Chapter 327: Thrown Out of the Observing Dao Temple

Chapter 327: Thrown Out of the Observing Dao Temple

The human heart is not like a street that can become spotlessly clean after a heavy rain.

The turmoil in the capital, which both emperors, generals, ministers, and common peddlers regarded as a clash of immortals, still rippled on. Back then, Chen Ping'an had helped Zhong Qiu teach boxing to Yan Shijing and the others, and the friends who had come to watch the excitement were part of those ripples. Old General Lü Xiao, after descending from the city wall, boasted to his grandchildren that he and Chen Ping'an were friends despite their age difference. And the relocation of many households near Zhuangyuan Lane was another ripple.

Ding Ying died, ending all his troubles. Yu Zhenyi flew off on his sword, leaving Zhong Qiu alone to clean up the mess.

After sending Cao Qinglang to the school, Chen Ping'an returned by the same route, holding an umbrella as he walked through the still desolate and quiet street. As the court gradually relaxed the lockdown on this ward, a sparse number of pedestrians could be seen on the road, but the atmosphere remained very thin. Most were bold martial artists who had come to pay respects to the battlefield, marveling at the trench carved into the street by the sword immortal from Niaokan Peak.

As for the area around Guniu Mountain, it remained forbidden, cordoned off. The court had ordered that anyone crossing the line would be killed without mercy. Many officials from the Imperial Observatory appeared there, and the crude thatched hut left by Yu Zhenyi had not been demolished.

Some martial arts heroes spotted Chen Ping'an but took him for just another person like themselves, coming here to admire the demeanor of grandmasters.

After a moment of hesitation, Chen Ping'an headed for the martial arts school and paid a visit. The gatekeeper, seeing that he didn't seem like someone here to "challenge the school and smash the signboard" and that he had an extraordinary bearing, dared not be negligent and quickly went to inform the school master. The old master who taught boxing came out personally to welcome Chen Ping'an. Hearing that Chen Ping'an had come on account of the school's reputation, he felt quite proud, and his disciple students also felt honored. Mainly because Chen Ping'an spoke with great expertise about the structure and methods of the school's boxing instruction. With just a few words, he struck a chord with the old master, clearly having heard of the school's reputation beforehand. In the capital, a martial arts school's real income came from hooking a few big fish—rich young masters yearning for adventure. With these wealthy sons backing them, the school could make a profit. The students who could endure hardship and had talent were the substance; the young gentlemen who came for the excitement were the face. Both were indispensable.

The old master entertained Chen Ping'an in the main hall, having his disciples serve tea as they began to chat.

When the conversation touched on the fundamental martial arts technique of Xiaoda Long, the old man did not go into detail—he wasn't so indiscreet as to casually pass on specifics. He merely sighed that it wasn't easy to find good seedlings. With luck, you might get one such prized disciple in four or five years; without luck, you might not encounter one in a decade.

The old master also said that practicing boxing wasn't just about strengthening the body; it was more like handing a weapon to the student. The foremost importance was martial virtue. Otherwise, the higher the martial skill of a disciple, the more likely they were to bully others if their character was poor, and the more trouble they would cause. A disagreement could lead to a few punches killing someone, and in the end, it would implicate the school and the martial arts sect.

Chen Ping'an then asked some questions about external boxing theory. The old master was initially evasive, looking troubled. Chen Ping'an feigned sudden realization, saying he had forgotten the main business, and took out twenty taels of silver, placing them on the side table. He said he planned to study boxing at the school in the near future but couldn't guarantee he'd come every day. The old master's eyes lit up, and from then on, he held back nothing, telling Chen Ping'an all the most common boxing theories.

Chen Ping'an committed it all to memory, trying to cross-reference it with the "Shaking Mountain Boxing Manual." After hearing these basic theories, Chen Ping'an finally made up his mind: he would collect martial arts knowledge from this world, from low to high—he didn't need too much. In the future, when he wasn't practicing boxing, he could casually flip through them, and there might be unexpected gains. Just like the earlier integration of the six-step stance from Shaking Mountain Boxing with Zhong Qiu's summit large frame, which had successfully allowed Chen Ping'an to break through the bottleneck of the fourth realm, and it happened naturally and effortlessly. Especially that "momentum"—the way Ding Ying had walked into the main hall of Baihe Temple, and the way Zhong Qiu had first appeared and walked toward him. This world's so-called "unity of Heaven and man" held great mystery, Chen Ping'an felt. It might even bring additional benefits once he returned to the Haoran World.

