Chapter 557: A Pot of Wine, a Plate of Greens

Chapter 557: A Pot of Wine, a Plate of Greens

A group of women and maidens washed clothes by the water's edge. Where the mountains met the stream, tender orchid shoots were briefly submerged in the creek, and the pines and cypresses on the hills were lush and verdant.

The woman Chen Ping'an addressed as Auntie Liu, together with her daughter Li Liu, spread the laundry out on the blue stone slabs by the stream.

The small town at the foot of Lion Peak housed four to five hundred families, quite a few people. Though it appeared to border Lion Peak, the line was thin, but the difference was like heaven and earth. They rarely interacted. Over the millennia, everyone had grown accustomed to this. Besides, the path up Lion Peak was some distance from the town. Even the most mischievous, rowdy children would at most run to the mountain gate and stop there. Who would dare offend the transcendent beings cultivating on the mountain? Afterwards, they'd be dragged home by their elders, bent over a bench, and spanked until their bottoms were red and they wailed in pain.

In the town, the people who managed to become familiar faces to everyone were either those with family serving in the county yamen, those who'd made a fortune outside and returned to build a grand mansion, or those whose younger generation were promising scholars. Or perhaps, they were the comely widows who attracted gossip and trouble, or people like Auntie Liu who ran a shop and welcomed customers for business. In the marketplace and countryside, sharp-tongued individuals were often not spared by others in return. Over time, everyone came to know this woman surnamed Liu. The women of the town used to enjoy mocking her. When she often spoke of her son, a child studying at a major academy, no one believed her. They didn't even want to believe that the woman had actually given birth to a son. What use was a pretty daughter? Wasn't she just like water poured out after marriage? Otherwise, having such a beautiful daughter already—her ancestors' graves must have been smoking with good fortune—and it was said she'd gone up Lion Peak to serve as a maidservant to some old transcendent being. If she also had a son promising scholarly success, wouldn't she be hogging all the heavensent blessings? How were the other women supposed to live with that? Would their hearts feel any ease?

Recently, at the cloth shop, a young man with a very kind face had appeared. Several times he'd helped carry water for the shop, his manners impeccable. He looked like a scholar, had considerable strength, and would also help some of the elderly matrons draw water. He was good with faces, too. After a casual greeting and chat one day, he could warmly address people by name the next. When he first arrived in town, he'd brought quite a few gifts for the households he visited. It was said he was a distant relative of that wooden fellow, Li. The women thought it didn't seem right. More likely, he was a lover of that girl, Li Liu. Some of the relatively well-off housewives even ran to the shop to see for themselves. Well, it turned out that not only did they fail to find fault with the young man, but every single one of them ended up spending a considerable amount of silver there, buying cloth to take home. They got a few scoldings from their husbands about being spendthrift wives.

If the young man had been slick-tongued, only focused on making shady profits for the shop, that would have been one thing. They could have joined forces to gossip behind Auntie Liu's back about finding such a money-grubbing son-in-law, one who couldn't be brought out in public, giving them fodder to criticize the woman and her shop openly. But after the women endured their husbands' complaints, they'd later touch the fabric themselves. The price wasn't cheap, but it truly wasn't a rip-off. They were all used to dealing with daily necessities like rice, oil, salt, and firewood. Couldn't they tell good from bad? The young man had helped them choose cotton cloth and silks, never deliberately steering them towards expensive ones. If something caught their eye but was pricey and not practical, he'd even stop them from wasting their money. That young man had sharp eyes; he sold cloth that matched their figures, clothing, and hair ornaments. Those women with daughters at home looked at the cloth and thought it was good too, something that would make the mothers look several years younger. The price was fair. Comparing goods, the shop had clearly offered a discount.

So, the women didn't feel that Auntie Liu had found an outstanding son-in-law who was way above her station. After all, his clothes weren't flashy. When he spoke to people, he didn't have the airs of a rich man or a scholar. When chatting with others, he looked people straight in the eye. The simple principle that shifty eyes mean bad intentions was something the marketplace cared about most.

Thus, the son-in-law picked by the Li family shop wasn't so good that it made the neighbors green with envy, but they had to admit he wasn't a bad young man, someone who could build a life for the long haul.

