Chapter 73: The Wooden Man
Chen Ping'an, eating a sugar-coated hawthorn stick whose taste he hadn't experienced in nearly ten years, carried the locust branch on his shoulder and returned to Ni Ping Alley. Passing a house even more dilapidated than his own ancestral home, Chen Ping'an felt a pang of guilt. He thought about first borrowing some silver from Master Ruan to repair this house. Although he had lived in this alley since childhood, Chen Ping'an had never seen anyone living in this house. Before, when he lured the Hill-Shifting Ape onto the roof for a chase and fight, deliberately tricking it here, he had caused the old ape to stomp a large hole through the roof. Chen Ping'an felt he had to shoulder this mess, otherwise the house would inevitably suffer from wind and sun, rain and drafts. Perhaps the house could have endured another twenty or thirty years of existence, but now it probably couldn't last even five years. The beams would rot quickly. In this respect, Chen Ping'an's body, forcibly "guided" by Cai Jinjian, was very similar—both were in a state where wind could leak in from all sides. So Chen Ping'an felt even more dismayed, thinking that no matter what, he had to repair this ownerless house. He didn't need it to be fancy or imposing, but it had to be sturdy and solid.
Chen Ping'an had considered taking out one of the Golden Essence Copper Coins and exchanging it for real gold, silver, or ordinary copper coins, perhaps with Old Man Yang at Yang's Shop or Master Ruan at the blacksmith's shop. But Chen Ping'an had an intuition that things like Golden Essence Copper Coins were rare and hard to come by; every time one was spent, it was gone for good. As for silver and copper coins, you could earn them anywhere—it was just a matter of how much effort you put in. So Chen Ping'an decided to first try borrowing from Master Ruan. If that didn't work, he would use the Golden Essence Copper Coin to solve the problem. It would hurt, of course, but since some urgent issues were clearly right in front of him, he couldn't pretend not to see them. Chen Ping'an was very afraid of owing others.
Chen Ping'an returned to the courtyard and leaned the young girl's gift—the locust branch—against the wall at an angle. The priceless sword-sharpening stone was still in the bamboo basket, but of course it wasn't just left out in the open in the yard. He had already moved it into the house. If time weren't so tight, Chen Ping'an would have dug a pit ten feet deep in the yard and buried that inconspicuous but valuable sword-sharpening stone. Dragon-Slaying Platform—just hearing the name made it feel even more precious than those three bags of Golden Essence Copper Coins.
Chen Ping'an heard the crowing of chickens from the neighboring courtyard. When Song Jixin and Zhigui left the town, they hadn't had time to deal with the cage full of old hens and chicks. They were probably a bit hungry now. Chen Ping'an went into the house, picked up the string of keys, brought a handful of rice from his own home, walked toward the neighboring courtyard gate, opened the chicken coop, and crouched down, slowly letting the grains slip through his fingers. After feeding the chickens, Chen Ping'an opened the kitchen door to see if there was any leftover rice or other grain, so it wouldn't go to waste or get moldy. But when he entered the kitchen, his eyes opened wide. There was a large vat of rice—just opening the lid made him feel full. The cabinets were fully stocked with pots, pans, bowls, and plates. On the wall hung a row of hams and dried fish. Everything was clean and tidy, large and small items arranged in an orderly but not cluttered way.
Chen Ping'an's gaze was suddenly drawn to a pile of firewood near the stove. He walked over and crouched down. Sure enough, it was the wooden man he had seen Zhigui trying to chop with a kitchen knife. She had no idea how to split firewood, so after hacking at it for a long time, she had made little progress. If it had been Chen Ping'an, he could have broken the wooden man, which was about as tall as a person, into pieces in no time. At this moment, crouching and looking down, Chen Ping'an found the wooden man very strange. Its body was covered with many red dots, scattered all over, some sparse, some dense, clustered together in some places, and far apart in others, like cinnabar dots. He picked up a wooden arm and looked closely. Beside each red dot, there were extremely tiny black characters written in ink. The red dots themselves were the size of rice grains, and the strokes of those tiny characters were even finer, almost invisible. It was lucky that Chen Ping'an had good eyesight; an ordinary person would probably just see them as red and black spots.
