Chapter 61: River-Crossing Pawn
Once the troublemaking woman left, without the sight of accidental exposure to enjoy, the crowd at Yang's shop quickly dispersed.
Zheng Dafeng shrank his head and crept under the main house's eaves, crouching far away, not daring to get too close to Old Man Yang.
Both were disciples, but he and Li Er faced a world of difference in treatment from this master.
Zheng Dafeng also resented the master's favoritism, but some things really came down to accepting fate. He timidly asked, "Master, Qi Jingchun is dead set on breaking the rules. When the time comes, where do we go from here?"
The old man said nothing, smoking his dry pipe. A black cat appeared from somewhere, crouching not far from the old man's feet, shaking its fur and splattering rainwater.
Zheng Dafeng said worriedly, "That fellow from True Martial Mountain actually invited a god down the mountain. Will there be trouble? After all, countless eyes are watching this place now."
The old man still didn't speak.
Used to his master's silence, Zheng Dafeng didn't feel awkward. Lost in thought, he remembered Qi Jingchun again and cursed, "Damn it, you Qi Jingchun have been playing grandson for fifty-nine years, can't you wait a few more days? Scholars are just stubborn mules—unreasonable!"
The old man finally spoke: "You don't read books, and you're still stubborn."
Zheng Dafeng took no shame from this, instead turning with a flattering smile: "Would you like me to rub your shoulders and knock your legs, Master?"
The old man said calmly, "I don't have much coffin money saved up. Just give up that idea."
Zheng Dafeng blushed, saying, "Master, what you said hurts my feelings. I may not have much skill, but I have plenty of filial piety. I wouldn't covet those things. I'm not like Li Er's wife."
The old man grunted, "You're even worse than her."
Zheng Dafeng's whole face darkened. He drooped his head like a frostbitten eggplant, devoid of any spirit.
But suddenly his face lit up with surprise as he realized the master had said quite a lot today, even if the words were still hard to hear. Rare, rare. When he returned to the eastern room, he could drink a pot of wine to celebrate.
Zheng Dafeng felt a bit happier and casually asked, "Can Senior Brother stop that guy?"
This time, before the old man could jab him with words, Zheng Dafeng slapped himself, "If Senior Brother can't stop him, there'll be a show. If he really does stop him, we'll be drinking the northwest wind in the future."
The old man asked inexplicably, "Zheng Dafeng, do you know why you haven't achieved much?"
Zheng Dafeng froze.
He thought, this question from Master is full of hidden meaning. I must answer carefully, ponder it well.
But before he could, the old man had already given the answer himself: "You're ugly."
Zheng Dafeng clutched his head, staring at the splashing rain in the courtyard. This grown man, nearly in tears.
---
The yamen steward didn't need to read the room to know he shouldn't stay. He found some excuse to leave the room.
Chen Songfeng continued burying his head in the archives, but compared to his earlier trembling in Chen Dui's presence, he had recovered some of the elegant manner of a noble son. Yet the more he did so, the more irritated Liu Baqiao felt watching from the side. A belly full of grievances demanded expression, but straightforwardness was one thing, and loose lips another. Liu Baqiao thought about taking a walk too—out of sight, out of mind.
Chen Songfeng suddenly looked up with a smile, "Baqiao, can't sit still anymore?"
Liu Baqiao had just lifted his rear from the chair. Hearing this, he sat back down with an exasperated laugh, "Oh ho, you still have the mood to tease me? Your tolerance is impressive."
Chen Songfeng put down an old book and said bitterly, "I'm making a fool of myself. You spoke up for me just now—I'm not ungrateful, but..."
Liu Baqiao couldn't stand pathos and melodrama. He quickly waved his hand, "Stop, stop, stop. I just can't stand your distant relative's bullying of the weak. Saying a few words to her was purely because I couldn't control my mouth. You don't need to be grateful."
Chen Songfeng leaned back, gently resting against the chair back, and let out a soft breath.
If this were the Chen clan of Dragon Tail Commandery, just this lazy posture would get a child—whether legitimate or illegitimate—a beating from the elders, and an adult a scolding.