Since another family's son-in-law wasn't too good, but not bad either, the women's feelings became a bit complicated.

Li Liu listened to her cheerful mother chatting with others, washing clothes and thinking about these things, going from small matters to big ones. The small matters happened in the shop and the town. The big matters encompassed even more than the entire Haoran world.

Her current life in Bead Abyss Paradise was a carefully arranged plan by the Yang family shop. She knew this time would be different, otherwise she wouldn't be living so close to the Yang shop. And indeed, it was the case. Back then, she had followed her father, Li Er, to that shop. Li Er worked as a handyman out front, and she went to the back courtyard. Old Man Yang had spoken seriously to her for the first time, telling her that if she still cultivated using her old methods, constantly changing her skin and identity, hurriedly climbing the mountain, only spinning in circles at the peak, even accumulating for ten more lifetimes and another thousand years, she would still be a half-baked person who couldn't even be considered human. She would remain stuck at the bottleneck of the immortal realm. Stepping back, even if she cultivated to the flying ascension realm in this life, so what? How big could her fists be? Stepping back further, with so many sages in the Confucian academies and schools, would they really give her, Li Liu, room to make a move? At most, after one try, she would die again. This cycle of dying and coming back had little meaning. It would only result in her accumulating some merit with each death, or breaking the rules and having a debt recorded by the Confucian Temple.

During those years in Bead Abyss Paradise, Li Liu didn't often show her face in public. The impression she left on her neighbors on the west side of the town was, besides being quite pretty, her looks taking after her mother, her personality followed Li Er. She was quick with her hands and feet and spoke little. There didn't seem to be anything else worth mentioning. She had neither particularly close friends her age, nor anything for her elders to criticize.

Li Liu often went to the schoolhouse to pick up Li Huai, but she had never spoken a word to that Mr. Qi.

When Mr. Qi was lecturing and saw the girl outside the schoolhouse, he would glance at her, at most giving her a slight smile and a nod.

Perhaps it was just treating her with courtesy, or maybe it was regarding her as a person?

Having seen many strange things in the world, and given her background and origins, Li Liu had long grown accustomed to being indifferent to the mortal world. At first, she didn't think much of it, simply seeing this school master as an ordinary Confucian sage stationed in this small world.

Li Liu had once asked the Yang family shop if this teacher, who spent all year explaining principles to village children, knew about her origins. Old Man Yang hadn't given an answer back then.

The only time Mr. Qi had spoken to her was when he visited their home to drink with her father, Li Er.

When she brought a few plates of coarse appetizers to the table, Mr. Qi had smiled and said some words to her. "Li Liu, we are born between heaven and earth, and there isn't really that much difference. It's like a journey of study to a distant place, with no chance to return to our homeland. What ultimately determines who we are isn't our decaying skin, but only how we think. It doesn't even lie in what we want, or how far we want to go. It's just the study and skill of the word 'how.' Life is short. There will come a place where we can no longer push forward. When we look back then, the path we took is a series of 'hows' that have walked us into a certain 'what.'"

Then Mr. Qi gently picked up the large white bowl filled with coarse home-brewed wine. "Only by toasting to all of you, can there be an 'us.' Only then can this great world exist. Only then can I, Qi Jingchun, be here, drinking this wine."

Mr. Qi drained the bowl.

Li Liu didn't say anything. She just drank a bowl as well.

Back then, in the house, the woman was snoring loudly as usual. The child named Li Huai was murmuring softly in his sleep, perhaps still worried in his dream that he had played too much today and neglected his homework, wondering what excuse he should come up with tomorrow morning at the schoolhouse to fool his strict teacher.

Accompanying her mother back to the shop, Li Liu carried a bamboo basket. A man from the marketplace whistled along the way.

The woman was grumbling about Li Huai, this ungrateful child. Why hadn't he sent a letter home for so long? Had he forgotten his mother while playing outside? But then she worried that Li Huai, alone out there, wouldn't have enough to eat or warm clothes to wear, and would be bullied. The people outside weren't like here, where a quarrel just ended with a few harsh words. If Li Huai suffered a loss and didn't have anyone to help him, what would he do?

