Chapter 994: Flying Birds Return to Palm Tales
On the second day of the second month, the dragon raises its head.
The Dipper points due east, the Horn Mansion first appears, and the season shifts as spring returns—this is the image of all things burgeoning, birds and beasts growing horns, grasses and trees sprouting, and spring plowing beginning.
On this day, the courts of every nation hold morning assemblies. The Ministers of Rites and War lead the hundred officials in presenting a book of agriculture to the monarch, signifying devotion to fundamentals, implying that "the great affairs of the state lie in sacrifice and war," but also that "the root of the nation lies in farming and fields."
The emperor feasts his ministers, drinking Yichun wine brewed according to ancient methods, and bestows items such as knives and rulers from the Imperial Workshop, all made of white jade, indicating that all the noble officials are gentlemen who must carefully measure and weigh state affairs. The empress is responsible for bestowing varying numbers of "green pouches" upon the titled ladies who enter the palace. Ostensibly, these are sewn by the empress herself, not entrusted to palace maids. The green pouches contain various grains and melon and fruit seeds, which the ladies are to pass on to relatives, friends, and children within their own families, to pray for a bountiful harvest and a year of abundant grain. At the same time, this signifies that bell-cauldron households and scholarly families, with full granaries, understand propriety.
In times past, in Huaihuang County, since ancient times, the custom on the second day of the second month was for every household to eat a bowl of Dragon Beard Noodles in the morning. On this day, pancakes were also given the name "Dragon Scales." On this day, women and unmarried girls in the town had to stop their needlework. According to the elders, because the dragon had just raised its head, threading a needle might harm the dragon's eyes and incur its displeasure.
The sturdy men of the town would take their children, holding bamboo poles or wooden sticks, and strike the roof beams, beds, stoves, and so on. This was commonly called "shouting to wake the dragon and startle spring," reciting auspicious words and old sayings passed down through generations, such as "The large granary is full as a mountain, taller than the western mountain; the small granary flows like water, staying in our own fields." Over on Fulu Street and Taoye Lane, it might be more elegant, and the meaning of the words would be greater—mostly about favorable weather, the nation's peace and security, and scorpions and snakes fleeing, not causing harm.
Thirty or forty years ago, because of the jinx from Mud Vase Alley, words of joy associated with "peace" had become a taboo of no small measure, and people were reluctant to mention them. To this day, "blessing a place with peace" had gradually become a statement of great weight and significance. Some wealthy families who had moved from the town to the prefectural city would even deliberately have their children break a porcelain piece on this day, then chant "Suisui ping'an" three times, a homophone for "yearly peace," to seek a good omen.
Meanwhile, the women and young girls of the household would go early in the morning to the Iron Lock Well to draw water. For this reason, this day saw the largest number of meetings between residents of Fulu Street and Taoye Lane and the common folk of other streets. The former were mostly wealthy youths and girls in brocade, leaving home just before dawn, carrying a lantern in one hand and a beautiful, delicate celadon pot or jar in the other. The two groups would meet at their respective street corners, both lines of young people snaking along like a single character, drawing water there and returning the same way. This was called "leading the money dragon into the gate and bringing fortune and blessings home."
Early this morning, just before dawn, Chen Ping'an took the green-clad boy, the pink-skirted girl, and Little Mi Li with him down the mountain to the ancestral house in Mud Vase Alley.
They each had their assignments. Chen Ping'an first used a bamboo pole to tap the roof beams and the bed, then took Chen Lingjun, each carrying a bucket, and went out to the Iron Lock Well to draw water. Nuan Shu and Little Mi Li stayed in the house to light the stove, boil the noodles, and bake the pancakes.
Not long before, the Chu Prefectural Governor's office had issued an order, and the Huaihuang County yamen had posted a notice that on this day, the previously banned Iron Lock Well would be open for local residents to draw water home.
Guo Zhujiu had been catching up on sleep lately, sleeping every day until the world turned dark and lightless. Chen Ping'an hadn't called her. She wasn't practicing swordsmanship or cultivating; she was just truly sleeping.
Walking out of Mud Vase Alley, Chen Lingjun swung his bucket and asked quietly, "Was the opening of the well the master's idea? Did the master personally speak to the county yamen, and then the court approved it?"
The rules established by the Great Li court in early years were extremely weighty, not just in Chu Prefecture but throughout the entire Precious Bottle Continent. Even mountain immortals dared not defy them, let alone change them.
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I didn't bring this up. I originally planned to find an opportunity this year to speak to the court, to start implementing the lifting of the ban next year. So it's most likely Zhao Yao's suggestion. Over the years, he has been devoted to restoring old traditions everywhere. If the Great Li Song clan hadn't returned the half of the land south of the Great River, Zhao Yao, as a Vice Minister in the Ministry of Justice, would have been even busier. But the Ministry of Revenue would definitely scold him as a spendthrift who only knows how to put up a front, and the Ministry of Rites would also scold him for overreaching."
Chen Lingjun said with an air of experience, "Isn't this just being impractical? The Great Li officials so highly praise pragmatic achievements and are all more practical than the next. Zhao Yao messing around like this—it's no wonder he's not popular."
He remembered hearing from the Incense Guy who reported on time that in recent years, the Great Li prefectures, states, and counties had been compiling new local gazetteers, which had been included in the court's local evaluations. It was said to be the suggestion of Vice Minister Zhao of the Ministry of Justice. Moreover, it required collecting colloquial sayings and local dialects, which meant coordinating with qi practitioners from various prefectures. The county gazetteers were produced in two copies, and the copy stored in the capital was imbued with immortal aura. So there was widespread resentment locally, with people feeling this was a burdensome waste of resources and a measure to whitewash peace.
Chen Ping'an shook his head with a smile. "It shows results in the long run. The transformation between the substantial and the insubstantial contains great knowledge. It's like the conversion between gold, silver, and copper coins—there's both premium and loss. But if there's no smooth channel of 'circulation' between the two, there's a big problem. The Great Li dynasty would become more and more like ordinary powerful nations with elite cavalry and strong soldiers, gradually fading into the crowd, no longer the most special and 'different' Great Li in the Precious Bottle Continent, or even in the entire Haoran world. If Senior Brother Cui Chan were still in office, what Zhao Yao is doing today would be exactly what the nation's chancellor does."
Chen Lingjun said honestly, "Master, I don't quite understand. But anyway, I feel it's very learned. So this means Zhao Yao is actually a guy with some real skill?"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "He does have real skill."
Otherwise, he couldn't have become an unregistered disciple of Bai Ye. When Zhao Yao left his hometown as a youth and sailed far away, he accidentally landed on a solitary island in the overseas territories of the Central Continent, which was precisely where Bai Ye cultivated.
