Chapter 273: A Pillow of Yellow Millet, Sword Qi Endures

Chapter 273: A Pillow of Yellow Millet, Sword Qi Endures

The morning sunlight streamed into the wine shop. The old shopkeeper was whistling to tease the caged bird, a little yellow sparrow as aloof as an immortal on the mountaintop. The old man, on the other hand, was full of competitive spirit, showing off his skills with a crisp and nimble whistle.

The young shop assistant was diligently cleaning the place. Tables and stools, already spotless, became even more pristine. Every now and then, he would breathe on a surface and carefully wipe it with his sleeve, his entire demeanor radiating contentment.

It seemed that for this youth, a wine peddler from Daoxuan Mountain, tidying up the shop was the greatest happiness under heaven.

Chen Ping'an, who had been sleeping face-down on the wine table, woke up groggily. He didn't have the splitting headache that usually followed a heavy drinking session, but he felt utterly dazed. He sat there blankly, trying hard to recall what had happened the previous night. He couldn't remember a thing. All he remembered was agreeing to a couple to drink some Forget Sorrow Wine, which even Jade Muslin realm cultivators rarely got to taste. Who were the couple? What did he talk to them about? When did they leave? Everything was gone.

It was supposed to be Forget Sorrow Wine, but what exactly had he forgotten?

Chen Ping'an felt even more sorrowful instead. There was an elusive, faint sadness lingering in his heart that he couldn't shake off.

It was like a yellow sparrow perching on the yellow earth window of his ancestral home in the Clay Vase Alley at the break of dawn, chirping and twittering, disturbing his dreams, yet he couldn't bear to shoo it away.

Chen Ping'an looked around and saw the diligent young shop assistant and the leisurely old shopkeeper.

Chen Ping'an asked tentatively, "Check, please?"

The young assistant, who was squatting on the floor wiping a table leg, grinned but didn't speak.

The old man chuckled. "You four drank four jars of wine. Three of them were my treat. You, boy, do need to pay for the remaining jar."

Chen Ping'an asked, "How much?"

The old man burst into laughter. "Money? If you really had to buy a jar of Yellow Millet Wine with money, that would be quite a lot, you know."

The youth, whom the shopkeeper called Xu Jia, snickered, "Last night, a rich young master from White Jade Continent came here on a reputation. He wanted to buy a jar of Forget Sorrow Wine to take home. Shopkeeper wouldn't sell, said it wasn't a matter of money. The young man pestered and pestered, insisting on knowing the price. But when he heard it, he was scared silly. He's been sitting on the steps outside the door staring blankly all night. Probably hasn't given up yet."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Liu Youzhou?"

The old man nodded. "That's the little fellow. The future head of the Liu Clan of White Jade Continent. He's known as the Multi-Treasure Boy. He has a Fangzhang object packed with numerous magic treasures. Because of the Ape Trampling Manor, everyone at Daoxuan Mountain knows this rich young master's name. Once, during a training expedition in the Central Continent, he traveled with seven companions. They encountered a powerful enemy. The little guy whipped out seven high-grade offensive magic treasures in one breath and then made himself as tough as a turtle shell. He wore two pieces of Divine Dew Armor, not to mention a sage's true-name talisman. The other seven simply overwhelmed a terrestrial immortal yin entity two realms above them by sheer force of wealth."

Clearly, in the old shopkeeper's eyes, this little fellow was worth a few extra words. He smiled cheerfully and said, "Such an interesting little guy. I almost couldn't help myself and wanted to give him a bowl of Yellow Millet Wine to drink."

Chen Ping'an felt a bit chagrined. Liu Youzhou sure had a strong fear of death.

Chen Ping'an asked nervously, "Old sir, how do I settle the bill?"

The old man thought for a moment. "I haven't figured out how to settle it yet. I'll think of it later and come find you."

Chen Ping'an's heart immediately began to pound with anxiety.

The old man laughed. "It's also possible that I won't remember even after you've lived out this life. So don't worry."

Chen Ping'an breathed a slight sigh of relief.

As Chen Ping'an got up to leave the wine shop, the old man asked, "Boy, there's still a little less than half a jar of Yellow Millet Wine left. Aren't you going to finish it before you go?"