Scholars of powerful clans were often mocked by martial artists as sanctimonious and pretentious.
But rules were rules. From birth, they walked a predetermined path. Every aristocratic child, without exception, was steeped in these norms from childhood.
Of course, there was also Southern Stream Kingdom, famous for its idle talkers and eccentric madmen, whose words and actions were unbound by etiquette.
Liu Baqiao asked, "What exactly is your relationship with Chen Dui that you fear her so much? If it involves clan secrets, pretend I didn't ask."
Chen Songfeng stood up, closed the door, and sat in the steward's chair. He asked softly, "The right to buy the Liu boy's porcelain—after many twists and turns, it ended up with our Dragon Tail Commandery Chen clan. Aren't you curious why?"
Liu Baqiao nodded.
Even the Mountain-Moving Ape would never have guessed that the competitor drawn by the Sword Classic wasn't their sworn enemy Thunderwind Garden, but the suddenly emerging Dragon Tail Commandery Chen clan.
Chen Songfeng looked exhausted—probably from long-term brooding during the journey. Overthinking tires the heart. He finally couldn't resist venting to someone, and trusting Liu Baqiao's character, he spoke slowly: "Although our Chen clan is closer to your Thunderwind Garden, the Chen descendants have adhered to the ancestral precepts, never meddling in mountain or mortal affairs. We've held out for so many years. Could a Sword Classic that's quite useless to Chen clan disciples make us break precedent? The Chen clan is a scholarly family, not a cultivation clan. What's the point of wading into this muddy water?"
Liu Baqiao followed this line of thought, "Is it Chen Dui's family that wants the Sword Classic? Is her family some hidden sword cultivation noble clan?"
Chen Songfeng shook his head, "Not so. You heard Steward Xue mention it earlier—the Chen clan in the town has two branches. Chen Dui belongs to the branch that moved away earliest, and they left thoroughly, even leaving East Treasure Bottle Continent for another continent. After generations of reproduction and branching out, Chen Dui's family is now hailed as 'the epitome of world's pavilions.' Of course, this information has never circulated in East Treasure Bottle Continent. Our Dragon Tail Commandery Chen clan only knows the inside story because of a slight connection with them."
Liu Baqiao sneered, "Is that woman blowing smoke without batting an eye, or is she taking me for an illiterate fool? Does her family have a Merit Pavilion?"
Chen Songfeng held up two fingers.
Liu Baqiao rolled his eyes, "Listen carefully, I said Merit Pavilion, not Fame Pavilion!"
Chen Songfeng didn't put his fingers down.
Liu Baqiao felt a bit deflated but continued defiantly, "Then does her family have an Academy Pavilion?!"
By "Academy Pavilion," Liu Baqiao naturally meant the orthodox Confucian Three Schools and Seventy-Two Academies, not the ordinary academies of secular dynasties.
A vast continent like East Treasure Bottle had only two academies: Cliffside and View-Lake.
Chen Songfeng slowly lowered one finger, leaving one.
Liu Baqiao pretended to get up, hands on the chair arms, feigning panic, "I'd better go apologize to that lady right away. Oh my god, with such a domineering background, let alone having you flip through a few books, even making you her horse or ox wouldn't be a problem."
Chen Songfeng smiled without speaking.
This was probably Liu Baqiao's unique charm—able to turn an embarrassing situation into something that didn't make the person involved angry at all.
Liu Baqiao wiggled his butt, crossed his arms, and said leisurely, "Alright, now that I know the terrifying background of that ancestral lady, go on with the main topic."
Chen Songfeng smiled, "Actually, Steward Xue already gave the answer."
Liu Baqiao had a flash of insight, "The Liu boy's ancestor was the tomb keeper left in the town by Chen Dui's branch of the Chen clan?"
Chen Songfeng nodded, "The boy is teachable."
Liu Baqiao exclaimed, "That doesn't add up! The Liu boy's family heirloom Sword Classic came from that traitor from Pure Sun Mountain, right? Of course, he's also one of our Thunderwind Garden's founders. Regardless, the timing doesn't match. How could they become tomb keepers for Chen Dui's family?"