Later, Bai Ye, traveling alone to Fuyao Continent, gave away pieces of a broken immortal sword, "Taibai," to four people, and Zhao Yao was one of them.
Chen Lingjun grinned mischievously. "In terms of literary lineage seniority, Vice Minister Zhao would have to call the master 'uncle,' right?"
Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "That's a must."
The current Chu Prefectural Governor, Wu Yuan, because he had once been a formal disciple of Senior Brother Cui Chan, also had to call Chen Ping'an "uncle" when they met.
There were actually a few more such junior disciples in the capital, all without exception holding high positions, genuine heavyweights in the Great Li court.
In the town's marketplaces and alleys, there were actually roads narrower and more cramped than Mud Vase Alley. For example, this shortcut to the Dragon Lock Well now—if a somewhat taller young man walked into it, the eaves were lower than his eyebrows, so he had to walk with his head bowed. If he looked up, his forehead would hit the eaves. The alley wasn't long, but the walls on both sides seemed to clamp in on the body, so the arms couldn't stretch or turn. In the past, when Chen Ping'an went to the Dragon Lock Well to draw water, he would always pass through here, saving a lot of walking. But the light was dim and a bit eerie; kids his age in the town didn't dare take this path. Chen Ping'an, however, wasn't afraid of that. Especially in winter when it snowed, the muddy alley froze solid, forming an icy surface. At the mouth of the alley, Chen Ping'an would put the bucket on the ground, gently push it forward, then step back a few paces, run forward, bend his knees and slide, and he and the bucket would pass through in an instant, meeting at the other end of the alley. This was one of the few amusements Chen Ping'an had in his childhood and youth. Such solitary joy—he just had to be careful not to get hit by the rows of icicles hanging from the eaves.
Leading Chen Lingjun out of this nameless, dark alley, at the mouth was a small well, but the well opening was small and the water shallow. In the early days, the three or four nearby households didn't have to go far and would draw water here in the morning. But as soon as the sky showed a bit of light, the well would be dry, so Chen Ping'an from Mud Vase Alley couldn't come here to take advantage. Once, he had carried water from the Iron Lock Well and was scolded, mistaken for a water thief. Later, when he read in a book about "the suspicion of being in a melon field or beneath a plum tree," he had already understood the principle, but the book explained it more clearly than he could have.
There used to be a vegetable patch by the well, but the soil was poor and thin, and the vegetables grown there were often short and thin, with astringent taste. Now the patch was long abandoned, piled high with broken tiles and rubble gathered from all around, overgrown with weeds, a mix of gray and green.
Chen Lingjun never paid attention to such mundane street scenes—nothing interesting. He walked with big strides, but suddenly noticed that his master had stopped behind him. Chen Lingjun turned to look, and Chen Ping'an quickly caught up, saying casually with a smile, "If I were to tend this vegetable patch, the soil quality would be much better, and the vegetables wouldn't be so woody and astringent. They'd taste much better."
Chen Lingjun laughed heartily. "Of course! Master is hardworking. Having been an apprentice kiln worker and knowing soil, with fertilizing and earthwork, the vegetables in the garden would grow as tall as a person!"
But after taking only a dozen steps, Chen Lingjun suddenly paused, as if savoring the aftertaste. He carefully turned his head to glance at his master beside him.
Chen Ping'an smiled and patted the green-clad boy's head. "You know. Just don't tell Little Mi Li and the others—it'll soon be known all over the mountain."
Chen Lingjun nodded vigorously and deliberately changed the subject. "That fellow who went fishing at Yellow Lake Mountain, calling himself Fu Hu, from the capital, now the county magistrate of Pingnan County. He said the master personally invited him to fish at Yellow Lake Mountain. Does this Fu really know the master?"
A seventh-rank petty official, quite bold, dared to fish at Yellow Lake Mountain, and Chen Lingjun had caught him red-handed. Yellow Lake Mountain had once been the training ground of the Water Flood Dragon Hong Xia, so it was naturally a feng shui treasure land, a place where fish and dragons hid, shrouded in mist, clouds and water vast—truly a good place for fishing. But normally, who from outside would dare come here to fish?
Chen Ping'an hummed in affirmation. "I know him. We fished together in Pingnan County before. Magistrate Fu gave me a few fish. He's an easygoing person, not much official air about him."
Fu Hu himself didn't know why he had been transferred out of the capital's Victory Report Bureau to get this actual vacancy as a county chief magistrate, and in Pingnan County, which was a first-class county in Chu Prefecture. It was clearly a sign that the court intended to promote him. No wonder Fu Hu, accustomed to serving in a peaceful government office, was completely baffled. Chen Ping'an, however, knew clearly that it must be because when he served as an official in the same office as Lin Zhengcheng, they got along well. Before Lin Zhengcheng was transferred out of the capital to head the Hong Prefecture Timber and Cutting Office, he had put in a good word for Fu Hu. And the reason Chen Ping'an had specifically gone to the river to "corner" Fu Hu was partly to use a stone from another mountain to polish jade—to first see Fu Hu's character.
Chen Lingjun said, "Magistrate Fu speaks in such a flowery, literary way that I can't keep up. I often don't know how to respond."
Earlier, Chen Lingjun had accompanied this young official from the capital and chatted casually, but they didn't hit it off at all—like a chicken talking to a duck. Fu Hu talked about how one knows about being enfeoffed as a marquis or becoming a prime minister, about jade halls and golden horses—must be majestic and lofty, with a pure and beautiful countenance. How does one know about petty sesame-officials, lowly clerks and petty officers? They must be shallow in talent and learning, narrow in measure and timid in courage. It was a pity Brother Zheng Dafeng wasn't there at the time, or else Chen Lingjun would have had Zheng Dafeng step up and put down Fu Hu's scholarly pedantry.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Fu Hu is more than sufficient to be an honest official."
Many children of cold families, who in the morning were field hands and in the evening ascended to the Son of Heaven's hall, when they entered officialdom, the difficulty lay in the word "wealth"—gold, silver, and treasures piled up into a ghost gate.
For children of noble families, the difficulty lay in "a well-fed man doesn't know a starving man's hunger." The fear was high aspirations but low ability, great ambition but sparse talent—neither understanding nor caring about the sufferings of the people.
After passing this humble alley, the road widened. The ancient locust tree from years past was still there, with long wooden benches beneath it and a few stone blocks placed for people to rest and cool off in summer or sunbathe in winter. In spring, flocks of green-feathered birds would gather in the tree; their plumage was similar in color to the leaves, hard to detect. Only when they chirped noisily would people under the tree look up. A naughty child would take out a slingshot. Gu Can was an expert at this, with good patience, often bringing back a long string of birds to Mud Vase Alley. Other families had feather dusters or shuttlecocks, but Gu Can's family was different.
