Ruan Xiu ran back to the blacksmith's forge and found only her father sitting alone under the eaves. She handed him the jug of wine, then sat down in the other bamboo chair. "Father, you finished talking?"
Ruan Qiong opened the jug. He didn't even need to drink —one sniff and his head began to ache. It was Peach Blossom Spring, no doubt, but this was certainly not the premium grade worth two taels of silver. This was the cheapest variety, barely worth eight qian a jug. Out of the corner of his eye, Ruan Qiong caught his daughter fidgeting with the hem of her clothes, her gaze darting about nervously —clearly afraid he would expose her. He sighed inwardly, pretending not to have noticed, and took a long swig of the mediocre liquor. The frustration churned in his gut as he said slowly: "The talk went well enough. I'll have someone go to the kiln-bureau compound to find that Great Li official named Wu Yuan and get both the old and new topographical maps. I expect Chen Ping'an will come asking for them once he comes to his senses."
Ruan Xiu let out a breath of relief and smiled, stretching her legs out straight and leaning back against the cool bamboo chair.
Ruan Qiong's mood brightened somewhat at the thought that his new beginning here was off to a decent start. He even offered a rare word of praise for Chen Ping'an: "That boy from Mud Vase Lane —simple as he is, he's not stupid."
Ruan Xiu beamed. "Father, that's called being wise while appearing foolish, you know?"
Ruan Qiong chuckled but said nothing. Inwardly, he thought: *Wise while appearing foolish —what does that even mean?*
He gazed at the distant stream, gently swaying the wine jug between two fingers. "There are some things I can't tell him directly, lest he overthink and misread my intentions. You tell him tomorrow when you see him."
"What things?" Ruan Xiu asked curiously.
Ruan Qiong was silent for a moment, then took a small sip of the harsh liquor before speaking. "Tell him —don't even dream about Dragon Spine Mountain. Even some upper-realm cultivators without backing wouldn't dare ask for it. That massive Dragon-Slaying Platform —the Wind-Snow Temple and Zhenwu Mountain expended considerable effort to claim it, and with my current status, we barely secured one share. There are still plenty of people behind the scenes grinding their teeth in envy. You don't need to explain all these complications to Chen Ping'an. Just tell him plainly: forget about Dragon Spine Mountain. Second —the court is selling off these mountain peaks at bargain prices, but there are only sixty-some in total. Chen Ping'an can buy at most five peaks. Any more than that, and even I will have difficulty protecting him and his holdings. Third —I've just made up my mind to demand three peaks centered on Divine Beauty Mountain. When Chen Ping'an looks at the maps, tell him to pay attention to the surrounding peaks near Divine Beauty Mountain, Lamp-Lighting Mountain, and Crossbow Ridge. I'm not unreasonable —I won't make him spend all his fortune buying nearby. Half his gold copper coins will suffice. That said, if he's truly clever, he'll buy as many peaks around my two mountains and one ridge as he can. That's the right path. Finally, you can tell him that if he has any coins left over, he should buy a few shops in town. I expect there will be many good storefronts changing hands soon, since many of the town's families with outside connections will likely be moving out. The prices should be cheap —one coin at most."
Ruan Xiu ventured asked: "Father, why don't you buy the New Year Shop for me? My two bags of coins —you took them, didn't you? Just give me back one. One coin, please?"
Ruan Qiong's lip curled in a mirthless smile. "The coins I'm holding onto —forget about them. I advise you to give up that thought immediately. Besides, you could always have Chen Ping'an foot the bill. He's the real tycoon of our little town now."
Ruan Xiu replied without hesitation: "How can I do that? He's so poor —he can't even borrow fifteen or sixteen taels of silver."
Ruan Qiong's mouth twitched. He couldn't hold back any longer and turned to face her. "Oh? My money isn't money, but his is?"
Ruan Xiu grinned. "Well, we're not exactly close."
Ruan Qiong nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. *Not close?* Not close enough that she would shamelessly make her own father drink this swill so she could pocket the difference and lend it to that brat? His daughter thought the world of the boy, and she was barely even hiding it. Ruan Qiong took another brutal swig of the tasteless liquor, stood up, and said: "I've said what needs to be said. You decide which words to use tomorrow."
He strode away. Using his rear end to think, he knew perfectly well that whatever should and shouldn't be said, his daughter would say it all tomorrow.