Moreover, it was highly possible that the breakthrough from the fifth realm to the sixth would lie within this. Chen Ping'an guessed that after leaving the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, which had sparse spiritual qi, he would find himself stuck in a muddy situation, somewhat similar to Fan Wan'er's experience outside Baihe Temple's main hall—that heavy, dragging feeling as if burdened by heavy stones, a bit like when Old Man Yang had embedded those four true qi talismans on his hands and feet.

This was the first time since Chen Ping'an had started practicing boxing that he became "alive," beginning to try to figure out gains and losses on his own. His comprehension of Zhong Qiu's summit large frame during battle was an example.

At first, when he practiced Shaking Mountain Boxing to save his life, he had buried his head in hard training, following the steps rigidly, daring not the slightest deviation. The six-step stance and the sword furnace standing stance, over and over again, he had almost beaten the boxing frame to pieces, memorizing it so thoroughly it fused into his soul. Even later, when the old man surnamed Cui taught him in the bamboo building, it was still the old man teaching, and Chen Ping'an learning.

It wasn't that this was bad, but when boxing reached this point, if the old man surnamed Cui saw it, he might call it half-dead. It was already quite remarkable, but it wasn't enough. To go further, it wasn't just a matter of enduring hardship; it required an opportunity to open up insight. Outsiders couldn't explain it, and if they did, it wouldn't work.

But Chen Ping'an didn't realize that he had only opened up this insight after a million punches. In swordsmanship, however, he had long learned to be flexible. Qi Xian's sword strike in the ancient temple that broke Liu Chicheng's pink robe, the sword spirit's "unsheathing" in the landscape painting, and his own sword strike toward Sui Mountain.

These were all his—Chen Ping'an's—swords.

A Liang had once said that Chen Ping'an would achieve more in swordsmanship than in boxing.

That was the reasoning.

When teaching boxing or swordsmanship, if the teacher's skill was too high, the student would find it harder to move from rigidity to flexibility.

The hardships and twists of this were exemplified by Zheng Dafeng. He had enough talent and a sufficiently high realm—a ninth-realm martial artist—yet it wasn't until Longcheng, at that life-and-death moment, and because of Chen Ping'an's words, that he realized "the disciple need not be inferior to the master" and broke through the bottleneck.

Practicing boxing required cultivating the mind. Chen Ping'an had twice asked Zhong Qiu's most favored young disciple, Yan Shijing, why he dared not throw a punch.

Why wasn't Zhong Qiu too disappointed in Yan Shijing? It wasn't that Zhong Qiu had no high hopes for the youth; rather, Chen Ping'an had already given the answer. Zhong Qiu could say the four words "box high, use not," but Yan Shijing temporarily couldn't say or do it. The same principle applied: "When facing the three teachings' patriarchs, the Shaking Mountain boxing intent must not retreat." After a thousand tempers and a hundred refinements, Chen Ping'an could both say it and do it, but Yan Shijing couldn't grasp the essence yet, so there was no point forcing it.

The twists and turns in this required one to throw a million punches and travel the martial world themselves to truly understand.

Through the conversation between Yan Shijing and his junior sister, Chen Ping'an had already understood his own "uniqueness." Disciples like Zhong Qiu's—those favored children of Heaven, the demon sect's Crow Girl and the Flower-in-Hair Zhou Shi—both in cultivation and temperament, were inferior to him. But Chen Ping'an still hadn't fully realized his own invincibility in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. However, he had already vaguely sensed the signs of "unity of Heaven and man." This was a solid step—a great step for a pure martial artist, a state of mind opportunity that many eighth- and ninth-realm martial artists in the Haoran World would never have.

After leaving the martial arts school, Chen Ping'an returned to his lodging. The gaunt little girl was spacing out under the eaves. The pouring rain had turned into a light drizzle. When she saw Chen Ping'an, she grinned.

Chen Ping'an noticed she was a bit wet from the rain but pretended not to see. He picked up the bundle containing the pipa and headed out to find the poor scholar named Jiang, who lived three wards away—not exactly close.