Chen Ping'an reached out and shook the jar. Indeed, there was still a little less than half left. He asked doubtfully, "Can I take it?"

The old man shook his head. "If you take it away, you won't forget your sorrows. It'll be worse than ordinary wine. You'd be wasting a precious thing. I advise you not to do something so foolish. This wine has some subtle properties. In fact, for that couple to invite you to drink it now is already a tremendous waste. The later you drink it, the better. But in this world, it's hard to ask for the best. Just make do with the good."

So Chen Ping'an sat back down, curious, and asked, "Isn't it called Forget Sorrow Wine? Why do you always call it Yellow Millet Wine, shopkeeper?"

The youth named Xu Jia's eyes widened, looking as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight. "Do you not know where this is?"

Chen Ping'an was even more puzzled. "Isn't it Daoxuan Mountain?"

Xu Jia grinned. "Then you must have at least heard of the Yellow Millet Blessed Land, right?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head again.

The old man came to Chen Ping'an's rescue. "It's normal that you don't know. This blessed land met the same fate as your homeland's Pearl Bright Small Heaven. It was destroyed."

Xu Jia quickly threw down his rag and said eagerly, "Boss, boss, let me tell this part! Miss said I'm particularly handsome when I tell this part."

The old man gave a dry laugh. "Either my daughter is blind, or she was drunk and talking nonsense. Which do you think is more likely?"

"Miss is perfectly fine!"

Xu Jia coughed, cleared his throat, and said seriously, "Nowadays, only a few ruins remain of the Yellow Millet Blessed Land. In its heyday, all the disheartened people in the world would make a trip there. It was very lively—beautiful women, beautiful scenery, fine wine, and sweet dreams. The blessed land had everything, and it always met your expectations. That was its rarest quality. It could also reflect a person's Dao heart. Many cultivators who barely managed to ascend to the Upper Five Realms' Jade Muslin realm, relying on various secret methods and unorthodox paths, would make a special trip to this shop on Daoxuan Mountain. First, they would separate one soul and one spirit to remain clear-headed, then drink a jar of Forget Sorrow Wine to let their true heart flow out. It would lay everything bare, either unraveling complexities or patching up flaws..."

Just as Xu Jia was speaking with great fervor, the old man interrupted impatiently, "Stop, stop! Flipping through an old almanac back and forth, aren't you afraid of wearing it out? In short, now the entire Yellow Millet Blessed Land is only as big as this shop."

Chen Ping'an poured himself a bowl of wine, looked around, and found it hard to connect a blessed land with a shop.

In Vase Continent, there was also a blessed land: Clear Pool Blessed Land, controlled by the continent's orthodox sect, the Divine Proclamation Sect.

It was said that the Jiang Clan of the Jade Scepter Sect in Parasol Leaf Continent also controlled a Cloud Cavern Blessed Land.

Chen Ping'an took a sip of wine and asked, "Old sir, I didn't go on a drunken rampage last night, did I? And where are the couple?"

The old man countered, "You don't remember?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

The old man smiled. "If you don't remember, why should I, an outsider, remember?"

Chen Ping'an had no retort, so he silently drank.

He still couldn't discern good from bad.

He just found it easy to drink.

The old man recalled something and pointed at a wall. "See that wall? Everyone who sits down to drink can go over and inscribe a poem or write a few words."

Xu Jia said with an air of experience, "After drinking, there are two outcomes: either you're dead drunk, and the rest of your life is spent being born and dying in a wine vat, never sobering up until death; or you become completely sober, see through life, and experience the flavors of several lifetimes before you've even lived one. I think the words written by these two kinds of people are especially interesting. Guest, do you want to give it a try?"

The old man said in exasperation, "Oh, cut it out. My teeth are about to ache from the sourness. A kid your age, always trying to imitate A Liang. Aren't you embarrassed?"

Xu Jia said matter-of-factly, "Miss likes A Liang so much. Who else should I imitate if not him?"

The old man sighed. "Those who imitate me will survive; those who resemble me will die. You've seen so many drunkards and heard so much drunk talk, yet you still can't understand this principle?"