Chen Songfeng explained, "I can confirm that the Liu family were originally tomb keepers for Chen Dui's family. As for why that sword cultivator who later fled to your Thunderwind Garden eventually came to the town, became a Liu family member, and passed down the Sword Classic—there's probably some obscure inside story. So in the end, the family heirloom split into two things: the Sword Classic and the Wart Armor. As for Chen Dui, her real aim isn't treasures—she's just here to offer sacrifices to her ancestors. Beyond that, if there are any descendants of the Liu family left, regardless of aptitude, she will take them back to her clan and spare no effort in nurturing them, as repayment for the Liu ancestor's tomb-keeping service."
Liu Baqiao found it unbelievable, "Such a huge family sends a young woman to offer sacrifices? And she almost got punched to death by that Great Li vassal king? Chen Songfeng, I've read quite a few books, though mostly erotic novels about immortals making love in bed. But from them, I've learned a lot about worldly affairs. I think that woman must be a fake!"
Chen Songfeng shook his head with a wry smile, "Then you didn't see how... polite my grandfather was when he met her."
Out of respect for his elder, Chen Songfeng couldn't say the truth and could only vaguely describe it as "polite."
The clan opened the main gate wide for her; the clan head bowed deeply to her; the entire clan treated her as an honored guest; at the welcome banquet, they seated her at the head of the table.
The impact of all this on Chen Songfeng was immense.
Liu Baqiao asked doubtfully, "But wasn't that Liu boy almost punched to death by that old ape?"
Chen Songfeng sighed, "As you said yourself—almost."
Chen Songfeng got up and walked to the window. Outside, the wind and drizzle were still there, but the sky looked like it was about to pour a heavy rain.
Chen Songfeng said softly, "That Master Ruan seems to be an old acquaintance of one of Chen Dui's elders. They once traveled the world together and were bosom friends."
Liu Baqiao asked tentatively, "Are you saying that Ruan Qiong was able to replace Qi Jingchun and sit here because Chen Dui's family exerted effort?"
Chen Songfeng said calmly, "I didn't say anything."
Liu Baqiao clicked his tongue in wonder.
No wonder that woman could be so tough even facing Song Changjing.
With a family's power far away and a saint's protection close at hand, how could she not be arrogant?
Liu Baqiao suddenly asked, "Tell me about the life porcelain and porcelain buyers. I've always been interested. Unfortunately, our Thunderwind Garden doesn't practice this. I only heard some rough stories when Master forced me to come here as a laborer. It seems that now in East Treasure Bottle Continent, several famous top figures also walked out of this town?"
Chen Songfeng hesitated briefly but chose to speak without reservation, revealing heavenly secrets, "It's a bit like the secular world's 'gambling on stones.' Every year, about thirty-plus infants are born in the town. The thirty dragon kilns, in order of their seat ranking, each choose a child as their kiln's 'porcelain.' For example, if this year thirty-two children are born in the town, the top two kilns get two porcelains. If next year there are only twenty-nine newborns, the bottom-ranked kiln means no harvest for the whole year."
"Therefore, all native-born townspeople have their life porcelain. Even Cao Xi and Xie Shi—one a Daoist true lord expected to become a heavenly lord, the other a rogue sword immortal with boundless killing power—who are now at the height of their fame in this continent, are no exception. Although this town's fish pond is far more likely to produce dragons compared to the outside, the cost of transforming into a dragon is enormous. These 'porcelains,' once they successfully reach the Middle Five Realms, if they die before reaching the Upper Five Realms, are doomed to have no afterlife—their souls scatter, through all lifetimes, everything ends. Even the Dao Ancestor and Buddha can do nothing about it. During this time, the porcelain buyer holds a fatal handle over them, controlling their life and death. Even someone like Cao Xi or Xie Shi is the same."
"On the other hand, once they become figures as great as Cao Xi or Xie Shi, the porcelain buyers will worship them like ancestors and wouldn't dare to act as their masters. After all, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Any family that can have the combat power of a Cao Xi or Xie Shi can sleep soundly. The reason is simple: for trivial matters, perhaps they can't be bothered, but when the clan's survival is at stake, they must come to help. If they refuse to fight for my clan, fine—I'll smash your life porcelain, and we'll all perish together."
