Chapter 71: A Certain Fondness
Chen Ping'an walked out of the house in a daze, his mind in a fog, and arrived at the small courtyard. He looked up; the blazing sun hung high in the sky, the view exceptionally clear. The sky was like a ceramic blank shedding layer after layer of glaze, smooth and pleasing to the eye.
Unconsciously, Chen Ping'an noticed that his breathing had grown somewhat constricted, so he sat down on the threshold, held his breath, and concentrated. He formed the Sword Furnace Fist Pile with both hands, interlacing his fingers.
After the time it takes to burn one incense stick, Chen Ping'an felt his breath settle and become smooth again. Just as he was about to stand up, a movement caught the corner of his eye, and he plopped back down onto the threshold, staring wide-eyed. In a corner of the yard, at some unknown time, a black stone had quietly come to rest—the finest sword-sharpening stone in the world, the Dragon-Slaying Platform!
Chen Ping'an immediately got up, walked quickly over, and crouched down to examine it closely. Compared to the base of that collapsed Heavenly Official statue from before, it looked as if someone had sliced through tofu with a knife—one straight cut downward, cleanly splitting it in two. Chen Ping'an rubbed his chin, moving his position bit by bit, crouching at different spots. He circled around the stone from east, south, west, and north, then returned to his original spot. He became increasingly certain: this was indeed the base beneath that statue of the "Bodhisattva Nodding."
This made Chen Ping'an shudder. Although Miss Ning liked to speak in grandiose terms, every cold-eyed, hands-off remark she made was absolutely not false in the slightest. When she said that the abnormally sturdy Dragon-Slaying Platform could only be split apart by a great sword immortal at great cost, Chen Ping'an believed it without a doubt. So had this Dragon-Slaying Platform grown legs and run all the way to Chen Ping'an's house?
Nowadays, Chen Ping'an knew that immortals, ghosts, and monsters truly existed in the world, as well as countless mountain spirits and goblins. But for a stone to become a spirit—that probability wasn't high, was it? Besides, if it ran to anyone else's house, it could enjoy some blessings, but running to his house, besides suffering, what else could it do? Was there such a stupid stone spirit?
Chen Ping'an tested the waters: "Hey, can you talk? Or can you understand what I'm saying?"
Of course not.
The suspicious and uncertain boy shook his head, unable to stop staring.
Probably because that dream from before had been too vivid, Chen Ping'an still hadn't fully recovered, causing everything he saw now to seem strange.
Many trivial matters that he hadn't thought deeply about back then now strung together suddenly seemed to make sense.
Mr. Qi had said that such things did exist in the world, and Ning Yao had even spoken of the bizarre and fantastic world beyond.
Even Old Man Yao had actually long ago told him bits and pieces, brokenly—simple things like entering the mountains had many intricacies. Old Man Yao had once said many things, like how those inconspicuous old tree stumps might be the seats of mountain spirits and couldn't be sat on. He also said that all mountains under heaven, regardless of size, actually formed a single lineage, but with distinctions between ancestors and descendants.
At that moment, Chen Ping'an suddenly felt very curious: how could one see the complete picture of the Lizhu Cave Heaven where the small town was located? Did he have to climb a peak higher than Piyun Mountain to get a panoramic view?
Chen Ping'an withdrew his thoughts, looked down at the black stone, and thought about moving it to the blacksmith's shop. Miss Ning would definitely need this sharpening stone. As for how Miss Ning would deal with the stone—whether she would choose to sharpen her sword herself or give it to Master Ruan as a thank-you gift for helping forge the sword—Chen Ping'an didn't care either way. He was just curious about how one actually sharpened a sword with a sharpening stone. Would it be similar to sharpening his own firewood knife?
Chen Ping'an never dawdled when doing things. Once he made up his mind, he acted immediately. He reached out with both hands to lift the sharpening stone. He could raise it about an inch off the ground. It was somewhat heavy, but not so much that he couldn't move it. That was manageable. Chen Ping'an went into the house to find a bamboo basket.