Xu Jia grinned. "I'm imitating A Liang, not you."

The old man threw a wine cup at him. "You spend all your day sparring with words!"

Xu Jia caught the cup lightly, tossed it high back to the old man, then ran over to Chen Ping'an with a brush. "Leave a memento on it."

Chen Ping'an put down his wine bowl, looking helpless. "My handwriting is really bad."

Xu Jia rolled his eyes. "Can it be worse than A Liang's worm trails? And besides, even the most famous calligraphers in the world are criticized by their peers as 'rocks crushing toads,' 'dead snakes hanging on branches,' 'warriors embroidering flowers,' or 'old women donning armor'?"

The youth lowered his voice and said, "Let me tell you the truth: no matter how bad anyone's handwriting is up there, in front of A Liang's handwriting, they all look like heavenly beauties! Go see for yourself if you don't believe me."

Chen Ping'an still didn't take the brush, but he stood up and walked toward the wall. From a distance, it looked like a blank white wall without any ink marks. But when he got close, he saw that it was covered with poems, essays, and aphorisms.

A dazzling array.

One person's handwriting stood out like a crane among chickens. It was a cursive poem occupying a large area.

Like a cluster of flowers competing in beauty, with one peerless beauty taking all the glory.

There were also incongruous traces. The most eye-catching was a line of crooked large characters that even Chen Ping'an found unbearable to look at. The content was even more speechless: "Whenever I think of how many girls are longing for me, my conscience feels a little pain." What really got him was that at the end of the text, there was a doodle of a smiling face and a thumbs-up.

No doubt about it, it was definitely A Liang's own handwriting. An ordinary person wouldn't have the nerve to write such things.

Chen Ping'an suppressed a laugh, turned, and asked, "Old sir, you keep this too?"

The youth helping with the brush said listlessly, "First, A Liang was shamelessly stubborn: he said that if we erased a single character, we'd have to pay him back for a jar of wine. Second, my miss absolutely loves this passage. She thinks A Liang is praising her. My miss even traded a jar of Yellow Millet Wine with some ancestor of a literary school for a piece of powder-and-rouge writing—a poem specifically about her and A Liang... Boss, what was it called again?"

The old man sneered, "Sentimental and Entangled."

Xu Jia nodded. "Right. Actually, at the time, my miss even hinted at that literary ancestor that the more blunt and explicit, the better. Later, I guess the guy couldn't bring himself to write it that way, so he made it more subtle. Miss was very unhappy. This time, she ran away from home—she calls it eloping—and one thing on her to-do list is to find that ancestor and give him a piece of her mind. She says he wrote a lousy poem, that he's a fame-chasing fraud, and she must spit in his face."

Chen Ping'an's gaze roamed across the high wall. Finally, he lowered his head and noticed a small column of tiny characters in a corner. They were still written by A Liang, but they weren't conspicuous.

Small, the jianghu isn't that great. Only the wine is passable.

A Liang had blackened out one character after the word "Small."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Can I write anything?"

Xu Jia handed him the brush and nodded. "Anything is fine, as long as it's on a blank spot."

The young assistant didn't forget to remind him, "Guest, don't write something like 'So-and-so was here.' That's too tacky. Even content as shameless as A Liang's is better than 'was here.'"

Chen Ping'an took the brush, but suddenly turned and ran back to the wine table. He took a big gulp of wine, then returned to the wall. He crouched down and, after the word "Small" and above the blackened patch, wrote a small character: "Qi."

Small Qi, the jianghu isn't that great. Only the wine is passable.

The old man joked, "Your handwriting has no spirit; it's just by the rules. But standing next to A Liang's characters, it looks good. You're cheating. Come on, write something else somewhere."

Chen Ping'an nodded and began looking for another blank spot. But in the middle area of the wall, the structure was dense. He could squeeze in a line if he wanted, but it felt disrespectful to those before him. Besides, those who dared to write in the center wrote extremely well, with great charm. Chen Ping'an didn't dare write there, so he looked to the sides, high and low. Xu Jia gave him a cue, pointing to two places with considerable empty space: one high up on the right, one low down on the left.

