Chapter 4#
Chapter 4#
After the heavy rain, sunlight spilled over the mortal world with exceptional generosity.
The Daoist temple was simple, but compared to the houses in the village, it could be considered refined. Neat tiles covered the roof; when the autumn rain fell, water would flow along the eaves and pitter-patter onto the bluestone bricks.
Over time, a row of puddles had formed on the bricks, making the ground uneven and uncomfortable to walk on.
So, Xue Jingci had brought back some sand and soil and made A-Pei mix them to level the ground.
The tabby cat jumped onto the maple tree in the courtyard to watch him work. Ever since being called an ugly cat, the System had been particularly targeting this brat. Whenever it caught him slacking off, it would quickly let out a flurry of “meow-ao, meow-ao” cries, refusing to stop until it had summoned Xue Jingci.
A-Pei squatted on the ground mixing mud, looking at that ugly cat in annoyance. When a gust of wind blew by, he stared at the maple tree in the courtyard even more irritably.
Just like that ugly cat, this old maple tree was also a big nuisance. Every morning when he woke up to see a ground full of red leaves, any good mood he had vanished.
He swept and they fell; they fell and he had to sweep. During the day, he still had to go reap wheat.
When would this annoying autumn ever end?
The boy stared at the old maple tree, fantasizing countless times about chopping it down at night to settle the matter once and for all.
And while he was at it, he’d toss out that ugly cat on the tree—the eyesore of a stupid thing.
Unconsciously, he had already been in this Daoist temple for nearly half a month. A wild child born and raised by nature was tough and thick-skinned; the wound on his shoulder was mostly healed, leaving only a ferocious scar.
Once he finally smoothed the ground, he didn’t dare leave, fearing the malicious ugly cat would step on it and ruin the ground before it had completely dried. After drinking two large bowls of water, he simply sat in the shade of the tree to cool off.
The cicadas’ chirping was bothersome; the “Autumn Tiger” (Indian summer) truly lived up to its name.
With his eyes half-closed, he chewed on a sweet leaf. The bitterness in his mouth dissipated slightly as he listlessly watched the window of the temple’s main hall.
Xue Jingci was sitting there properly, reading by the sunlight.
In front of him sat a fine porcelain teacup. White mist rose from the gap between the rim and the lid, blurring his features.
Perhaps because the indoor light was a bit dim, Xue Jingci turned slightly and pushed open the window.
Outside, the ground was scorching under the noon sun, but it was cool inside the room. The steam from the teacup easily melted the frost between Xue Jingci’s brows.
The wind made the leaves rustle loudly. A red maple leaf flew through the window onto Xue Jingci’s shoulder and was casually tucked by him into the pages of the book he had just been reading.
The boy was mesmerized by the sight. Then, seeing Xue Jingci look over, he resignedly grabbed the broom to continue sweeping the courtyard.
After that day, whenever A-Pei finished sweeping, he would always stand in that spot for a moment. Later, he simply took to resting under that window.
Xue Jingci often copied scriptures after lunch.
Whether writing or reading, there was never much noise. Those sounds falling into his ears allowed A-Pei to bask in the sun and lean against the wall for a good nap.
The young man’s restless and irritable mood also began to settle.
Until one day, he discovered the person by the window was gone.
Had that person left? Didn’t that mean he was free!
The boy was ecstatic and flipped through the window into the temple, only to see Xue Jingci’s figure in a secluded corner.
His racing heart instantly went silent.
A-Pei walked over and saw Xue Jingci cutting wood.
The wood had a fresh, bright color; one look and it was clear it was Yang-wood. A-Pei couldn’t help but feel guilty, and his speech became much faster: “What are you doing?”
Hearing the voice, Xue Jingci looked up and handed over a carved wooden tablet from beside him.
A-Pei looked at it and saw an exquisitely carved image of the Daoist Ancestor on the front, with hymns engraved on the back. The calligraphy was vigorous—a true masterpiece of divine craftsmanship.