Although the yamen had posted a notice, very few people came to draw water from the Iron Lock Well that day. Most were old people. When they saw Chen Ping'an and the green-clad boy, they looked restrained, and because they weren't familiar with him in the old days, they had nothing to say, nor did they dare to strike up a conversation easily. At that moment, two local old men who had never moved out of the town deliberately stepped aside to let the illustrious Mountain Lord Chen draw water first. Chen Ping'an smiled and called out in the local dialect, telling them to draw water first. According to hometown customs, for people who weren't relatives by surname or generation, one just called them by age. Since the old men were in their sixties, a generation above Chen Ping'an, he could simply address them as uncle or elder. Chen Lingjun would have to follow him and call them "grandfather." If Chen Lingjun called them "grandfather," then the green-clad boy would have to call them "tai-tai," which in town wasn't gender-specific but meant "great-grandfather" or "great-grandmother."
After Chen Ping'an had drawn water and left, the two old men whispered to each other.
"Chen Ping'an must be around forty now, right?"
"Must be. Looks like he's still barely thirty-something."
"Not long ago, I ran into Chen Dequan in the prefectural city. He said according to their Chen clan genealogy, Chen Ping'an is three generations below him. He'd have to call him 'tai-tai' when they meet."
The other old man turned his head and spat heavily, cursing in the old dialect, "A disgraceful thing."
From a distance, Chen Lingjun heard this and found it amusing. The local town dialect—Chen Lingjun not only understood it but spoke it just like a native. "Disgraceful" meant about the same as "losing face."
The biggest characteristic of the town's dialect was that almost all words were in level tone, rarely rising or falling. Although elsewhere, like the Yellow Court Kingdom, customs often differed by ten li and accents by a hundred li, a native dialect like the town's was indeed rare.
Chen Ping'an never minded the idle chatter of the older generation.
But he suddenly thought of the old days in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. He used to send Pei Qian, who freeloaded and ate his fill, to fetch water. He guessed that the lazy little black charcoal would fetch at most half a bucket, maybe even less, then slosh the bucket all the way back to Cao Qinglang's house. By the time she entered, the well water in the wooden bucket would have long since bottomed out. When she entered the house, she would carry the bucket with both hands, hiding it, always turning sideways so Chen Ping'an couldn't see the water level. She would pretend it was very heavy, stagger over to the stove, and then inevitably secretly scoop up water with the ladle from the bucket, then stand on tiptoe, raise the bucket as high as possible, and pour it into the water vat, making the sound louder. She was a talent who understood it all without instruction—a little drama queen.
On the way back, they saw an old man in his seventies from the town, scattering ash as he walked. As time passed, with twenty years making a generation, it had been nearly thirty years since the Lizhu Cave Heaven fell to the ground and opened its doors to the outside world. Such scenes were becoming increasingly rare. When Chen Lingjun first arrived in the town, he often saw townspeople busy with this sort of thing.
Chen Lingjun asked, "Master, why do we never scatter ash to attract the dragon at home?"
Ever since he came to Luopo Mountain, the master never seemed to have any practice of attracting the dragon. On the second day of the second month, they only tapped bamboo poles and ate noodles and pancakes.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "When I was a child, we did it. But later, because I didn't understand the rules and details here—you need to say many old sayings to attract the dragon—and I knew nothing, I was afraid that messing around might actually offend taboos. So I thought it over and just gave up."
In past years, on the second day of the second month, the old people in every household were busy, but they couldn't be busy blindly. There were rules. After dawn on the second day, when the sun was high and its light swept over the easternmost fence gate of the town, people could scatter ash to attract the dragon. But if it was a cloudy or rainy day, they had to wait patiently. If it was just overcast without rain, they would choose a specific hour. If it rained all day, they could only stare helplessly, worrying about the prospects for the entire coming year.
Moreover, there were as many as five methods of attracting the dragon. Each household had different methods. Generally, families with many members had more kinds; poor, small households without much prosperity might have at most two methods.
For example, drawing water from the Iron Lock Well and bringing it home was one method. All households in the town could do it—just pour the water into the home's water vat. It was the simplest method of attracting the dragon, somewhat like the general outline of an essay. There were several other more ritualistic methods, usually handled by old people in the family who were familiar with the customs. For instance, in the past, they would select an old locust tree or a large stone by the road near the house, encircle it with a line of ash from the stove, and then have the youngest child in the family, regardless of gender, tie a copper coin with a red thread and place it inside the circle. For wealthier families, they would tie a gold or silver bead with a red string. The child would hold the string and drag the coin or gold/silver home. When dragging the coin or precious metal, they needed to open a gap in the circle, like a dragon spitting water, and water meant wealth. This was equivalent to opening a financial path leading into the home. Then they would put the copper coin into a celadon money jar, and the head of the household would personally cover the jar, meaning wealth was kept inside. With fortune in hand, the family naturally wouldn't worry about food and drink in the new year.
Also, some old people would mumble incantations and scatter plant ash from the stove in a straight line in front of the door, blocking disaster, or scatter ash in the shape of a dragon or snake in the corner to ward off evil spirits. Alternatively, in the courtyard or on the drying ground, they would first pile grains into a small mound, then encircle it with ash, like water surrounding a high mountain, to bless the year's crops with bountiful harvests and full granaries. Some wealthy families with much land were even more meticulous, having a custom called "sending yellow and welcoming green." Two people were needed: one would tie a bag full of plant ash to his waist and scatter it all the way to the Dragon Beard River outside the town; the other would use a bag of rice husks to attract the dragon home. This had the meaning of attracting the field dragon while also sending off the poor god and welcoming the wealth god.
In the past, if the master gave this explanation, Chen Lingjun would just hear it and let it go. But today was different; he quickly understood the real reason behind it.
The master hadn't lied. In his youth, the master hadn't studied, and no one was willing to teach him these tricks. He truly didn't understand the rules and taboos of attracting the dragon. But the real reason was still that, in his hometown town at that time, he himself might have been a taboo.
Chen Ping'an spoke up and asked, "Have you figured out the tricks?"
Chen Lingjun said suspiciously, "What?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Burning plants to ash gives earth, and then raising mountains, drawing water, tying wood, and dragging coins—this involves the five elements of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. The reason each household has different ways of attracting the dragon is that they need to match their five-element fate. If a family has many people, they can complete all five methods of scattering ash to attract the dragon. With few people, they can only choose two or three."
Chen Lingjun nodded. "So that's what the master was talking about. I figured that out long ago. I thought the master was going to say something profound."
A knock on the head—Chen Lingjun quickly turned aside, prepared for it.
