Chapter 220: The Mountain and Water Seal
The old woman was busy in the kitchen when she caught sight of Chen Ping'an. A flicker of surprise crossed her face. A gentleman stays clear of the kitchen—this was a teaching of the sages. Though there was also the saying that one should not tire of fine food or meticulous preparation, it didn’t mean that gentlemen and worthy men would personally take up cooking. But the old woman quickly relaxed. The young man before her had traveled far and wide, eating and sleeping in the open, and he didn’t strike her as someone from a scholarly family. Still, she didn’t really think Chen Ping’an could be of much help, so she asked him to help with selecting vegetables and keep an eye on the stew’s heat. Chen Ping’an didn’t insist on anything else and just helped with the odd jobs. Finally, in the warm kitchen, the crisp sound of the old woman’s skilled chopping came from the cutting board. Tap, tap, tap. Chen Ping’an sat on a small stool, peeling spring bamboo shoots, their fresh, grassy scent filling the air.
The old woman asked casually, “Young Master Chen, what happened to your left hand?”
Chen Ping’an glanced at his left hand, wrapped in cotton cloth, and smiled. “I had a fall. Nothing serious.”
The old woman, rarely having someone to chat with, laughed. “The ground was slippery from the rain, and it caused the young master to get hurt. This old house of ours has been around for quite a few years. Before, with the wolves and tigers lurking around in such a difficult situation, we didn’t dare make a big show of things. At most, we patched up the courtyard walls. At night, we rarely hung lanterns. For so many years, we were afraid of scaring the common folk and didn’t dare ask bricklayers and carpenters for help. I just muddled through myself, so my craftsmanship is naturally poor. Quite a few of the bluestone floor tiles are pitted and uneven, not even level. If this were in a big city mansion in a prefecture, not to mention the family members finding it an eyesore, if outsiders saw it, they’d laugh themselves to death. Behind our backs, they’d surely gossip, saying all sorts of nasty things. Luckily, the master and mistress never minded. That’s my blessing.”
The old woman’s tone was calm, like deep, still water. Over a hundred years, joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, partings and reunions—all had settled bit by bit in her heart.
This is my blessing.
This should be the old woman’s final verdict on her own life.
Chen Ping’an said softly, “For this house to have you, Grandmother, bustling about, that’s also the blessing of the master and mistress.”
The old woman paused for a moment, then smiled and turned around to tease him. “You child, you look honest and simple, but you sure know how to talk.”
Chen Ping’an had already placed all the peeled spring bamboo shoots in a clean bamboo basket. He looked up and said, “Grandmother, I’m just telling the truth.”
The old woman looked at the young man’s clear, bright eyes, hummed in acknowledgment, and turned back. A few more smiles crept onto her face. She casually said, “Young Master Chen, do you have a girl you fancy? The women over in Rouge Prefecture City of our Colored Clothes Kingdom are famously beautiful. If you’re not in a hurry to travel, you could go over there and visit a temple fair or something. Who knows, you might stumble upon a good match. Besides, young master, though your martial realm isn’t that high, in a small place like Rouge Prefecture, which has no true deities or Earth Immortals, you’re not bad at all. If you’re willing to settle down here, you’d be more than qualified to be a general or a commandant. Then you could marry a refined young lady from a scholarly family. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Chen Ping’an felt a bit shy, muttering and stammering, not daring to engage with the topic.
The old woman turned her head, glanced at the young man with his fairly handsome and delicate features, gave a knowing smile, and said softly, “Ah, I see. Young Master Chen must already have a beloved girl.”
Chen Ping’an struggled for a long time, then blushed and asked, “Grandmother, if I liked a girl, and she once asked me if I liked her, and I said no at the time, but now I want to go find her and tell her I do… do you think she’d think I’m a liar?”
“Young Master Chen, your words sure are roundabout.”
The old woman couldn’t help laughing out loud. A pot of food was simmering, so she sat down on a small stool by the stove and asked with a smile, “Then why didn’t you tell her you liked her back then? Were you too scared, too embarrassed? Or did you think saying yes would make you lose face in front of her, so you deliberately tried to be a hero?”
