Chapter 657: Another Bowl of Yangchun Noodles
At the Yang Family Shop, Li Er, Zheng Dafeng, Su Dian, and Shi Lingshan—these disciples had all gradually left on distant journeys. Old Man Yang enjoyed the leisure, but Yang Shu, who minded the shop out front, was someone who didn’t understand human speech, so Old Man Yang was too lazy to say an extra word. Of course, Yang Shu was also unwilling to have any connection with that old codger. “An old turtle lying in its nest, really thinking itself a big shot?” If not for the Yang ancestors’ fondness for the old days, with the shop’s desolate business, how much money could it earn in a year? If it were up to him, Yang Shu, to take charge, he would have already done the accounts properly long ago.
Wei Bo and Ruan Qiong paid a visit almost simultaneously.
One was the Northern Mountain Lord, the other a seated sage. They arrived quietly.
Ruan Qiong was more casual. He sat on a long bench under the eaves and drank wine. Xiuxiu had brought some good wine when she came home this time, and he usually wasn’t willing to drink it freely.
Wei Bo stood beside the long bench, his expression grave.
This bench beside them had seated many sages.
Old Man Yang sat on the steps outside the main house across the way, surrounded by a vast white mist.
Ruan Qiong put away his wine flask and cut to the chase: “If Xiuxiu hadn’t gone to the private school, I wouldn’t have come.”
Old Man Yang chuckled. “I can’t control her. Ruan Qiong, you have only yourself to blame for this.”
Ruan Qiong nodded. With that answer, as long as it wasn’t Old Man Yang’s scheming, it was enough.
But Wei Bo’s heart grew heavier. Without Ruan Qiong as a natural ally, the burden on this humble mountain lord was immense.
To be frank, dealing with this old senior was never easy for anyone.
Old Man Yang tapped his dry tobacco pipe on the steps and said, “The City Lord of White Emperor City is right in the Great Li capital, watching this place. In the blink of an eye, he might pay a visit here.”
Ruan Qiong frowned deeply.
Wei Bo asked, “And the National Master’s side?”
Old Man Yang laughed. “If you guessed the mind of that Embroidery Tiger, would your work as mountain lord really become easier? I think not. So why think too much about it?”
Back when the Pearly Bead Cave Heaven shattered, all sorts of opportunities scattered unpredictably, following people away.
It was like a porcelain vase falling from a table and smashing on the ground—large and small shards flying in all directions.
The five greatest shares of Dao fortune were: the lone daughter of Sage Ruan Qiong, Ruan Xiu, and the fire dragon bracelet on her wrist.
Gu Can’s small loach, which he had begged from Chen Ping’an in the early years, raised in his family’s water vat. After Liu Zhimao took it away from the town, the loach gorged itself on supplements in Bookcase Lake, transformed into human form, and was given the name Tanxue.
Song Jixin and his maidservant Zhigui were accompanied by a four-legged snake with a horn sprouting on its forehead.
The Sui dynasty crown prince Gao Xuan bought a golden carp from Li Er, with a bonus—a Dragon King creel of extremely high rank.
And Zhao Yao, who had left the town early riding an ox cart. He was Qi Jingchun’s bookboy. Back then, besides the wooden dragon, the youth had secretly hidden a seal with the character “Spring” engraved on it, a parting gift from his master, on his person.
On the surface, only Zhao Yao had not returned to his hometown.
But Cui Chan’s grand scheme would certainly not leave such a loophole.
The alliance treaty between the Sui dynasty’s Gao clan and the Great Li’s Song clan was one game board. Gao Xuan, as a hostage, had been studying at the Linlu Academy on Piyun Mountain for many years under the protection of the Goyang Gao clan’s ancestor. That golden carp had been raised all these years in the mountain streams. The Great Li court had clearly instructed the Dragon Whisker River and Iron Talisman River, along with three mountain gods including Song Yuzhang, not to reveal this to outsiders.
