Before a house in Mud Vase Lane stood a wild, naughty boy with a snot-nose, kicking murderously at the door, cursing up a storm, spittle flying every which way. "Chen Ping'an! If you don't crawl out this instant, I'll find someone to chop you dead and smash every last bit of your junk! I know you're in there — what are you up to, hm? What, you're not busy being intimate with Song Jixin's little wife, with Zhigui, are you? In broad daylight, too, and you don't so much as spare a thought for how Song Jixin might feel? Fine, fine, you won't come out, will you — then I'm leaving, I really am leaving, you hear me? Once I'm gone, you can forget ever laying eyes on me again in this life! And all my treasures, I was going to leave them to you. Chen Ping'an! Come out now!"
Strangely enough, by the time he finished his cursing, the boy's voice had taken on a tearful note, and with a great snuffle he sucked his two runny trails back up into their haunts.
Gu Can suddenly felt a stinging pain on his skull, whirled around in alarm, and, seeing that familiar face, burst out at once: "Chen Ping'an! You son of a—"
He caught the straw-sandaled youth's none-too-pleased expression, and tacked swiftly with the wind: "Er — you keeping decent health?"
So smooth a pivot, so easy a turn, without a trace of stiffness.
Chen Ping'an, used to this little brat's heartlessness, was carrying a new clay pot as he said testily: "Take a guess, whether I'm well or not — do you need telling?"
Gu Can remembered he had real business afoot, and hurriedly hauled Chen Ping'an over to the courtyard mouth, then stuffed two exquisitely embroidered bags, all at once, into Chen Ping'an's hands. The boy dropped his voice: "Remember that little loach I asked you for last year?"
Chen Ping'an, utterly puzzled, hefted the heavy bags — the contents were not unfamiliar. The richly dressed youth who had once forcibly bought his golden carp had, after the fact, made a special trip to send him a bag of copper coins. Chen Ping'an glanced around; no passersby at either end of Mud Vase Lane, so he hurried to open the door, drew Gu Can into the courtyard, set the clay pot to one side, and asked outright: "A stranger came and bought that loach from you, didn't he?! Gu Can, I'm warning you — don't you dare sell it! Don't sell it even if it costs you your life! Weren't you thinking of giving your mother a better life someday? Then you hang on to that loach, understand me?!"
Gu Can let out a loud wail, seized Chen Ping'an's sleeve with both hands, and sobbed: "I wanted to give the loach back to you, but Mother wouldn't let me, and she even slapped me, and Mother's never hit me before, not once since I was little! And that storyteller fellow — I can't tell if he's an immortal or a ghost fiend, he's scary as can be. First he took me off into a white bowl, and then that loach swelled up huge, big as you please, thicker round than our big water jar by a long way..."
Chen Ping'an clapped a hand over the boy's mouth, glaring sternly: "That loach was a gift to you, so it's yours! Gu Can, do you still want your mother to enjoy better days? To eat meat every day, to use rouge and powder, to wear those silken robes that slip so smoothly through your fingers?"
Gu Can snuffled, then nodded hard.
Chen Ping'an let go, crouched down, and asked: "Then what about these two bags of coins — did you sneak them out?"
Gu Can's eyes darted about; he was just about to spin a lie, but Chen Ping'an knew him far too well — the instant this little wretch cocked his bottom, you could tell what filth he meant to drop. So Chen Ping'an rewarded him with a sharp rap on the skull and said severely: "Take it back!"
Gu Can's stubborn streak rose up as well. "I won't!"
Chen Ping'an's face went black with anger, and he raised his hand for a genuine knock on the head — but at the sight of that hidebound, defiant face, his heart grew soft, and he eased his tone, thought a moment, and asked: "Then just tell me — what exactly is going on?"