Chen Ping’an thought about it seriously and carefully, then gave a sincere answer: “I was stupid.”
That really tickled the old woman this time. She laughed until her whole aged face softened. “I think the girl you like probably won’t be angry. For a girl, being liked by someone, and that liking being pure and clean—that’s always a beautiful thing.”
Chen Ping’an looked troubled. He carried the bamboo basket of spring shoots to the stove. “But that girl once told me she only likes great sword immortals…”
The old woman suppressed her laughter. “Oh dear, that’s really hard on you. A great sword immortal—that’s got to be at least someone at the Sixth Realm. Our young master had such good talent, and even when he was cultivating in the lofty blessed land of the Divine Oath Sect, he never managed to break into the Middle Five Realms and reach the legendary Cave Abode Realm. Young Master Chen, let me give you some advice. You can negotiate with that girl, see if she can lower her requirement from ‘great sword immortal’ to ‘little sword immortal’ or ‘ordinary sword immortal’? For example, if Cave Abode Realm is too high, how about the Fourth or Fifth Realm? Sword cultivators under heaven, no matter how low their realm, are still very sought after. The Fourth and Fifth Realms are already quite remarkable.”
Chen Ping’an hesitated, as if wanting to speak but stopping.
Miss Ning’s so-called great sword immortal—at the very least, she meant the Twelfth Realm!
Even if Ning Yao were really easy to talk to and agreed to lower the bar, it would probably still be at the sword immortal level of someone like Wei Jin from the Snow Wind Temple, right?
Chen Ping’an sighed. Suddenly, he reminded her, “Grandmother, the food is done.”
The old woman quickly got up, lifted the pot lid, and soon a plate of mountain delicacies, perfect in color, aroma, and flavor, was ready. She told Chen Ping’an to carry that plate of drinking snacks to the main hall of the third courtyard and said he didn’t need to come back after delivering it; he could eat and drink there. She would bring the rest of the dishes and wine later. Chen Ping’an dashed off and then dashed back. Seeing the old woman pretending to be angry, Chen Ping’an smiled and asked, “Grandmother, let me get the wine. I already talked to Master Yang, and he agreed to let me have some to drink…”
Saying this, he took off his gourd, shook it, and grinned. “Fill it to the top.”
The old woman took a wine ladle from an old red lacquered cabinet, then pointed with a smile at a few large wine jars against the wall. “Move one of the unopened jars over. The one next to it has already had its seal broken. There’s about half a jar left of homemade strong liquor. You can fill your gourd with that. It’ll be more than enough.”
After that, she ignored the young man crouching by the corner to ladle wine into his gourd and busied herself with cooking. Finally, Chen Ping’an called out a greeting, picked up a wine jar, and left the kitchen.
The old woman turned her head with a smile and glanced at the young man. The vermillion wine gourd at his waist, old and ordinary, wasn’t eye-catching. This kid, so young, and already a drunkard?
She wondered if, when he saw the girl of his heart, the gourd would hold wedding wine or heartbreak wine.
But of course, the old woman still hoped the young man would get his wish, just like the young master and young mistress becoming the master and lady.
In the main hall of the third courtyard, a happy gathering was underway.
The male and female owners of the ancient house, the bound ghost Yang Huang and the tree-fairy female ghost named Yingying, sat on the left. The big-bearded blade warrior had been invited to the seat of honor. Xu Yuanxia was a straightforward sort and didn’t bother with modesty. The Daoist Zhang Shanfeng sat on the right. After Chen Ping’an delivered the dishes and wine, everyone began to drink freely. The female ghost looked a bit ridiculous—her extremely long tree roots had wound their way from the embroidery building like green vines, encircling the room from the door into the main hall. To avoid spoiling the mood, she had deliberately worn a thick veil to hide her face.