Bookcase Lake was another game board. Gu Can was inside it. Ruan Xiu followed the Great Li’s Sticky Pole Lantern cultivator south to hunt down a youth brimming with martial luck who had been taken out of Great Li territory, and Ruan Xiu nearly entered the game as well. After the turmoil at Bookcase Lake, Gu Can’s mother was terrified and chose to move back to her hometown, eventually settling in the prefectural city, once again living a life of luxury. There were three reasons: Chen Ping’an’s suggestion, Gu Can’s endorsement, and the woman’s own lingering fear of Bookcase Lake’s customs. Second, Gu Can’s father, after death, became a god—first accumulating merit in the mansion of the bridal ghost, then being promoted to a prominent mountain god of the old Great Li mountain ranges. Once they returned home, they would be much safer. Third, Gu Can wanted his mother away from trouble. Deep down, Gu Can didn’t trust his master Liu Zhimao, now the chief offering master of the True Realm Sect, Liu Laocheng.
As for Song Jixin—when had he ever left the game board? When had he ever been anything but a piece?
And Zhao Yao—could he really be an exception, truly escaping Cui Chan’s calculations?
Ruan Qiong left.
But Wei Bo was still unwilling to return to Piyun Mountain just yet.
This gathering had come too abruptly and mysteriously. Now that the young mountain lord was far away at the Sword Qi Great Wall, and Zheng Dafeng was not at Fallen Mountain, Wei Bo was afraid that Zheng Dafeng’s change of heart—not going to the Lotus Root Blessed Land—was all part of this old senior’s deliberate arrangement. At present, the only pillar left at Fallen Mountain was Zhu Lian. And Wei Bo himself, in the Jise Peak Patriarch Hall, was always just a guest, without a seat.
Old Man Yang smiled. “Mountain Lord Wei, back then, the favor of fate—why repay it to such an extent?”
Wei Bo said bitterly, “I beg the old senior to tell me sincerely: this matter is not aimed at Fallen Mountain. Then I will no longer disturb your peace.”
Old Man Yang thought for a moment. “There are some connections, but the spearhead is not pointed directly at Fallen Mountain. Cui Chan has no need for that. Besides, if you cannot trust Cui Chan, you should at least trust Cui Dongshan.”
Wei Bo looked helpless. He really couldn’t trust that bizarrely behaving white-robed youth.
Finally, Old Man Yang said, “Then you should at least trust the three portraits hanging in the Jise Peak Patriarch Hall.”
Wei Bo suddenly felt as if he had taken a calming pill. His mind cleared, and he bowed in thanks.
Old Man Yang said, “Living long amid clouds and water, seemingly a carefree immortal guest—but in truth, clouds and water are all illusions. Mountain Lord Wei must not fail to notice this.”
Wei Bo clasped his fists again and laughed, “The beautiful scenery of the human world—even if it’s an illusion, it’s also pleasing to the eye. I won’t gain an advantage and then act innocent.”
Old Man Yang chuckled. “Mountain Lord Wei has a fine temperament, quite detached and carefree.”
Wei Bo felt somewhat reassured and took his leave.
Old Man Yang muttered to himself, “Well said—‘a debt repaid makes borrowing easier next time.’”
All of this, Cui Chan’s machinations, was to help Zhigui obtain a complete portion of true dragon qi in a way that was “heavenly justified,” without overstepping the bounds. The sages of the Three Teachings and One School must not find a single flaw.
Song Jixin was deeply in love with this maidservant who had depended on him all their lives. He would certainly be willing to give up the opportunity represented by the four-legged snake—perhaps even feel he was giving too little.
Ruan Xiu wouldn’t care at all about the gain or loss of a fire dragon. If she could do something for the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, she would not hesitate.
Gu Can, after growing rapidly in Bookcase Lake, had learned the true power of the word “rules,” and naturally learned to trade. Moreover, the life-and-death fate of his parents in the future was ultimately his weakness.
Crown Prince Gao Xuan, having studied at the Great Li’s Linlu Academy for many years, would heartwrenchingly hand over the golden carp for his Gao clan’s realm and soil—but he would not shirk the duty.
As for Zhao Yao—if he couldn’t even keep that Spring seal back then, could he keep that wooden dragon now? Unlikely.
Among these younger generation of the town, the only one who truly stayed off the game board was Chen Ping’an. It wasn’t simply that he was far away at the Sword Qi Great Wall.