Li Liu tried to comfort her mother with words, but the woman turned around and accused her of being the most heartless. Li Huai was far from home, so he couldn't very well be filial to his parents. But you, his older sister, you're fine, just enjoying yourself on the mountain while your parents toil for meager earnings at the foot of the hill every day.

Li Liu felt a bit helpless. It seemed that in matters like this, Chen Ping'an was indeed more adept. He could ease people's worries with just a few words.

———

On the surface of the Lion Peak cave abode's mirror.

Today, Li Er didn't rush for Chen Ping'an to throw a punch. Instead, for the first time, he began to explain the principles of fist techniques.

Li Er got straight to the point. "For us martial artists, whether in technique or performance, the ultimate goal is to nurture the strength and spirit for breaking enemies and fighting. Even children in the marketplace probably hope that with one punch, they can crack walls and break bricks, or kill a man. It's human nature. That's why I, Li Er, have never believed in the inherent goodness of human nature. It's just that the Confucians have taught people well, making them believe that being a good person—though it's unclear what exactly 'good' means—is a good thing. Whether or not they do it is another matter. So when evil people commit violence, and many martial artists bully others, they usually know they're doing something wrong. This is the merit of scholars."

Li Er grinned at Chen Ping'an. "Don't think that just because I don't study and am just a crude rustic who wrestles with the fields, I don't have any principles. I still have a couple or three. But martial artists are often taciturn. In the countryside, a cat that meows a lot is often not good at catching mice. My junior brother, Zheng Dafeng, failed in this regard. He chatters on like an old woman all day. It can't be helped. Once a person is smart, they can't help but think and talk too much. Don't get me wrong, Zheng Dafeng has considerable knowledge, but it's too miscellaneous, not pure enough. His fists have mud on them; they can't be fast."

"This is a rare time I'm teaching boxing, so I'll speak a bit more with you, Chen Ping'an. Just this once."

Li Er looked at Chen Ping'an, who was standing not far away. Li Er raised his toes, gently rubbing the ground. "You and I stand in two places. You face me, Li Er. Even at the sixth realm, facing a tenth realm martial artist, you must still establish an undefeated stance. The disparity in realms doesn't mean you can't lose to me. But when facing a strong enemy, if your heart is chaotic before your body and fists have even moved, you've lost before the fight. That is seeking death."

Li Er appeared to make no move at all.

But Chen Ping'an immediately slid sideways for several yards.

The flowing water around the huge mirror briefly stagnated, even showing signs of reversing.

This was the effect of Li Er's fist intent.

"Having a desire to win and survive doesn't mean being a reckless fool. If you retreat physically but your fist intent swells, you haven't yielded an inch."

Li Er nodded, continuing, "An ordinary scholar in the marketplace, if they're often near blades, naturally won't fear sticks and clubs. Therefore, pure martial artists honing their path often seek out peers to spar and compete in techniques, or go to the battlefield. Amidst swords, spears, halberds, and ji, they fight one against ten, or break through a hundred. Besides people, there are many weapons to contend with. Training is about seeing in four directions and listening in all eight, and more importantly, finding a martial heart. No matter who you are, you dare to throw a punch."

Li Er smiled. "Before learning real skills, first endure the hardships of falls and bruises. This is not only for the martial artist to temper their physique, making their bones and tendons strong, but also so that when there's a gap in strength, they don't panic in their heart. But if you've learned a body of killing techniques and become addicted to them, you will suffer for it one day."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "The fist is too high to be easily used."

Chen Ping'an quickly added, "Don't use it lightly."

Only then did Li Er stop, otherwise Chen Ping'an's claim of "the fist is too high to be used easily" would have earned him a solid punch, at least starting at the vigorous intent of the tenth realm.

Practicing boxing and martial arts is a hard path. If one only thinks about not throwing a punch, that wouldn't be right either.

Li Er stood still, breathing normally. He stretched out his left arm and gently patted his left wrist, forearm, joints, and each muscle with his right hand, slowly saying, "A person's muscles and bones are like a dragon's veins or a mountain's roots. Every muscle is like a mountain peak. Tempering muscles and bones, refining the physique, is to grind every minute part to the extreme. Then accumulate them, without conflict. One punch thrown, the city gate must open even if it shouldn't; the mountain must shatter even if it shouldn't!"

