Chapter 605: Every Heart Sits Alone in This World
Although Ning Manor was not on Taixiang Street or Xuanhu Street, the estate was truly not small.
Chen Ping'an helped the three of them choose three residences. Cao Qinglang was a qi refiner, so his location was the most particular: spiritual qi could not be too thin, but sword qi must not be too heavy. Otherwise, Cao Qinglang, as a cultivator at the bottleneck of the Cavern Dwelling realm about to enter the Observation Sea realm, was precisely the type of foreign qi refiner who least wanted to be inside the Sword Qi Great Wall. Fortunately, Chen Ping'an had a thorough understanding of Ning Manor. Where Cao Qinglang and the other two should live, what fine details and major considerations were involved—Ning Yao had let Chen Ping'an decide all these matters, without needing to tell them as the mistress of Ning Manor, and without Chen Ping'an having to ask as someone still half an outsider.
Pei Qian was like a little yellow bird, determined to hover around her master's wife.
Chen Ping'an had initially worried that Pei Qian would delay Ning Yao's seclusion. But Ning Yao said, "On the path of cultivation, when is it not seclusion?" Chen Ping'an had nothing to say. Ning Yao then took Pei Qian to see the Manor's secret treasury where immortal treasures and mountain artifacts were stored, saying she wanted to give Pei Qian a greeting gift, letting Pei Qian choose freely. Then she, Ning Yao, would pick another one as a return gift for the gift received earlier at the main gate.
Zhong Qiu asked Chen Ping'an about the rules and taboos of Ning Manor, then went alone to the pavilion at Dragon-Slaying Cliff.
Cao Qinglang put his parcels and luggage in his own residence, then followed Chen Ping'an to that small house. Walking along, Chen Ping'an kept his hands tucked in his sleeves and said with a smile, "Originally I wanted both you and Pei Qian to stay at my place. Remember when the three of us first met? But now you're at a critical juncture in your cultivation, so cultivation takes priority."
Cao Qinglang smiled and nodded. "Master, actually from that time on, I was very afraid of Pei Qian. But I was afraid you'd look down on me, so I tried my best to pretend I wasn't afraid of her. Deep down, though, I admired her. I always felt that if I were in her shoes, in the same situation, I wouldn't have survived in the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom. But back then, there were many things about Pei Qian that I didn't understand, and at that time, I really didn't like her. However, I wouldn't dare criticize her to you. Master might not know this, but when you were away, Pei Qian told me many great stories of her travels in the martial world. I could understand her implication perfectly well."
Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "When I wasn't at your ancestral home, did Pei Qian ever secretly hit you?"
Cao Qinglang nodded vigorously, but didn't go into details.
Chen Ping'an didn't press further.
He could fully imagine the scene between him and Pei Qian when he wasn't at Cao Qinglang's ancestral home in that narrow alley.
Of course, when the three of them were together, Chen Ping'an would also do things that Cao Qinglang and Pei Qian didn't consciously ponder at the time—maybe words, maybe small matters.
But many things really were something Cao Qinglang had to face alone: large matters like the life and death of elders, small matters like the trivial gossip that stabbed at his back, hidden in the gaps between cracking sunflower seeds, hidden in casual chats on small benches, hidden in the big plates of food on the neighbors' tables.
In fact, the child Cao Qinglang had relied on nothing but endurance, stubbornly enduring until the clouds parted and the moon shone, until the night passed and the day came.
Back then, Cao Qinglang really couldn't defeat Pei Qian. He didn't even dare to strike back. The key point was that besides being utterly unruly, Pei Qian also carried a kind of bandit-like aura. She'd kick an anthill with one step, slap a mosquito or fly with one palm—Cao Qinglang couldn't help but be afraid. Especially once, when Pei Qian held a small stool, stared straight at him, but unusually didn't utter a single harsh word—at that time, Cao Qinglang, still a scrawny child, was truly terrified. So much so that during many of the times when Chen Ping'an wasn't at the house, Cao Qinglang could only be driven by Pei Qian to the doorstep to act as a door god.
A lonely child sat sullenly on the steps, not daring to stay inside his own home. That child could only gaze at the street corner, waiting for that white-robed, sword-carrying Mr. Chen with a cinnabar-red wine gourd tied at his waist to return. As long as he reached the alley and Cao Qinglang spotted that figure, he could finally go back home—but he couldn't say anything, and even less could he tattle.