But Cui Chan still had the ability to drag Chen Ping’an back into the game—provided Chen Ping’an had the chance to return to his hometown.
It was just unknown: by then, would Chen Ping’an be a chess piece, or a player?
Or perhaps, would he simply replace Cui Chan?
In front of the medicine shop, Yang Shu saw an old Confucian scholar step over the threshold. Yang Shu asked with a smile, “Old sir, do you need to see a doctor, or buy some herbs? Do you have a prescription?”
With such talk, how could the Yang Family Shop’s business be good?
The old man didn’t mind, however. He smiled and said, “I can cure my own ailments. Just browsing.”
Yang Shu became a little displeased and said offhandedly, “Herbs are precious, and it’s getting harder to gather them in the mountains. Feel free to look, but don’t rummage.”
The old scholar nodded.
He looked around and then headed toward the back courtyard.
Yang Shu grew anxious. This old fellow really had no sense of boundaries.
But in a blink, the old scholar had lifted the curtain and gone to the back courtyard. Yang Shu hesitated, muttered a few curses in his heart, and thought, *Let him fight with that Old Man Yang. Two old fossils—one can’t earn money, the other won’t pay. Old bones and limbs—best if they break something and suffer a hundred days.*
Old Man Yang smiled. “A rare guest.”
Cui Chan stood near the long bench but did not sit down. He smiled and said, “Since I’ve turned from guest to host, all I can do is come here less often to be an eyesore.”
Old Man Yang said, “So you’re certain that Chen Ping’an won’t be able to return to Vase Bottle Continent for the time being, and thus cannot add the finishing touch for that woman. The Great Li has to settle for second best and use its backup plan?”
Cui Chan nodded. “This is a minor matter.”
Back then, the contract between Wang Zhu and Chen Ping’an was very unstable. If Chen Ping’an’s luck failed and he died midway, Wang Zhu would lose her restraint. She could then turn to re-sign a contract with Song Jixin, but in between, she would waste a lot of her qi fortune. So in those years, when Wang Zhu’s spiritual wisdom was not fully developed, her actions toward Chen Ping’an’s life and death were always contradictory. For the big picture, she both hoped Chen Ping’an would thrive—master and servant rising together—but as neighbors in Mud Vase Alley, living together day and night, her dragon nature made her wish for him to die young, so she could make up her mind early and focus on siphoning the Great Li’s dragon veins and the Song clan’s national fortune.
And so she spent many years in a contradictory state—neither daring to act rashly and break the rules to kill Chen Ping’an (fearing the sage’s suppression), nor willing to waste time with a wretch whose destiny porcelain was already broken. She was even less willing to pray for heaven’s pity. The relationship between Song Jixin and Chen Ping’an, these peers, also became a tangled mess. The moment Chen Ping’an’s Bridge of Longevity was broken, Wang Zhu had actually already conceived murderous intent. Hence, the deal between Song Jixin and Fu Nanhua held hidden killing intent.
But later events surged like a great tide, forcing Wang Zhu to rein in considerably and dare not act rashly.
To make a true dragon merciful and compassionate toward others would be like forcing the Great Li Emperor to become a moral paragon.
However, neither Ruan Qiong nor Wei Bo, who had visited earlier, saw far enough.
The great tide had arrived—opportunity knocks but once. Cui Chan had to let Wang Zhu gather her true dragon qi ahead of time and restore her peak as much as possible.
But this time, Cui Chan’s arrangement to gather everyone at the town’s private school was by no means limited to that.
Old Man Yang laughed. “As a guest, one observes propriety upon entering. As a host, one treats guests generously. Neighbors like that—the more, the better.”
Cui Chan said, “As agreed, as long as I live, I will not let the conflict of Water and Fire repeat itself in the Haoran World.”
Old Man Yang asked, “And when you die? Does Cui Dongshan count as you? Will our agreement still stand?”
Cui Chan smiled. “Senior, you’ll have to ask him about that.”
Old Man Yang clicked his tongue. “When scholars wholeheartedly go into business, they’re more astute than anyone.”
Cui Chan said, “I hope the senior will also keep his side of the agreement.”
Old Man Yang nodded. “Of course. Fair dealing has always been my foundation.”
