Chapter 5

Song Jixin, accompanied by his maid Zhigui, arrived under the old locust tree and found the shade crowded with nearly fifty people, sitting on benches and chairs they had brought from their homes. More children were being pulled over by their elders to join the gathering.

Song Jixin and Zhigui stood at the edge of the shade, watching an old man standing under the tree. He held a large white bowl in one hand and had the other behind his back, speaking with great enthusiasm: "I've already talked about the general direction of the dragon veins. Now let me tell you about the true dragon. Tsk, tsk, about three thousand years ago, there was an extraordinary immortal in the world. He first cultivated in a blessed land, attained the Great Dao, and then traveled the world alone with his sword, his three-foot aura shining brightly. For some reason, he had a grudge against the water dragons. For three hundred years, wherever there were water dragons, he would slay them, until there were no more true dragons in the world. He then disappeared, and some say he went to a place of supreme Dao to discuss Dao with the Dao Ancestor, while others say he went to the Western Paradise to debate scriptures with the Buddha. Still, others say he personally guarded the gates of the Underworld to prevent evil spirits from harming the living..."

The old man spoke with great enthusiasm, but the townspeople below were unmoved, their faces blank.

The maid whispered curiously, "What is a three-foot aura?"

Song Jixin smiled and said, "It's a sword."

The maid said with a hint of annoyance, "Young Master, this old man really likes to show off his knowledge. He can't even speak properly."

Song Jixin glanced at the old man and said with a touch of schadenfreude, "There are few literate people in our town, so this storyteller is like a beauty throwing her charms at a blind man."

The maid asked again, "What is a blessed land? Can anyone really live for three hundred years? And the Underworld, isn't that a place only the dead can go?"

Song Jixin was stumped but didn't want to show his ignorance, so he said offhandedly, "It's all nonsense. He's probably read a few low-quality historical novels and is using them to fool the villagers."

At that moment, Song Jixin noticed that the old man had glanced at him, though it was just a fleeting look. Despite this, Song Jixin caught it, but he didn't pay much attention, thinking it was just a coincidence.

The maid looked up at the old locust tree, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and falling to the ground. She instinctively squinted her eyes.

Song Jixin turned to look and suddenly froze.

His maid, now with a face that had just begun to lose its baby fat, looked very different from the small, thin, and frail girl he remembered.

According to the town's customs, when a woman gets married, a person with a complete family is hired to remove the fine hair from her face, trim her forehead and temples, a process known as "opening the face" or "lifting the eyebrows."

Song Jixin had also read about a custom not practiced in the town, so when Zhigui was twelve, he bought the best new wine from the town, poured it into a beautifully glazed porcelain bottle, sealed it with mud, and buried it underground.

Song Jixin suddenly said, "Zhigui, although that Chen fellow, according to our ancestors, is 'a piece of rotten wood that cannot be carved, a wall of filth that cannot be whitewashed,' he did manage to do one meaningful thing in his life."

The maid didn't respond, her eyebrows lowered, and her eyelashes trembling slightly.

Song Jixin continued, "Chen Ping'an isn't a bad person, but he's too rigid. He only follows the rules, so even if he works hard as a potter, he will never create anything with spirit. That's why Master Liu Xianyang's teacher, Old Yao, never looked at Chen Ping'an favorably. This is called 'a piece of rotten wood that cannot be carved.' As for 'a wall of filth that cannot be whitewashed,' it means that even if you dress Chen Ping'an in a dragon robe, he will still be a rustic peasant..."

Song Jixin then said with self-mockery, "I'm actually worse off than Chen Ping'an."

She didn't know how to comfort her young master.

Song Jixin and his maid were always a topic of conversation among the wealthy families on Fulu Street and Taoye Alley, thanks to Song Jixin's "cheap old father," Lord Song.