Because Pei Qian was truly clever. That kind of cleverness was something Cao Qinglang, at the same age, simply couldn't imagine. She had warned him from the start: "You, who lost your parents but still have a pair of balls—if you dare tattle, I'll beat you once for each time you tattle. Even if that stingy bastard who won't spend his money kicks me out, I'll still climb over the wall here in the middle of the night and smash all your pots and pans. Can you stop me? He plays the good guy and helps you, but can he help you for a day or two? Can he help you for a year or two? What kind of person is he, and what kind of person are you? Will he really live here forever? Besides, I know his temper better than you idiot do. No matter what I do, he will absolutely never kill me. So be smart. If you make an enemy of me, I can pester you for years. From now on, during every New Year and festival—since your family line is going to die out anyway, and you can't even afford door gods and spring couplets—I'll steal your bucket, fill it with other people's shit and piss, and smear it all over your door. Every day I pass by your house, I'll have a big pocket full of pebbles. Let's see which is faster: you spending money to mend your window paper, or me picking up stones."
Back then, what made Pei Qian hardest for Cao Qinglang to endure were not these straightforward threats, not the ugliest and most frightening words she thought she was saying, but rather those other words she uttered lightly with a grin.
"Your family is so poor that your rice jar is even cleaner than your bed. The only use for you, a jinx, is to roll outside and be a door god. Do you know how many copper coins two door gods cost? Even selling you wouldn't buy them. Look at other people: the more they live, the more people and money they have. But your family? People die, and there's hardly any money left. The way I see it, wasn't your father a peddler who went door to door? Isn't there a Scholar's Lane nearby with lots of brothels? Your father's money all went to touching those women's little hands, didn't it?"
"What, the sunflower seeds are gone?! If you don't believe me, I'll smash your jar of seeds! I'll tear up all your crappy books! When that Chen fellow comes back to this dump, you kneel on the ground and cry your heart out. He has money—so what if he buys you some seeds? You have to spend money to stay at an inn too. You're stupid, and he's bad. Neither of you is any good. No wonder you ended up together. I must be out of my luck to run into the two of you."
"Cao Qinglang, you don't really think that guy likes you, do you? He only pities you. He and I are the same kind. Do you know what kind of people we are? It's like me roaming the streets, seeing a baby bird that fell from a nest on the ground. I truly pity it. Then I find a stone, and with one stone, I smash it dead in one go, sparing it more suffering. Does that make sense? So am I a good person? Do you think I'm just mooching off your house? I'm actually protecting you. One day he might just kill you. With me around, he doesn't dare. Shouldn't you thank me?"
"Why do you have a worried face every day? You only had one pair of parents, no? What, did you lose another pair? Ah, forget it. Anyway, you've let down the parents who died first, and you've let down the name they gave you. If I were your mother or father, at the seventh-day return of the soul, or at Qingming Festival, or at the Ghost Festival, as soon as I saw you, I'd be angered to death all over again. Cao Qinglang, I think you might as well die. If you die early and run fast enough, you might even catch up to your parents. But remember to die far away, so that guy can't find you. He has money, but he's the stingiest—he wouldn't even spend on a tattered straw mat for you. Anyway, this house will be mine in the future."
Cao Qinglang had taken the initiative to fight Pei Qian twice: once for his parents, and once for that Mr. Chen who hadn't returned for a long time. Of course, Cao Qinglang was no match for Pei Qian. Pei Qian was used to others fighting and being fought herself. Dealing with a Cao Qinglang who didn't even dare to strike ruthlessly was very boring for her. But although she was bored inside, her hands were not easy. So Cao Qinglang's two outcomes were not good.
Chen Ping'an, with Cao Qinglang—who was no longer that scrawny child from the narrow alley—walked together into the left side room where two tables were placed. Chen Ping'an had Cao Qinglang sit at the table with the seals and fan face/ribs, while he began tidying up the geomancy charts and the booklets. When it came to "keeping accounts," of course Pei Qian had learned more than Cao Qinglang.
Chen Ping'an had never told anyone.
In his heart, Cao Qinglang only had a life experience similar to his own. In terms of nature and disposition, they looked somewhat alike, and indeed had many similarities. But in fact, they were not.
It was a very strange feeling.