In every rural village, it seemed there was always someone slow-witted or simple. And Chen Lingjun was like the one who thought that wasn't the case—"Ha, is there? There isn't here, right?"
Chen Ping'an walked back to Mud Vase Alley. On the way, he passed the old Cao family residence, glanced at the house next door to the left of his own ancestral home, then walked into the courtyard, and together with Chen Lingjun poured the water into the vat.
Nuan Shu and Little Mi Li had already prepared the bowls and chopsticks. They all sat around the table in the main house and ate the Dragon Beard Noodles, which would otherwise have been bland. But Nuan Shu had deliberately brought several kinds of wild mountain dried vegetables that she had picked and sun-dried herself. Chen Ping'an and the others ate with great relish. Chen Lingjun, sitting by the door, finished a bowl, coughed lightly, and tapped his chopsticks to hint at a certain foolish girl to be a bit more perceptive. Just then, Chen Ping'an lightly pushed his empty bowl forward. Chen Lingjun immediately stood up, took one white bowl in each hand, told the master to wait a moment, and hurriedly went to the stove to fetch more noodles.
When he sat back down, Chen Lingjun rolled up a large bundle of noodles with his chopsticks, blew on them, and asked, "Master, is Brother Zheng really going to Xiandu Mountain?"
Zheng Dafeng had only just returned to Luopo Mountain and was about to leave again. Chen Lingjun was definitely the most disappointed. If only he could chat and joke with Brother Dafeng every day, how great would that be?
Chen Ping'an said, "I'll try to persuade him again."
Despite all the reasons Zheng Dafeng had given earlier, the real reason was just one: to make way for Xian Wei.
Cui Dongshan's enthusiastic invitation was just an excuse Zheng Dafeng used to convince Chen Ping'an and Xian Wei.
Chen Lingjun felt relieved. If the master was willing to personally step in to retain him, and with himself coordinating and playing the supporting drum, there was still some hope of keeping Brother Dafeng.
Chen Lingjun said indistinctly, "Since I didn't know the exact time the master would return home, Li Huai took Young Daoist friend Nen and left the dragon-boat ferry midway, heading directly to the academy."
Chen Ping'an nodded.
Li Huai and Nen Daoren had previously attended the Yellow Millet Sect's peak-opening ceremony together with Chen Lingjun and Guo Zhujiu, but they hadn't returned to Bull's Horn Ferry together because Li Huai needed to quickly visit the Cliff Academy. With his sage status, things were different now; there were certain academy matters that required his presence.
In addition, Chen Ping'an had already replied to Senior Brother Mao and also sent a letter to Li Huai, saying the same thing: to invite that Nen Daoren, under the auspices of Cliff Academy, to participate in the excavation of the Great River on Tongye Continent. After all, Nen Daoren had a concealed mountain identity as Li Huai's retainer. Cliff Academy would not publicize this matter widely; both the academy and the Confucian Temple would keep it secretly on file. Before Mao Xiaodong was promoted to Vice Director of the Rites Academy, he had been the Vice Headmaster of Cliff Academy, managing specific affairs for many years. It was more appropriate for him to discuss this with the academy than for Chen Ping'an to do so directly. Mao Xiaodong, within the Confucian Temple lineage, had essentially been promoted by leaps and bounds to become the second-in-command of a Confucian academy, especially the Rites Academy. Both Cliff Academy and the Great Sui Gao clan felt honored. As to how Li Huai suddenly became a sage appointed by the Confucian Temple, the academy and the Gao clan were probably still bewildered—it was the kind of unexpected joy that left people at a loss for how to boast about it to outsiders. After all, they couldn't, against their conscience, say, "Our Li Huai is well-read and a first-rate scholarly seed," could they?
The academy's venerable Confucian teachers might have only one impression of student Li Huai: he studied hard enough, but his grades were always at the bottom, right?
Chen Lingjun sighed sincerely. "To have made it to academy sage—Li Huai sure has the fool's luck. I've always been an excellent judge of people, but on Li Huai, I saw wrong."
Nuan Shu silently glanced at Chen Lingjun; Little Mi Li sighed and shook her head.
Chen Lingjun pretended not to see or hear. Two little girls—long hair, short knowledge—what do they know?
This Little Lord of Rivers, the Little Dragon King of Luopo Mountain, had weathered storms and wandered the wide world. Except for his master, who could compare to me in experience? Who knows better the dangers of the martial world?
Chen Ping'an let it go with a smile.
Back when they were traveling together to the Great Sui Cliff Academy to study, Li Huai once told Chen Ping'an about an embarrassing incident. He said that as a child, he was naughty. No matter what trouble he caused, his mother, who was always loud thunder but no rain, had only ever spanked him once—and it was a thorough beating, leaving his buttocks black and blue, and him howling.
It turned out that one time, Li Huai was taken by his older sister Li Liu to "attract the money dragon." He deliberately dragged the red-threaded copper coin in a whirl, messing up the entire ash circle Li Liu had scattered. He strutted back home, not knowing the weight of the matter, and showed off to his parents as a great achievement. The woman's face turned pale on the spot. First she grabbed her daughter's ear, then pinched her arm, scolding thunderously, complaining bitterly that Li Liu, as the older sister, should have stopped Huai Zi. The woman wasn't worried about fortune or anything—after all, her family was so poor that they probably couldn't even afford to worship the God of Wealth, and even the God of Poverty probably didn't bother to stay in their home. She was just worried that Li Huai's actions would violate taboos. Li Huai was young and couldn't withstand the ominous talk of gods and ghosts that the elders often muttered. So, even though she doted on her son, she rarely disciplined him. She pressed Li Huai down on a long bench and gave him a thrashing with a feather duster—but in truth, it was just a show for Heaven, to show he had been punished and shouldn't be angry anymore. Still, the woman was worried. It was the only time she brought a gift to the back courtyard of the Yang family medicine shop, lowering her head and speaking humbly to ask for help from her husband's unreliable master. The old fellow knew a lot; maybe he had a way to fix things. At least, he couldn't let Li Huai suffer the consequences. At the time, Old Man Yang, smoking and puffing clouds, heard about it, still with his eternal poker face, said only, "It's nothing. No taboo."
The woman immediately became anxious. "Li Huai isn't your own grandson. You old immortal, you don't care, do you?"
Seeing that the woman was about to start a scene of crying, making a fuss, and threatening suicide, the black-faced old man had to put away his pipe and told her to stop making noise, or else something would really happen.
Though doubtful, the woman immediately shut up. Then, the old man, who rarely left his house except to gather herbs in the mountains, did something unusual: he tucked his pipe into his waist and went out.
Old Man Yang went to the ear room piled with clutter, retrieved a bag, and said expressionlessly, "Don't follow me."
