Chapter 179: Adding Soil
Upon catching sight of his mountain, Chen Ping'an immediately broke into a sprint, abandoning any thought of maintaining proper stance or posture. There was none of that bittersweet hesitation close to home; he simply lowered his head and ran. The bags of soil piled layer upon layer in his large backpack rustled with each jolt of his shoulders.
The young boy in blue and the girl in pink hurried along behind him. The former kept looking around, but in truth, ever since they had entered the territory of Longquan County in Great Li, the two had already sensed something unusual about the spiritual energy—it made them feel thoroughly comfortable. Now, with that massive mountain before their eyes, the water serpent couldn't stop swallowing saliva. He was practically drooling with greed, as if he’d spotted a banquet table laden with the most sumptuous feast.
The boy in blue had once casually mentioned that creatures like them, descendants of flood dragons, could dine on clouds and drink mist, but that was the lowest form of cultivation, slow and tedious. Only by merging with mountain roots and swallowing water’s fortune could they forge ahead on the true path of bold advancement.
Unfortunately, the famous mountains and great rivers rich in spiritual energy were either occupied by immortal clans and treated as their exclusive domains, or they already hosted shrines to gods officially enshrined by the imperial court. Even the boy in blue, a great river demon of considerable cultivation, dared not lay a hand on them lightly. When it came to the pursuit of eternal life, especially for ghosts and spirits, even friends and confidants on the path of cultivation—one might say, even one’s own parents—would be cast aside.
In contrast, the fire python, steeped in the scent of books since childhood, was far more restrained than the boy in blue. Clearly, even though both were branches of the flood dragon lineage, their opportunities for enlightenment differed greatly.
As they neared the foot of Fallen Mountain, Chen Ping'an slowed. With his sharp eyesight, he noticed dust rising in many places on the mountain, tightening his heart. Logically speaking, with the sage Master Ruan helping to watch over Fallen Mountain, nothing unexpected should have happened. The earth deity of Chess Mound Mountain, Wei Bo, had earlier agreed to build a bamboo lodge here, but such a small lodge should have been completed long ago. Then Wei Bo would have returned home and not lingered. Why did Fallen Mountain still look like a bustling construction site?
Could it be that the black python hadn’t changed its evil ways, had eaten someone, and angered the county government into sending troops to raid the mountain?
Chen Ping'an was about to urgently tell the boy in blue to transform into his true form so they could climb quickly, when he suddenly remembered a line he’d read recently in a book, about the principle of not panicking in times of trouble. The words were beautifully put; just reading them aloud twice had made Chen Ping'an feel a little less rustic. He had even carved them onto a bamboo slip. So now, he took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and silently told himself, “Don’t rush, don’t rush. What the book says is actually the same principle as pulling clay on a potter’s wheel.”
Just as he was about to start climbing, something blurred before Chen Ping’an’s eyes. He focused and saw a familiar figure in white standing at the foot of the mountain, smiling. He blurted out, “Wei Bo!”
The girl in pink couldn’t help gasping in awe. The silly girl was amazed—this was the second immortal-like figure she’d ever seen in her life, after the youth Cui Chan. He was unfairly handsome. Slightly embarrassed, she hid behind her master, Chen Ping’an.
The boy in blue stood frozen, then turned aggressively and asked, “Master, is this guy trying to steal our territory?”
“Of course not,” Chen Ping’an said, shaking his head with a smile. He looked at the earth deity, whose carefree aura was even more pronounced than it had been on Chess Mound Mountain, and asked curiously, “Why are you still here? Don’t mountain and water spirits dislike staying away from their own territory for too long?”
Wei Bo smiled slyly. “Coincidentally, I’ve moved to Cloak Cloud Mountain now and become your neighbor. Chen Ping’an, you’ll have to look out for me from now on!”
With that, this former Northern March Deity of the Divine Water Kingdom, once fallen from grace and now on the verge of becoming the honored god of Great Li’s Northern March, even made a playful bow to Chen Ping’an.
Chen Ping’an felt too embarrassed to accept the bow and sidestepped it, laughing. “Is the bamboo lodge finished?”