As soon as Chen Ping'an left the courtyard and stepped out of the alley, the sneaky little girl quickly bolted the courtyard gate and began "practicing boxing" under the eaves in a passable imitation. She was stealing the postures she had seen Chen Ping'an use to mimic Ding Ying and the blind Daoist's lightning methods—one hand spread open toward the sky, the other clenched in a fist before her, moving slowly.

The thresholds for both were extremely high. One belonged to the number one person in this world, the other involved a qi practitioner's lightning method. For now, Chen Ping'an only had crude postures without much true essence, let alone a little girl who had never even learned boxing. After learning this "boxing method," she found it a bit boring and switched to other postures, all of which she had stolen when watching on the street. There was a certain punch from Zhong Qiu, Lu Fang's sword strike that split the street, and Chen Ping'an's six-step stance. The little girl twisted and stumbled, unable to find the door, and of course, didn't even get a scrap of the surface.

After fooling around for half a day, the little girl yelled and launched an aggressive spinning kick, only to fall hard. When she got up, feeling hungry, she limped toward the kitchen to steal some food. She felt she had already learned a set of brilliant martial arts and planned to practice on Cao Qinglang when he returned—provided Chen Ping'an wasn't around.

Chen Ping'an watched her antics from a rooftop, frowned slightly, and silently left.

Last night, when he chatted with her and asked her age, she said she was nine, casually holding out both hands. One hand had its little finger bent, while the other four fingers were very straight.

Also, when she carried a bucket back from the well, Chen Ping'an had carefully observed her breathing and footsteps.

Chen Ping'an walked along the street with his umbrella, deciding that he wouldn't practice the stance in the little courtyard from now on.

Jiang Quan was a poor scholar from a humble family. He had studied hard for over a decade and was well-read, recognized as a child prodigy and talented scholar in his home county. However, he had fallen short in the imperial examination arts. Though now down on his luck, he didn't complain about Heaven or others. He shared a house with fellow townsmen and studied diligently every day. But there was a faint melancholy on his brow. Every day after studying until weary, he would walk out of the alley and stand at a street corner, as if waiting for someone.

Two fellow townsmen knew what was on Jiang Quan's mind. Today, they took him to a nearby ward to buy books. "Buy" was just a word; in truth, all three were short on money. They simply flipped through some scarce editions of sages' books and took a few glances at rare editions that were like peerless beauties, just to satisfy their craving.

Under the impatient gaze of the shopkeeper, the three left the bookstore dejectedly. Outside, they saw a young man holding an umbrella and carrying a bundle on his back, looking at Jiang Quan. He asked, "Are you Jiang Quan? I'm a relative of Gu Ling in the capital. I have something to discuss with you."

Jiang Quan was overjoyed, hopping with excitement. "I am, I am! I'm Jiang Quan! Where is she?"

The capital of the Nanyuan Kingdom had been unstable lately. After she went to borrow money from her relatives last time, there had been no news. Moreover, someone had died in the alley near where he lived. The yamen had driven away the onlookers with a bad attitude, rolled up the corpse in a mat, and taken it away. Word was that it was a female martial artist who died a miserable death. Some guessed she must have been killed in a vendetta. This had worried Jiang Quan for a long time, and day after day, he couldn't even settle his mind to read.

The man said calmly, "Our Gu family, after all, is an official household in the capital. Although Gu Ling's branch of the Gu family is in the provinces and has no success in officialdom—I heard some even got involved in the martial world and haven't had the face to contact us for years—this time she sought us out on her own. The first thing she did was ask for money. The elders at home weren't too happy. It wasn't that they cared about the silver, but they felt it was a disgrace to the family's reputation and didn't want to acknowledge this relative. Gu Ling insisted on borrowing the money and even vowed that you would definitely pass the highest imperial examination, so she could repay the silver soon. She said the man would marry her properly. The elders know how hard the examinations are—how could they believe a poor scholar could become a jinshi? So they demanded this pipa from Gu Ling before agreeing to lend her the money. At the same time, they made her promise one thing: only after you pass the jinshi examination would they allow you two to meet. She is now on her way back home and will absolutely not correspond with you by letter."

The man took off his bundle, handed it to Jiang Quan, and also pulled out a bulging money pouch. "Inside are fifty taels of silver and two silver notes. If you're frugal, it'll last you until the next spring examination. If you don't have confidence in passing, I can actually send word to Gu Ling. You two can elope—you give up your family tradition, she gives up her sage books, but at least you can be together. I think that's better than suffering for three years, only to be openly driven apart by the elders. Oh, and the elders were so angry at her stubbornness that they smashed the pipa behind closed doors. You can buy her a new one when you have the chance."