The more Ruan Qiong dwelled on it, the more agitated he became. He couldn't scold his daughter, and he couldn't very well beat the brat who was busy digging around the foundations of his home. The man could only mutter a curse under his breath. He walked to an empty clearing, tossed aside the now-empty jug —no matter how foul, he had drained it —and launched himself skyward. In a flash, he landed in front of the shop that sold Peach Blossom Spring. Naturally, the shop was already closed for the night. He pounded on the door, and soon a woman stumbled out from the back courtyard, half-asleep and cursing loudly: "What kind of person comes banging on a door at this hour? In a rush to die and get reincarnated? Drinking in the middle of the night —why don't you drink piss instead, and for free at that? Daring to knock on a widow's door in the dark —doesn'tafraid this old woman break all three of your legs?"
She showed no courtesy whatsoever.
Ruan Qiong stood in the doorway, his face dark as a thundercloud, silent as stone.
When the woman recognized him as Master Ruan from the blacksmith's forge, she studied his tightly muscled arms by the moonlight and underwent an instant transformation. Her eyes became silken and seductive as she grabbed his arm with overwhelming enthusiasm. "Oh my, it's Master Ruan! What a pleasant surprise —what brings you here at this hour?" She led him inside, stumbling deliberately as if about to fall into his arms, but the blacksmith was no gentleman. He gently steadied her by the shoulder, dropped some silver on the counter, grabbed two jugs, and strode back out without a word.
The woman stood in the doorway, her face twisted in mockery. She called after him in a loud, teasing voice: "Such a fine, sturdy man —and yet just like your surname! Soft Master —oh, I'm sorry, *Ruan* Master —if you come back to my shop, I'll have to charge you double! Though if Master Ruan's backbone ever stiffens up, maybe I won't charge you a single copper. Free drinks, free company —all on the house!"
Ruan Qiong walked to the end of the street in silence, then vanished from sight. He did not return to the forge on the south side of town. Instead, he went north, to a small hill before a mountain made entirely of broken porcelain fragments.
Thirty paces from the base of the porcelain mountain, he sat cross-legged on the ground.
A voice rang out nearby: "What a coincidence —you're here too."
Ruan Qiong nodded and tossed over a jug of wine.
The old man caught it, weighed it in his hand, and clicked his tongue. "Buying wine from Widow Liu at this hour —any man's going to pay a price."
Ruan Qiong had no interest in that topic. Instead, he asked: "Old Master Yang, the boy beside the new superintendent Wu Yuan —what exactly is his background? I can't read his depth at all. On the surface he seems no different from an ordinary person."
The old man was none other than Old Man Yang from the Yang family shop. He took a sip of wine. "His identity is unknown. But as the old saying goes: those who come bearing ill intentions are rarely kind, and the kind rarely come bearing ill intentions. Would you agree?"
After delivering this line, Old Man Yang looked up with a smile.
Atop the porcelain mountain stood a young man in a blue-green robe, hands tucked into his sleeves, a mole between his brows, his smile as warm as a spring breeze.
The youth drew one hand from his sleeve and waved. "When entering a home, call out first. When entering a temple, bow to the deity first. I know the rules —I greeted Master Ruan first, then came to see Old Master Yang. My manners are impeccable."
Old Man Yang stopped drinking. From somewhere he produced a length of cord, tied the wine jug to his waist, took a drag from his pipe, and said: "Entering mountains and marshes, drawing talismans to ward off evil. The question is —are your talismans the scribblings of ghosts, or the marks of immortals?"
The youth withdrew his hand and leaned forward slightly, his smile widening. "No matter whatmisunderstanding you and Master Ruan may harbor, I guarantee that after paying my respects to both of you, I'll have no further involvement. Well —if there is any, it would only be the City God Temple, which I'm temporarily overseeing. That might touch on your affairs slightly. As for the Wenchang Pavilion or the Martial God Temple —those are none of my concern. I only manage a tiny City God Temple, no bigger than a sesame seed."
According to common understanding, within a county's territory, the magistrate held full authority over all affairs of the living. But the clay statue of the City God presiding overhead was responsible for watching over the nighttime and the spirit realm.
Master Ruan furrowed his brows. Was this youth a tribute-bearer from the Ministry of Rites? Or a cultivator from the Imperial Observatory?