Earlier, the big-bearded blade warrior had asked if there were any immortal arts that could help restore the poor woman’s face. Yang Huang shook his head with a bitter smile and didn’t hide the truth. He explained the details in full: it involved the Divine Oath Sect’s Green Word Treasured Proclamation, a heretical array secret technique, and the wood core of the Ancient Elm Kingdom’s ancestral elm tree. The mixture was extremely jumbled and chaotic. The crucial point was that the ancient house’s array had merged with the ancient elm wood core and couldn’t be moved. The mountain and river qi of this region, covering several hundred li, was originally a mass grave. Two hundred years ago, the Colored Clothes Kingdom suffered a terrible plague, and over a hundred thousand people died from the disease. They were mostly buried haphazardly in this area of Rouge Prefecture. Generations of Colored Clothes emperors had tried to change the feng shui here, but even when a Daoist immortal of the Observing Sea Realm had once traveled through the Colored Clothes Kingdom and was summoned by the emperor, personally coming to this place, he made many arrangements. Just two Grand Cosmic Rituals alone cost nearly a million taels of silver. However, after only a few years of improvement, the area reverted to a scene of miasmic vapors and wandering ghosts—so terrifying that even immortals were helpless.
The root of the problem lay in the feng shui of the region itself. For the female ghost, it was both a life-saving medicine and, no different from drinking poison to quench thirst. One day, she would fall into the state of an evil ghost. Yang Huang, the bound ghost, spoke frankly about this, and the female ghost was also open about it. It turned out the couple had already agreed: when that day truly came, they would both commit suicide to avoid harming the local people.
In fact, the ancient elm wood core was naturally clean and pure. But he had been in a hurry to keep the female ghost Yingying’s soul anchored, and later, in his desperation to find any cure, he had only made her soul deteriorate step by step. If she could continuously absorb the pure, refreshing qi of heaven and earth, she might have a chance to restore her spiritual nature and even give back to the local qi, becoming something akin to a mountain god of an unorthodox shrine. However, because of the ancient elm tree, her divine nature was necessarily different from that of the one surnamed Qin. She would benefit the region, whereas the mountain god surnamed Qin could only corrupt the landscape.
Finally, Yang Huang laughed magnanimously and said that in at most another thirty years, this house would have neither people, nor wine, nor food. So he hoped that Xu Yuanxia and the other two would come here as often as possible before then. At least there would still be clean rooms and bedding for them to rest, and they could chat about everything under heaven as they did tonight.
Concerning the vast qi of several hundred li of mountain and river, neither the big-bearded blade warrior nor the Daoist Zhang Shanfeng had any reply. They simply couldn’t come up with a workable solution, because only Tenth Realm qi refiners had the qualifications to “point fingers” at such matters. The Tenth Realm could be called “Saint,” an unwritten rule. It first started as flattery from secular dynasties, since Upper Five Realm immortals were far too rare, while Tenth Realm cultivators needed to firmly occupy blessed lands rich in qi, accumulate cultivation over long periods, meditate to break through realms, and occasionally interact with emperors and generals down the mountain. Therefore, Confucian sages, Daoist Earth Immortals, and Buddhist Golden Body Arhats—these popular titles all fell into this category.
Chen Ping’an genuinely liked drinking now, but he never drank too much each time. The big-bearded blade warrior, however, was the type to drink from large bowls and eat big pieces of meat. The Daoist Zhang Shanfeng had an even lower alcohol tolerance than Chen Ping’an, but he was thin-skinned. After being urged two or three times by Yang Huang and Xu Yuanxia, he would drink half a bowl or a whole bowl straight down. In the end, Chen Ping’an only dared to pour him small amounts of liquor each time. Even so, the young Daoist carrying a peachwood sword was staggering, his face flushed red, and his voice had grown much louder. He chatted with the big-bearded man about his experiences in the martial world and discussed poetry with the bound ghost Yang Huang, who came from a scholarly background. Everyone was having a great time.
The old woman brought out plates of dishes every now and then. Seeing that one jar of wine was empty, she went to bring another.
Host and guests were all delighted.
