight back into the house.
Leaving Liu Xianyang squatting on the wall, wallowing in self-pity.
The black-clad girl sat at the table, back straight, one hand gripping the sword hilt, as if facing a great enemy.
Sweat beaded on her forehead.
This was the first time Chen Ping'an had seen her like this. Though her body was tense and alert, her eyes were bright, eager to take action.
Chen Ping'an stepped back to the threshold. She asked, "Do you know the identity of the guest next door?"
Chen Ping'an replied, "Liu Xianyang said it's the current kiln supervisor of our town. He seems quite friendly—even gave way to me at the alley entrance."
The girl sneered. "Those are the scary ones."
Chen Ping'an was puzzled.
She asked, "When someone walks along the road, do they step on ants?"
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and answered, "Gu Can definitely would. He often pours water on anthills or blocks their exits with stones. Liu Xianyang might, too, when he's in a bad mood."
The black-clad girl was speechless.
Chen Ping'an grinned. "I think I understand what you mean, Miss Ning."
She asked in surprise, "Really? Or are you faking it?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I think you meant two things. One is that the common folk in our town, in the eyes of you outsiders, are like ants crawling underfoot. The second is that among outsiders, there are higher and lower ranks. People like Fu Nanhua and Cai Jinjian are like children like Gu Can—they think controlling the life and death of ants is fun, or find them annoying. But that official who came to our Mud Vase Alley is different. Everything he says and does fits his status, so he seems especially polite. Am I right, Miss Ning?"
The girl asked, "How did you figure that out?"
The boy joked, "Maybe after surviving death, my mind got a bit sharper."
The black-clad girl asked seriously, "What did you see just before you died?"
"I didn't see anything," Chen Ping'an answered honestly, though a bit puzzled. "Actually, I didn't think much at all the whole time I was in that alley. You'd better ask Fu Nanhua and Cai Jinjian that question. They might have seen something."
She snorted. "Oh? Quite the bold talk!"
After saying that, she stared at the straw-sandaled boy for no apparent reason.
Chen Ping'an grew flustered under her gaze. "What's wrong?"
She frowned, somewhat annoyed, and muttered to herself in her hometown dialect, "My family's sword arts—whether the sword formulas and mental methods, or the techniques for tempering the body and soul—are all unique secrets not to be passed on. I haven't even learned them all myself, so how can I teach others? And I haven't studied the crude methods from other realms either. Otherwise, I could at least point him in the right direction, even if just to strengthen his body and prolong his life. Now where am I supposed to find a basic introductory secret manual for him?"
Her eyes lit up. "Robbery? No, no, not robbery—borrow a manual. Borrow, and return, right?"
But she soon looked dejected, gnashing her teeth. "Damn that old eunuch! Just wait—I'll turn your palace upside down!"
Her face fell as she mourned, "Do I really have to go find that swordsmith surnamed Ruan? Cutting people up, I'm passable—I've inherited at least forty or fifty percent of my mother's skill. But asking favors? I'm really no good at that."
The straw-sandaled boy sat on the threshold, watching the girl named Ning Yao. She talked to herself, her expression shifting like clouds in the sky.
— —
The handsome man in white robes with a jade belt stood in Song Jixin's room, looked around, and frowned slightly. "That bastard surnamed Song arranged this shabby place for you?"
Song Jixin pressed his lips together, saying nothing.
The maid Zhigui had already tactfully retreated to her side room.
According to the most widespread rumor in town, the former supervisor, Master Song, was not skilled in his work. He failed to produce imperial tribute porcelain that satisfied the court. Relying on his meager contributions, he left behind a covered bridge and returned to the capital for an official post. Of course, he also left behind Song Jixin, his illegitimate son. He only bought him a personal maid to look after his daily needs, and then "entrusted" him to his friend, the new supervisor who replaced him—who, it was said, also bore the surname Song.
But what the truth really was—those involved were confused, and outsiders might not be any clearer.
Song Jixin himself didn't know what kind of relationship this man had with that man surnamed Song. Were they close colleagues in officialdom? Old schoolmates? Or rivals from different factions in the capital's political arena? Before leaving, the man surnamed Song had mentioned a few things, saying that after the new supervisor arrived in town, he would soon take the master and servant away to the capital. He ordered Song Jixin to show this gentleman utmost respect and not be the slightest bit negligent.
Song Jixin felt no goodwill toward this overbearing man from the capital—probably because he hated the father and thus the son.
The confidence he had shown Zhigui about leaving home so smoothly was nothing more than teenage pride.
The man laughed. "Forget it. That sour scholar, Song, has always been overly cautious. Not like a real man, more like a woman. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been sent here to look after you."
Song Jixin's brow darkened.
The man glanced carelessly at the large chest where the boy stored his belongings, curled his lip in disdain, and said slowly, "Before coming here, I already saw Fu Nanhua of Old Dragon City. What a sorry wretch. Almost had his Dao heart shattered even here. Go ahead with your business with him as planned. You win or lose on your own—I don't meddle in such trivial trash. But before we leave, you must come with me to the covered bridge and kowtow a few times. After that, it's none of your business. Come home with me, do what you need to do, sit in the seat you need to sit, and fulfill your duty. It's that simple. Understand?"
"Of course I understand. Your words, sir, are not obscure."
The boy sneered. "But why should I?"
The man laughed. He turned and looked directly at the youth for the first time. "That sissy Song says you have extraordinary talent. He's really not afraid of biting his tongue. Why don't you take a guess? Why should you?"
If one looked closely, there was actually some resemblance in form and spirit between the two.
Song Jixin's anger grew, but he held it in.
The man stopped playing games and said wryly, "Why? Because I, this king, am a first-class unlucky bastard—and I happen to be your uncle."
Song Jixin was inwardly shaken, his face paling slightly.
The white-robed man ignored this, adjusting his jade belt with both hands, looking out the window at the sky, smiling. "Also because I am the number one martial artist of the Great Li Dynasty."
In truth, this statement could have been phrased more fearsomely, but the man would rather be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix. He felt that being behind anyone—even just one or two—wasn't worth boasting about.
He thought of the Confucian sage stationed in this place, his lips curling with contempt. He snorted coldly.
He thought to himself again and again:
If I weren't in this heavenly realm, I could kill a Three Teachings immortal like Qi Jingchun with one hand!
— —
In the thatched study, Master Qi was listening to the children of the elementary school reciting their lessons.
He sat upright.
A truly proper upright posture, the essence of which even learned students like Song Jixin and Zhao Yao couldn't grasp.
Confucianism had a classic titled "The Great Rites" that established the doctrine. In the chapter "Cultivating the Self," it was said that a gentleman should sit like a corpse. A corpse is the image of a spirit; one can imagine its solemnity and gravity.
At this moment, Qi Jingchun seemed to have heard the white-robed man's silent thoughts. Calm and carefree, he smiled. "A martial artist ruling a country—impressive, impressive. But a white dragon in fish scales is hardly an auspicious omen."