Soon, the young man was walking through Niping Alley with the basket on his back, a shirt covering the sharpening stone.
After leaving Niping Alley, Chen Ping'an found many people on the main street. Probably because of that sudden pitch-black night, which had creeped everyone out, now that they finally saw the bright sun, they all wanted to come out for some fresh air. So the vast majority of the small town's residents had left their homes and gathered in the streets, talking animatedly. Every now and then, someone would rush by, shouting that the Iron Lock Well had completely dried up, and that even the iron chain that had hung in the well for who knows how many thousands of years had been secretly stolen and hidden away by some bastard. More chaotic were the children, who seemed to wish the world would turn upside down. They ran around in twos and threes, hopping and skipping, faces full of excitement, babbling nonsense about the changes to the old locust tree.
It turned out that the old locust had "overnight" been uprooted and fallen across the main street. Broken locust branches and yellowed locust leaves were scattered all over the ground. At first, many nearby residents thought it would be a waste not to use them, so they casually picked up branches and leaves to take home for firewood. Some lazy young men, reluctantly urged by their wives, carried firewood knives to chop up the thicker locust branches. Not everyone was indifferent. The elderly who had lived for generations around the old locust tree were mostly heartbroken. They cursed out those men and women who took advantage of such disgraceful bargains, or earnestly tried to explain the tree's deep connection with the small town. They said this tree had spiritual energy; over the years, even when its withered branches fell, they only did so in the dead of night, unwilling to hit anyone. Not to mention, during years of poor harvests, the locust blossoms, as tiny as rice grains, had filled many people's stomachs.
It was useless.
Those young men either ignored them and just kept chopping wood, or, if they had worse tempers, they got into conflicts with the elderly, shoving and pushing. In short, it was a bit chaotic.
Hearing the commotion from the old locust tree, Chen Ping'an, carrying his basket, hesitated and slowed his pace, looking back every few steps toward the locust tree's direction. His intuition told him he should go check on the locust tree, but deep down, another voice urged him to hurry to the blacksmith's shop.
Suddenly, he saw a swift, nimble figure brush past him—a little girl in a bright red cotton-padded jacket. What was both funny and exasperating was that the little girl was carrying a locust branch as thick as a young man's arm over her shoulder. The branch was as long as she was tall. The little girl's feet moved quickly, like spinning cartwheels, lively and mischievous.
Chen Ping'an recognized her at once. She was that solitary little girl who came and went like the wind, always wandering around the small town. She and Gu Can had become acquaintances after a fight, and not long ago at the Qingniu Bei, Chen Ping'an had seen her again, accompanying those immortal figures. She seemed especially close to the young Daoist nun. Chen Ping'an had even given her a small Snake Gallstone.
Chen Ping'an hurriedly called out to her. The girl in the red jacket turned around. Seeing it was Chen Ping'an, she grinned, revealing a pair of expressive, autumn-water eyes that seemed to say, "If you have something to say, say it quickly. I'm listening. I'm busy moving things like an ant!"
Chen Ping'an suppressed a smile and waved at her. "I want to discuss something with you. It'll take at most a little while."
The little girl in the big red jacket, carrying the branch with an air of efficiency, ran over briskly. She tilted her head slightly and looked up at him, somewhat puzzled.
Chen Ping'an asked, "This branch—you got it from the old locust tree, right?"
The little girl nodded vigorously and said regretfully, "If I'm not fast enough, it'll all be taken by others. I'm not strong enough; I can only move this much. I'm going to try to make a few more trips."
Chen Ping'an thought quickly and probed, "If your home is over on Fulu Street, that's quite far. If you trust me, you can leave the locust branch in my courtyard first. That way, you can run back and forth a few more times."