Wei Bo straightened up and nodded. “Done. I guarantee there’s no shoddy work or cut corners. It’s on Fallen Mountain. Shall I take you to see it? Originally, I picked the best feng shui spot for it to take root, but it was already occupied by Fallen Mountain’s mountain god shrine, so I had to switch to another site. It’s not bad, though—wide view, high sky and far land, beautiful scenery. I’ve been spending time there whenever I have nothing to do. You’re not allowed to burn the bridge after crossing it and kick me out, okay?”
The girl in pink thought this person looked good and had a good temper too. Then the little girl felt a bit proud—her master was truly impressive, even his friends were so dashing and extraordinary.
The boy in blue grew more and more uneasy. Suddenly, Wei Bo in white, without warning, bared his claws and made a frightening gesture, scaring the boy in blue so much that he leaped back more than a hundred feet. Wei Bo burst into hearty laughter. “Now with the black python up there too, Fallen Mountain is going to be lively.”
Chen Ping’an corrected him earnestly, “Fallen Mountain is not yours.”
Wei Bo sighed helplessly. “Right, right, right. You’re the master, I’m just a guest. That work for you?”
The group began to climb. Wei Bo considerately explained to Chen Ping’an, “Now all these big and small peaks to the west of the town have new owners. Everywhere is breaking ground, busy with mountain development—opening paths, building pavilions, and so on. Fallen Mountain, with its mountain god shrine, is even busier. The Ministry of Works of Great Li is spending money like water. Besides the nearly ten thousand criminals and refugees from the Lu Dynasty—free labor—the Longquan Prefecture and County governments have also hired many local able-bodied men to help build these immortal estates. They won’t stop until they’ve created a paradise on earth. It’s quite exhausting and wasteful.”
Wei Bo pointed at the wide yellow earth ground. “Later, this will be paved with stone slabs brought from elsewhere. They’ll be at least as good, if not better, than the bluestone ground on Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Alley.”
Chen Ping’an asked cautiously, “I don’t have to pay for it myself?”
Wei Bo pointed to the sky, laughing. “As long as you don’t plan to build a suspension bridge in the air connecting to other peaks, you won’t spend a single copper coin.”
Chen Ping’an was shocked. “Did someone actually do that?”
Wei Bo nodded. “Yes, more than one or two families. Over on several northern peaks, they’ve already deployed family consultants or hired qi refiners specializing in building cave heavens and blessed lands to construct long bridges. One of them isn’t even an iron chain and wooden plank bridge, but a stone bridge. I heard the stones were all fished out from lakes and marshes. From start to finish, I estimate they’ll spend at least a million taels of silver. But the effect is undoubtedly impressive. Walking on that stone bridge, amid swirling mist, feeling ethereal, watching the sunrise and sunset, clouds rolling and unrolling—I’m tempted myself.”
Chen Ping’an clicked his tongue. “So they really are that rich.”
Wei Bo teased, “If you were willing to sell one of your peaks like Colorful Cloud Peak or Immortal Herb Mountain, you’d instantly be a wealthy man and could indulge in such extravagance yourself.”
Chen Ping’an retorted, “What are you thinking? I don’t need those frivolous displays. These peaks are my foundation.”
Wei Bo laughed heartily.
A miser was still a miser.
Second realm remained second realm.
Straw sandals had been replaced one pair after another, but the youth was still that youth.
The boy in blue found Wei Bo more and more detestable. He itched to kick that guy in the backside and send him face-first into the dirt.
As they climbed, they passed several groups of Lu Dynasty’s criminal exiles—old and young, men and women, mostly gaunt and weary-looking. But the supervising Great Li soldiers, likely instructed by the court, didn’t mistreat these conquered people. When some of the weak fainted, friends and relatives helped them to the blazing bonfires and fed them a bit of food and warm water.
Wei Bo said matter-of-factly, “It wasn’t always this good. In the first two months, more than six hundred Lu criminals died—from exhaustion, cold, falls, beatings, or suicide from humiliation. Then Wu Yuan, who had just been promoted to Longquan Prefect, risked losing his official cap and submitted a memorial to the court. That stopped the rapid decline in the refugee population.”
Chen Ping’an asked, puzzled, “Prefect?”
Wei Bo drew a large circle with his hand. “Originally, the area around the Pearl Charm Cave Heaven was a thousand li in radius. Even though border areas have been fiercely contested by neighboring prefectures and counties, each lobbying their court connections to carve off pieces for themselves, if Longquan were still just a county, it simply couldn’t manage. Even being upgraded to a prefecture is a bit of a stretch.”