So Gu Can told the whole story from beginning to end. There was no denying the boy could set your teeth on edge, but he was indeed sharp and precocious beyond his years. From the old locust to the Iron Lock Well, and so to the courtyard in Mud Vase Lane, he laid out for Chen Ping'an the marvel of that storyteller wanting to take him as a disciple. In that moment Chen Ping'an's mind cleared largely. Most likely Gu Can was one of those townsfolk who had received the ancestral locust leaf — whether you called it ancestral graves sending up their green smoke, or luck and fortune as Master Qi and Daoist Lu put it. Gu Can would probably be carried away from the town by that storyteller. But the thought of True Lord Liu Zhimao, Who Severs the River, set Chen Ping'an's strings on edge. By Master Qi's account, the man's conduct was base indeed, and he had been eager to do away with Chen Ping'an, even stooping to immortal arts to frame both him and Cai Jinjian. Gu Can taking such a man for a master — was that truly a good thing? Yet seen from another angle, the man had been willing to take Gu Can as his disciple outright, rather than swindle him or force a trade — might that not show the boy was in no immediate danger of his life?
The sly, nimble-witted boy's eyes raced around, and while Chen Ping'an was lost in thought, he snatched both coin-bags from Chen Ping'an's hands, hurled them into the house, turned, and ran.
He was caught by the collar at once and dragged back where he started.
Gu Can threw both hands over his head, looking pathetic beyond words.
Though Chen Ping'an had hauled the boy back, he faltered over how to deal with him. The matter was too grave; he dreaded making the wrong choice and dragging Gu Can and his mother down with it.
If it had been only his own affair, this straw-sandal-wearing orphan youth would likely have resolved it in a single stroke.
The black-clad girl had at some point come down from her bed and now stood behind the threshold. "My mother once said," she began, "that everyone has their own fated lot. This boy, one glance tells you, is the sort of disaster that thrives for a thousand years — the kind who'll never run out of foul luck for the rest of his days."
Gu Can's eyes lit up. He wiped away his two snot-trails, bared his gap-toothed grin, and in his most fawning tone said: "Sister, you're a real beauty! You look just like my second sister at home! This place is cramped — why not drop by my place for a seat?"
Chen Ping'an said, helpless: "Since when did your mother remarry your father?"
Found out, the boy rolled his eyes at once, changed his expression and his tone, and clicked his tongue: "Chen Ping'an, look at you now, all grown. When did you go and lure a wife home? Need a bridal-chamber romp for guests? A pity I can't stay for it — otherwise you can bet I'd squat in a corner and listen to you two tangle like immortals in war on that bed..."
Chen Ping'an pressed a palm down on Gu Can's head and said to the black-clad girl, apologetically: "He's just like this — don't take offence."
The girl glanced at the boy. "What a little beast!"
Gu Can was about to launch into his family's hereditary spiel, but noticing the palm on his head quietly gaining weight, he wilted at once, and said feebly: "Sister, you're so lovely and fair — whatever you say is right."
The black-clad girl ignored him, turned to Chen Ping'an, and said with significance: "You'd best accept those two bags of copper coins, to avoid feuds springing up later. And if this boy ever succeeds in the dao, then by not letting him carry a little less guilt today, you may well be the ruin of his dao-heart, opening the way for the external Demon of Heaven to slip in."
This talk Gu Can relished. He stuck his thumb up at the sister. "Long hair, long wits — you're a deal more reliable than that little wife next door!"
The black-clad girl arched a brow, and, wondrous to say, accepted the praise without complaint.
From the far reaches of Mud Vase Lane came an urgent, roaring cry: "Gu Can!"
The boy's face went slightly pale. "I'm off, I'm off. Chen Ping'an, I'm going now!"
Even as his mouth said he was leaving, even the boy himself did not realize how his five fingers, gripping Chen Ping'an, tightened all the more.
Deep in his subconscious, Gu Can had likely already come to treat Chen Ping'an as the only kin he had besides his mother.
Chen Ping'an walked the boy out of the courtyard, crouched down, and said quietly: "Gu Can, mind your master. And take good care of your mother. You're a man now — from here on your mother has only you to lean on. Don't keep making her worry."
Gu Can grunted an assent.
Chen Ping'an went on: "When you reach the outside world, do more and talk less. Mind that tongue of yours. Eat a little loss if you must; don't go trying to win every quarrel by mouth. Outsiders aren't like us — they nurse grudges long."