Jiang Quan stood frozen on the spot.

The poor scholar believed that this young man was truly a scion of a wealthy and noble family.

In truth, he had been uneasy inside. Standing before this man, Jiang Quan felt ashamed of his own shabbiness.

He asked timidly, "Why are you helping me?"

The man replied, "I'm helping Gu Ling, not you."

Jiang Quan received the pipa but didn't take the money pouch. He asked curiously, "Aren't you a member of the Gu family? Why would you be willing to favor Miss Gu?"

"Since Gu Ling likes you that much, I wanted to see what kind of person you are."

The man was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "The book says, 'If love endures, what need is there for day and night together?'"

Jiang Quan smiled knowingly, gaining a bit of confidence, as if encouraging himself. He nodded vigorously. "Indeed, what need is there for the mundane dawn and dusk!"

Then Jiang Quan shook his head. "I won't take the money. I'll set up a stall outside, write family letters for people, write couplets and such—I can support myself. There's no reason to take this money and let Miss Gu suffer in her family, being looked down upon. But I'll ask you: when you get home, please write her a letter and tell her to just wait for me to pass the jinshi examination!"

At this, Jiang Quan smiled brightly. "Maybe in the future, she'll even become a titled lady."

Jiang Quan quickly waved his hand. "Don't say that in the letter—I might not achieve it. I'll just keep the thought in my heart. When that day really comes, I'll bring her to find you and let her know that I had this intention even today."

The man was also a strange one. He still stuffed the money into Jiang Quan's hands and said something odd. "You must take the money. This is Gu Ling's intention, and it's the cleanest silver under Heaven."

The other two townsmen also urged Jiang Quan to accept it.

The man turned and left.

Jiang Quan shouted after him, "Young brother, after I pass the examination, how do I find you?"

The man turned his head and said, "If you pass, someone will find you and tell you everything."

A light rain fell upon the land again.

Jiang Quan left the ward with his two friends. In the distance, that messenger stood under an umbrella beneath the eaves by the street, watching the poor scholar gradually walk away.

The old Daoist appeared beside Chen Ping'an and asked with a smile, "Why not tell him the truth directly?"

Chen Ping'an said softly, "Tell him nothing, tell him everything, and three years from now, whether Jiang Quan passes or not, have State Preceptor Zhong tell him. I think the third choice will be better for both him and Gu Ling."

The old Daoist asked another question, straight to the heart. "Then which choice would make you feel best in your heart?"

Chen Ping'an replied, "Before entering the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, I would have chosen the first. Walking the martial world, everyone should bear their own life and death. Right now, I'd choose the second—to seek the simplest clear conscience, leaving no flaw in my state of mind. As for why I chose the third, I don't know. Actually, I don't know if it's right or wrong myself."

The old Daoist chuckled. "Don't know right or wrong, huh?"

Chen Ping'an turned his head. "What's wrong?"

The old Daoist pressed a hand on Chen Ping'an's shoulder. "You'll be even more lost soon."

The next moment, it seemed to be the dawn of a day. The sun rose in the east, and before the palace gates of the Nanyuan Kingdom capital, the palace gatekeeper gave a loud shout.

The old Daoist asked with a smile, "Do you know why this tradition exists? Whether in the Haoran World or the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, it's more or less necessary."

Chen Ping'an, who had to put away his umbrella, shook his head.

The old Daoist said, "The palace needs to use the arrival of dawn to drive away some resentful souls. Who do you think those souls are?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head again.

The old Daoist said, "The loyal ministers who died unjustly throughout history, the upright officials who died for their stubborn integrity, the pillars of the state who died remonstrating."

After that, the river of time in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land—one year, ten years, a hundred years—all seemed to pass between the old Daoist's fingers.

The next moment, the old Daoist took Chen Ping'an to see an old scholar who had spent his life hunched over classics, writing as if inspired by the gods, but placing few restrictions on his descendants. When he died, his life's work was hawked around by his descendants without success. In anger, they burned it all.

He also saw a prime minister from a humble family who, in his later years, finally wrote truly noble poetry. His essays were no longer ridiculed by his noble colleagues as "wearing gold and silver but grass sandals."