A-Pei stared at it intently, unable to hide his amazement and liking. “You know how to carve too? This is so well-made. Such a delicate thing, I’ve only seen one in Squire Wang’s treasure pavilion…”
Halfway through, he remembered that it was hard to explain why he had been to the squire’s treasure pavilion.
Fortunately, Xue Jingci was focused on carving and had no intention of questioning him.
A-Pei fell silent, his eyes unblinking as he watched Xue Jingci’s carving movements. He couldn’t imagine how these hands, which looked delicate and beautiful, could hold a sword so steadily and also handle a carving knife.
Xue Jingci finished cutting the wood and looked up at A-Pei: “You don’t have to go to the fields today. Stay here.”
There was actually such a good thing as not having to go work?
Could this person be so kind?
But not having to work was always a good thing. A-Pei simply sat down and stared at him carving wood.
“Watch closely,” Xue Jingci said.
The boy soon became happy again. Having nothing to do but sit here was truly comfortable.
Just as he was engrossed, a carving knife was handed over: “You try it.”
“Me?”
A-Pei blinked in surprise.
Xue Jingci handed him a piece of ordinary wood: “Try with this piece first.”
Only then did the boy realize that Xue Jingci really intended for him to carve.
He knew it—this person wouldn’t let him stay idle.
The boy held the carving knife and mimicked Xue Jingci’s manner. Perhaps he really had some talent, as carving turned out to be much easier than imagined.
After carving wood for half the afternoon, he finally heard Xue Jingci praise, “Not bad.”
This was the first time he had been praised by this person. A-Pei couldn’t suppress the corners of his mouth. Unable to hide his curious thoughts, he asked tentatively, “Is this wood from the divine tablet I damaged?”
Xue Jingci nodded: “Yes.”
He looked at A-Pei and said slowly, “Although you had mischief in mind, you also enlightened me. Placing such expensive wood in a Daoist temple would inevitably invite covetousness.”
Xue Jingci looked at A-Pei’s hands, which were covered in small nicks and scratches, and continued, “During these days you went to reap wheat, did you find it hard?”
A-Pei naturally wouldn’t say it was hard. Stiffening his neck, he said it was nothing, as if saying he was tired would mean he had lost something.
Xue Jingci didn’t expose him: “Farmers have it hard. They are exposed to the wind and sun every day. Even when they fall ill in autumn with colds or low fevers, they don’t dare delay for a moment. The money they work so hard for is barely enough to feed their families, yet they still had to pool it to buy a piece of wood to offer to the gods.”
He handed the wooden tablet to A-Pei. It was a semi-finished product, only lacking the final polishing, which even a beginner could do.
“Since it’s broken, why not simply carve it into art pieces to resell and return the money to everyone.”
Gripping the wooden tablet, A-Pei suddenly felt that this person didn’t seem as hateful or detestable as those arrogant cultivators he had seen before.
“Aren’t you a cultivator? How can you…”
He thought digging a hole in the divine tablet was already a great disrespect, yet this person had directly dismantled it.
Xue Jingci lowered his eyes and continued carving a new block of wood: “Even if the most expensive wood is placed here and the world’s top calligrapher is invited to write on it, the gods won’t see it.”
“Nor will they hear the prayers of the mortal world.”
The boy’s pupils shrank slightly. It felt as if something in his heart had been smashed.
Neither spoke again, and the air became quiet, save for the sound of carving wood.
Xue Jingci brushed the carved wooden tablets with insect-proof oil. He only stood up and walked out of the temple when they were left to dry.
A-Pei instinctively stood up, but his legs were numb from kneeling for too long. He fell back, his knees hitting the ground hard.
Ignoring the pain, he spoke hurriedly: “Where are you going?”
“To make a new divine tablet.”
A-Pei was puzzled. Frowning, he looked up and asked, “But didn’t you say the gods can’t see it?”
Xue Jingci turned back and pulled him up from the ground: “The gods don’t need it, but people do. This world is chaotic, and there are always too many helpless things, yet life must go on. If seeing this divine tablet makes everyone feel at ease and allows them to have a good night’s sleep, then that is the meaning of its existence. It can be considered a good thing.”
