Chapter 1

On the second day of the second month, the dragon lifts its head.

In the twilight, in a secluded place called Niping Lane, there lived a lanky, lonely young man. At this moment, he was following the custom, holding a candle in one hand and a peach branch in the other, illuminating the beams, walls, and wooden bed, tapping them with the peach branch to drive away snakes, scorpions, and centipedes, muttering the old saying passed down from generation to generation in the town: "On the second day of the second month, the candle lights the beams, the peach branch strikes the walls, and the snakes and insects have nowhere to hide."

The young man's surname was Chen, and his given name was Ping'an. His parents had passed away long ago. The town was famous for its porcelain, and since the founding of the dynasty, it had been tasked with "manufacturing sacrificial vessels for the imperial tombs" under imperial decree. Court officials were stationed here year-round to oversee the imperial kilns. The orphaned young man had become a porcelain kiln worker at a very young age, initially only able to do menial tasks, following a temperamental master. After several years of hard work, he had just begun to grasp the basics of porcelain making when, unexpectedly, the town lost its status as an imperial kiln. The dozens of kilns, which resembled sleeping dragons, were all ordered to shut down and extinguish their fires by the government.

Chen Ping'an put down the newly broken peach branch, blew out the candle, and walked out of the house. He sat on the steps, looking up at the starry sky.

The young man still vividly remembered his old master, who only recognized him as a half-apprentice. The master's surname was Yao, and he was found sitting on a small bamboo chair, facing the kiln, with his eyes closed, one morning in late autumn last year.

However, people like Old Yao, who were so stubborn, were few and far between.

The craftsmen in the town, who had been making porcelain for generations, neither dared to overstep and produce imperial porcelain nor dared to sell the stored porcelain to the common people. They had to find other ways to make a living. At the age of fourteen, Chen Ping'an was also dismissed and returned to Niping Lane, where he continued to guard the dilapidated old house. The house was almost empty, and even if Chen Ping'an wanted to be a wastrel, he had nothing to waste.

For a while, the young man wandered aimlessly, unable to find a way to earn a living. He barely managed to fill his stomach with his meager savings. A few days ago, he heard that a blacksmith from another town, surnamed Ruan, had come to Qilong Lane a few streets away, claiming to be looking for seven or eight blacksmith apprentices. They would not be paid, but they would be provided with meals. Chen Ping'an hurried over to try his luck, but the middle-aged man only glanced at him and turned him away. Chen Ping'an was puzzled: did blacksmithing depend on arm strength or facial features?

Chen Ping'an, though frail in appearance, had considerable strength, which he had developed from years of porcelain making. In addition, he had followed Old Yao, the old man, to explore the mountains and waters within a hundred miles of the town, tasting various soils, and was willing to do any dirty or tiring work without hesitation. Unfortunately, Old Yao never liked Chen Ping'an, finding him lacking in insight and stubborn, far inferior to his senior apprentice, Liu Xianyang. This was not entirely the old man's fault, as the saying goes, "The master leads you to the door, but cultivation is up to the individual." For example, Liu Xianyang's skill in the tedious task of shaping clay had improved in just half a year, surpassing Chen Ping'an's three years of hard work.

Although he might never use this skill in his lifetime, Chen Ping'an still closed his eyes, imagining a slab of green stone and a potter's wheel in front of him, and began to practice shaping clay, improving through practice.

About every fifteen minutes, the young man would take a short break, shaking his wrists, and repeat this cycle until he was completely exhausted. Then he would get up, walk around the yard, and slowly stretch his muscles. No one had ever taught Chen Ping'an these techniques; he had figured them out on his own.

The world was originally silent, but Chen Ping'an heard a sharp, mocking laugh and stopped. Sure enough, he saw his peer, who was squatting on the wall, grinning and showing no sign of respect.

This peer was Chen Ping'an's old neighbor, rumored to be the illegitimate son of the former supervisor. The former supervisor, fearing criticism and impeachment, returned to the capital alone to report, leaving the child in the care of a successor with whom he had a close relationship. Now that the town had mysteriously lost its status as an imperial kiln, the supervisor, who was in charge of overseeing the kilns for the court, was in a difficult position and could not take care of the illegitimate son. He left some silver and hurried to the capital to mend relations.