The little girl silently weighed the pros and cons. As she pondered seriously, she kept observing Chen Ping'an's eyes and expression. Probably deciding that Chen Ping'an had no ill intentions, she nodded and said, "Then what do you want me to do? I'll tell you upfront—I can't carry too big branches. They're very heavy. My shoulder already feels like it's on fire."
Chen Ping'an pulled out a set of keys, removed one, and handed it to the little girl. "This is the key to my courtyard gate. Take it. I don't need you to do much. Just, when you're grabbing locust branches, see if there are any green leaves on the ground that haven't turned yellow yet. If there are, remember to collect them for me."
She didn't take the key. Her eyes widened. "That's it?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Yes, that's it. You know where my house is, right?"
She hummed in affirmation. "Niping Alley, the twelfth house counting from the left."
In the end, she still didn't take the key. "The wall around your yard isn't very high. I can gently toss the branch inside without opening the gate."
Chen Ping'an put the key away. The girl in the red jacket had already turned and sprinted away.
Chen Ping'an felt that she was like himself entering the mountains—she ran through streets and alleys, while he climbed over hills and mountains.
Chen Ping'an left the small town and headed south. When he got close to the "covered bridge," he was horrified to find it gone.
It had reverted to the old stone arch bridge from his memory.
For some reason, although the covered bridge had been brand new and grand, with a shining gold plaque, Chen Ping'an still preferred the old bridge before him.
Chen Ping'an stood at one end of the stone bridge, involuntarily thinking back to that inexplicable dream. He took a deep breath and slowly walked up the slope.
The closer he got to the middle of the bridge, the more nervous he became. Already drenched in sweat, he was now sweating even more profusely. But even after he reached the other end of the arch bridge, nothing happened. Chen Ping'an smiled wryly at himself and quickened his pace toward the blacksmith's shop.
---
At Qingniu Bei, Old Man Yang sat on the edge of the green stone cliff, taking long, deep drags from his old tobacco pipe.
Beneath the old man's feet, the pool rippled gently, its surface shimmering. Below the water, large clumps of water plants seemed to sway back and forth. Even under the bright sun, it exuded an indescribable, eerie malevolence.
Gradually, a blurred, old woman's face emerged on the water's surface. She had a head of crow-black hair that spread out in the water like blooming flowers. The old woman now looked as if she had lost both parents. Her voice trembling, she said, "Great Immortal, I really didn't dare get close to that place last night! I tried several times, but as soon as I went over, it was like jumping into a frying pan—more agonizing than being cut into a thousand pieces. Great Immortal, please spare me. I truly can't do it."
Old Man Yang said coldly, "I'm not here to blame you. From now on, the same goes for you—just do what you can within your power, without being vague, and that will suffice. But now, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is being placed before you. It's up to you whether you dare to seize it."
The old woman's ghostly green face undulated with the water, looking unspeakably eerie. Hearing that the great immortal intended to point her toward a bright path, she quickly assumed an attitude of respectful attention.
The old man spoke slowly, "Now that the small cave heaven has slowly descended back into the mortal world and merged with the earth, it's in a critical period of taking root. Before long, it will become fully integrated with the territory of the Great Li dynasty. The reason you can only be called a 'river crone' and not a 'river god' is like being an unranked clerk in a mundane dynasty—you haven't truly obtained an official position. One step's difference makes all the difference."
He pointed his old tobacco pipe toward the stone arch bridge. "The root of this isn't that your domain is too small, but that your territory has been cut in half. See that bridge? It's severed your future incense offerings. If you can swim under that bridge, you'll have a great future ahead. The stream you inhabit will become the source of many important rivers. Not to mention being a low-class river god whose hair can only grow a few hundred li—if the Great Li enfeoffs you as a river deity, your hair could stretch thousands of li, which wouldn't be hard."
The old woman's eyeballs shifted slightly.
Old Man Yang didn't rush her. He laughed, "Lying in the mud is actually quite comfortable, right? Why would you want someone to help you up, right?"