He saw a central minister whose official residence was shabby, his sleeves clean, praised by all. Yet his relatives in the provinces bullied men and dominated women, each dripping with wealth. Every family letter he wrote, however, earnestly admonished his family to live frugally and pass down morality. After those letters were revealed, they became a much-told tale in both his time and later generations.

A prince of the Beijin Kingdom warming his hands outside the classroom in heavy snow.

A dissolute son who rampaged outside, full of evil deeds, but at home, he was filial to his grandmother, quietly tucking in her blanket.

A high minister of the Songlai Kingdom who worked hard at reform, but among his seven or eight trusted aides, more than half used the reform name to seek personal gain, eliminate rivals, or speculate on the emperor's intent and form secret cliques. The reform ultimately failed. After the minister was imprisoned, he was still ardent, only regretting that he died before his ambition was fulfilled.

A martial arts youth who had nowhere to turn—his parents died in a vendetta. After more than ten years of hardships and humiliation, when he took revenge, he killed dozens of people from his enemy's household, enjoying his vengeance. After the youth, now a great hero, left, a little girl with a younger child—brother and sister—had been playing hide and seek at the time and hid in a cavity wall, escaping the massacre. Later, the two children kowtowed before the graves and vowed revenge.

Also, two incidents involving petitions being folded and submitted, both implicating county magistrates who needed to be held accountable by the court. In one case, the magistrate secretly gave a clever plan to the courier and horse driver, falsely reporting that they had encountered bandits on the road. He even had the courier cut himself with a blade, thereby muddling through and fooling the court officials from the Ministry of War who investigated. In the other case, it was a bitter winter with heavy snow blocking the roads. The courier, trying to complete his task, forced the crossing and drowned, damaging the petition. The magistrate reported the truth, and as a result, the courier was given a hundred lashes and exiled a thousand li, while the magistrate had his salary stopped for a year and received a poor evaluation, with no hope of promotion for five years.

After that, things got even more uncanny. The river of time began to flow backward.

He saw the wandering swordsman Feng Qingbai and Tang Tieyi swearing brotherhood, sitting on a border city wall, drinking and singing loudly.

Chen Ping'an also came to the outskirts of the Nanyuan Kingdom capital and saw the woman named Gu Ling. He saw her first meeting with the scholar Jiang Quan, saw them meeting, getting to know each other, falling in love. Before entering the capital, there was a heavy snow. Gu Ling, who had just completed an assassination, accompanied the scholar to take the imperial examination.

The woman stood alone in the heavy snow. That year, she met a scholar. In her dark and bloody life, it was like another snowfall—the vast land was blank and clean, making her mistakenly believe she was the best woman under Heaven. Though she knew the snow would surely melt and she would still be that bad woman, having such a meeting counted as Heaven not treating her unfairly.

He saw a gaunt little girl who would occasionally go outside the city to look at a small mound, the grass lush and green.

Chen Ping'an finally saw himself, looking at that well.

Twice he went to the private book building to flip through books. The family collection had tens of thousands of volumes, most of them brand new. Many books, even after many years, still smelled of ink when opened. So many sage truths and beautiful poems had no one to appreciate them.

He stood outside the courtyard gate of the alley, raising his arm and lowering it again, several times not daring to knock.

When he and Cao Qinglang went to the school with umbrellas, the little girl stood at the courtyard gate, staring at their backs, her face full of rainwater, utterly unaware.

In the end, Chen Ping'an stood alone under the eaves, still holding the oil-paper umbrella that had accompanied him for who knows how many years. A light rain fell on the street.

The old Daoist was no longer beside him.

Right and wrong, good and bad, truth and falsehood, kindness and evil.

Chen Ping'an had seen a great deal.

He hadn't found any principle that felt natural and justified. Instead, many principles he had previously held seemed to lose their reasoning.

Chen Ping'an suddenly recalled after the Osmanthus Island incident, meeting the old boatman who had once punted a boat for Lu Chen across the sea. The old man looked at him and said, "You want to ruin my great Dao."

Before that, even though he knew clearly that the Flower-in-Hair Zhou Shi was not the real culprit, Chen Ping'an had still made up his mind, as Zhong Qiu later said, that if there really were five slots, he would use one to "take Zhou Shi under his wing" directly and kill him with a punch. Before that, he had been filled with disgust for that gaunt little girl, but he didn't know why. He wasn't even willing to think about it deeper. Still, it wasn't without gain. He began to feel that he had placed an extra Xuehua coin, even though that coin lay beside what he considered a very beautiful line in the book.