Li Er withdrew his right hand and suddenly swung his left arm.

A fierce wind blew, causing Chen Ping'an's blue robe to rustle loudly.

The water around the mirror flowed backward.

Chen Ping'an understood this explanation best. It was the same principle as a qi refiner opening as many mansions as possible to accumulate spiritual energy.

The essence was that in a seemingly equal contest within the same realm, one could still overcome the many with superior strength, using raw power to subdue ten techniques.

Li Er slowly unfolded a fist stance.

Finally, the stance settled into a fixed posture. Li Er said, "Feet, hands, eyes, frame, strength, qi, intent—unify the internal and external. This is what qi refiners call 'creating one's own small world.' For us martial artists, a single breath of pure true qi is like a cavalry regiment, conquering new territories. Qi refiners, however, are like those who seek to defend their achievements: mighty cities, great towns, deploying troops and formations. Of course, that's how Zheng Dafeng put it. I couldn't come up with such fancy words."

Li Er lightly stamped his foot. "If your legs lack strength, it's like being trapped in a haunted maze. At the beginning of training, one wrong step is like drawing a ghost charm. Don't even think about the realm of 'spirit qi fully present, the person is a complete person.'"

Li Er casually raised a finger, gently curled it, and pointed to his own eyes. "Once you've truly entered the door of martial arts, you must train your two eyes to be sharp. Anticipate the enemy in your heart, see the fists with your eyes."

In an instant, Chen Ping'an was hit in the chest by both fists, like drumbeats, and sent flying backward. His body twisted in the air, his hands clawing at the ground, his fingers like hooks. Two sparks erupted on the mirror's surface before Chen Ping'an stopped his backward momentum, just barely avoiding falling into the water.

Li Er was now standing where Chen Ping'an had been. He said, "This punch of mine wasn't heavy or fast, but you still couldn't block it. Why? Because your eyes and heart are not trained enough. When facing a strong enemy, life hangs by a thread. Many instincts can both save your life and cause trouble. When I made that move, you, Chen Ping'an, instinctively looked at my fingers and eyes. That's human instinct. Even though you, Chen Ping'an, are cautious enough, it was still a fraction too late. This fraction is the difference between life and death for a martial artist. Fighting someone one-on-one is not like traveling through mountains and rivers; it won't give you time to ponder carefully. Going a step further, if your heart arrives but your hand doesn't, that's also a major flaw in martial arts training."

Li Er paused here and asked, "Do you, Chen Ping'an, think you are quite observant, always cautious enough?"

Chen Ping'an wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his palm and nodded.

Li Er said, "This is the problem with your fist intent's flaw. You always think this skill is enough. On the contrary, it's far from enough. You probably don't know yet that when eighth and ninth realm martial artists fight to the death, they often die by their own best techniques. Why? Because they're more careful and cautious about their weaknesses, but when they use their strengths, they unconsciously become complacent."

Li Er then took a fist stance and the starting form of a technique.

It was the "Stirring the Great Dragon" that Chen Ping'an was very familiar with, and his most skilled "Divine Being Drumming Style."

Li Er said, "The martial arts saying 'three heads and six arms are a divine ability' isn't just a marketplace joke. There are thousands of boxing styles in the world, with different stances, pillars, and techniques. The stance is the root, the pillar is the foundation, the technique is the facade. When these three are combined, you get different schools of boxing and countless fist manuals. You've traveled through a lot of the world. You should know that the marketplace likes to call ordinary martial artists 'martial practitioners.' This is the principle."

Li Er stretched his frame and casually threw out a "Divine Being Drumming Style" punch. Even with this technique, in Li Er's hands, it seemed gentle and slow, yet full of spirit and energy. In Chen Ping'an's eyes, it was worlds apart from his own execution.

Li Er threw another "Divine Being Drumming Style" punch, with a completely different fist intent—rapid as thunder—and suddenly stopped. He laughed, "When a martial artist fights an enemy, if the realm gap isn't too big, the fist principles differ, and the techniques are myriad, then victory or defeat has countless possibilities. But if you become just a 'martial practitioner,' it's just flowery moves, pretty to look at. 'Fists fear the young?' 'Random punches beat the old master?' The old master doesn't even bother to take a stance. With just one move, the 'martial practitioner' who's been shouting and showing off is already dead."