The old woman had previously been too timid to agree at once. Now, hearing the great immortal's sneering sarcasm, she sensed trouble and immediately begged for mercy. The water in the deep pool churned violently.
The old man remained unmoved and said calmly, "Whether you continue to be a mud eel that wags its tail begging for scraps, or transform into a river serpent that rules over water fortunes, this is the crucial moment. Also, don't forget what I told you back then—once you take this path, there's no turning back. You can only go down the dark road. There's no such thing as 'once and for all' under heaven. To put it bluntly, anyone in this small town might receive good karma, but it will never be your turn."
The more casually the great and powerful immortal spoke, the more uneasy the river crone felt. Finally, she gritted her teeth fiercely, dove swiftly, and plunged into the water.
After a moment, the old woman's figure disappeared. But in the stream between Qingniu Bei and the stone arch bridge, a faint green shadow wobbled downstream.
When this shadow neared the stone arch bridge, it slowed down, eventually moving as slowly as a turtle crawling.
When it was still about ten zhang from the deep pool under the bridge, the river crone's figure suddenly accelerated, clearly risking everything for a fortune.
She swam through without obstruction.
After rushing out several dozen zhang in one breath, the underwater figure spun around in celebration of surviving the ordeal, unable to help turning in circles, her head of green hair wrapping around her fleshless, withered frame.
The river crone straightened up and suspended herself upright in the stream. She looked up at the stone arch bridge, and for the first time, she clearly saw that old sword blade.
It was still covered in rust—no different from what she had seen as a child, a young girl, a young wife.
But the next moment, just by looking at that old sword blade one more time, the river crone's eyeballs burst on the spot.
She wailed.
The stream roiled, sending up waves.
After a long while, this stretch of stream finally returned to calm. The old woman regrew a pair of eyes, but she had become extremely weak. The great immortal's voice rang in her ears: "He didn't bother to pay you any attention—that means your ancestors were burning incense. Don't push your luck. From now on, when you pass under the stone bridge, remember not to look up."
The old woman stammered, "I dare not, I dare not again."
Old Man Yang's voice drifted over faintly, "Just go downstream and see how far you can swim. When you pass by that blacksmith's shop, don't get too cocky either. But don't worry too much—your presence will make this stream especially 'gloomy.' Once it gives birth to water spirits, it will benefit the forging and tempering of swords. So Master Ruan won't make things difficult for you. If you work diligently, who knows, he might even bestow a bit of good fortune on you. Although Lizhu Cave Heaven has shattered and its spiritual energy is rapidly dispersing, it can still sustain itself for about thirty or forty years. Master Ruan's position as a sage is very stable. As a matter of fact, it's actually a good thing for him."
The old woman sighed with relief and flattered, "I shall follow the great immortal's decree!"
Over at Qingniu Bei, someone spoke with boundless admiration, "Senior, your divine abilities are truly remarkable! Being able to enfeoff a river crone on your own, and without disturbing the Heavenly Dao—that's extraordinary."
Old Man Yang remained in his original sitting posture without turning his head. He sneered, "River crone and river god—one word's difference, but as different as clouds and mud. A scholar like you wouldn't understand this, would you?"
The speaker was Cui Minghuang, the greatest scholarly seed of the Guanhu Academy. He would likely be the last outsider to leave this place.
This handsome, elegant scholar smiled and said, "It's already quite astonishing. To forcibly carve a small path out of a dead end—such a feat is something this junior cannot help but admire."
Old Man Yang asked flatly, "Boy, do you know my identity?"
Cui Minghuang shook his head with a smile, "The mountain master did not inform me beforehand, but I have managed to guess a little."
Old Man Yang said impatiently, "Go away, go away. You're not qualified to talk to me. If your mountain master were here, that would be a different matter."