Just as the second jar was nearly finished, a mournful cry suddenly rang out: “Brother Chu! Brother Chu! Where have you gone? Don’t leave me alone here!”
Soon, a sobbing voice followed: “Little Daoist! Chen! Where have you two gone? Could you have been caught and eaten by evil ghosts and demons? No! Monsters in the house, if you want to eat people, eat us all together! Don’t leave me for last and eat me alone!”
The old woman was just bringing in a plate of food and was about to go calm down that Liu fellow, the son of an official, and explain the situation.
Chen Ping’an quickly stood up and said he would go instead. The old woman thought about it and agreed—if she went, that poor scholar would probably faint from fright.
When the Liu scholar was led by Chen Ping’an into the third courtyard, his legs were shaking, his lips were blue. When he saw the big-bearded blade warrior, he calmed down a bit. But when he saw the terrifying tree roots snaking into the main hall from the back door, his eyes rolled back and he nearly fainted. Chen Ping’an squeezed his arm harder, and the pain jolted him awake. The scholar wailed, “Just let me faint, would you?”
Chen Ping’an said irritably, “If you really can’t handle it, drink some wine to bolster your courage! If you drink yourself to death, fine! At least you should have that much guts, right?”
The scholar looked miserable. “Can I not have it?”
Chen Ping’an laughed in exasperation and said firmly, “No!”
The scholar cautiously studied the young man’s expression. He didn’t seem to be in league with the monsters, so the scholar sighed mournfully and encouraged himself: “Drink then! Even if it’s the last drink before my head is chopped off, it’s still wine!”
Once at the table, the scholar kept his head down, not daring to look at anyone, and just drank.
The big-bearded blade warrior laughed. “You scholar, what bad luck, making friends with such an unscrupulous spirit! And you traveled through mountains and rivers all the way, letting him trick you into coming here. But you’ve survived until now, drinking with us—that shows you’re lucky. Judging by your clothes, you’re from a wealthy family in the Colored Clothes Kingdom?”
The scholar trembled and said, “My father is the prefect of Rouge Prefecture, but our family really isn’t rich. I’m not from a wealthy family.”
The big-bearded blade warrior was both amused and annoyed. “What, do I look like a bandit or a highwayman to you?!”
The scholar raised his head, glanced at the big-bearded man, and thought, You couldn’t look more like one.
The big-bearded blade warrior stopped scaring the frail scholar and suddenly grew worried. “Brother Yang, will that old Daoist really deal with the mountain god of the unorthodox shrine? Could he deliberately let him off to spite you?”
The man shook his head and smiled. “Since that Fellow Master Fu is overseeing this matter, the outer sect of the Divine Oath Sect will definitely investigate it to the end. Besides, every group of outer sect disciples descending the mountain for training goes through extremely rigorous evaluation and assessment. There’s no way Zhao Liu can act on his own.”
But Yang Huang’s expression suddenly changed slightly. “Now I’m only worried that the unorthodox shrine’s mountain god has backers in the government. If Zhao Liu, with his twisted mind, uses the excuse of not wanting to bully others and then discusses this with the high officials of the prefecture—calling it ‘discussion’ but really making a private deal—then we’re in trouble. Once Zhao Liu convinces the Colored Clothes court and the Ministry of Rites to voluntarily keep that unorthodox shrine, or even officially turn it into a proper mountain god, a legitimate god of the landscape, it will become very tricky. Although the main mountain gods of the Colored Clothes Kingdom are not comparable to those of major kingdoms, being only at the Sixth Realm qi refiner level, they can exert Observing Sea Realm strength on their own territory. That one surnamed Qin, after all, is a mountain god with a golden body. As long as Zhao Liu interferes and helps him obtain the emperor’s decree legitimately, he might even reach the Cave Abode Realm. An immortal master from the Divine Oath Sect only needs to say a few words, and the Colored Clothes emperor will weigh them carefully.”
After saying this, the big-bearded blade warrior, the Daoist Zhang Shanfeng, and Chen Ping’an all looked at the trembling scholar almost simultaneously.