Chen Ping'an's head suddenly jerked to the side.

Li Er was already standing in front of him. A tenth realm punch was hovering right beside Chen Ping'an's cheek.

Li Er laughed. "Taught and understood, understood and then done. Very good."

This punch, still "not fast" but not lacking in power, if Chen Ping'an hadn't dodged it, today's lesson would have ended there, and Li Er would have had to pole the boat back.

Li Er withdrew his fist. Although Chen Ping'an had dodged the punch that should have landed solidly on his forehead, the dense razor-sharp wind had carved a gash across his face, and the blood wouldn't stop flowing.

Li Er said, "You, kid, are good at stealing techniques. Since I've been feeding you techniques for so long, try learning my fist stance. See if you can do it."

Chen Ping'an nodded and threw a punch, imitating Li Er.

Li Er stood aside, walking along with Chen Ping'an's punch, pointing out some flaws in the stance. He lightly kicked Chen Ping'an's calf midway, and with his two fingers together and bent, tapped gently on Chen Ping'an's wrist, elbow, and shoulder. Finally, he said, "Don't learn the stance rigidly. Everyone's physique is very different. Just your height and mine are different. Although you deliberately turned the technique into your own and made some changes, it still misses the mark by a lot. Dead strength isn't valuable. The law of fist intent is the highest. It's high in the word 'liveliness.' The fist is alive, which is like a second life for us pure martial artists. It's even more important than a qi refiner's manifested divine soul or the yin soul that can leave the body for distant travel."

Chen Ping'an closed his eyes. After a moment, he threw the punch again.

"Your direction is right."

Li Er nodded. "Practicing boxing isn't like cultivating the Dao. No matter how many realms you climb, if you don't start with the smallest details, then your bones and tendons will decay, your qi and blood will fail, your spirit will wane—all these things that should happen won't be avoided. The martial practitioners in the marketplace who hurt themselves by practicing boxing, especially external boxing, are just trading their lives for strength. If the fist doesn't reach the mystical, it's seeking death. Pure martial artists can only use fist intent to nourish their lives. But this thing is hard to explain."

Having said this, Li Er sat cross-legged and gestured for Chen Ping'an to sit down as well.

Li Er was silent for a long time, as if recalling some memories. He was rarely sentimental. "Beyond realistic description, there is the meaning beyond the image." That was something Zheng Dafeng said after learning boxing. He muttered it over and over many times. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I remembered it anyway. You listen and see if it's any use to you. Zheng Dafeng and I had different approaches to learning boxing. Our fist principles were not inherently superior or inferior. If you get a chance, when you return to Fallen Mountain, you can talk to him about it. Zheng Dafeng’s fist intent is simply lower than mine, which is why his fist technique seems inferior to mine, his senior brother. In the early years when Zheng Dafeng was learning boxing, he always complained that our master was biased. He thought the master deliberately chose our learning paths to make sure he, Zheng Dafeng, was one step slower and then steps behind. Later, he actually figured it out himself, but he wouldn't admit it. So I'm quite annoyed by his loose mouth. A gatekeeper, all day long, his mouth has no latch. So, when we sparred, I didn't spare him."

Li Er clenched his fists and leaned slightly forward. Just this one habitual move gave him the majestic aura of a hunched mountain.

All of it was fist intent.

Li Er slowly continued, "When boxing is partially mastered, while you sleep deeply, your fist intent flows slowly. It wakes you up before an enemy approaches, as if a deity is protecting the practitioner. If it's like this while sleeping, even more so when awake. So, what use does a martial artist have for protective magic treasures? It's the same reason a swordsman doesn't need other offensive tools."

Li Er smiled. He tapped the mirror lightly with his fist, then opened his hand into a palm, and lightly closed it into a fist again. He said, "Head facing the sky, feet gripping the ground. Withdrawing the fist is like holding a baby. This is balancing hardness and softness. Purely chasing one extreme is never the true principle of boxing. Over the long term, the longer you practice, the more you can link each posture continuously, retracting and releasing freely. Why do I think Cui Cheng's 'Divine Being Drumming Style' is a good technique? It could even be considered one of the best boxing methods in the world? Because although it looks fierce and ferocious, it captures the true meaning of 'man controls the fist,' not 'the fist controls the man.'"