Instead of leaving, Cui Minghuang sat down cross-legged on Qingniu Bei. Before sitting, he carefully tucked the jade pendant at his waist aside to prevent it from striking the stone cliff. He looked up at the unobstructed azure sky and said softly, "He possesses a world-shaking cultivation, yet to protect this Lizhu Cave Heaven and prevent even a trace of the Heavenly Dao from seeping in, he was unwilling to use it at all. In the end, he could only rely on two 'life-bound words' to stubbornly hold out until the very last moment. Mr. Yang, what do you think our Master Qi was after?"
The old man just smoked, his expression gloomy.
Cui Minghuang murmured, "If it was for the sake of 'establishing a life for the people,' then that's too great a loss. He was Qi Jingchun! The mountain master of the Cliff Academy, the beloved disciple of the Fourth Sage of Confucianism. Using his own life in exchange for the future lives of five or six thousand ordinary people—is that worth it? I don't think so. If it were me, I absolutely wouldn't do it."
Old Man Yang exhaled a puff of smoke. "If you say this to anyone else besides me, you can forget about ever becoming an academy mountain master. Since you've said a few honest words first, how about we chat casually?"
The scholar smiled. "I would be delighted. This junior has long wished for that."
The old man looked at the water surface. "But before that, I want to ask you a question."
Cui Minghuang nodded. "Senior, please ask."
The old man said slowly, "Was it your doing that gradually forced Qi Jingchun into that situation where only death was an option?"
Cui Minghuang was momentarily taken aback, then smiled wryly, and finally said self-deprecatingly, "Senior, are you overestimating me?"
Old Man Yang didn't turn his head. Wisps of smoke curled up in front of him. "I may not have many other abilities, but I'm decent at reading people's hearts. So you shouldn't have come here."
Cui Minghuang explained with a smile, "Even if we count from the first time the Confucian Fourth Sage's position in the Wen Temple descended, that would be about eighty years ago. I am only about thirty years old now. How could that be possible?"
The old man turned his head, grinning but not genuinely smiling. "You mean to say that you just happened to come here to take the National Seal Jade Gui, and just happened to stumble upon this tragedy? Mud in your crotch—not shit, but it sure looks like it?"
Cui Minghuang said with a composed smile, "Life is unpredictable. Without coincidence, there would be no story."
Old Man Yang laughed derisively, a cold, mirthless laugh.
Cui Minghuang didn't want to waste any more time. He got straight to the point. "Junior has a particular fondness for Piyun Mountain. I hope to make it the site of a new academy. Since I am a guest here, I must follow local customs. Out of both courtesy and reason, I should inform Senior Yang. May I ask if Senior has any requests?"
Old Man Yang wrinkled his face and remained silent.
Cui Minghuang didn't dare to rush the old man. He slowly stood up and said softly, "Senior, rest assured. As long as you haven't given your consent, my academy will not dare to break ground. If one day you deem this feasible, you can have the Kiln Affairs Supervisory Office pass a message to Cui Minghuang of Guanhu Academy."
Old Man Yang hummed in acknowledgment and didn't completely reject him.
Cui Minghuang bowed and took his leave.
Compared to small pawns like the river crone—whether she could truly achieve divine status—or Guanhu Academy's attempt to seek a "Go enclave" within the Great Li dynasty by choosing Piyun Mountain, the old man wasn't very concerned about these matters. They were trivial.
The only thing the old man cared about was what Qi Jingchun had said to Ruan Qiong that night at the covered bridge, and what Qi Jingchun had said and done while sitting alone on that bridge until dawn before returning to the small town.
The old man lifted his tobacco pipe and stood up, muttering under his breath, "Not a single one of them makes things worry-free."
---
Inside the school, the four young students stared at one another.
The children hadn't seen Mr. Qi. Instead, the old man who seemed to sweep the floor all year round had changed into a Confucian robe similar to Mr. Qi's attire. He wore a jade pendant at his waist and had his snow-white hair neatly combed, topped with a tall hat. The old man sat in the spot where Mr. Qi used to sit and told the four children that Mr. Qi had resigned from his position as teacher and academy mountain master, so from now on, he would lead their study tour.