The woman wasn't afraid of this heartless old immortal, but she was afraid of those vague, old rules. She obediently did as told and didn't follow.
As Old Man Yang left the medicine shop, the woman even had her daughter Li Liu, who was with her, secretly take back the gift that she had placed on the front counter of the medicine shop.
According to the woman's calculation, when she came to ask for help, she wouldn't let the old bastard see the gift she brought. If she could succeed after going to the back courtyard, she would grit her teeth and give it. If it didn't work, would the old fellow still have the face to accept a gift? Now, seeing the old man's demeanor and manner when he went out, it seemed almost certain. Since they were almost family, and it wasn't a holiday, why bother with gifts?
After the bowls and chopsticks were cleared, Chen Ping'an took them to Dragon-riding Lane.
In Chu Prefecture, it was said that today the barbershops had the best business. Children were dragged by their elders to get haircuts, which also had a saying: to shave the "happy head."
But this was a custom common everywhere else; the town itself hadn't had this tradition in early years. For example, in Red Candle Town, where three rivers converged, there were customs of launching dragon boats in the morning and setting off dragon lanterns at night. The former was to invite the dragon to raise its head and emerge, blessing boat households and merchants who traveled by water with a safe and smooth journey for the year. The latter was a custom started by the boat people of lowly registry. They were remnants of the old Water Spirit Kingdom, still bearing criminal status not yet pardoned by the court. For generations, they had gathered in a river bend, not allowed to land. So tonight, they would use reed and sorghum stalks to make a dragon boat, place a bowl of oil, light a candle, and set it adrift downstream, symbolizing lighting the dragon's night path in the water. Nowadays, the prefectural city of Chu Prefecture, where the prefectural administration and the county seat were co-located, had followed suit with customs of making dragon boats and releasing floating lanterns.
Chen Lingjun curled his lip. "Old Brother Jia is a busy man now. He's the Second Steward. He's rarely home all year, always wandering in the sky. If this continues, with more new friends, he might not even recognize me, his fellow brother in hardship."
"Senior Daoist Jia is a very nostalgic person," Chen Ping'an said with a chuckle. "Cui Dongshan is trying to win him over to the Qingping Sword Sect, to join the lineage register of law enforcement. He'll be responsible for teaching disciples about the intricacies of wandering the world and worldly affairs."
Chen Lingjun immediately became agitated. He felt he had to make a desperate remonstrance to his master. "Master, Old Brother Jia can't be poached by that big white goose! That big white goose is relentless and lawless! He needs to be controlled, really knocked down a peg! Besides, if Old Brother Jia goes there and changes his lineage register, Zhao Denggao and Wine Girl will have to follow him, won't they? Our Luopo Mountain is at least the superior sect, and the number of lineage register members is already far behind the inferior sect. Master, I'm not projecting here—I just think, given that big white goose's character, in the future when he brings the inferior sect to our superior sect for meetings, he'll definitely deliberately bring a whole crowd, marching majestically up Jise Peak just to flaunt his grandeur."
Chen Ping'an laughed and nodded. "That's something Cui Dongshan would do."
Chen Lingjun said, "If that day really comes, I'll definitely be furious."
Chen Ping'an turned to look at Nuan Shu and Little Mi Li, asking with a smile, "What do you two think?"
Little Mi Li frowned. She hadn't brought her walking staff or golden carrying pole down the mountain today. She tugged at the strap of her slanted bag, nodding and then shaking her head. "Not as angry as Jing Qing, maybe?"
She would certainly be angry, of course.
Nuan Shu said softly, "Master, our mountain has become quite quiet nowadays."
Listen to that: "our mountain."
Chen Lingjun gave a thumbs-up. The foolish girl had finally said something clever.
It was like they had convened a Patriarch Hall meeting for an internal small summit. Seeing that all three of them were in agreement, Chen Ping'an nodded. "Don't worry. I have a plan."
They arrived at Dragon-riding Lane and descended the steps. They first went to the Grass Head Shop. The girl Cui Huasheng had left here, already boarding the Wind Kite Ferry. Soon she would be a lineage register member of the Qingping Sword Sect.
Only Zhao Denggao and Tian Jiuer remained as shop clerks. When they saw the mountain lord paying a visit, the two, who were more like siblings than fellow disciples, immediately bowed to Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an glanced at Wine Girl's complexion, felt relieved, nodded, and chatted with them for a few words. He symbolically flipped through the account book, going through the motions. Then he went next door to the New Year's Money Shop. The white-haired boy had already moved to the Sword Worship Platform. Besides needing to teach his disciple Yao Xiaoyan Daoist techniques, he now had an additional identity as a register compiler. Every day, he would go to the entrance of Luopo Mountain and wait for guests, recording them in the register.
In maintaining the town's old custom of "a single thread never falling" and introducing new customs, the Old Immortal Jia of Dragon-riding Lane had made no small contribution, having rendered great service.
In recent years, for joyous or funerary events in the town, regardless of wealth, as long as street neighbors invited him, Old Immortal Jia would almost always come to help, handling everything with great order from start to finish. Over time, the Senior Daoist Jia and Old Immortal Teacher of Dragon-riding Lane became more and more famous. Even in the prefectural city, people liked to invite Old Immortal Jia to come and stabilize the scene, managing various red and white events. Gradually, whether Old Immortal Jia would appear or not became a benchmark for family prestige in Chu Prefecture. Moreover, Old Immortal Jia didn't seek wealth. If a well-off family with abundant resources gave a big red envelope, he would accept it. For poor and struggling families, the old immortal would just have a meal and a little wine without any complaint. Later, when invited again, the old immortal would still willingly come.
In recent years, on the first day of the first month, many old people passed away. So the specific time for setting off firecrackers and fireworks was a question often asked of Old Immortal Jia during the New Year's Eve night, when he went from door to door asking about the New Year's Eve dinner. Even people from the prefectural city would specifically come to Dragon-riding Lane around the New Year to consult the old immortal about this matter, so as not to miss the auspicious time for welcoming the new.
It was precisely Old Immortal Jia's explanations and pioneering actions that, over the years, had gradually formed a new custom in Huaihuang County and Chu Prefecture. People had only then learned that the second day of the second month was also the birthday of the Earth God. According to the old immortal, it was said that among other places, the common people had long had the custom of offering sacrifices to the earth. In the minds of ordinary folks, the various mountain and river spirits and the city god lords of prefectures and counties, though immensely powerful and protecting the local landscape, inevitably had tempers both good and bad, and their temples were often deep and imposing. The golden statues enshrined in the grand halls were tall and majestic, easily inspiring awe. In contrast, the Earth God, as a god of virtue and fortune but of the lowest official rank, was the most beloved and approachable official to the common people. Because Earth God temples were often mixed in with residential areas, some "Earth God temples" were just stone statues carved by the roadside. So, under the leadership of Old Immortal Jia, those who believed in this developed the habit of "warming the birthday" of the Earth God on this day. They would buy clothes, carriages, horses, and houses from paper money shops, carry them to the Earth God temple to burn incense and offer sacrifices, beat drums and gongs, set off firecrackers—very lively.