Liu Baqiao listened in awe. No wonder the Great Li Dynasty had risen so rapidly in just two or three hundred years, already showing a magnificent momentum to swallow the northern territory of the continent. Liu Baqiao was so absorbed that he sat cross-legged on the chair, rubbing his chin with his palm, and asked:
"I know that for girls at six and boys at nine, there's a major threshold. It's the same as our cultivation principle—at that time, you can know their future cultivation achievements. If the porcelain buyer comes to the town at that time and takes away children who show promise on the Great Path, what about the useless porcelains? Those town children who lost the gamble—how do the dragon kilns dispose of their worthless life porcelain?"
Chen Songfeng said softly, "They are taken out of the dragon kiln and smashed on the spot. Outside the town, there's a Porcelain Mountain that comes from this."
Liu Baqiao felt a surge of displeasure in his heart, "What happens to those children?"
Chen Songfeng shook his head, "I've never heard. Probably nothing good."
Liu Baqiao sighed and rubbed his face hard.
This secret matter, personally set by various saints with their rules, was not something a small Thunderwind Garden sword cultivator like him could interfere with.
But the young man just felt uncomfortable.
After a long silence, Liu Baqiao said softly, "So, everyone who walks out of here is a river-crossing pawn."
Chen Songfeng followed, "On the cultivation path, who isn't?"
Liu Baqiao felt a pang of empathy and nodded, "True."
---
The door creaked open softly. The straw-sandaled boy, his face slightly pale, tiptoed over the threshold, turned around, and gently closed the wooden door.
He also fetched a small stool like Old Man Yang and sat on the steps. The raindrops were as big as soybeans; the sky was as dark as deep night. Yet strangely, with such a heavy downpour, not many raindrops landed under the eaves. The old man had been sitting for a long time, his clothes only slightly damp. Chen Ping'an interlaced his fingers and quietly stared at the puddle forming in the courtyard.
The old man smoked his dry pipe, large puffs of smoke swirling around him. But the smoke under the eaves and the rain screen outside seemed to be like well water and river water—they didn't mix.
As if there was an invisible line in heaven and earth.
The biggest reason the old man didn't dislike this child was that no matter the situation, he wouldn't yell or disturb him. If he could avoid speaking and annoying him, he absolutely would.
In this respect, the child was very much like his disciple Li Er.
Zheng Dafeng was far off.
Chen Ping'an said softly, "Grandpa Yang, thank you for all these years."
The old man frowned, "Thank me? If I remember correctly, I've never helped you for free. Have I ever missed taking payment?"
Chen Ping'an smiled.
Just like when Old Man Yang agreed to let him gather herbs on the mountain for Yang's shop, buying them at a low price, while at the same time selling many herbs to Chen Ping'an at a low price. It seemed fair on the surface, but Chen Ping'an knew in his heart that this was the most solid help.
Also, a self-made bamboo smoking pipe—how much was it worth?
But the fact that Chen Ping'an had survived all these years, year-round without getting sick, was largely thanks to the breathing method Old Man Yang had taught him back then.
The old man looked up at the sky and sneered, "When others throw you a small favor, people treat them like a merciful Bodhisattva. Especially when a big shot spits out a bit of scrap from between their teeth, they become especially grateful, and even touch themselves with their own pure-heartedness, thinking they're repaying kindness. So they become loyal ministers, famous disciples—beautifying it as 'a scholar dies for his confidant.' A bunch of ungrateful bastards who should never have crawled out of their mothers' wombs..."
Chen Ping'an scratched his head, a bit nervous, wondering if Old Man Yang meant him.
The old man looked away and said indifferently, "Not you."
Chen Ping'an suddenly saw a familiar figure and froze.
At the back door of the main hall, under the corridor eaves, a middle-aged Confucian scholar with graying temples came holding an umbrella. In one hand he carried an umbrella, in the other a long bench. After passing through the side door, he placed the bench in the corridor, sat down, leaned the oil-paper umbrella beside the bench, patted his knees, adjusted his posture, and finally smiled toward the old man and the boy under the main house's eaves. He said warmly, "Qi Jingchun of Cliffside Academy pays respects to Elder Yang."