Ruan Xiu was born in the Wind and Rain Temple but followed her father to cultivate in the Pearly Bead Cave Heaven.
Li Liu was born in the Pearly Bead Cave Heaven but followed her parents on a distant journey to Lion Peak in the Northern Depths Continent.
The two occasionally met, but never stayed neighbors for long.
Around Ruan Xiu were: Li Baoping, who hit it off with her at first sight; Pei Qian, the senior disciple of Fallen Mountain; Liu Xianyang, a direct disciple of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect; Gu Can from Mud Vase Alley, who had few friends left in the world; Yu Lu, the deposed crown prince of the Lu dynasty, whose element was fire and who bore a nation’s martial luck; and Xie Xie, who carried a great deal of mountain qi fortune.
Around Li Liu were: her younger brother Li Huai; the true dragon Zhigui, naturally beloved by water, and Song Jixin’s allegiance was obvious; Ma Kuxuan, who was willing to follow Zhigui and whose grandmother had been promoted from Dragon Whisker River’s river mother to river god; and Lin Shouyi and Dong Shuijing, the swordman, both of whom liked Li Liu.
Once it came to matters of great principle, these two nascent camps had people with their own attachments. If trivial matters accumulated, who could stay aloof in the end?
What was needed was a figure who would be willing to reason and command respect between the two sides.
Chen Ping’an.
When Cui Chan played chess, he did not treat his pieces as mere puppets. He never thought that controlling the life and death of everyone and playing with their fates was any great skill or joyful thing. Rather, he needed to quietly pave paths for those pieces, so that their Dao trajectories might be winding, but ultimately they would appear at the critical moment in the right position.
If he were greedy for the Longevity Dao, Cui Chan would not have betrayed the Wen Sheng lineage.
If he liked power, the positions of Academy Grand Sacrificial Librarian or Middle Earth Confucian Temple Vice-Cult Master were within easy reach. What difficulty would there be in taking them for himself?
Old Man Yang puffed smoke, shrouding the medicine shop, and asked, “How goes that matter?”
Cui Chan rarely showed a hint of helplessness. “I can’t trust others, and they can’t handle it. I had to split my soul. I observe Cui Dongshan quietly; in one day, his thoughts range from a minimum of two to a maximum of seventy thousand. When Cui Dongshan observes me, my thoughts range from a minimum of three to a maximum of eighty thousand. We each have our strengths and weaknesses.”
Old Man Yang asked, “Have you straightened out those fundamental threads?”
Cui Chan shook his head. “Considerable disagreement. Regarding the three-tier binary conversion, we have a fundamental divergence—almost completely reversed order. Very troublesome.”
Old Man Yang asked with a smile, “Why have you deliberately never asked me about this?”
Cui Chan smiled faintly. “In terms of age and realm, you are senior and I am junior. But when it comes to scheming, we are equals.”
Old Man Yang shook his head. “No need for modesty. You are the senior.”
Cui Chan clasped his fists and laughed. “I dare not accept that with ease; I accept it with trepidation.”
Polite words—from the master to the disciples, to the disciples’ disciples of the Wen Sheng lineage—it seemed they were all well-versed in such.
Old Man Yang was momentarily speechless with laughter. After a silence, he sighed, “Old scholar, you have a good eye for disciples. Your first disciple lays out schemes like a galaxy of stars. Zuo You’s swordsmanship is like the nearly full moon hanging in the sky. Qi Jingchun has the highest learning, yet always keeps his feet firmly on the ground, guarding the human world.”
The True Realm Sect in Bookcase Lake was connected to the Jade Gui Sect in Tongye Continent.
The transcontinental ferry business of the Skeleton Shoal’s Pima Sect was considerable.
The Mohist giant, the Merchant clan’s ancestor, and many others still hidden behind the scenes—all had been invited by Cui Chan to the gambling table. Now the City Lord of White Emperor City had also graced Vase Bottle Continent.
Cui Chan sat on the long bench, hands lightly covering his knees, and said self-deprecatingly, “But none of them are faring well.”
Old Man Yang smiled. “Cultivating the Longevity Dao values good fate; writing essays and learning resents auspicious circumstances.”