But regardless of whether his backing came from the Ministry, the Observatory, or some hidden corner of the Great Li palace —to stand so brazenly atop the porcelain mountain meant he was at minimum a tenth-floor cultivator at the peak of the Middle Five Realms.
So this youth was not truly a youth.
The slender cultivator with the cinnabar mole between his brows addressed Old Man Yang: "Sir, I must warn you —be careful, and you'll sail ten thousand years safely."
Old Man Yang took a fierce drag on his pipe, but only a single wisp of smoke emerged, so thin it was nearly invisible. It dissipated silently into the void between heaven and earth.
The cultivator who appeared to be a young man kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, but the cuffs stirred slightly —as if his fingers were forming seals within.
Ruan Qiong sighed heavily. "For my sake, please, both of you —stand down. Otherwise, if the three of us clash, will we not tear this thousand-li territory apart?"
The youth immediately withdrew both hands from his sleeves and raised them high in a gesture of surrender, smiling innocently: "No problem from my end."
Old Man Yang sniffed, and two barely perceptible wisps of blue-purple smoke flew swiftly into his nostrils.
The old man sneered: "You know quite a lot."
The youth pinched his nose. "Not too much —just the right amount. For example, I know that I should call you Grandmaster Qing... instead of Old Master Yang."
The youth deliberately dropped a syllable.
It was not a joke. At the precise instant that character was about to leave his lips, he had genuinely felt the old man's killing intent —resolute and decisive. So he chose to retreat one step.
The youth tilted his body backward, laughing: "Farewell, then. I hope we need not meet again. Whether it's the broad highway, the single-plank bridge, or the gates of the underworld —we each walk our own path, each showing our own prowess."
The blue-green-robed youth who tilted backward vanished without a trace.
Ruan Qiong said gravely: "He could be upper-realm!"
Old Man Yang scoffed: "Making a fuss over nothing. Aren't you upper-realm too? The Baoping Continent may be small, but it's still one of the nine continents. Don't speak of eleventh or twelfth floor —even a thirteenth-floor cultivator isn't impossible."
Ruan Qiong's expression was still uneasy. He shook his head. "But I've only just reached the eleventh floor. My realm isn'tsolidified yet. Though I'm from the military school and relatively skilled in combat and killing techniques, still..."
The old man shook his head as he turned to leave, puffing on his pipe and exhaling clouds of smoke. "Be content. Among the countless cultivators in the world, those at the tenth floor are already rare as phoenix feathers. And the upper-realm —that's beyond most people's dreams. In truth, you fear him, but he fears you just as much. Porcelain striking jade —you're both terrified of shattering."
Ruan Qiong considered this. It made sense —he was not the sort to dwell on one thing. He dropped the matter of the strange youth's origins entirely. If the two sides could leave each other alone, all the better. Harmony brings wealth.
With a thunderous boom, Ruan Qiong launched himself skyward, soaring through the cloud-sea before plunging down toward the stream.
The old man who had been ambling slowly back toward town chuckled to himself: "Young people and their temper."
---
A young man in a blue-green robe walked through the town's alleyways, muttering to himself: "Night curfew needs establishing, a watchman assigned, a market organized —there's so much to do. Our dear magistrate has his hands full."
The fair-featured youth with a mole between his brows toyed with a set of old keys, spinning them around his finger as he entered a narrow lane called Second Brother's Lane. It sat right beside Apricot Blossom Lane, named, according to legend, for two remarkable figures who had once descended from the family line there. But who exactly they were and what they had accomplished —nobody could say. Over time, it became one of those stories the old folks beneath the old scholar tree used to spin with great mystery and no substance.
Now that the old tree had fallen, the town seemed to have lost a measure of its vitality. The children didn't feel it deeply —the young people actually appreciated the newfound open space. Only the nostalgic old folk occasionally sighed.
Second Brother's Lane and Apricot Blossom Lane were not home to the wealthiest families, but they were comfortably above the likes of Mud Vase Lane. When residents of those two lanes encountered people from Mud Vase Lane, they held their heads high. Granny Ma and her grandson Ma Kuxuan lived in Apricot Blossom Lane —a family of respectable standing by local standards.
The youth stopped before a residence. Two fresh, brightly painted door-gods adorned the entrance. He looked up at one of them —a silver-armored guardian wielding a short halberd, one foot raised in a golden rooster's stance, his expression fierce as a vajra. The youth smiled: "Returning home in silken robes —this is what it must feel like."