Chen Ping'an tried to piece together the broken parts. Before long, the wooden man was restored to its original shape. Fortunately, no major parts were missing. But unfortunately, many of the joints had had their red dots and black characters chopped off or scraped away by Zhigui's kitchen knife. He estimated that about seventy to eighty percent of the relatively intact red dots and black characters remained.
Chen Ping'an got up and opened the window to let more light into the kitchen, then crouched down again and examined it carefully, not daring to overlook any detail. This took about an hour. Although Chen Ping'an didn't recognize most of the ink characters, he still tried his best to memorize their stroke structures.
Deep down, Chen Ping'an had always harbored a desire to learn to read and write.
When he worked as a kiln worker, many times after climbing to the top of the mountain and looking out over the town, besides finding where Ni Ping Alley was, the second place he often wanted to know was the school. When he was young, a dark, thin child would often go to the school, squatting at the base of the wall, with the sound of reading aloud coming from above. Although he couldn't understand what was being said, the child would inexplicably feel at ease and calm, his mind quiet. Listening, the grievances of the day would gradually fade away.
But for an orphan from Ni Ping Alley, reading was an even greater luxury than sugar-coated hawthorn sticks. It was enough to just look at it from afar.
Now, closing his eyes, Chen Ping'an used his memory to construct a complete wooden man in his mind. Where his memory was fuzzy, he didn't rush to open his eyes to check; he skipped over it first. Going through the whole thing, there were about forty or fifty uncertain red dots and black characters.
After identifying and memorizing all the omissions one by one, Chen Ping'an took a deep breath. He wanted to go through it again, but as soon as he closed his eyes, his head felt swollen and dizzy. Chen Ping'an decisively stopped pushing himself. Some efforts can't be forced; otherwise, the more you rush, the more chaotic things become. After learning to fire porcelain from Old Man Yao, he had learned this lesson deeply. It wasn't because he was naturally gifted, but purely from being yelled at by Yao every day—one of the insights gained from constant scolding.
Chen Ping'an scrambled the wooden man again and piled the pieces in the corner of the kitchen stove. He left the kitchen, closed the courtyard gate, and thought it over. He still had to go to the east gate of town to look for the gatekeeper one more time. Since he was about to become a formal apprentice at the blacksmith's shop, he would probably live there from then on, so he wouldn't be able to deliver letters anymore. Chen Ping'an wanted to inform that bachelor. But he had looked for him before and hadn't found him.
Chen Ping'an jogged to the east gate of town. The yellow mud house was still locked and shuttered. He sighed and sat on the tree stump where the gatekeeper Zheng Dafeng often sat. The town wasn't like the mountains; there was no reverence for "mountain god seats." Chen Ping'an sat there in a daze, enjoying a rare moment of leisure.
After an unknown amount of time, the sound of cart wheels came from the road inside the town. Chen Ping'an turned to look. Leading the way was an ox cart, followed by two horse-drawn carriages with enclosed compartments. A group of children sat on the ox cart, and among them were two familiar faces: Li Baoping in her red cotton-padded jacket, and Shi Chunjia with her rosy cheeks. In addition, the others were presumably the schoolchildren Li Huai, Lin Shouyi, and Dong Shuijing, as Shi Chunjia had mentioned.
The five children on the ox cart were chattering noisily.
The driver was an unfamiliar middle-aged face. Behind him sat the old man who swept the grounds at the school.