The boy, red-eyed, talked back: "The folk on our side nurse grudges long too. Only you don't."
Chen Ping'an could not laugh, could not cry, and found himself with no reply.
Then, suddenly struck, Chen Ping'an asked in a low, serious voice: "Gu Can — did you get a locust leaf?"
If not, Chen Ping'an would not believe Gu Can had found an immortal's fortune; the storyteller's coming might be nothing more than a summons to death.
The boy, irritated at the very mention, fished a great fistful from his pocket, and cursed out of habit: "Some blasted cur of a wretch, heaven knows which, sneaked all this rubbish leaf into my pocket! It was only when I was sneaking out of the house just now, hiding those two bags of coins, that I found them. If it wasn't Chubby Zhao, then it was that girl Liu Mei! If my mother caught sight of them while doing the laundry, she'd be at me again for being a careless good-for-nothing! Good riddance I'm leaving now, or I'd have slipped off and hurled some rocks down their privy holes..."
The boy cursed on energetically. Chen Ping'an was first dumbfounded, then utterly relieved. Seeing the boy about to fling the leaves on the ground with gusto, he hurried to stop him, and said with great gravity: "Gu Can, put those away! Keep them safe, you must! If you can, don't even show them to your mother — it may well be for her own good."
The boy was bewildered, but nodded all the same. "All right."
Chen Ping'an let out a long breath and muttered to himself: "Now I can truly rest easy."
Gu Can suddenly lurched forward, bumping his forehead hard against Chen Ping'an's crown, and whimpered: "I'm sorry!"
Chen Ping'an rubbed the boy's little head, and said with a scolding laugh: "You silly fool!"
Gu Can then whispered something close in his ear.
Chen Ping'an stood dumbstruck.
The boy turned and ran off, casting a look back and waving as he jogged: "That old codger said he's taking me and my mother to a place called Green Gorge Isle on Letter Scroll Lake! If you end up too poor to even afford a wife, then come find me — and I'm not bragging, a foul pretty little wench like that Zhigui next door, I'd toss you seventeen or eighteen of them!"
Chen Ping'an stood in place and nodded.
He felt a pang of sorrow, too.
After all, Gu Can, that fellow, was just like a little brother to him, which is why Chen Ping'an would yield to him in everything.
The straw-sandaled youth watched the boy's figure drift farther and farther away, lost in a daze.
It had always been like this in his life — the people he truly cared for, it seemed, could never be kept.
The youth of Mud Vase Lane cracked a grin.
Heaven and earth were stingy creatures indeed.
The courtyard gate of the house next door opened softly, and out stepped the maidservant Zhigui, graceful and slender, like a lotus in a pond.
Chen Ping'an asked: "You heard Gu Can speaking ill of you earlier?"
She blinked those long autumn-water eyes. "I'll take it as though I heard nothing — I couldn't out-argue the pair of them anyway, mother and son."
Chen Ping'an felt a little embarrassed, and felt obliged to speak up for that scamp Gu Can, smoothing things over: "Truth be told, his heart isn't bad — his tongue's just a touch harsh."
Zhigu ignored him, twitching the corner of her mouth flatly. "Whether Gu Can's heart is good or bad, I can't say. But that widow mother of his is no oil lamp that burns cheaply — on that I'm certain."
Chen Ping'an knew not how to answer, so he did as she had done and pretended to have heard nothing.
Then, out of nowhere, she asked a baffling question: "Chen Ping'an, do you truly have no regrets?"
Chen Ping'an was taken aback. "What?"
Seeing that he did not seem to be feigning foolishness, she sighed, turned, and went back into her courtyard, closing the wooden door.
Chen Ping'an, blessed with sharp eyes, stayed standing in the lane until at last he saw the gate of Gu Can's house open in the distance, and three figures emerge — the mother and son each carrying a pack, great and small, walking slowly toward the other end of Mud Vase Lane.
Chen Ping'an could even clearly make out the storyteller turning his head and flicking a glance at him, a curious, knowing smile upon his lips.