The scholar was bewildered. What main mountain gods, unorthodox shrine mountain gods, Cave Abode Realm, Observing Sea Realm—he didn’t understand any of it. He said timidly, “My father is just a fourth-rank prefect. Whatever mountain gods or whatever, my father probably hasn’t even heard of them. He can’t help.”
The big-bearded blade warrior laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re not asking your father to help, just to prevent him from helping the wrong way. Tomorrow morning, I’ll accompany you back to Rouge Prefecture City. We’ll ride fast horses to visit the prefect lord. At the very least, we’ll make sure Zhao Liu doesn’t get there first. I believe that once Zhao Liu sees me, Xu someone, in the prefect’s mansion, he’ll get the picture and realize his schemes won’t work. And even if they do work, he’ll have to be careful that we don’t go to the Divine Oath Sect to raise a ruckus, just like commoners beating the drum of justice at the government office and crying out for the great magistrate to redress their grievances.”
At the end, the big-bearded blade warrior burst out laughing.
The bound ghost Yang Huang stood up and bowed with cupped hands. “Then I thank Brother Xu in advance!”
The big-bearded blade warrior’s expression suddenly turned strange. He took a sip of wine and said gloomily, “Brother Xu, my foot! At my age, I could be your grandson and still feel too old!”
Yang Huang laughed heartily. “Heroes don’t ask about background; friends don’t discuss age!”
Even the female ghost let out a few light laughs from behind her veil.
This scared the timid scholar, who had barely mustered up some courage, back into a pale-faced fright.
That night, the young Daoist got very drunk. The scholar named Liu Gaohua didn’t dare drink his fill, afraid that if he passed out, he wouldn’t see the morning sun. In the end, the four of them shared the second courtyard: Chen Ping’an and Zhang Shanfeng in adjoining rooms, the scholar and the big-bearded blade warrior as neighbors.
Nothing happened that night.
At dawn, the Daoist Zhang Shanfeng got up and pushed open the door, seeing Chen Ping’an already in the courtyard practicing his walking-post drills. Compared to when they first met, it felt like he was moving slower and slower.
After eating the breakfast prepared by the old woman, the four of them said their goodbyes and left together. The sun was already high, and since the male and female owners of the ancient house didn’t like sunlight, they didn’t come out to see them off. They stood by the embroidery building, waving from a distance.
The big-bearded man yawned, squinting at the increasingly dazzling sun, and said lazily, “Another new day.”
The Daoist Zhang Shanfeng was chatting with the scholar Liu Gaohua about the local customs of Rouge Prefecture. Once Liu Gaohua had stepped out of that ancient house, his entire spirit changed, as if he’d been injected with chicken blood. He talked endlessly, enjoying the conversation with the young Daoist.
Chen Ping’an suddenly turned and walked back to the threshold. He said softly to the old woman, “Grandmother, if—just if—there’s trouble, you can send a letter to the northernmost part of Great Li, to Dragon Spring County, to a person named Wei Bo at Piyun Mountain. Just say that Brother Yang Huang is my friend, and that Chen Ping’an owes you a lot of wine.”
The old woman smiled and nodded. She didn’t take it seriously, but she didn’t refuse the kindness either.
Some kindnesses are like sunlight in the lingering cold of spring—whether it’s there or not, the difference isn’t huge. But why refuse it?
Chen Ping’an reached out and handed her seven or eight Snowflake Coins. “Dragon Spring County in Great Li is far from the Colored Clothes Kingdom. This is for the postage when you send the letter, Grandmother.”
This house had long since exhausted all of Yang Huang’s savings. Everything was stretched thin, so even the wine was homemade, and the vegetables were picked from afar by the old woman.
The old woman hesitated for a moment, then accepted the Snowflake Coins.
Mailing a letter to the northernmost part of Bottle Gourd Continent, to the Great Li Dynasty, was certainly not cheap, but it definitely didn’t require the extravagant amount of seven Snowflake Coins.