At the New Year's Money Shop, they found Shi Rou and Zhou Junchen also eating Dragon Beard Noodles, and the little mute girl was cooking. Shi Rou invited them to sit down. Chen Ping'an didn't stand on ceremony and ate another bowl.
They returned to Luopo Mountain, each going about their business. Nuan Shu had to sweep the courtyard, Little Mi Li and Jing Qing had to patrol the mountain. Chen Ping'an only saw Xian Wei sitting on a bamboo chair at the entrance, saying that Brother Dafeng hadn't gotten up yet. Chen Ping'an went into the residence and knocked on the door. The drowsy-eyed man opened the door, bent over to pull on his boots, and complained profusely to the mountain lord, saying that he had just had a good dream and it would be hard to pick it up again tonight.
Chen Ping'an then took Zheng Dafeng up the mountain to the summit. Since Jiling Peak was higher than Tiandu Peak, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance, they could see the east side of the town with its curling smoke.
Chen Ping'an and Zheng Dafeng looked together toward the town.
But one looked at the old schoolhouse in the town, the other at the back courtyard of the Yang family medicine shop.
Zheng Dafeng tugged at his collar and sighed softly.
The most heartbreaking place in the world is the pavilion where guests are sent off.
Nowadays, few familiar faces remained in the town. Even Huang Erniang's wine shop had moved to the prefectural city, probably for the sake of her son's education, so that he could participate in the civil service examinations and achieve golden honors.
Zheng Dafeng asked, "I heard you plan to become a schoolteacher for beginners?"
Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. "I've already found a place. Now I even have a backer."
Zheng Dafeng asked curiously, "A backer? Who is that sacred being?"
Chen Ping'an said, "On the border of Yun Prefecture, south of Hong Prefecture, the water god Gao Niang, who just moved from the Jixiang Temple upstream of the White Swan River."
Zheng Dafeng laughed out loud. He had heard of this River God's great reputation—it was like thunder in the ears: an iron-boned man upholding righteousness, "let my friend die, not me."
But Zheng Dafeng rubbed his chin. He had heard that downstream of the Iron Bond River, at the White Swan River, that Water God Lady had a nickname "Beauty Banana" on that mountain, and he had long admired her from afar.
Chen Ping'an said, "The batch of tutors hired by the Dragon Tail Creek Chen Clan will soon leave Huaihuang County. From now on, school tutors will only be selected and appointed by the county instructor."
Zheng Dafeng leaned against the railing lazily. "To be honest, if I were one of those great Confucian scholars known to the nation, coming here to teach a bunch of children how to write their first characters, I'd feel stifled too. It's only because the Dragon Tail Creek Chen Clan offered a high enough price—besides a large monthly salary, they gave away rare books from their collection every year—that anyone was willing to come here. It really is overkill. And the key is, after all these years of teaching and preaching, they haven't managed to produce a single jinshi."
He speculated that the Dragon Tail Creek Chen Clan had been so diligent not only because they had bet on the Great Li court and had to show goodwill to the Great Li Song clan, but also out of selfish hope—the fluke that among their school students, a few figures like Chen Ping'an, Ma Kuzuan, or Zhao Yao might emerge. Even if they didn't have two, just having one with similar fortune and achievements would be a profit for the Chen clan.
It was said that among the new school's tutors was an elderly Confucian who had once been an extremely renowned literary master of several countries in the central part of the Precious Bottle Continent. This white-haired old scholar, toiling over the classics, took seven years to write a famous annotated commentary. A year later it was carved and printed. In the first month of spring that year, the Star of Virtue appeared in the night sky, shining brighter than ever before, so that it could be seen even in daylight. This wasn't an unfounded rumor; it was a fact observed by the astronomical observatories of various countries.
According to popular belief, the Wenchang Lord governs the origin of civil and military rank, salary, and the imperial examinations. Some remote prefectures and counties with insufficient cultural foundation might consider a scholar passing the provincial examination as a reincarnation of the Wenchang Star, let alone achieving the jinshi degree.
And tomorrow, the third day of the second month, was traditionally said to be the birthday of Lord Wenchang. Therefore, not only in the mortal world of the nine continents, but also in former Lizhu Cave Heaven, the old school in the town, and the new village school founded by the Dragon Tail Creek Chen Clan, children were enrolled on this day according to custom. It carried a beautiful meaning, hoping that the scholarly seeds could seize the lead and claim the top position first.
But nowadays, the teacher-scholars of the school had added even more complex new rules. The teachers would wear caps and vermilion deep robes, leading the newly enrolled children to walk together to the Confucian Temple outside the town. There they would first pay respects to a portrait of the Supreme Sage, then be led by the temple attendant to a room where writing brushes and ink were prepared. But the ink wasn't black; it was made from cinnabar donated by the yamen. The children lined up, and the teacher would dot their foreheads one by one with the brush.
When they returned to the school, the first character the teacher taught the children—the so-called "first enlightenment tracing"—on the first day of school was the character "person" (人).
But compared to the past, the school had many new rituals, and only one old custom was missing.
In earlier times, after the children wrote the character "person," they would be led by Master Qi to leave the school, go to the old locust tree, set up a ladder, and hang red cloth strips inscribed with various wishes. Even if some were vulgar content like "May wealth come in all directions" or "May grains be abundant and livestock thrive"—mostly taught to the children by their elders—Master Qi would still write meticulously, helping to write the wishes on the long red strips, then tie them with red strings to the branches of the old locust tree.
Whenever the wind passed, the red cloth would flutter, making a rustling sound—a response to the beautiful wishes of the children.
Perhaps those wishes would come true that same year, perhaps not until the next.
Before Master Qi, and after him, there was no such custom.
In this world, no matter how high your cultivation realm as a Daoist practitioner, you are ultimately not a god. So no one dared to say, "Among the four births and six paths, in the three realms and ten directions, every thought receives response, no prayer goes unanswered."