The neighbor's life, however, remained carefree. He spent his days wandering the town with his personal maid, never worrying about money.

The walls of the houses in Niping Lane were low, so the neighbor did not need to stand on tiptoe to see into the yard. Yet, every time he spoke to Chen Ping'an, he preferred to squat on the wall.

Compared to Chen Ping'an's simple name, the neighbor's name was much more refined: Song Jixin. Even his maid, who was his only companion, had a refined name: Zhigui.

The girl was standing on the other side of the wall, with almond-shaped eyes, looking timid and weak.

A voice came from the gate, "Are you selling your maid?"

Song Jixin was taken aback and turned to see a well-dressed young man standing outside the gate, a stranger with a smiling face.

Beside the well-dressed young man stood a tall, fair-skinned old man with a kind expression, who was looking at the two young people in the neighboring yards.

The old man's gaze briefly swept over Chen Ping'an but lingered on Song Jixin and the maid, his smile growing.

Song Jixin said with a sidelong glance, "Sell! Why not sell!"

The young man smiled, "Then name your price."

The girl's eyes widened in shock, looking like a frightened young deer.

Song Jixin rolled his eyes, extended a finger, and waved it, "Ten thousand taels of silver!"

The well-dressed young man's expression remained unchanged, and he nodded, "Fine."

Seeing that the young man was not joking, Song Jixin quickly changed his mind, "Make it ten thousand taels of gold!"

The well-dressed young man's lips curled up, "I was just teasing you."

Song Jixin's face darkened.

The well-dressed young man ignored Song Jixin and shifted his gaze to Chen Ping'an, "Thanks to you, I was able to buy that carp today. After I bought it, I liked it more and more, and I wanted to thank you in person, so I had Grandpa Wu bring me here tonight."

He threw a heavy embroidered bag to Chen Ping'an, smiling brightly, "This is my thanks. We're even now."

Chen Ping'an was about to speak, but the well-dressed young man had already turned and left.

Chen Ping'an frowned.

During the day, Chen Ping'an had seen a middle-aged man walking down the street with a basket of fish, containing a golden carp about the length of a palm. The carp was jumping vigorously in the basket. Chen Ping'an, feeling it was a good omen, asked if he could buy it for ten coins. The middle-aged man, originally planning to treat himself, saw an opportunity and demanded thirty coins. Chen Ping'an, who was short of money, could not afford it but really wanted the golden carp. He followed the man, trying to negotiate the price down to fifteen coins, or even twenty. Just as the man was about to agree, the well-dressed young man and the tall old man passed by and bought the carp and the basket for fifty coins. Chen Ping'an could only watch helplessly as they walked away.

Staring at the retreating figures of the grandfather and grandson, Song Jixin's eyes turned fierce. He jumped down from the wall, seemingly remembering something, and said to Chen Ping'an, "Do you remember the four-legged creature from the first month?"

Chen Ping'an nodded.

How could he forget? It was still fresh in his memory.

According to the town's centuries-old custom, if a snake entered a house, it was a good omen, and the owner should not drive it away or kill it. On the first day of the first month, Song Jixin was sitting on the threshold, basking in the sun, when a small creature known as a four-legged snake darted into his house. Song Jixin grabbed it and threw it into the yard. Despite being thrown around, the creature kept trying to get back into the house, infuriating Song Jixin, who did not believe in supernatural beings. In a fit of anger, he threw it into Chen Ping'an's yard. The next day, Song Jixin found the creature curled up under his bed.

Song Jixin noticed the girl tugging at his sleeve.

The young man, sensing her unease, swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

He had wanted to say that the ugly four-legged creature had a bump on its forehead, as if it had grown a horn.

Instead, he said, "Zhigui and I might leave here next month."

Chen Ping'an sighed, "Be careful on your journey."

Song Jixin said half-jokingly, "I have some things I can't take with me. Don't take advantage of my absence to steal them."

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

Song Jixin suddenly burst into laughter, pointing at Chen Ping'an, "You're as timid as a mouse. No wonder poor families don't produce great men. Not only will you be poor and bullied in this life, but you might be in the same situation in the next life."

Chen Ping'an remained silent.

They returned to their respective houses. Chen Ping'an closed the door, lay on the hard wooden bed, and closed his eyes, muttering softly, "May all be well, year after year, may all be well, year after year..."

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