Chen Ping’an nodded. Along the journey, he had gained a clear understanding of the sizes of various states, prefectures, and counties—he had measured them step by step. He asked, “The black python from Chess Mound Mountain—has it caused any trouble here?”
Wei Bo shook his head. “It’s been cultivating quietly on Fallen Mountain, no harming anyone. Now, even when it goes out to find water and people bump into it halfway, they’ve gotten used to it. Some bold local laborers even dare to throw stones at it from a distance, and it just bears with it.”
Chen Ping’an frowned. “That won’t do. I need to talk to someone about it. Wei Bo, do you know who’s in charge here? Regardless of outcome, I need to make it clear—there’s no reason to bully that python like that.”
“Bully a ‘person’? That’s just a mountain python that recently gained intelligence,” Wei Bo said, amused. “Besides, the black python has thick skin—you could hack at it with a blade and it wouldn’t feel a thing. Don’t make a fuss, Chen Ping’an. And if I recall correctly, you didn’t exactly have a good impression of the python before. Now that you’re back, why are you taking its side?”
“If the python dares to attack first, when I meet it this time, I’ll ask someone to kill it—willing to pay for it,” Chen Ping’an said, shaking his head. “But if it hasn’t, then whether it’s on Fallen Mountain or not is irrelevant. Anywhere, if the python minds its own business, going up and down the mountain peaceably, and someone still actively provokes it—that’s not fun. That’s asking for death. If I dared to do that, I would have died in the mountains a hundred times over.”
“Makes sense.” Wei Bo narrowed his eyes with a smile. “I’ll put in a word for you. I’m quite familiar with the relationships among all these peaks.”
The girl in pink had her hands resting on the straps of her bamboo backpack, full of curiosity.
Such a huge mountain, and they’d been walking for so long without reaching even the halfway point—and it all belonged to her master.
Master hadn’t been bragging after all. He really was rich!
The boy in blue, hearing such long-lost solid reasoning, felt refreshed. It wasn’t so much that he thought Chen Ping’an was right, but that he had contradicted that white-clad immortal of unknown depth—that got him excited.
Chen Ping’an asked, as if casually, “Wei Bo, do you know Ruan Xiu? She’s a girl from the blacksmith’s shop by Dragon Beard River.”
Wei Bo pretended to ponder, then said with sudden realization, “You mean Sage Ruan Qiong’s own daughter? I’ve seen her from afar a few times. Her Divine Embroidered Mountain is the one Great Li is putting the most effort into building. Whenever she goes up to check the progress, she also visits Treasure Record Mountain and Colorful Cloud Peak and so on. Before the bamboo lodge was finished, she came to Fallen Mountain once, hands behind her back, watching me work on the roof. She asked if I needed help. I declined. The little girl just stood there looking up for a long time, made me a bit embarrassed. Eventually, I didn’t notice when she slipped away.”
Chen Ping’an turned to the girl in pink and the boy in blue and said with a smile, “Miss Ruan is a very good friend of mine. I have two shops in town, and she helps me manage them. When you see her, call her Sister Ruan.”
The girl in pink immediately nodded. “Got it!”
The boy in blue was reluctant. “My age—I could be her ancestor! Why should I call her sister? That drops me eighteen generations…”
Chen Ping’an gave him a bland look. The boy in blue instantly beat his chest like a drum, speaking with righteous fervor: “Whatever Master says! If you want me to call her ‘Mother,’ I will!”
Chen Ping’an laughed, feeling magnanimous for once, and said with newfound generosity, “Fine, I’ll give you two an extra ordinary snake gallstone each.”
The girl in pink jumped for joy, bouncing on the spot.
The boy in blue stared blankly. “Master, if I call her ‘Wife,’ can I get one more?”
Chen Ping’an rubbed his forehead. “When Miss Ruan beats you to death, don’t expect me to stop her.”
The boy in blue shuddered, suddenly remembering Wei Bo’s casual mention of “Sage Ruan Qiong’s own daughter.” The fame of Sage Ruan Qiong of True Martial Mountain had spread even to River Defense Capital in Huangting Kingdom—utterly arrogant and unreasonable. Was there any sage who would drag people into his territory and kill them on the spot?