Chen Ping'an was a bit puzzled, and also somewhat curious. But the questions in his heart weren't quite appropriate to ask out loud.

Because Chen Ping'an wanted to know, in Li Er's eyes, what kind of a pure martial artist was the second floor's old senior, Cui Cheng, of Fallen Mountain.

Since they were discussing the 'Divine Being Drumming Style,' naturally they had to talk about that old man. Li Er looked into the distance and said, "Old Senior Cui Cheng is an extraordinary man. The way he passed on the technique to you is a true transmission. It's more than just feeding you techniques and teaching boxing. On the surface, Cui Cheng only taught you the most rigid and fierce boxing methods. But in reality, it complements your, Chen Ping'an's, character, which is anything but iron-hearted and superficial. This is a first-class master's bearing. I, Li Er, cannot do this."

Having said this, Li Er shook his head and repeated, "I definitely cannot."

Chen Ping'an sighed.

Speaking of torment and hardship, back then on the second floor of the bamboo building, even someone like Chen Ping'an, who wasn't afraid of pain, had to obediently lie on the wooden bed on the first floor, pulling the covers over his head to secretly cry once.

Li Er said, "So, for you to learn boxing, it really had to be Cui Cheng who first taught you the fundamental principles, and I, Li Er, who helped patch up your fist intent, for it to be on the right track. If I had taught you first, and then Cui Cheng came, it would be like using ten catties of strength to farm, but only getting seven or eight catties of harvest. No fun. Little achievement."

Chen Ping'an then had a new question.

Why didn't Li Er spar with Cui Cheng?

After leaving Bead Abyss Paradise, Li Er had returned to Dragon Spring Commandery once.

But the two men, both standing at the pinnacle of the world's martial arts as tenth realm martial artists, hadn't fought.

Unfortunately, Li Er didn't talk about this.

Li Er patted his knees and stood up, laughing. "Enough talking for today. I've said more today than I have in all the years I've been in Northern Juzhou combined. So, from now on, I'll only use the strength of a ninth realm martial artist to spar with your 'Mountain Shaking Fist.' Don't worry, I won't mix in any tenth realm punches. But I advise you not to get too happy too early. This ninth realm is very solid. Over at the shop, your Auntie Liu wants to keep you for a few more days. I can't very well agree, it would delay your journey, wouldn't it? But since you asked for this fist-feeding yourself, if I beat you so hard you spend two or three months slowly recovering, barely able to walk, you, Chen Ping'an, have no one to blame but yourself."

Chen Ping'an was dumbfounded.

Even so?

A punch flew at his head.

Even though Chen Ping'an sensed something was wrong and tried to block with his arms, the punch sent him tumbling head over heels, falling straight off the mirror surface and into the water.

———

On this day, not only did Cui Cheng fail to teach Pei Qian boxing, but he even put on a Confucian scholar's robe, stopped going barefoot, and put on the boots Chen Ruchu had prepared for him long ago. He walked out of the second floor, stood on the first floor with his hands behind his back, and looked at the writing on the bamboo building's walls. These were characters drawn by Li Xisheng in his early years. The characters were excellent. Cui Cheng, as the patriarch of the Cui clan in Bottle Gourd Continent, had laid the scholarly foundation for his grandson Cui Chan in his early years, so of course he knew the quality of writing in the world, good from bad.

The meaning of the characters in this bamboo building was extremely heavy; otherwise, they couldn't have caused the entire Fallen Mountain to sink a few feet.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to regain a clear state of mind on Fallen Mountain, no longer the pitiful madman he had been for nearly a hundred years.

Pei Qian had already gone off to play, followed by her little sidekick Zhou Mili. They were going to visit Dragon Alley to see if the business was losing money without her, Pei Qian, around. She also wanted to carefully check the account books to make sure the acting shopkeeper, Shi Rou, wasn't embezzling public funds for private gain.

The old man didn't stop her. A little kid, without some lively spirit, would they just end up like them, the undying old fogeys, being listless all day?