The boy was stunned. By the time he came to his senses, Xue Jingci was already gone.
He looked at his arm where the man had grabbed it, then stared at the wood shavings on the ground. The expression on his face shifted; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Life in the small Daoist temple continued this way.
A-Pei didn’t know which day it was when he started getting used to it. He no longer felt annoyed looking at the red leaves on the ground. The people in the village gradually became familiar with him. Auntie Wang at the end of the village would press two pieces of candy into his hand when he returned to the temple.
Even that ugly cat would let him rub its head when it was in a good mood.
Only that little brat A-Su, who had snitched on him, felt guilty and would still go out of his way to avoid him.
By the time they finished carving all the Yang-wood, Xue Jingci had also finished writing the new divine tablet.
Xue Jingci packed the art pieces in a bundle and handed them to A-Pei: “You’re more familiar with those places in town that sell stolen goods. Go there today and sell these wooden tablets. The price needn’t be too high, just as long as they don’t owe us.”
A-Pei gave a “tch,” thinking this person’s words were truly unpleasant.
But… what about after they were sold?
The mistake he made had been compensated for. Was it time for him to leave?
Xue Jingci said: “Come back early.”
Unsure if he felt happy or disappointed, A-Pei took the bundle and walked away quickly.
The System squatted on the tree, wagging its tail, and muttered at his back: “He’s just a child after all.”
When A-Pei returned at night, he saw the temple was crowded with people.
He struggled to squeeze through the crowd, tightly protecting the sugar cakes in his arms for fear of them being crushed. He didn’t know how such a small temple courtyard could fit so many people.
After these people left, he would have to clean up again.
The village head Mo Lin stood at the front, looking at the newly carved divine tablet with an excited expression.
Although he had seen Xue Jingci’s calligraphy before, the way the strokes were carved into the wood—sharp and flying—was a hundred times more free-spirited than writing with ink.
Xue Jingci beckoned to A-Pei.
The boy ran over to him and shook the money bag in his hand. Before he could even claim credit, it was taken away.
Xue Jingci handed the money bag to Mo Lin and said: “A-Pei and I carved the previous Yang-wood into art pieces. It was rude of me to act on my own without consulting you. But with winter approaching, it’s only right to get more clothes for the elderly and the children. As for prayers, they have always been effective when the heart is sincere. The Daoist Ancestor is benevolent and doesn’t distinguish between high and low or rich and poor.”
If anyone else had said this, the villagers would certainly not have dared believe it.
But Xue Jingci was an able Immortal Master who could solve the matter of the river demon, so everyone naturally believed his words without question.
Xue Jingci then told A-Pei to take out the herbs they had gathered over the past few days and distribute them to the villagers, telling them it was a decoction for treating colds.
With winter approaching, many adults as well as children had fallen ill. But during the autumn harvest, who would dare rest? They forced themselves to keep going, not daring to collapse, let alone spending money on doctors or medicine. Now, holding the herbs in their hands, even the toughest men grew red-eyed.
Watching the villagers overflowing with gratitude, A-Pei suddenly felt that the person before him was what a true cultivator should look like.
He thought of those cultivators in town. Those people talked constantly about cultivating the “Great Dao,” but they couldn’t explain what the “Great Dao” actually was.
He seemed to see it now.
One autumn rain brings one more layer of cold.
After drinking Xue Jingci’s herbal medicine, everyone’s illness lessened considerably. They stepped up their work. A-Pei also helped, but he was often sent back with his arms full of things given to him.
With free time on his hands, A-Pei looked up at the red maple tree. The once lush branches were becoming sparser, and the color was no longer as fiery red as in previous days.
This tree was finally becoming bald, just as he had wished.
Because of this, the time the boy spent sweeping grew shorter, and he often went to watch Xue Jingci practice his sword.
The sword style looked simple. His heart felt an itch he couldn’t resist, and he couldn’t help but secretly snap off a tree branch to learn along.
He thought he was being stealthy, but everything fell into Xue Jingci’s eyes.