The trip far away had been agreed upon by Mr. Qi and the children long ago, and their families had also given their consent.
The old man no longer wore his usual kind and benevolent expression; his demeanor was now imposing and dignified. He asked, "Where is Li Baoping? Why hasn't she come to school?"
The mischievous Li Huai, who usually didn't get along with that girl in the red jacket, immediately reported, "Li Baoping was on her way here when she heard that the old locust tree had fallen. She insisted on going to see the commotion. I couldn't stop her. She has a terrible temper. No matter how much I tried to persuade her, she wouldn't listen, and she even tried to hit me."
The other three young students each thought to themselves that Li Huai really took after his mother—his ability to lie through his teeth was second to none.
The old man turned to a little girl with two braids. "Go call Li Baoping back. We need to leave the small town today."
The little girl said "oh," reluctantly stood up, and trotted out of the school.
Li Huai, though young, had a sharp tongue. He didn't miss the chance to fan the flames and said in a precocious tone, "Old Ma, you need to discipline a troublesome student like Li Baoping properly, or she'll never amount to anything. Since Mr. Qi isn't here anymore, Old Ma, you have to step up..."
The old man shot him a stern glare. Li Huai was so frightened he became silent and obediently shut his mouth, inwardly cursing this Old Ma for being a bastard—a monkey acting like a king when the tiger is away.
Li Huai used to hate Mr. Qi's strict rules, but now he found himself missing Mr. Qi's good side.
In the room next to the classroom, which belonged to Qi Jingchun, Cui Minghuang of Guanhu Academy sat behind the desk. He looked around the room, occupying the nest. The scholar had a serene smile but murmured somewhat disappointedly, "Not many books either."
---
When Chen Ping'an arrived at the blacksmith's shop and heard the news, he was a bit stunned.
Ning Yao had left the small town before dawn. Ruan Xiu said that a flying sword message had come from Daoxuan Mountain, and Miss Ning had hurriedly left the shop upon hearing it.
It was only then that Chen Ping'an realized that Miss Ning's earlier visit to Niping Alley had been to say goodbye.
Chen Ping'an stood under the eaves of the house where Ning Yao had been staying, his bamboo basket on his back, pursing his lips.
Ruan Xiu said softly, "Miss Ning asked me to tell you that she'll borrow the sword scabbard for a while and return it to you later."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "It's fine."
Ruan Xiu seemed to want to say more, but Chen Ping'an then realized that saying this to Miss Ruan didn't really mean much. He scratched his head and said, "I'll head back to Niping Alley first."
Ruan Xiu nodded.
Chen Ping'an walked forward.
Suddenly, Ruan Xiu remembered something and called out, "Chen Ping'an, my father said you should focus on your work here at the shop for now. He might need your help with the forging later."
Chen Ping'an turned around and smiled. "Thanks."
The girl in the blue dress smiled warmly.
Chen Ping'an walked alone along the stream bank. When he got to the stone arch bridge, he suddenly stopped, took off the basket, and sat down on the edge of the bridge, his feet dangling in the air. The basket holding the heavy Dragon-Slaying Platform was placed beside him.
His straw sandals swayed gently.
He wasn't overly saddened by Miss Ning's departure, because he had known from the start that she would leave eventually.
But there were some things he hadn't had the chance to say.
Time passed. Chen Ping'an was suddenly jolted awake by a huge splash from under the bridge. He quickly turned his head—the basket was gone!
Without a moment's hesitation, Chen Ping'an pushed off with both hands, letting himself fall into the stream.
After entering the water, he quickly adjusted his posture, diving headfirst and swimming toward the bottom.
When Chen Ping'an opened his eyes wide and vaguely saw a glimmer of light, he lost consciousness in an instant.