The town had no major figures or significant events, so the imperial kiln supervisor, appointed by the court, was undoubtedly a righteous official in the eyes of the people. Among the dozens of supervisors in history, Lord Song was the most beloved by the people. Unlike previous officials who remained aloof, Lord Song did not hide in his office to cultivate his qi or close his doors to focus on his studies. Instead, he personally oversaw the production of the imperial kiln, working harder than the kiln workers. Over the years, the originally scholarly Lord Song became sunburned and tanned, dressed like a farmer, and treated people without any airs. Unfortunately, the imperial porcelain produced by the town's dragon kiln, whether in glaze quality or in the shape of large and small pieces, never met expectations. In fact, it was even slightly inferior to previous standards, leaving the old kiln masters puzzled.

In the end, the court, recognizing Lord Song's hard work, gave him a good evaluation and transferred him back to the capital. Before leaving, Lord Song spent all his money to build a covered bridge. Later, when it was discovered that a certain child was not in Lord Song's departing entourage, the major families in the town realized the truth. It could be said that Lord Song had a deep connection with the town, and with the current supervisor's deliberate care, Song Jixin's life in the town had been worry-free and carefree. The maid, now named Zhigui, had a mysterious background. The locals in Niping Alley said that on a snowy winter day, a girl from elsewhere had begged her way to the town and fainted at Song Jixin's doorstep. If she hadn't been discovered early, she would have been reborn in the netherworld. The old man who did odd jobs at the office had a different story, claiming that Lord Song had bought the orphan from elsewhere to be a companion for his illegitimate son, Song Jixin, to make up for the lack of recognition.

Regardless, after the maid was named Zhigui, the father-son relationship between the two was solidified, as the major families in the town knew that Lord Song's favorite item was a砚台 (inkstone) inscribed with "Zhigui."

Song Jixin snapped back to reality and smiled brightly, "For some reason, I'm thinking about that stubborn four-legged lizard. Zhigui, think about it, I threw it into Chen Ping'an's yard, but it still came back to our place. You tell me, how poor must Chen Ping'an's doghouse be if even a little snake doesn't want to go in?"

The maid thought seriously and replied, "Some things are about fate, right?"

Song Jixin extended his thumb and said cheerfully, "Exactly! Chen Ping'an is just a man of shallow fate and meager fortune. He should be grateful just to be alive."

She didn't speak.

Song Jixin muttered to himself, "After we leave the town, we'll leave the house to Chen Ping'an to take care of. Do you think he'll steal from us?"

The maid said softly, "Young Master, I don't think he would."

Song Jixin laughed, "Oh, Zhigui, you even understand the meaning of 'stealing from one's own post'?"

The maid blinked her clear eyes, "Isn't it just the literal meaning?"

Song Jixin laughed and looked southward, a look of longing on his face, "I've heard that the capital has more books than the flowers and trees in our town!"

At that moment, the storyteller continued, "Although there are no true dragons in the world, their subordinates, such as water dragons, coiled dragons, and horned dragons, still truly exist in the world. They might even be..."

The old man deliberately paused, but seeing that the audience was indifferent and not responding, he continued, "They might even be hidden among us, known as 'hidden dragons in the depths' by Daoist immortals!"

Song Jixin yawned.

A locust leaf suddenly fell from above, its green color vibrant, landing on the young man's forehead.

Song Jixin reached out and caught the leaf, twisting the stem between his fingers.

——

The young man, who was planning to go to the east gate to collect a debt, saw a locust leaf fall as he approached the old locust tree. He quickened his steps, trying to catch it.

But a gentle breeze blew, and the leaf slipped past his hand.

The young man, wearing straw shoes, moved nimbly, trying to intercept the leaf.

The leaf, however, spun in the air.

The young man, Chen Ping'an, tried several times but failed to catch the locust leaf.

Chen Ping'an was helpless.

A young man in a green robe, who had skipped school, passed by Chen Ping'an.

The young man in the green robe didn't realize that a locust leaf had landed on his shoulder.

Chen Ping'an continued to the east gate, even if he couldn't collect the money, he would at least remind the debtor.

——

At a distant fortune-telling stall, a young Daoist closed his eyes and muttered to himself, "Who said that the cycle of heaven is impartial?"