Legacy of the Blade

Chapter 2: Chap 2



The brocade-clad youth paid no attention to Song Jiuxin, instead shifting his gaze to Chen Ping'an. "Thanks to you, I was able to buy that golden carp earlier today. The more I look at it, the more I like it. I felt it necessary to personally thank you, so I asked Old Wu to bring me here immediately."

He tossed a heavy embroidered pouch to Chen Ping'an with a bright smile. "Consider this a token of gratitude. We're even now."

Before Chen Ping'an could respond, the youth turned and walked away.

Chen Ping'an furrowed his brow slightly.

Earlier that day, he had seen a middle-aged man carrying a fish basket down the street. Inside was a glimmering golden carp, about the length of his hand, leaping wildly in its confinement. One glance was enough to captivate him. Chen Ping'an had approached the man, offering ten coins for the fish. The man, sensing an opportunity, hiked the price up to thirty. Chen Ping'an, his pockets nearly empty, couldn't afford it but couldn't bear to part with the radiant carp either. He followed the man, haggling persistently, hoping to lower the price to fifteen, or at most twenty coins. Just when the man seemed ready to relent, the brocade-clad youth and his towering companion appeared. Without a word, they purchased the carp and its basket for fifty coins, leaving Chen Ping'an to watch them leave with helpless frustration.

As he stared after their retreating figures, Song Jiuxin snapped his gaze back from their direction. Leaping off the wall, he seemed to recall something. Turning to Chen Ping'an, he asked, "Do you still remember the lizard from last January?"

Chen Ping'an nodded.

How could he not? The memory was vivid.

According to an ancient tradition in their town, the appearance of snakes or lizards inside a home was an auspicious omen. Killing or driving them away was strictly forbidden. Last January, Song Jiuxin had been sunning himself by his door when a lizard, colloquially known as a four-legged snake, darted into his house. Annoyed, Song Jiuxin had thrown it out into the courtyard. To his irritation, the lizard kept returning, no matter how often it was tossed aside. Exasperated, he flung it over the wall into Chen Ping'an's yard. Yet the next day, Song Jiuxin found the lizard curled up under his bed.

The servant girl standing nearby tugged at Song Jiuxin's sleeve. They shared a glance, and he swallowed the words he was about to say.

What he had intended to mention was that the once-plain lizard now had an odd protrusion on its forehead, resembling a horn.

Instead, he changed the subject. "Next month, Zhi Kui and I will likely be leaving this place."

"Safe travels," Chen Ping'an replied with a sigh.

Song Jiuxin smirked, half-teasing. "There are some things I'm sure I can't take with me. Don't think you can just help yourself while I'm gone."

Chen Ping'an shook his head solemnly.

Song Jiuxin laughed loudly, pointing a mocking finger at him. "So timid, like a mouse! No wonder the poor never rise above their station. You're doomed to poverty not just in this life but probably the next as well."

Chen Ping'an remained silent, his face unreadable.

Later, both returned to their respective homes. Lying on his hard wooden bed, Chen Ping'an murmured softly to himself, "Broken vase, safe year. Broken vase, safe year… safety and peace, year after year…"

Before dawn broke, Chen Ping'an rose from his thin bedding, which barely retained any warmth. His time as an apprentice had ingrained in him the habit of waking early. He stepped into his small, muddy courtyard, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Stretching his stiff muscles, he left his home and headed east toward the town gates.

Ni Ping Alley, where he lived, was on the western edge of town, while the eastern gate was where the local guards collected and distributed letters from outside. Chen Ping'an had recently struck a deal to deliver these letters to the townsfolk for a small fee—one coin per letter. This was his hard-won method of earning a meager income, set to begin right after the 2nd of February, the Dragon Heads Festival.

As Song Jiuxin often quipped, Chen Ping'an seemed born under a star of hardship. Even when fortune smiled upon him, he couldn't seem to hold onto it. His neighbor's philosophical musings often escaped him, but one phrase had stuck in his mind: "Spring's chill kills more than winter's frost." It echoed a truth he understood all too well—how even as winter gave way to spring, the lingering cold could be deadly.

Their small town had no true walls, only a makeshift gate of ramshackle wooden fences. It was more symbolic than functional, barely enough to mark the entrance for travelers and merchants. Passing through the quiet streets, Chen Ping'an jogged past Plum Blossom Lane, where women and children were gathered around a well, the creak of the bucket pulleys filling the morning air.

Further on, he caught the familiar sound of recitation drifting from a nearby schoolhouse. The voices of students echoed in unison—a comforting, rhythmic cadence. It brought back memories of his younger days, sitting outside the school's window to eavesdrop on lessons. The strict teacher inside had never scolded him, allowing him to learn what little he could until life as an apprentice pulled him away.

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly and continued on, weaving through the quiet streets of the awakening town.


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