The next moment, Chen Ping'an found himself standing on a mirror-like water surface. He lightly stamped his foot, and ripples spread out in rings, but the mirror-like surface didn't collapse.
Suddenly, Chen Ping'an raised his arm to shield his eyes.
Directly ahead, a blinding light illuminated heaven and earth.
When the light faded, Chen Ping'an lowered his arm and saw a figure sitting suspended in the distance, one leg bent, the other dangling, as if sitting on the edge of a cliff, with a lazy posture.
The figure was bathed in a pure white radiance, with strands of light constantly swaying.
No matter how hard he tried, Chen Ping'an couldn't make out the person's face.
It was very similar to the figure standing in the middle of the covered bridge in that dream in his house on Niping Alley earlier.
But Chen Ping'an wasn't sure if it was the same person.
The figure looked up and yawned, then said slowly, "That scholar named Qi Jingchun said he was very disappointed with this world. What about you?"
After the person spoke, Chen Ping'an found it hard to breathe and clenched his teeth.
Soon, he heard his own heartbeat again, like someone beating a war drum that shook the heavens. The young man's face flushed red as he reached out to press firmly over his heart.
The divine being pounded the Spring-Announcing Drum, telling the world that spring was coming.
If the drum doesn't sound, spring doesn't come.
The person casually waved a hand, and their wide sleeve rippled like a Milky Way.
On the stone arch bridge, the young man nodded his head like a chicken pecking rice, then groggily woke up. He turned his head—the basket was lying obediently beside him.
The young man held his head. "Again?!"
Chen Ping'an gave himself a hard slap. It hurt.
He scrambled to his feet, hoisted the basket onto his back, and ran.
Chen Ping'an ran all the way back to Niping Alley, opened his courtyard gate, and found locust branches lying strewn haphazardly near the gate.
He thought to himself, that girl really can run and carry things.
Chen Ping'an put down the basket, then sat down at the threshold, wiping the sweat from his brow.
A flash of red came running swiftly from one end of Niping Alley.
The little girl was sweating profusely. When she saw Chen Ping'an, she grinned.
She leaned on a locust branch, panting heavily, and fished out a handful of vibrant green locust leaves from her embroidered pouch.
Chen Ping'an took them and looked down. Compared to the locust leaves Mr. Qi had once helped him obtain, these leaves, though still green, had withered and yellowed veins. Staring at them for a long time, he couldn't see any green light flowing within.
Chen Ping'an looked at the little girl in the red jacket, who was looking left and right, and smiled, holding out his hand.
She looked confused.
Chen Ping'an didn't withdraw his hand.
After a moment of stubbornness, she reached into her embroidered pouch, pulled out one last leaf with a frustrated expression, and slapped it heavily into Chen Ping'an's palm.
Chen Ping'an kept his hand out.
She puffed her cheeks angrily, turned around, pulled another leaf from somewhere, and, with a mournful face, handed it to Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an suppressed a smile. He gathered those eight leaves together, then pulled out three of them and handed them to the little girl in the red jacket. He said gently, "These are for you."
The little girl didn't take the leaves. Her big, watery eyes, like black grapes, were full of confusion.
Chen Ping'an rubbed the little girl's head and explained softly, "It's different if you hide them for yourself in advance versus me giving them to you afterwards. Remember this: if you promise someone something, you have to keep your word."
Looking at the innocent, naive face, Chen Ping'an smiled. "If you try your best but still can't do it, remember to let them know."
The little girl thought what he said made some sense, but it made her feel embarrassed. So she scrunched up her little face with all her might and said angrily, "How come you sound so much like Mr. Qi from the school? I'm not going to like you anymore!"
Chen Ping'an didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He said, "Let me help you carry the locust branches to your house. I'm strong; one trip will be enough."
The little girl, exhausted, suddenly lit up, her eyes narrowing into crescent moons. "Then I can like you a little bit longer!"