Chen Ping'an looked over. Aside from the girl in the red cotton-padded jacket, who belonged to the Li family—one of the Four Great Surnames of Fortune Street—the other four children's clothing was worlds apart. Shi Chunjia's ancestors had lived in Qilong Lane for generations, running the old shop called Sui Sui (New Year's Eve). They were well-off but not extravagantly wealthy, so the girl dressed comfortably and warmly. But beside Shi Chunjia sat a peer with a stern expression, wearing a brand new, expensive black fox fur coat. His face was slightly pale, and his eyes were cold and indifferent. Li Huai's father, Li Er, was known around town as a hopeless man. Li Huai had an older sister named Li Liu, but their parents and sister had all gone out to make a living, leaving Li Huai alone in his uncle's care. Now he too was leaving his hometown, following the old man surnamed Ma to Cliff Academy. The last boy, wearing thin spring clothes layered with two patched outer garments, had an air of poverty about him. He was clearly a poor child from some impoverished alley.
Li Baoping, Shi Chunjia, Li Huai, Lin Shouyi, Dong Shuijing.
These five little schoolchildren, riding on an ox cart that couldn't shield them from wind or rain, were heading toward Cliff Academy, one of the seventy-two Confucian academies and a sacred place in the hearts of countless scholars on the Eastern Treasured Vase Continent. At this moment, these five children certainly didn't know that on the continent's map, teeming with kingdoms, countless high-born families with generations of honor would do anything, even exhausting all their connections and favors, to send their own children there to study under the broad-sleeved, wide-belted masters and teachers, learning the Confucian sages' ways of cultivating oneself, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world.
They naturally had no idea how rare it was to be able to call Qi Jingchun "teacher." On the contrary, at that moment, these children only felt that Mr. Qi had many rules, often wore a stern face, and was not approachable at all. When Mr. Qi occasionally smiled, the children didn't even know what they had done right to make him so happy.
Li Baoping's sharp eyes spotted Chen Ping'an sitting on the tree stump. With lightning speed, she jumped off the ox cart, stumbled a bit, and ran quickly to stand in front of Chen Ping'an, stopping abruptly. She seemed at a loss for words, but finally puffed out her chest and said, "I'm going to a very, very faraway place." Her small face was full of pride.
The old man in the tall hat said sternly, "Li Baoping!"
Although he wasn't happy, the old man still had the driver stop the ox cart. The little girl pursed her lips but turned and ran back to the cart. Suddenly, she heard the guy behind her call her name. She turned around and saw him raise his fist toward her and give it a light shake, as if telling her to work hard.
Li Baoping also shook her fist at him, indicating that she would try her best.
Chen Ping'an smiled understandingly. He felt that Li Baoping's "efforts" would probably be focused on playing, and she would leave her footprints all over Cliff Academy.
Chen Ping'an looked up. The old man who swept the grounds at the school, whom he had seen a few times, nodded at him. Chen Ping'an instinctively smiled back in greeting.
At the same time, the curtain on one of the following carriages was gently lowered.
Although only a glimpse, Chen Ping'an recognized the person inside—the scholar who had gone to Master Ruan's blacksmith shop.
Chen Ping'an watched the ox cart and carriages slowly drive out of town.
If Chen Ping'an could have soared into the sky on a sword like Ning Yao, looking down at this newly rooted land of a thousand miles, he would have been stunned by the various extraordinary phenomena.
Countless birds and beasts of all kinds were gathered along the border where this Pearl of Li Cave Heaven connected with the Great Li territory. Beyond that, countless more of their kind were madly rushing toward this place, as if drinking in something.
On that invisible border line, they dared neither take a step forward nor retreat a single step back.
There was an old woman standing at the end of a stream inside the boundary, her upper body emerging from the water. Her crow-black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, spreading around her body like a black lotus.
Originally, her face had been mottled like tree bark, but now she had the appearance of a woman under forty.
Then there was Cloud-Capped Mountain, which seemed to be pushed up from the earth, slowly rising at a visible rate.
The cave heaven shattered, descending into a blessed land.
For the townsfolk born and raised in the former Pearl of Li Cave Heaven, regardless of wealth or poverty, regardless of disposition good or evil, they all had a next life.