But as the young man handed over the coins, they were just like copper coins from the market—a small handful. Neither too many nor too few. If she refused or deliberately took fewer, it would seem unfriendly or pretentious. Even if she accepted them generously, it wouldn’t mean she owed a huge debt.
For a moment, the old woman felt a pang of emotion. So young, and already knowing how to consider others’ feelings. She wondered how much hardship he must have endured as a child to have such tact and measure.
The Daoist Zhang Shanfeng called out with a smile, “Chen Ping’an, let’s go!”
Chen Ping’an responded with an “Eh!” said goodbye to the old woman, and ran off a little distance. Then he suddenly turned back toward the embroidery building and shouted loudly, “The books say, may all lovers be united in matrimony!”
The bound ghost and the female ghost by the embroidery building smiled knowingly at each other.
Though the couple were no longer “human,” what did that matter?
The young man, carrying his sword case and with a gourd at his waist, ran backward, waving goodbye to the old woman once more. “Grandmother, the stir-fried bamboo shoots with meat were delicious! I’ll come again next time!”
The old woman stood at the door, her smile warm, watching the young man bathed in sunlight. She softly hummed in acknowledgment.
—
The group arrived at the prefect’s mansion in Rouge Prefecture City. The prefect was handling government affairs in the official hall. The big-bearded blade warrior and the Daoist Zhang Shanfeng sat in the elegantly simple guest hall, drinking tea served by maids. Liu Gaohua, on the other hand, led Chen Ping’an straight to his father’s study, sneaking around like a thief. Chen Ping’an had asked him for a topographic map of Rouge Prefecture, and it had to be the kind stamped by the court. Liu Gaohua didn’t understand why, but thinking about how he had survived the ancient house, seen spirits and monsters with his own eyes, and even sat at the same table drinking with her—at that thought, Liu Gaohua felt a surge of boldness and took a liking to everyone. So he patted his chest and agreed to help Chen Ping’an steal a topographic map of Rouge Prefecture from the Colored Clothes Kingdom. Then Chen Ping’an, without a word, handed him fifty taels of silver. Liu Gaohua initially wanted to say something about their bond forged in danger, and that talking about money would hurt their feelings, but when he saw the heavy silver ingots, he immediately felt that hurting feelings was fine—they probably wouldn’t meet again anyway.
Liu Gaohua crept into the study with Chen Ping’an, closed the door, and rummaged through boxes and cabinets. Finally, he pulled out an old scroll—a genuine, antique topographic map of Rouge Prefecture. It was a spare copy. That was normal; maps of this kind, drawn by the Imperial Observatory, had two official copies. One was always hung in the government office hall, and the other was kept by the local military commander. Only this spare copy would be left to gather dust.
Chen Ping’an confirmed it was the right one and nodded. “This is it.”
He was spending fifty taels of silver to buy a very, very slim possibility.
Teacher Qi had once said that if he saw a topographic map that looked pleasing, he could take out that pair of mountain and water seals and stamp them on the map. No ink pad needed.
Chen Ping’an asked the scholar for the location of the ancient house on the map, then made an excuse for Liu Gaohua to go pick out some landscape travel books from the bookshelf. While the scholar had his back turned, Chen Ping’an’s palm suddenly produced a pair of seals that looked like “mountain meeting water”—a matching pair carved and inscribed by Qi Jingchun himself. The seal material was the finest snake gallbladder stone from the Bead Draining Paradise.
Chen Ping’an breathed heavily onto the two seals, then aimed at the location of the ancient house and pressed down gently with a soft pat.
He didn’t see anything special happen, so he rolled up the topographic map, tucked it under his arm, and said to Liu Gaohua, “Alright, let’s get out of here quick, before your father finds out. If he does, that’s your problem. I’ve already paid you, so I’m not giving the money back. If your father beats you half to death, I’ll at most pay for the medicine.”
Liu Gaohua grabbed two books at random and tossed them to Chen Ping’an, and they left the study together.
Chen Ping’an secretly sighed. He felt that the plan he had in mind probably wouldn’t work. But that was normal. How could simply stamping a seal change the feng shui and qi of several hundred li? He wasn’t an immortal.