Zheng Dafeng looked toward the main street of the town and sighed deeply. "That old locust tree shouldn't have been cut down. Otherwise, this Chu Prefecture region of ours would still be a natural cornucopia lasting forever. Even if it had fallen to the ground and taken root, descending from a cave heaven to a blessed land, as long as the locust tree remained, then the Wuling Commandery in the Azure Heaven, whether now or in the future, couldn't compare with this place in terms of 'outstanding people and spiritual land.' Master Qi didn't stop it, and our master didn't stop it either. I'm just baffled—what were they all thinking? How could they just stand by and let Cui Chan do such a thing as draining the pond to catch the fish, burning the forest to hunt?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Perhaps it was a kind of ancient 'sacrifice'—settling for the second best."
Zheng Dafeng said, "So I advise you not to become some Nation's Advisor. It's easy to board the boat and enter the game, but hard to withdraw and step back."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Then I advise you to stay on Luopo Mountain. Once you go to Xiandu Mountain, Cui Dongshan will definitely put you to work. Don't listen to his flowery promises. As soon as you get there, he'll find ways to keep you busy with this and that."
Zheng Dafeng gave a cold laugh. "A real man distinguishes between kindness and resentment, especially between brothers—clear accounts even. It's settled that I'm just going there to be a gatekeeper. Cui Dongshan shouldn't think he can make me work hard."
Many of this man's sayings had been borrowed by Zhu Lian and Chen Lingjun—like "Whoever cheats my heart, I take their body; whoever cheats my money, I take their head." No wonder Wei Bo had such admiration for Zheng Dafeng. Apart from his face not being particularly upright, there were no shortcomings.
Chen Ping'an said, "Seriously, you don't need to go to Tongye Continent."
"Alright, stop persuading. If you were Island Master Liu from Ao Yu's Back, I'd stay. But you're just a grown man—aren't you annoying? Even if you're not annoyed, I'm tired of it."
After teasing, Zheng Dafeng was silent for a moment, then shook his head seriously. "If Priest Xian Wei doesn't become a gatekeeper, even if he becomes a lineage register cultivator of Luopo Mountain, the timing will still be off."
Chen Ping'an had always held back from taking Xian Wei into his fold, keeping Xian Wei at the "foothills" rather than on the mountain, essentially treating him only as a Daoist friend.
As for the previous manuscript's preface, which began with four characters "Daoshi Xianwei" (Priest Xian Wei), in Zheng Dafeng's eyes, that was far more shocking than the content that followed.
Zheng Dafeng, who was afraid of nothing, to put it bluntly, got goosebumps when he saw those four opening characters. If he were a qi practitioner, his Dao heart might have been shaken.
Chen Ping'an said, "Then I'll make it clear to Cui Dongshan in advance: you're just going as a guest."
Zheng Dafeng suddenly turned his head, staring at Chen Ping'an, and asked gravely, "Chen Ping'an, what's wrong with you?"
Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly. "It's a long story."
Because Zheng Dafeng had keenly noticed a subtle oddity: when Chen Ping'an looked toward the old schoolhouse in the town, he occasionally frowned, his emotions complicated. But there was one thing he lacked—the emotion Chen Ping'an should least be missing: sadness. Zheng Dafeng was no ordinary person; in some matters, he could understand the truth even better than a great Ascension realm cultivator like Xiao Mo. So he could immediately sense something was off.
Human emotions and desires, the seven feelings and six desires, could be segmented by later Daoist practitioners, akin to the "well-field system" promoted in ancient times, where paths and canals would cross and divide a cultivator's heart field into separate plots. In fact, the immortal mansions on the mountains, the houses at the foot, the wards and markets in the cities, the geography of mountains and waters, land and sea, the seasons of the year subdivided into twenty-four solar terms—broadly speaking, wasn't this also the case?
By doing so, qi practitioners made the most direct and thorough consolidation and distinction of the overgrown emotional weeds, thus establishing the fact that "the heart is the divine master of the hundred bones," and consequently, "man is the spiritual leader of all things, the heart rules the hundred bones." With this becoming a consensus in the human world, qi practitioners could strip away those emotions that hindered cultivation. Because they had turned the wilderness into farmland, they could then intensively cultivate only the key "cave mansions," and distinguishing between rice and weeds became much simpler. Ultimately, this became a shortcut for crossing layers of heart barriers to seek proof of longevity. In ancient times, earthly immortals, wanting to maintain their nature, could separate out each emotion like unraveling silk and then gather them again, but first they would sweep as if tidying up, then dump the fallen leaves and dust into the house—not sweeping them out the door to discard them—because all could serve as ballast stones traveling along the river of time.
Many of these questions had puzzled Zheng Dafeng in his youth, which he had sought to verify in every possible way in his prime, and even in his strong years, he still had only a partial understanding. But compared to any native of the town, even including the qi practitioners of Fulu Street and Taoye Lane, Zheng Dafeng could truly claim to be "refined within." Just his Go skill, for instance, was even above that of Zhu Lian and Wei Bo. Although this was partly because Zhu Lian regarded the game as a minor path and never wanted to spend much thought on it, try letting a so-called "national champion" Go attendant play against the Old Cook, would they?
Zheng Dafeng said helplessly, "Do you just love to court trouble so much? It's true that a leopard can't change its spots. I'm convinced. If it were anyone else, I'd say 'a dog can't change its habit of eating shit'—well deserved to be toiling both in heart and spirit. Serving yourself right, can't blame others."
Chen Ping'an had probably separated out several emotions. As to exactly which ones and for what purpose, Zheng Dafeng didn't ask further.
Every family has its own difficult scriptures. When a person closes the door of his heart, it's like closing the country to trade, isolating from heaven and earth. No wonder Chen Ping'an was still stuck in the Nascent Soul realm.
Chen Ping'an pressed his palms together, rubbing gently, and smiled. "My path of cultivation is, of course, a bit wild. But the flavor in this is excellent—it's not just self-inflicted troubles and worrying about nothing. As for how the sweetness returns, it's not something I can explain to outsiders."
Good times are like flying birds; they turn into stories when they return to the palm.
Zheng Dafeng grinned slyly. "I heard from Wei Bo that Gao Jun visited the various departments of the Mountain Lord's mansion on Piyun Mountain and suddenly changed her mind, planning to stay here for a few more days."
Chen Ping'an said, "Air-drying the blanket is useless. She's a woman; would she be willing to live together with you and Xian Wei? What are you thinking?"
Gao Jun didn't want to leave. She was determined to observe more of the vast world outside the blessed land. It seemed about the same as when Pei Qian went to the village school for the first time—she delayed as long as she could.
According to the Old Cook, when Pei Qian first went down the mountain to the town school, she actually played outside all day, then returned to Luopo Mountain pretending to be limping, claiming she had sprained her ankle. If Zhu Lian hadn't used his trump card, threatening to report to her master, Pei Qian would probably have dawdled for a long time before going to school.
Even so, even when Pei Qian went to school reluctantly, for the first few days, Zhu Lian and the little one engaged in a battle of wits to keep her from skipping class.