The boy in blue immediately forced a smile. “I’ll be absolutely polite and respectful to Sister Ruan. I’ll also keep an eye on that silly girl to make sure she doesn’t offend her with careless words, and then bring disaster on us, making things hard for you, Master…”
Chen Ping’an struggled not to laugh. He deliberately didn’t mention the girl’s gentle nature, but instead gave a stern “Hmm,” nodding: “When we meet, be polite and courteous.”
After some winding paths, Wei Bo took the lead on a small bluestone path, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “This little path was my temporary project—just collected some pebbles from the stream. You might want to replace it later, Chen Ping’an.”
Chen Ping’an walked on the firm, neat pebble path and laughed. “No need. This is very good.”
The view opened up before them. They saw a two-story bamboo lodge, emerald green in color, exquisite in design. Crucially, it faced a magnificent landscape of mountains and rivers.
On the ground floor, several small, adorable bamboo chairs were set, each topped with a tiny rush cushion.
Chen Ping’an stared in a daze, mouth wide open, utterly stunned.
In his imagination, he’d thought that even if Wei Bo built him a lodge that wasn’t crooked, that would already be wonderful.
He never expected it to be this good.
Coming back to himself, he asked softly, “Is it mine?”
Wei Bo laughed. “Of course.”
Chen Ping’an clasped his fists. “Wei Bo, Fallen Mountain is your half-home from now on. Stay as long as you like.”
Wei Bo grinned. “Oh? Changed your tune? Weren’t you the one saying Fallen Mountain wasn’t ‘ours’?”
Chen Ping’an gave a sheepish laugh. “Come on, Wei Bo, you’re the dignified earth deity of Chess Mound Mountain—why would you stoop to arguing with me?”
Wei Bo laughed heartily, pointing at the youth. “You’ve changed a bit after all. This long journey of study wasn’t wasted.”
After that, Wei Bo watched as a big head and two little heads rushed up to the second floor of the bamboo lodge, then lay side by side on the railing, gazing into the distance. From Wei Bo’s perspective, they looked like a little mountain of their own.
“Master, Master! The scenery is amazing! Can we live here?”
“Of course you can.”
“Master, could you give this spot to me? I’ll trade one ordinary snake gallstone for it, how about?”
“No.”
Seemingly infected by their joyful mood, Wei Bo, no longer the earth deity of Chess Mound Mountain, turned and looked toward the distant mountains and rivers, smiling as well.
Living with good people was like entering a room filled with orchids—over time, one naturally becomes fragrant.
—
Chen Ping’an led them down the mountain toward the town. Wei Bo appeared and vanished mysteriously—his figure had already disappeared. The boy in blue muttered quietly, “Sneaky—definitely not a good bird! Master, don’t deal with that guy too much. I’m speaking from mature experience.”
Chen Ping’an ignored him.
They crossed hills and streams, familiar with the route. When the three could see the houses on the west side of town in the distance, Chen Ping’an let out a soft sigh.
Earlier, he had deliberately climbed that unremarkable Pearl Mountain and surveyed his hometown, pointing out the general locations of many places to his two companions.
For example, Mud Vase Alley, where his ancestral home was; the school where Mr. Qi once taught; Dragon Riding Lane, with its two shops; Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Alley, where he’d delivered the most letters; the blacksmith’s shop outside town; the Immortal’s Grave to the east; and the old porcelain mountain to the north.
As for that stone bridge newly restored to its original form, Chen Ping’an only glanced at it from the corner of his eye when he looked toward the blacksmith’s shop. He didn’t introduce it in detail, nor did he even pause his gaze noticeably.
Having witnessed the world’s dangers and wonders firsthand outside, one had to be extremely careful.
The boy in blue swaggered as he said, “Master, should we head to Dragon Riding Lane first? Check on the Thatched Pavilion and the New Year’s Eve Shop?”
Chen Ping’an said softly, “Let’s go to my parents’ graves first.”
They didn’t pass through the town but walked along the river downstream.
Silently crossing the stone bridge that no longer held the old sword, passing the blacksmith’s shop with its low thatched huts and tall furnaces, they finally arrived before a small grave mound. Chen Ping’an took off his backpack and removed the cotton bags, each no bigger than a fist, and added soil to the grave.
On the young man’s dark face, there was neither a grieving expression nor the look of someone returning home in glory.
Having traveled over mountains and rivers for thousands of miles, the first thing the youth did upon coming home was silently open those bags and add handfuls of soil to his parents’ grave.