After the three vanished at the far end of the lane, Chen Ping'an returned to his own courtyard and found the black-clad girl, wonder of wonders, already able to sit by herself upon the threshold.
Was that body of hers forged of iron, or what?
Chen Ping'an set the jade hairpin Master Qi had gifted him, along with the two bags of coins Gu Can had brought, upon the table, then set about boiling water, weighing out herbs, and decocting the medicine — a practiced, familiar rhythm, as though he had spent many years as a shop hand in an apothecary rather than growing up among the kilns.
The black-clad girl was a touch puzzled, but asked nothing. Bored witless, she rose and came to the table, considered a moment, then quietly dredged out the coin-purse Chen Ping'an had hidden in the belly of a jar.
After she sat down, the table bore three purses of coins and a jade hairpin — and, of course, that sentient long sword that sensibly "tucked itself into a corner" in a huddle.
Chen Ping'an did not stop her from taking the money. But he turned and cautioned: "That jade hairpin was given me by Master Qi. Miss Ning, be careful with it."
As though fearing the girl might not take heed, Chen Ping'an added, red-faced: "Truly, be careful."
The girl rolled her eyes.
Three purses of gold-essence copper coins — the Spring-Greeting coins, the Offering coins, the Warding coins — and, as luck would have it, all of them exactly accounted for.
The girl propped her cheek on one hand and, with a finger of the other, idly flicked the three purses. "And how stand your own affairs? Care to tell me about them?"
Chen Ping'an crouched by the wall under the window, keeping a careful eye on the flame, turning over the three medicine prescriptions from time to time. At her question, he hesitated: "Is it proper for me to tell you?"
The girl knit her brows. "You've sunk to this sorry pass, and you still worry someone might silence me for hearing a secret? Chen Ping'an, I'm not one to lecture you, but a goody-two-shoes like you — my advice is you never leave this town for the rest of your days, or heaven knows how you'd die. Probably not even a bone left to bury."
The girl fairly grieved at his misfortune, and raged at his lack of fight.
A youth of such staid, rigid temperament — even were he a mighty sword immortal blessed with an Arhat golden form and the celestial lord's arts — set him down among her people at home, and within a year he would surely die, and die without a trace.
The straw-sandaled youth said cheerfully: "Then shall I tell you a little?"
The girl pressed the three purses flat with three fingers and slid them about the table. "Say it or not, as you please."
So Chen Ping'an told her of all that had passed before Master Qi appeared, and after that, related a chosen portion of events.
When he finished, she said, airily: "That True Lord Liu Zhimao, Who Severs the River, is plainly the root of the evil. But Cai Jinjian and Fu Nanhua were no better birds either. Had Master Qi not come muddying the waters, you might have fled to the ends of the earth and still not outrun the encirclement of all three forces. To speak plainly, killing you would be easy — were it not for this town, never mind Liu Zhimao, even that woman of Cloud Mist Mountain could grind you to ashes with a flick of a single finger."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I know."
The girl huffed: "You know nothing at all!"
Chen Ping'an did not argue; he went on decocting the medicine.
She asked: "This whole ordeal of yours came about because of that loach. Why not tell the boy the truth?"
This time Chen Ping'an neither fell silent nor turned around. Sitting on his small stool, gazing down at the green and crimson flame, he said softly: "That wouldn't be right."
The girl seemed to want to say more, but in the end she only looked at that thin, frail back and remarked: "Then do you understand that, if your fists aren't hard, no one will care whether you're right or wrong?"
The youth shook his head. "Whether anyone listens or not, a principle is a principle."
As though not quite certain of himself, he turned and asked with a smile: "Isn't that so?"
The girl glared at him. "Right, my foot!"
The youth turned sullenly back to his post and kept at the medicine.
The black-clad girl — the foreign maiden named Ning Yao — took up that green jade hairpin, studied it hard, and found a small line of characters carved within.
She glanced at the youth called Chen Ping'an.
Eight characters graced the pin — and even to her, who could barely call herself literate, they seemed extraordinarily moving.
"I think of my gentleman, warm as jade."