Chen Ping'an moved, crouched at the far left, took a deep breath, and wrote three characters.

Before writing, he thought of all those sword immortals and immortal swords in the Sword Venerating Pavilion.

So what he wrote was: "Sword Qi Endures."

Xu Jia looked at those three characters. Standard and uninspired. The youth shook his head disapprovingly and muttered, "Clearly not well-read."

The old man, rarely agreeing with the shop assistant, nodded with a smile. "And also someone who hasn't drunk enough. Hey, Chen, the Great Li youth, don't be in a hurry. Drink a big bowl first. Get good and drunk, then write what's on your mind. It's not as hard as you think. The three jars I treated you to give you three sentences. You have one last chance."

But Chen Ping'an had already handed the brush back to Xu Jia. He said to the old man with a smile, "I'm done."

The old man didn't insist. Immortals leaving drunk calligraphy was just a minor affair, the icing on the cake. Since the youth couldn't write well and wasn't a sword immortal yet, the old shopkeeper naturally wouldn't force him.

Chen Ping'an hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Old sir, can I leave this half-jar of wine on credit? I want to go to the Sword Qi Great Wall first. Can I come back and drink it after?"

Xu Jia shook his head vigorously. "Our wine shop has no such rule. Once a jar of Yellow Millet Wine is unsealed, you have to finish it in one go. There's no reason to leave the door and come back for more."

The old man thought for a moment and nodded. "This once, it's all right."

Xu Jia was frantic. "Why?"

The old man set the birdcage aside, leaned on the counter, and smiled. "I like the phrase 'leave it on credit.' It sounds auspicious and festive."

As Chen Ping'an stepped across the wine shop's threshold, he stumbled. Once he steadied himself and looked back, the wine shop was nowhere to be seen. Just empty space.

Inside the vanished wine shop, the old man opened the birdcage. The little yellow sparrow with the golden beak flew out, but just as it was about to approach the characters on the wall, as it always did to peck at the length of a person's martial fortune, it quickly darted back into the cage. Xu Jia stared, dumbfounded. The old man thought for a moment and sighed. "Ah, never mind. Just a youth from a small continent. Even if he has the seed of such a fate, what does it matter? A short hundred years—whether I check or not, it makes no difference."

Xu Jia glared fiercely at a line written at the very top. Most people wrote from top to bottom, creating a column. In the past hundred years, after A Liang, a female guest recently was the second person to write horizontally. Moreover, after she wrote, the little sparrow had fluttered in panic, and it took it half a day to recover, as if it had gone through a serious illness.

Xu Jia couldn't help complaining, "It's all that female martial god's fault! Her martial fortune was so overwhelming, her aura too terrifying!"

The old man looked at the pitiful little sparrow with doting affection and murmured, "You've suffered."

In the world, there was a pair of wonder sparrows. They could peck at literary fortune and snatch martial fortune.

Legend had it that the male sparrow was captured by Lu Chen, the head of the Daoist sect. The female sparrow was raised by the founder of the Eclectic School.

———

Chen Ping'an walked along a quiet alley.

Although he had drunk in a daze, once he'd finished the wine and stepped out of the shop, he suddenly figured something out.

Chen Ping'an took off his Sword-nurturing Gourd, drank some of the remaining Osmanthus Small Brew, and mumbled to himself as he drank.

Miss Ning, you probably don't really like me anymore.

Otherwise, back in Pearl Bright Small Heaven, you said you'd give me that sword scabbard. Why would you have pretended to forget this time?

Chen Ping'an, you really are a bastard. Miss Ning isn't even talking about liking or disliking anymore. It's more about whether she hates you.

Thinking this, the youth took some bittersweet comfort. At least this trip through the jianghu hadn't been in vain. He had gained some wits.

But he still decided to go to the Sword Qi Great Wall in person.

He kept telling himself he just wanted to see those big characters carved into the wall of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

At worst, he could "accidentally" run into a certain girl at some place and time, then smile broadly and greet her. He was just a bit uncertain between opening lines like "What a coincidence" and "You're here too." Chen Ping'an thought it over carefully.

So carefully that he didn't notice a girl following behind him, just about furious.

She was wearing a dark green robe.