However, this didn't stop Chen Ping'an from most wanting to bring Cao Qinglang along when he left the Lotus Flower Paradise. Even if he couldn't, he still deeply missed that child from the narrow alley, sincerely hoping that Cao Qinglang would one day become a seed of learning, wear a Confucian scholar's robe, become a true reader of books, a scholar like Mr. Qi. He also regretted leaving too hastily, worried that he might have taught wrongly. Cao Qinglang was too young; what was right for Chen Ping'an might be wrong for this child. So before the Lotus Flower Paradise split into four parts and Chen Ping'an occupied one, he had been concerned about Cao Qinglang all along. So much so that at the inn on the border of Dà Quán Dynasty in Tongye Continent, when Pei Qian asked him that question, Chen Ping'an answered "yes" without hesitation, admitting that he didn't want to keep Pei Qian by his side at all. If he could, he would only bring Cao Qinglang away from their homeland to his own hometown.
As the saying goes, even a clay Buddha has its temper.
But with Chen Ping'an, it wasn't common, especially truly getting angry with a child as old as Pei Qian was back then—in Chen Ping'an's life, that was the only time.
Zhao Shuxia learned fist techniques most like himself. But in Zhao Shuxia, Chen Ping'an saw more of his best friend, Liu Xianyang. When they first met, Zhao Shuxia protected Luan Luan just as Liu Xianyang had protected Chen Ping'an for many years in the small town—from acquaintances to friends to the best friend of his life.
The one who truly resembled Chen Ping'an was actually Pei Qian's timid gaze as she secretly observed the world, Sui Jingcheng's way of guessing people's hearts and gambling on people's hearts. And now, there was also a youth at the Sword Qi Great Wall who resembled him—not Zhang Jiazhen, who was already helping at the wine shop, but a poor boy named Jiang Qu from the Thatched Bamboo Hat Alley. In that alley, every time Chen Ping'an acted as a storyteller, the boy spoke the least, always squatting the farthest away, yet he had the most thoughts, learned the fist techniques most earnestly, and thus learned the most. Several times when they met and spoke at just the right moments, the boy was slightly awkward, but his gaze was determined. So Chen Ping'an alone taught that boy Jiang Qu the "Sword Furnace Standing Pole" posture of the Mountain-Shattering Fist.
Every time Jiang Qu squatted there, seemingly listening intently to the storyteller's tales of mountains and waters, his eyes, his expression, and his faint words with those he knew were all filled with a vague, indistinct utilitarianism.
Chen Ping'an felt no disgust at all—just some sadness.
No one knew why Wei Bo had once talked about those few matters concerning A Liang in front of the bamboo tower of Fallen Mountain.
Why had the boy Chen Ping'an been sobbing, and why beyond yearning with his heart, had he deeply hidden an unspeakable shame, regret, and helplessness—an emotion that Wei Bo hadn't discerned at the time?
Almost everyone thought that was Chen Ping'an's first long journey away from home, escorting Li Baoping and the others to study at the Great Sui Academy, that Chen Ping'an was wholeheartedly protecting their path. Looking at the results, it seemed Chen Ping'an really couldn't have done better. No one else could find any fault.
But after the straw-sandal boy first met A Liang, that was actually another great test in Chen Ping'an's life—silent, a tug-of-war in his heart.
Chen Ping'an hoped that in the eyes of that hat-wearing swordsman, he was exactly the person Mr. Qi had entrusted with hope. Chen Ping'an hoped for some unexpected turn, something to ensure he made no mistakes. So during that journey that began by the river and ended at the Red Candle Town inn, Chen Ping'an had been constantly trying to guess what A Liang was thinking, to put himself in the shoes of a sudden, transcendent master—what did he like, what didn't he like—to guess what kind of junior, what kind of youth, would this friend of Mr. Qi, a sword-wielding man who claimed to be a swordsman, actually like? Even if he didn't like or looked down on him, he absolutely couldn't let him develop an aversion. So every word, every move Chen Ping'an made back then was deliberate, fraught with thought. Did that little boy, walking among green mountains and clear waters, really have the heart to look at the mountains and water?
Even if Chen Ping'an's original intention was to successfully escort Baoping and the others safely to the academy, and to ensure that the strange man leading a donkey and carrying a bamboo knife would not cause the slightest harm to Baoping and the others, looking back on that part of his life, every time Chen Ping'an thought about it, he would feel sad, and often want to drink.
Once a road in life is traveled, it's truly traveled. It's not hometown or birthplace; you cannot return.