He opened the door and entered. The house was modest but refined. An open square skylight overhead let in light and air, and below it a small pool had been carved into the stone. A beauty-rest railing on the second floor offered a perfect vantage for stargazing in winter. The youth nodded with satisfaction. "Not bad at all —a fine place to cultivate the body and nurture one's spirit."
He fetched a carved wooden chair and sat beside the pool. He flicked his sleeve, and out tumbled a cascade of broken porcelain shards —some as large as fists, others as small as grains of rice. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. In the end, so many had accumulated that a full basket couldn't have held them all. They hovered in the air above the pool, suspended beneath the skylight.
This was the art of "sleeve containing a universe" —a feat worthy of its name.
The youth looked left, then right, rubbing the mole between his brows. "Where should I begin?"
He selected a singlejujube-red-red shard that caught his eye. With a thought, it darted from the pile and hovered silently a foot before him.
Then, one after another, more shards flew from the porcelain mound, arriving before the youth and being gently placed in position.
He was assembling a piece of porcelain.
---
The next day at the blacksmith's forge, Ruan Xiu handed Chen Ping'an two maps —one old, its paper yellowed, with mountains and ridges labeled simply as Alpha-One, Bravo-Three, and the like. The new map, still fragrant with fresh ink, bore real names: Dragon Spine Mountain, Pearl Mountain, Divine Beauty Mountain. And at the bottom, a new entry read: "Great Li, Longquan County."
Ruan Xiu pointed to each name, explaining and introducing them one by one. Finally, she cautioned: "The maps may show only a fingernail's worth of displacement, but once you're in the mountains, it could mean several li of difference in actual distance. When the Lizhu small chiliocosm descended upon Great Li's earth, the seismic tremors were enormous. Some peaks with shallow roots simply collapsed. This will create many unexpected obstacles on your path. You must be careful."
Chen Ping'an packed both maps away with care. Then he shouldered a carrying basket, much like the one he'd used when he'd led Chen Dui into the mountains before. He smiled apologetically at Ruan Xiu: "This time I'm aiming for the area around Lamp-Lighting Mountain and Crossbow Ridge. I expect it will take at least half a month, possibly a full month before I return."
Ruan Xiu said softly: "That long? How will you have enough to eat?"
Chen Ping'an suppressed a laugh. "I'm used to life in the mountains. I can find wild game and mountain fruits —I won't go hungry, I promise."
Ruan Xiu nodded and smiled. "The dozen or so taels my father promised to lend you —I'll have it ready when you come back."
Chen Ping'an considered, then decided to be honest. "Miss Ruan, please don't trouble yourself on my behalf. I can manage the money somehow. You can't go without pastries from the New Year Shop for ten days or more, can you?"
Ruan Xiu's face flushed crimson. She couldn't figure out how he'd known.
Chen Ping'an looked helpless but said nothing with a smile. He thought to himself: with Master Ruan's temperament, lending money was the last thing he'd do. It wasn't that Chen Ping'an was sharp-eyed —it was that Ruan Xiu's attempt at concealment was transparently poor.
Seeing her crestfallen, he quickly reassured her: "Miss Ruan, I appreciate the thought. Truly."
Ruan Xiu pressed her lips into a smile.
Then she said suddenly: "Let me walk you a ways."
Chen Ping'an was already striding away. He turned back and waved: "No need —I know every inch of this path. I could walk it with my eyes closed."
The girl with the ponytail gave a soft "oh" and waved goodbye.
After leaving the Ruan family shop, Chen Ping'an sprinted upstream along the stream. The peaks near town didn't interest him. They were small, cheap, but he didn't want to buy here —it was too close to the center of attention. Master Ruan had hinted as much: the area including True Ground Mountain and Distant Curtain Peak had once been decent, but decades of extraction had hollowed them out. They wereembroidered pillows —pillows embroidered on the outside, empty within. He needed to keep heading west, all the way to Pearl Mountain, before things improved.
Chen Ping'an walked for an entire day and night, resting less than two hours total, before finally reaching the summit of a small hill on the official map. He drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with the wild fragrance of mountain grasses and trees.
The straw-sandaled boy squared his chest and stamped his foot with bold resolve: "This is mine!"