Cui Cheng pushed open the first floor's bamboo door. Inside was both a study and a place where a wooden bed was placed.

It was cleaned spotlessly by that girl, Chen Ruchu. Not a speck of dust.

After leaving the house, Cui Cheng walked to the Forest Deer Academy on Pi Yun Mountain. When he returned, he sat at the stone table by the cliff. Chen Ruchu didn't follow Pei Qian down the mountain. There was a lot to do on the mountain, and she was punctual, always having endless tasks. When she saw Old Mr. Cui leave the bamboo building, she quickly brought a large red lacquered food box, placing the wine pot and bowls and plates one by one. Cui Cheng smiled and asked why there weren't any sunflower seeds. The pink-skirted little girl blushed and smiled, pulling out several large handfuls of sunflower seeds from her pocket and placing them on the table.

Chen Lingjun still liked to wander around alone. Today, seeing the old man sitting alone on the stone bench drinking, he rubbed his eyes vigorously before realizing he wasn't mistaken.

Chen Lingjun didn't dare to get chummy with this old man. He was the kind of person who could kill him with one punch in Dragon Spring.

Unexpectedly, Cui Cheng beckoned him. "Come over and sit."

Chen Lingjun grimaced. "Old senior, if I don't come, are you going to beat me up?"

Cui Cheng nodded.

Chen Lingjun immediately dashed over. A real man knows when to bend and when to stand. Otherwise, how had he survived in Dragon Spring until today? By relying on his cultivation?

Cui Cheng laughed. "Once in a while, deliberately losing money. Pretty fun, isn't it?"

Chen Lingjun blinked. "Huh?"

Seeing the boy playing dumb, Cui Cheng didn't say more. He asked casually, "Chen Ping'an never advised you? To draw a clear line with your brother, the River God of the Imperial River?"

Chen Lingjun shook his head, gently lifting his sleeve to wipe the tabletop, which was cleaner than a mirror. "He's an even bigger pushover than I am. He throws money around for friendship and would never say such things to me. He even helps me puff up my cheeks to look fat even when I'm starving."

Cui Cheng said, "Half the reason Chen Ping'an is traveling to Northern Juzhou this time is for you. Following the Ji River for ten thousand miles is not an easy task."

Chen Lingjun remained silent.

Cui Cheng picked up an unused wine cup, poured wine, and handed it to the boy in blue sitting opposite.

Chen Lingjun tremblingly asked, "Old senior, this isn't a punishment drink, is it? Here at Fallen Mountain, I work diligently every day, I'm a beast of burden. I really haven't done anything wrong!"

Cui Cheng smiled. "Just drink."

Chen Lingjun took the cup and, with a pitiful look, took a small sip.

Cui Cheng asked, "Chen Ping'an treats you like this. Will you be able to treat others half as well in the future?"

Chen Lingjun said quietly, "Probably?"

Cui Cheng laughed. "That's enough."

This time, it was Chen Lingjun who was puzzled. "That's enough?"

Cui Cheng smiled and said nothing.

Chen Lingjun muttered to himself, "You're not Chen Ping'an. Your words don't count."

Cui Cheng teased, "Want to bet?"

Chen Lingjun wailed, "I really don't have much spare money left! I only have the untouchable wife-fund. That little bit of savings, not a single copper coin can be moved! I really can't move it!"

Cui Cheng said, "Have you ever thought about why you pretend to be very afraid of me, but you're actually not that afraid? If you ever encountered a person or situation you couldn't handle, you might even dare to think about asking me for help?"

Chen Lingjun lowered his head, his hand circling the wine cup in a fist. He said quietly, "Because of my good-natured master, I suppose."

Cui Cheng asked again, "Then have you ever thought about why Chen Ping'an was willing to keep you on Fallen Mountain, treating you no worse than anyone else?"

Chen Lingjun said gloomily, "He's a pushover."

Cui Cheng laughed. "Because in his, Chen Ping'an's, eyes, you're not bad either."

Chen Lingjun whispered, "Bull..."

Cui Cheng: "What?"

Chen Lingjun immediately looked up, holding the cup with both hands, a bright smile on his face. "Old man, how about a toast between brothers?"

Then Chen Lingjun froze in place.

Brothers?