How can one not drink when occasionally looking back?
Today's Jiang Qu at the Sword Qi Great Wall, cautious and careful, and the Chen Ping'an of yesteryear, burdened with thoughts among the mountains and waters—how similar they were.
Cao Qinglang moved gently, examining some seals with carved characters and fan inscriptions. He suddenly noticed that his master was just sitting at the nearby table, silent and lost in thought.
Cao Qinglang dared not disturb his master's contemplation. He took out that small carving knife, which had an ancient air yet still seemed sharp, and placed it lightly on the table.
He didn't know why his master had given him this item. Cao Qinglang certainly wasn't so foolish as to think the knife was made of ordinary material and not treasure it. On the contrary, this impromptu gift from his master, the more "worthless" it seemed, the more worthy it was of being treasured and valued.
Chen Ping'an stood up and said with a smile, "I was just thinking about some things from the past."
Cao Qinglang also stood.
Chen Ping'an pressed his hand downward in a gesture. "No need for such formalities in the future. Be at ease."
Cao Qinglang nodded with a smile, but still waited until his master sat back down at the table before sitting himself.
Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves, leaned forward, and looked at the small carving knife on the table. He said with a smile, "This knife is something I got when I first left home for a long journey. I was in a shop in the capital of Great Sui, buying a jade seal, and the shopkeeper gave it as a bonus. Remember the bamboo slips I gave you earlier? They were all carved character by character with this small knife. The thing itself isn't valuable, but it's an object with some meaning in my life."
Cao Qinglang stood up, stepped back a few paces, and made a deep bow.
Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Some meaning is just some meaning. You don't need to take it so seriously. There are plenty of objects meaningful to me, most of them worthless. If you care this much, then I have a big pile of straw sandals—do you want some? If I gave you a pair, you'd bow and make obeisance once. Who wins and who loses? It seems both sides only lose. Since neither master nor student gains, let's not do it."
Cao Qinglang shook his head with a smile. "Master, straw sandals are fine. I can weave them myself—probably even better than Master's craft."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "When it comes to scholarship or cultivation, I might not be as good as you, this half-baked master. But when it comes to weaving straw sandals, I've traveled all over the world and rarely met my match."
Cao Qinglang smiled faintly.
Chen Ping'an joked, "If we extrapolate from the saying of Li Tuanjing, the former head of the Wind and Thunder Garden, if weaving straw sandals were also a great path of cultivation, then you'd just be a novice in the lower fifth realm, not knowing what the scenery of the upper fifth realm in straw-sandal weaving is like."
Cao Qinglang nodded. "If Master says so, then it is."
Chen Ping'an was speechless. After a moment's thought, he realized what was lacking in the atmosphere of their Fallen Mountain now: they had no shortage of fence-sitters, no shortage of flattery at the flying-ascension realm, all skewed to who-knows-where by his first disciple and Zhu Lian and the others, so much so that even Guo Zhujiu, a half-disciple, was a like-minded comrade like Pei Qian. So what they lacked was exactly Cao Qinglang's kind of backbone.
Thus Chen Ping'an smiled very contentedly. He had finally accepted a good, normal student.
Cao Qinglang, on the other hand, felt a little awkward. He reached out and picked up a bamboo fan with inscriptions on the face and carvings on the ribs. This kind of folding fan has an elegant nickname—"Summer Cool," among others.
The inscription on the fan face was of course obvious at first glance. But what Cao Qinglang truly liked was a line of tiny, mosquito-sized regular script on one of the larger ribs, like a hidden, shy child who didn't dare to show his face. The characters were written extremely small. Perhaps a careless buyer might overlook it, seeing it as a fan with only a face inscription and no carvings, and never know it existed—for months, years, or even a lifetime.
Cao Qinglang closed the folding fan, held it in his palm, stared at that line of characters, looked up, and said with a smile, "No wonder Master loves wine."
Chen Ping'an smiled knowingly.
The carving on the bamboo read:
"The affairs of the world are a great dream. Drinking, one is not afraid to get drunk. Not drunk, one is still within the dream."
Chen Ping'an said with a smile, "If you like it, I'll give it to you."
Cao Qinglang shook his head with a smile. "I won't hinder Master from making money."
Chen Ping'an casually picked up another fan, waved it to create a breeze, and said cheerfully, "Your master is not that kind of person."
Cao Qinglang asked, "Master, shall we carve characters on the plain seals together?"