Cui Chan smiled. “Senior, these words greatly comfort my heart.”
----
Liu Chicheng, together with the Longbo brother, was going to travel with Gu Can to the prefectural city.
Nowadays, Huaihuang County was well-connected, with many large and small roads.
As soon as the young people from the private school scattered and went their separate ways, Chai Bofu’s overwhelming pressure suddenly diminished—inexplicably.
Liu Chicheng keenly sensed Chai Bofu’s change in mood and patted the white-haired youth’s shoulder. “Longbo brother, I never would have guessed you had such spiritual insight. Your Dao is promising!”
Chai Bofu said earnestly, “Thank you for the auspicious words, senior.”
Shi Chunjia boarded the carriage and returned to the Great Li capital with her husband Bian Wenmao. Li Baoping said she would find a horse to ride and would soon catch up.
Li Huai, Lin Shouyi, and the others would follow Mao Xiaodong back to the Sui dynasty academy.
Cao Gengxin and Dong Shuijing went together to Huang Er’s tavern for a drink.
Prefectural Governor Yuan Zhengding traveled with Song Jixin and the maidservant Zhigui, using the pretext to go to the Old Porcelain Mountain Confucian Temple for worship.
Ma Kuxuan took Shudian to the Immortal Tomb’s Martial Temple to have a look.
Liu Xianyang followed Ruan Xiu to the Dragon Spring Sword Sect’s mountain. Since he wasn’t yet a direct disciple, he had no need to burn incense and bow to portraits in the Patriarch Hall—just a casual stroll. But Liu Xianyang said he wanted to go to Fallen Mountain first. Ruan Xiu seemed to have been waiting for that sentence, but she suggested they go to Dragon Spring Sword Sect first and then to Fallen Mountain. Liu Xianyang thought that was reasonable.
Then, the two flying off into the distance saw Li Baoping walking on foot toward the great mountain.
The foreign young men from the Sword Qi Great Wall, Zhang Jiazhen and Jiang Qu, ascended Fallen Mountain under the secret escort of the sword cultivator Cui Wei.
The great steward Zhu Lian had previously mentioned that he planned to have the two help out at the New Year’s Shop on Dragon Riding Lane. Zhang Jiazhen and Jiang Qu, after discussing it, decided to come here first to ask Zhu Lian about some matters of note.
Cui Wei also had his own considerations and needed Zhu Lian’s consent.
Pei Qian happened to be returning from the Lotus Root Blessed Land with Zhou Mili. She saw Zhang Jiazhen and Jiang Qu and was somewhat happy.
At the very least, seeing Chen Nuanshu with her sack of melon seeds, she wouldn’t nag about Zhou Mili and her purchases. She had to entertain these two youths who were now considered family.
Zhou Mili was cunning. Previously, Nuanshu had complained about her buying too many melon seeds, and the price wasn’t even a good deal. Zhou Mili didn’t complain, just pretended to be loyal and kept silent, but kept glancing at Pei Qian. What did that mean?
Yuan Lai had dealt with Zhang Jiazhen and Jiang Qu before and had a good relationship, so he went up the mountain with them.
As for that silly Yuan Bao, he was probably up on the mountain peak, sparring with that naive Cen Yuanji again.
Li Baoping’s visit to Fallen Mountain was to borrow a horse—the one her Little Uncle had brought back from Bookcase Lake years ago. It had been raised on Fallen Mountain’s territory all these years.
Little Uncle was always so sentimental.
As soon as Pei Qian heard that Baoping sister had arrived at the mountain gate, she immediately took the ear-rubbing Zhou Mili and dashed over.
A hundred or so steps away, Pei Qian stomped the ground, leaped high, and landed lightly in front of Li Baoping.
Zhou Mili, carrying her little golden shoulder pole and holding her mountain walking staff, copied the move. She stopped abruptly, bent her knees slightly, and gave a soft shout—but she put too much force into it, and in the midst of her babbling noises, she flew directly toward the mountain gate.
Pei Qian reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back.
The little girl in black swayed, steadied herself, and laughed heartily.
Seeing Pei Qian, who had grown quite a bit, Li Baoping pinched the girl’s cheeks. Then she bent down, patted Zhou Mili’s face with both hands, and gave a light twist. The little girl’s two faint, slightly yellowish eyebrows immediately went one high, one low—very comical.