After the rain cleared, Chen Ping'an walked all the way to that well. He stood there, looking down into the well.

At that very moment, the gaunt little girl in the small courtyard looked up at the glaring sun.

Observing Dao Temple, Temple of the Dao.

The old Daoist sat in the sky, watching the two.

Adjacent to the Lotus Flower Blessed Land was the Lotus Cave Heaven. A Daoist sat by the pond, watching the three.

According to what one disciple said, he was just bored and watching someone else's small path.

Chen Ping'an suddenly withdrew his gaze and smiled. He left the well, having not figured anything out. But he had understood one thing: that annoying little girl needed to be taught some principles of being human, starting with the simplest. If she couldn't learn, or if teaching didn't work, then he wouldn't bother anymore. But he still had to teach. After teaching her, she would at least know what good and evil were. Whether she then did evil or turned to good would be her own affair.

The old Daoist's face darkened. He wasn't in a good mood, and he thought about throwing Chen Ping'an out of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

He hadn't managed to defeat the Old Scholar.

So with a sweep of his sleeve, Chen Ping'an stepped out of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. He found himself on the post road outside Beijin Kingdom on Tongye Continent.

He wore the dharma robe Golden Mead, with the Sword-Nurturing Gourd at his waist, but the Long Qi Sword was no longer on his back.

However, his martial realm was now the fifth realm, which had not vanished as it did in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

Moreover, his mind-linked flying swords, First and Fifteenth, were now inside the Sword-Nurturing Gourd.

Chen Ping'an quickly looked around and was relieved to see, not far off on the road, the little lotus person peeking out, looking even more confused than Chen Ping'an.

The old Daoist stood beside him. "As agreed, you can take five people from the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. I've chosen four for you."

The old Daoist held five scrolls. He casually tossed them, and they lined up before Chen Ping'an, hovering in the air. One scroll opened on its own, revealing a painting of a seated man in dragon robes. "This is Wei Xian, the founding emperor of the Nanyuan Kingdom."

A sword-bearing woman. "Sui Youbian. Though she gave up martial arts, she still has the bearing of a sword immortal."

"The founder of the demon sect, Lu Baixiang."

"Zhu Lian."

"These four have intact bodies and souls. Before they awaken, use the Guyu coins to nourish them. Toss them into the painting every day. One day, when they're full, they can walk out of the painting and serve you with utter loyalty. As for what martial realm they reach later, or whether they switch to cultivation and become qi practitioners, that depends on you, Chen Ping'an—your ability as their master. Of course, only if you can afford to support them."

The old Daoist clearly didn't want to say much to Chen Ping'an and didn't even give him a chance to interrupt, blurting out all this.

Before Chen Ping'an could ask who the fifth person was, the old Daoist reached out, grabbed the gaunt little girl, patted her on the back of the head, and she fell flat on her face onto the road. When she looked up, her face was full of bewilderment.

Chen Ping'an looked at the tall old Daoist and asked, "What about the Bridge of Immortality?"

The old Daoist's face was indifferent. "The foundation has been laid. You'll figure it out on your own."

Chen Ping'an asked again, "And the Long Qi Sword?"

The old Daoist looked into the distance. "I'll return it to Chen Qingdu on my own."

Chen Ping'an put the four scrolls into his flying sword Fifteenth and bid farewell to the old Daoist with a cupped-fist salute.

The old Daoist, in a bad mood, took one step back into the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. He glanced at the adjacent Lotus Cave Heaven—that fellow had already left the pond bank.

Only then did the old Daoist smile.

Chen Ping'an and the gaunt little girl stared at each other wide-eyed.

Chen Ping'an sighed. "What's your name?"

The little girl, who was carefree, didn't know what had happened. After brushing the dust off herself, she replied with a grin, "I already told you before. I only have a surname; my parents didn't have time to give me a name, so I named myself. One word: Qian. Because I like money!"

Chen Ping'an asked, "What's your surname?"

The little girl puffed out her chest and replied, "Pei! The character with 'clothes' below. My dad said it's a big surname in our hometown! The surname has 'clothes,' and the given name is 'money.' How auspicious!"

Chen Ping'an slapped his forehead.

Surname Pei, given name Qian. Pei Qian... Lose Money...

No wonder he didn't like her.