Chen Ping'an immediately put down the fan and said with a smile, "Alright."
Cao Qinglang suppressed a smile, twirled a white stone seal that caught his eye, and held the carving knife. Then he hesitated slightly and had to ask softly, "Master, carving characters and writing them are quite different. I've never done this before. If I mess up on the first try, wouldn't I just waste a seal?"
Chen Ping'an moved his mind slightly, and the flying sword Fifteen shot out of his secret acupoint. He grasped it in his hand and said with an unconcerned expression, "The seal material is just ordinary stone from the Sword Qi Great Wall, the kind you can pick up anywhere in the mountains. It's not worth talking about in terms of money. But if you really care, then carve slowly. Slow hands and quick mind make fewer mistakes. Besides, the sword cultivators here are easygoing. They don't care much about minor flaws in the calligraphy itself. As long as the meaning of the seal inscription hits the mark, it will definitely sell."
Chen Ping'an held the "carving knife" Fifteen in one hand and a seal in the other, planning to give one to Cao Qinglang and one to Pei Qian. He pondered the content of the inscription but hadn't carved anything for a long time.
So it was Cao Qinglang, carving for the first time but with a draft already in mind, who made the first "stroke." After writing the first character, Cao Qinglang took a deep breath, rested a little, and looked up. His master was still deep in thought.
Cao Qinglang lowered his head and continued carving.
There was a sentence that had been lodged in Cao Qinglang's heart for a long time since he and Pei Qian had returned. But the youth didn't intend to tell his master, because it might seem like tattling, like gossiping behind someone's back.
"If you don't know how bad Pei Qian used to be, you won't understand how good Pei Qian is now."
Regarding Pei Qian after their long separation—even just the matter of her height, how different it was from what he had imagined—the elegant young man holding an umbrella at the corner of the alley in their hometown had been very surprised at the time.
Later, when they met again, Cao Qinglang was even more puzzled.
It wasn't until he followed Pei Qian to that Heart-Mark Temple that Cao Qinglang began to understand a little. Later, when he arrived at Fallen Mountain, his confusion gradually diminished, and he began to adapt to Pei Qian's changes and constancies. As for now, although he still hadn't fully figured out the reason, at least Cao Qinglang no longer mistakenly thought, as he had at first, that Pei Qian's body had been taken over by a cultivator or that part of her soul had been replaced. Why else would her temperament have changed so drastically?
It was as if she had gone from one extreme to another.
The youth was meticulous and careful. In fact, even after leaving Fallen Mountain and traveling far, he still had some lingering, not insignificant worries.
Then came that scolding between master and disciple on the city wall.
That put the youth completely at ease.
Cao Qinglang held his breath and concentrated again, continuing to carve.
Unconsciously, that orphan from the narrow alley was now a Confucian-robed youth, naturally graceful.
Cao Qinglang planned to give this seal to his master.
Chen Ping'an still hadn't figured out what to carve. He put down the plain seal, withdrew the flying sword Fifteen back into his qi mansion, and instead picked up a brush to write on a fan face.
Cao Qinglang looked up at Chen Ping'an, his gaze lingering for a long time without looking away.
Chen Ping'an didn't raise his head, but he sensed the youth's unease. He asked with a smile, "What's wrong? Made a mistake? Then swap for another seal and start over. But if you want to keep the one you carved wrong, don't throw it away."
"I didn't make a mistake."
Cao Qinglang shook his head and was silent for a long time. He murmured, "To have met Master—I am very fortunate."
Chen Ping'an was amused. Still not looking up, he thought for a moment, nodded to himself, and said, "For a master to meet such a student—I am also very happy."
Cao Qinglang continued to carve with his head down.
Chen Ping'an finished writing on the fan face, turned his head, and asked, "What characters did you carve?"
Cao Qinglang quickly raised one hand to cover the seal. "Not finished yet. Master will know later."
Chen Ping'an smiled. This student was indeed different from his first disciple, who was surely busy flattering someone right now.
Cao Qinglang sat upright, his expression focused, carving meticulously. His mind was at ease, his hands steady.
Using the small knife his master had given him, he carved seal script. When they parted next time, he would present this seal to his master.
Cao Qinglang hadn't finished carving. He closed his eyes in the middle, imagining a beautiful picture he had long envisioned. What was in his heart was what his hand wrote.
"Master sits alone, the spring wind turns the pages."