Legacy of the Blade

Young Chen Ping'an hadn't encountered many things, but it wasn't hard for him to read people's expressions.

After the travelers moved on, the gatekeeper smirked and asked, "Want to know what they were saying?"

Chen Ping'an nodded earnestly. "Yes."

The middle-aged man grinned mischievously and replied, "They were praising how handsome you look—nothing but compliments."

Chen Ping'an curled the corner of his mouth, thinking, Do you take me for a fool?

The gatekeeper, catching on to the boy's thoughts, laughed even louder. "If you weren't a little fool, would I have hired you to deliver letters?"

Chen Ping'an didn't argue, fearing it might offend the man and cost him the payment he was owed.

The man turned to watch the travelers, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he muttered, "That lady earlier—her thighs could crush a man to death."

Chen Ping'an hesitated, then asked curiously, "Did that lady practice martial arts?"

The gatekeeper blinked in surprise, then looked down at the boy with a serious face. "Kid, you really are a fool."

Chen Ping'an had no idea what he meant.

The man told him to wait and strode into a small room. When he returned, he held a stack of letters, about a dozen. Handing them over, he asked, "Do you believe good things happen to good people?"

Chen Ping'an took the letters with one hand while counting the coins in the other. "Didn't you say one coin per letter?"

The man, flustered, slapped five coins into the boy's palm and declared grandly, "The other five coins? You'll get them later!"

The small town wasn't too big, with about 600 households. Most of the poorer families were familiar to Chen Ping'an, but the wealthier ones lived in grand homes behind high walls. He had never stepped into those affluent areas, where cobblestone streets were laid smooth and flat. Unlike the muddy roads elsewhere, those streets stayed clean even during heavy rains.

The day's task was delivering letters to several prominent families. Nine of the ten letters were headed to two places: Blessing Street and Peach Leaf Alley. Stepping onto the polished cobblestones for the first time, Chen Ping'an felt a bit uneasy. He slowed his steps, self-conscious about his straw sandals scuffing the pristine ground.

The first delivery was to the Luo family, whose ancestors had received a jade ornament as a gift from the emperor. When Chen Ping'an stood at their gate, he fidgeted nervously.

The Luo residence was vast, with two imposing stone lions guarding the entrance. Tongs Jiuxin had once told him these statues were meant to ward off evil. Chen Ping'an didn't fully understand what "evil" meant but was amazed by the craftsmanship. The lions' mouths even held perfectly round stone balls. He resisted the urge to touch them, climbed the steps, and knocked on the lion-shaped brass knocker.

A young man opened the door. Hearing it was a letter delivery, he wordlessly took the envelope with just two fingers, turned around, and shut the door firmly.

The rest of Chen Ping'an's deliveries went similarly uneventfully. At one quieter household in Peach Leaf Alley, an elderly man with a kind face answered. After accepting the letter, he smiled and said, "Boy, you've worked hard. Would you like to come in and rest, maybe have some warm water?"

Chen Ping'an blushed, shook his head, and ran off.

The old man tucked the letter into his sleeve and didn't go back inside immediately. Instead, he stood looking into the distance, his cloudy eyes fixed on the peach trees lining the alley. After a moment, a smile broke across his wrinkled face.

Not long after, a small sparrow with vibrant plumage landed on one of the peach trees and chirped softly.

The last letter of the day was for the schoolteacher at the local academy. As Chen Ping'an passed by a fortune-telling stall, the young Daoist running it greeted him enthusiastically. The Daoist, wearing a weathered robe and a tall lotus-shaped hat, called out, "Young man, don't miss your chance! Come draw a lot and let me read your fortune!"

Chen Ping'an didn't stop but turned to wave him off.

Undeterred, the Daoist leaned forward and raised his voice, "Normally, I charge ten coins for a reading, but for you, just three! And if you draw an auspicious lot, maybe add a coin to celebrate. Who knows? If you're lucky, it could be the best fortune yet!"

Chen Ping'an paused mid-step, then turned back, curiosity getting the better of him.

The Daoist grinned and gestured for him to sit. "Don't miss this opportunity," he urged, eyes gleaming.

Chen Ping'an hesitated and finally said, "I don't want to draw lots. Can you just write me a talisman instead?"

The young Daoist had been in the town for at least five or six years. He was known for his affable demeanor, helping with fortune-telling, letter writing, and even crafting simple charms. People often remarked on the strange fact that, despite the 108 lots in his bamboo container, no one had ever drawn an exceptionally good or bad fortune. It seemed the Daoist's lots all hovered in a middle ground of mediocrity.