During one practice session, Xue Jingci suddenly sheathed his sword and landed by the boy’s side, saying coldly: “That’s wrong.”
His sudden appearance startled A-Pei into dropping his branch. Seeing him standing there dazed, Xue Jingci actually handed his own sword to the boy.
Being caught red-handed while secretly learning, A-Pei’s ears couldn’t help but turn red. The sword in his hand was heavy. Despite his usual labor, his arm shook under its weight.
So this sword, which looked light as a feather, was actually this heavy.
“Hold the sword like this. Don’t let your wrist be stiff.”
Xue Jingci taught him how to hold the sword. His voice, flowing slowly, was as clear and refreshing as a stream, possessing a magic that made one feel at peace.
The stray thoughts in the boy’s heart gradually vanished. Since childhood, he had understood the principle of seizing every opportunity. Right now, he didn’t dare lose focus for even a second.
Xue Jingci only taught two moves, but they made A-Pei realize how difficult it was to perfectly execute those seemingly simple techniques.
A-Pei practiced hard in the courtyard until sunset.
Initially, Xue Jingci thought he would clamor to learn more moves, but he hadn’t expected the child to have such endurance, practicing those basic sword moves for four or five days.
Later on, the way the boy struck out with the sword gradually began to show shadows of his own.
He had only taught the boy two moves.
For the first time, Xue Jingci took the initiative to ask: “Aren’t you going to ask me to teach you more moves?”
A-Pei had just washed his face, and water was streaming down his cheeks. He answered casually: “I used to follow a wild path. If I want to learn the sword, I must build a good foundation so I can learn more moves well later on.”
Xue Jingci smiled faintly, thinking to himself that the boy was indeed teachable.
The weather grew colder. The busy harvest season finally came to an end, and everyone could finally huddle warmly at home and have a good, stolen sleep.
At night, the wind grew stronger. In the morning, the sound of a bell came from the distant mountains. The moment the window was pushed open, snowflakes drifted in, and a gust of cold air instantly entered the room.
“It’s snowing!”
A layer of snow covered the ground, reflecting the faint light and turning the world white. A few crimson leaves were scattered here and there on the snow, making the entire courtyard look exquisite and beautiful.
A-Pei instantly jumped out of bed and ran out of the room excitedly, shouting for Xue Jingci to come out and see the snow. But even after searching the entire temple, he couldn’t find Xue Jingci’s figure.
He wasn’t drinking tea, he wasn’t writing, and he wasn’t practicing his sword.
That man was gone.
Yet he still didn’t know his name.
On the table in the main hall lay his own clothes.
That ill-fitting black robe had once been pierced by a hidden weapon. A-Pei still cherished it as a treasure, but at some point, it had been repaired, now featuring some faint, subtle patterns.
Beside the black robe lay silver and spirit stones, with a slip of paper weighed down beneath them.
On the paper were two vigorous characters.
Payment.
A-Pei sat dazed at the table for most of the day, staring at that slip of paper.
It wasn’t until the sun set that he was startled awake by the light and looked out the door.
The old maple tree in the courtyard was still reluctant to part with its sparse leaves, yet the snow that had covered heaven and earth overnight cruelly announced their separation.
A-Pei suddenly dashed out of the temple.
He ran faster and faster. Someone seemed to call his name along the way.
A-Pei turned a deaf ear, leaving all sounds behind him. He ran through the drifting snow filling the sky and finally stopped by the river with its white, surging waves.
Mist rose from the surface of the river, which had not yet frozen, condensing into a somewhat gloomy figure.
The river demon looked at him and said with certainty: “He’s gone.”
“I know.”
A-Pei gripped the paper in his hand: “Where is my thing?”
The river demon moved his hand, and a wooden tablet flew from the river into his palm.
A-Pei looked down at his palm. Previously, he had cut this character from the divine tablet. With a secret intention, he had kept it in the river demon’s hands.
The boy’s fingertips brushed over the wooden tablet.
It was the huang of sihai bahuang (the eight wastes of the four seas).
It was also the huang of Pei Huang.