Led by Yuan Lai, Zhang Jiazhen and Jiang Qu visited the mountain god shrine, a temple hardly receiving any incense offerings.
Cen Yuanji and Yuan Bao, as Pei Qian had guessed, were sparring on the plaza.
The three youths sat side by side on a railing in the distance.
Zhang Jiazhen glanced at the two young women, who stood gracefully as they withdrew their fists, then looked away.
He turned his head and gazed at the overlapping mountains and waters outside Fallen Mountain. A large flock of birds happened to sweep by, like a suspended river of white snow, swaying gently, flowing slowly.
When Zhang Jiazhen worked as a waiter at the Sword Qi Great Wall tavern, he had once privately asked Mr. Chen a question.
Mr. Chen’s learning was so profound—had it all been personally taught by the Wen Saint from the very beginning?
That storyteller, who had finished telling tales of mountains and rivers while carrying a stool and a bamboo branch, had walked side by side with the youth through the streets and alleys. He shook his head with a smile and said, “No, that’s not the case. In the earliest days, there was a private school in my hometown. The teacher was surnamed Qi. Teacher Qi said that principles are in books, but being a person is outside of books. If you ever have the chance to go to my hometown, you can visit that school. And if you truly want to study, there’s a new school now, and the teachers there are no less learned.”
At the time, Zhang Jiazhen had silently recited that saying about principles and books.
Mr. Chen had raised his hand slightly, pointing into the distance, and said with a laugh, “For a child who has never read, hearing these words is like… a mountain of gold and silver appearing out of thin air. The road is long, but you can see it. You grab a woodcutter’s knife, shoulder a hoe, carry a bamboo basket, and go earn big money! Suddenly, you have hope—a glimmer that maybe, just maybe, you’ll live a day without worrying about food and clothing.”
Actually, many of Mr. Chen’s words were not about principles, but the youth had silently memorized them all.
In the Haoran World, there were also many impoverished families. The so-called “good life” was simply pasting new door gods and spring couplets with lucky characters every year. The so-called “prosperous family” was having spare money to buy many door gods and couplets—but a house only has so many places to paste them. It wasn’t that they had no money in their pockets; they just couldn’t afford to buy more.
When the youth finally arrived at Mr. Chen’s hometown, Mr. Chen was still far away in the youth’s hometown.
On the second floor of the bamboo building.
Li Baiping, the girl Pei Qian, and the two little girls, Chen Nuanshu and Zhou Mili, leaned on the railing and looked at the scenery.
The tall ones didn’t need to stand on tiptoe.
The shortest, Zhou Mili, hung from the railing.
It was as if, in the very next moment, they might suddenly see a man returning home, carrying a mountain walking staff and a bamboo basket.
Then he would look up and wave to them with a smile.
Pei Qian whispered, “Tonight the bright moon is in the river, tomorrow the stars hang over the wild plain. So the day after tomorrow, will Master come home?”
Li Baoping said, “Little Uncle seems to have been running around for others since the day he left home. He never stopped. Staying a little longer at the Sword Qi Great Wall is also good—just consider it a rest.”
Chen Nuanshu smiled. “I heard there’s a tavern there too, with melon seeds, and big bowls of Yangchun noodles.”
Zhou Mili swung her dangling feet and nodded vigorously. “Yangchun noodles are delicious. The bigger the bowl, the better.”
In the tavern at the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Ping’an—who had left the city wall for the battlefield and returned again—had changed into clean clothes. He was now sitting at a table, having ordered a jug of wine and eating a bowl of Yangchun noodles alone. Although he had told the child to have his father omit the chopped green onions, in the end, a small handful had been added.
The second shopkeeper rarely came here these days, so the bowls at the shop weren’t big, but the portion of Yangchun noodles was generous. And the green onions had to be plentiful to be proper.
Feng Kangle and Taoban, the two children, sat at the next table, watching the second shopkeeper’s back as he bent to eat his wine.
Chen Ping’an turned around, raised his empty bowl, and said with a smile, “Another bowl, please. Remember—no green onions. I don’t need them.”