Wasn't that asking for death?

Alas, this flamboyant spirit of his always made him a laughingstock, and sometimes it was even deadly.

Chen Lingjun never expected that Cui Cheng wasn't angry at all. Instead, he raised his cup and smiled. "Then let's have one."

After drinking, Chen Lingjun was still fidgeting.

Cui Cheng didn't keep the little rascal for long. "Chen Ping'an isn't very good at saying polite words to those close to him. So you can think about it more: maybe you underestimate yourself too much. There are bound to be things about you that Chen Ping'an feels he can't do either."

Chen Lingjun nodded vigorously, stood up, bowed respectfully, and took his leave, slowly walking away. Then he suddenly sprinted. But after running far, he couldn't help stopping and turning back to look.

It seemed today's Old Man Cui was a bit strange.

Cui Cheng drank alone.

When he was young, he only felt his heart was like a whetstone, sharp and unmatched, undamaged through the ages.

———

After another round of sparring.

It was rare for Chen Ping'an to be covered in blood but still able to sit, even able to scoop up some water with his water magic to wash his face.

Li Er sat beside him.

Chen Ping'an took out two jars of glutinous rice wine and handed one to Li Er. They chatted casually.

Because Li Er said not to drink the immortal wine.

What they called casual chatting was really just Chen Ping'an monologuing about the past.

Unknowingly, he moved from Northern Juzhou to Parasol Leaf Continent, then to Bottle Gourd Continent and his hometown.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "I remember the first time I went to Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Alley to deliver letters to earn copper coins. I was used to the mud paths of Gourd Alley and the Dragon Kiln. The first time I stepped on those blue stone slabs, I was afraid my straw sandals would dirty the road. I almost didn't know how to lift my feet anymore. Later, when I saw off Bao Ping, Li Huai, and the others in Great Sui, I had dinner at a former vice minister's mansion in Huangting Nation. It was a similar feeling. The first time I stayed at an immortal's inn, I pretended to be calm and composed, kept my eyes from wandering. It was a bit hard work."

"In Book and Bamboo Lake, there was a banquet that Gu Can organized. At the table were a fleeing prince of royal blood, a general's son, and disciples of immortal masters. Aside from my disappointment in Gu Can, watching that little snot-nosed kid handle everything naturally, deep down, I was actually a bit happy. That's what Fiery Dragon Patriarch meant when he said I had a selfish heart. At that moment, I felt that the little snot-nosed kid from the end of Gourd Alley could live well even without him, Chen Ping'an. In Book and Bamboo Lake, that was the only time I wanted to leave everything behind and not care, rather than for any of the things that happened later."

"A lot of things, I'm not really used to. It's not about liking or disliking them. It's just that I have to adapt."

"What is the world? And what are immortals?"

"I strain my eyes, trying hard to look at all the unfamiliar people and things. There are many things I didn't understand at first, and there are some I later understood but still couldn't accept."

Li Er opened his mouth and asked, "Is it painful?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "It's just that my heart feels a bit unhappy. But sometimes I also think, along the way, it hasn't just been painful things. Besides, I've seen with my own eyes so many people in the world who have suffered more than I have. They haven't managed to live any better. They have to live as if their suffering has no end. Who do they go to for justice? They can only endure it. Get through one day, and that's one day. When they can't get through it anymore, it's like so many people in the lanes of my hometown. They catch a serious illness. They go through the motions of getting some medicine, boil a few bowls of it, and then they die. The family members understand. The person lying on the bed, suffering, understands even more in their heart. It's not that they're not sad. It's that there's really nothing they can say."

"If one day I have to leave this world, I must make sure someone remembers me. They might be sad, but they absolutely cannot be only sad. When they are no longer so sad, living their own lives, they can occasionally think about how there was once a person named Chen Ping'an. Between heaven and earth, some things—whether big or small—only Chen Ping'an would do, and he would succeed in doing them."

Finally, as Chen Ping'an drank his wine and looked into the distance, he smiled. "Just thinking that I can eat a plate of winter bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat every winter makes me very happy. It feels like when I put down my chopsticks, winter has already passed and spring has come."

Li Er turned his head and looked at this young man.

It seemed strangely familiar.

(End of chapter)