But Chen Ping’an had miscalculated one thing.
He was certainly not an immortal.
But the teacher who had carved the seal?
He was an immortal among immortals.
Thus, within a radius of several hundred li centered on the ancient house, mountains and rivers were upended. Filth dissipated, transforming into purity and clarity.
The mountain god temple of the unorthodox shrine collapsed instantly. The golden body of the mountain god surnamed Qin shattered.
Even though the old Daoist from the Divine Oath Sect had already let him off and privately given him secret strategies—making the mountain god ecstatic, thinking his fortunes had finally turned for the better, and he would no longer be a struggling minor shrine god but would soon become a proper god backed by Divine Oath Sect immortals—at the moment his golden body shattered, he never understood why. He just sat dazed on his divine platform, then vanished into smoke.
At that moment, Zhao Liu of the Divine Oath Sect was leading a group of little ancestors out of the town. He instantly perceived the anomaly that made heaven and earth change color.
The old Daoist Zhao Liu stood dumbfounded.
Could it be that the sect’s Golden Boy had personally come?
Even the Golden Boy probably didn’t have such divine powers now, did he?
The other younger disciples of the Divine Oath Sect were even more terrified and uneasy.
Only the seemingly frightened young Daoist lowered his head, his eyes full of delight, secretly gloating to himself: “Damn it, damn it, I told you! That guy is a bastard who’s lived for centuries. He definitely did this! Hah, when I get back to the mountain gate and see my master, I’ll definitely brag to him—this time I saw a Upper Five Realm immortal!”
At the embroidery building, the bound ghost Yang Huang, ignoring the sunlight that would scorch his soul, flew swiftly to the roof ridge of the embroidery building and stared intently. All around, vitality was thriving; spiritual qi was gathering from all directions in wisps and strands. The man’s face was full of shock and ecstasy.
The female ghost directly broke through the roof, letting her ugly body under her skirt be exposed to the sunlight. She took a deep breath—for the first time in a hundred years, she felt her heart fresh and clear, her breath smooth.
Yang Huang’s eyes reddened. Trembling with excitement, he said, “There must be a sage helping us! Perhaps because of Fellow Master Fu’s appearance, this scene caught the eye of some old immortal in the Divine Oath Sect, who bestowed this great kindness. Regardless, this is an incredible blessing, something I wouldn’t even dare to dream of…”
The man choked up. Suddenly realizing something, he dropped to his knees and kowtowed three times in each of the four directions.
The female ghost couldn’t kneel, so she bowed earnestly to the four directions.
—
The old woman standing in the third courtyard also bowed to heaven, earth, and the four directions.
The old woman, who almost never drank in her life, inexplicably thought to pour herself a bowl of wine. Even if it tasted bad, so what? She had lived long enough—already two lifetimes for others.
The old woman went to the corner of the kitchen wall. Holding a wine bowl in one hand and a ladle in the other, she dipped the ladle into a wine jar whose seal had long been broken. How could there be so little wine left? That made no sense. The old woman was stunned for a moment, confused, then frowned deeply. Finally, her scalp tingled. She dropped the wine bowl and the ladle, stood up abruptly, and murmured, “How is this possible? How is this possible!”
She wiped the sweat from her forehead, then suddenly laughed. She went to ladle out another small half-bowl of wine, then walked out of the kitchen and sat on a bench in the covered corridor, looking at the sunlight quietly spilling over the courtyard. The white-haired old woman took small sips of wine, rarely so at leisure—nothing in her hands, nothing on her mind.
Once, on a similarly warm, sunny day, a northern youth named Chen Ping’an, carrying a wooden box, had jogged backward, smiling, waving goodbye to the old woman.
At his waist hung a little vermillion gourd, containing wine, a sword, and a martial world.
So he was a young sword immortal and a drunkard.
The old woman drank her wine, smiled, and thought. Such a fine young man—then the girl he loved must be a wonderful girl indeed, wouldn’t she?