The mountains stretched on, amid peach blossoms and green willows, mountain travelers watching cloud feet, houseboys sweeping fallen petals.
In the town, under the warm spring sunlight, swallows carried mud in their beaks, flying back and forth between fields and houses.
Chen Ping'an sent his voice: "That senior brother of yours—if it's the same person, according to the secret archives of the Summer Retreat Palace, his real name is Yan Guo."
Zheng Dafeng smiled. "How did Senior Brother Xie end up with such a surname and such a name?"
Yan means small bird, but according to the ancient seal script character for "Yan," it was composed of "bird" and "yi," meaning one who obtains the great spirit of heaven and earth.
Zheng Dafeng turned around, leaned his back against the railing, and looked toward the mountain-top hall that had originally been a mountain god temple. "I heard Lin Shouyi is in seclusion?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Before going into seclusion, Lin Shouyi sent me a secret letter. In the letter, there was only one sentence: 'In the first month of next year, you can come to the Timber and Cutting Office to pay New Year's greetings.'"
Zheng Dafeng laughed. "Then you must have breathed a huge sigh of relief. This friendship won't be broken just because of your fathers' grudges."
Chen Ping'an took two flasks of wine from his sleeve and handed one to Zheng Dafeng. "Saying 'relieved' is no exaggeration."
The reason he hadn't gone to pay New Year's greetings wasn't that he was afraid of being rebuffed or shut out. It was just that Chen Ping'an always felt, given Lin Shouyi's style, that when the letter said "can," it was a hint for "don't need to."
After all, Lin Shouyi, although meticulous since childhood, wasn't the type to beat around the bush. He either said nothing or, if he spoke, he was straightforward.
So, according to Lin Shouyi's usual manner, if he truly wanted Chen Ping'an to visit his father for New Year's, the letter would probably have used the word "must."
Moreover, Chen Ping'an thought that given Lin Shouyi's cultivation aptitude, he would likely emerge from seclusion during the first month. Chen Ping'an planned to reply and ask again, but it turned out Lin Shouyi still hadn't come out of seclusion.
Zheng Dafeng, however, didn't drink. He just shook the wine flask and suddenly said something that left Chen Ping'an dumbfounded.
"Did you know that Lin Shouyi was once almost the 'One'?"
Chen Ping'an took a sip of wine.
Zheng Dafeng laughed. "Do you think Li Huai is more likely?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I thought from the start that Li Huai was the least likely."
"That means you understood the old man better than me very early on," Zheng Dafeng nodded. "How could the master bear to let Li Huai become some 'One'? He just wanted this little rascal to live a carefree life, occasionally having a flash of insight, and live a stable life."
"Don't feel like you've taken something. That Lin Shouyi ultimately failed to keep this 'One'—that's actually the best fate for him. Otherwise, by now he might have been devoured by some guy who ascended to heaven. If you don't believe me, find an opportunity to ask Lin Shouyi yourself. The answer he gives will surely be calm and firm in his Dao heart. I think Lin Shouyi has been both a 'Daoist' and a 'scholar' since childhood, so his future achievements will be very high."
"Anyway, reasoning backwards from the outcome, Cui Chan was definitely the first to detect a hint through the Destiny Porcelain back then. So he immediately came to Lizhu Cave Heaven and personally gave Lin Shouyi that name, and then invited Lin Zhengcheng, who was just one of the assistant officers of the Kiln Affairs Supervision Office, to be the gatekeeper. Of course, such a thing—Lin Shouyi held the first-mover advantage from birth—couldn't be achieved by external or human force. It could only be done through a series of additions and subtractions within Lizhu Cave Heaven. In this life, Lin Shouyi essentially relied entirely on the accumulated abilities of his previous lives and reincarnations to reincarnate into such a good fate. Hence, he and you are two extremes. Looking at the entire river of time in Lizhu Cave Heaven, you, Chen Ping'an, along with many ordinary mortals born in the town, relatively speaking, truly had nothing remarkable. Especially after your Destiny Porcelain was examined, found to be of Earth Immortal aptitude, and then broken, you were even less 'you.' In this matter, even the master himself was certain back then. To be precise, the master probably regarded you as just 'a person' from very early on."
"But Cui Chan's mind was devious. By deliberately naming him 'Lin Shouyi,' he muddled the heavenly mechanism. Not even I, nor the master, could figure out Cui Chan's intention. Before I left for the Five-Color Heaven, I had a private conversation with the master about this. The master also shook his head, saying he couldn't see clearly. From beginning to end, he didn't know whether Cui Chan hoped that Lin Shouyi, who already had the embryonic form of the 'One,' would become that One in the future, or that he wouldn't obtain such fortune. Chen Ping'an, you should have heard an old saying: if a person roughly knows they have a good fate, don't let anyone calculate it for you; it will get thinner the more it's calculated. But as for whether Cui Chan, by naming him 'Lin Shouyi,' intended to promote or obstruct—there seems to be no answer. No matter how you guess, it always seems to be the opposite. Yet if you guess first and then figure the answer is reversed, it's still wrong. This is perhaps Cui Chan's true brilliance."
"In the old days, everyone in Lizhu Cave Heaven was a One. The flow of qi fortune had nothing to do with good or evil, nor with whether one was a Daoist cultivator. It only depended on mutual recognition and denial between people. Whoever recognized someone increased that person's share; whoever denied someone decreased it. In that case, whether looking at the surface or from the perspective of mountain cultivators examining human hearts, shouldn't you, the jinx from Mud Vase Alley, be the least likely to become a One? Chen Ping'an, you're wrong, dead wrong. Because you still don't understand the true landscape deep in the human heart. Real likes and dislikes never show on the face, and they aren't even in our 'hearts.' As for where they really exist, that is a very profound question—more complex than where thoughts come from, who speaks the mind, the relationship between people and memory, who pulls the strings of thoughts, and whether the souls of all sentient beings share a common origin like water."
Zheng Dafeng's mouth went dry from all that talking. He uncorked the wine flask and took a drink, wiping his mouth, then couldn't help but laugh in exasperation. "You're fobbing me off with Dong Shuijing's fermented glutinous rice wine?!"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "If you stay on Luopo Mountain, I'll rob a few jars of Hundred Flowers Brew for you even if I have to steal them."
Zheng Dafeng's eyes lit up, and he clicked his tongue in wonder. "The Hundred Flowers Brew from Hundred Flowers Blessed Land, an ancient tribute item?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "You recognize good stuff!"
Zheng Dafeng said, "Isn't it said that it's no longer brewed? Seems like it's exceptionally difficult."
Chen Ping'an, a man of his word, declared resolutely, "Otherwise, how else would I show my sincerity?!"