The scholar's boots were soaked through with rain, stained with mud, and the hem of his robe was the same.
The old man looked relaxed, pointing his pipe at this local saint, "The day you arrived, I knew you were an unsatisfied man. But after all these years of dealing with you, I haven't heard a single complaint from you—that's strange. You Qi Jingchun don't seem like the type to take humiliation lying down. So now you've lost your mind, and I figure the people outside are confused. But I'm not surprised at all."
Qi Jingchun reached out and patted his stomach, smiling, "I have complaints—my belly is full of them. I just haven't spoken them out loud."
Old Man Yang thought for a moment, "I don't know much about your abilities, but as for your Master, just because he dared to say those four characters, in my eyes, he counts as this."
The old man stuck out his thumb.
Qi Jingchun smiled bitterly, "My Master's learning is actually even greater."
The old man sneered, "I'm not a scholar. Even if your Master's learning surpasses the Supreme Sage, I won't say a single good word about him."
Qi Jingchun asked seriously, "Elder Yang, do you think our Master's four characters are the right ones?"
The old man laughed heartily, "I don't think they're right. It's just that before, all the robed folks in the world believed in the previous four characters. It annoyed me to no end. So when someone came out to sing the opposite tune, I found it satisfying. That's all. You scholars fight your own arena until all dignity is lost, feathers and chicken droppings everywhere—I'm delighted!"
Qi Jingchun laughed out loud.
Just as Qi Jingchun was about to speak, the old man, who understood, waved his hand, "Don't say pleasantries. I don't like hearing them. We're not on the same path—generation after generation. Don't break the rules. Besides, you Qi Jingchun are now a rat crossing the street, everyone beating you. I wouldn't dare to claim friendship with you."
Qi Jingchun nodded, got up, and waved to Chen Ping'an, "I used the snake gallstone you sent to carve two personal seals—one in clerical script, one in small seal script. They're for you."
Chen Ping'an ran through the rain across the puddle-like courtyard, stood before Qi Jingchun, and received a white cloth pouch.
Qi Jingchun smiled, "Remember to keep them well. When you see paintings or calligraphy you like in the future—for example, landscape maps with an extraordinary aura—you can press a seal on them."
Chen Ping'an nodded dazedly, "Okay."
The old man glanced at the pouch in the boy's hand and asked, "What about the 'Spring' character?"
Qi Jingchun laughed, "I carved a seal earlier and gave it to a child from the Zhao family."
The old man laughed, "Are you Qi Jingchun the God of Wealth distributing treasures?"
Qi Jingchun, unperturbed by the old man's teasing, took his leave and departed.
Seeing the boy standing like a wooden post, the old man said with an exasperated laugh, "You're just going to take someone's gift and run home to hide under the covers and giggle? Don't you see Mr. Qi off?"
The boy quickly ran toward the back door of the main hall. The old man scolded with a smile, "Take an umbrella! Do you think your body can handle this wind and rain?"
Chen Ping'an borrowed an umbrella from a shop assistant and followed Mr. Qi, walking together on the main street.
The old man remained sitting under the eaves, smoking his pipe, smoke swirling around him.
Thinking of those two personal seals—though still in the pouch—the old man could sense their secrets, hence the question about the "Spring" character.
Within a square inch, the sight was magnificent.
Not long after, the straw-sandaled boy returned to the courtyard. The old man asked, "What did he say in the end?"
Chen Ping'an sighed and sat back on the small stool, "Mr. Qi said one sentence: 'A gentleman can be deceived by his righteousness.'"
The old man grumbled darkly, "Those old fellows enshrined in the Confucian Temple—have they lost their minds? It's obvious someone is targeting Cliffside Academy and Qi Jingchun, yet they stand by with folded arms. Do they really think they're dead clay idols?"
Chen Ping'an didn't hear clearly, "Grandpa Yang, what did you say?"
The old man fell silent.
What a thing—refusing to be a sage, choosing to be a gentleman.