Sword Arrives

Chen Ping'an arrived at the East Gate and saw the man sitting cross-legged on a tree stump at the entrance of the fence, lazily basking in the early spring sunshine, his eyes closed, humming a tune while patting his knees.

Crouching beside him, Chen Ping'an found it extremely difficult to broach the subject of debt collection to the young man.

The youngster could only gaze quietly at the broad and winding road to the east, which stretched out like a thick yellow serpent.

He habitually picked up a handful of dirt, clutched it in his palm, and slowly rubbed it between his fingers.

He had once followed old Yao around the town, climbing mountains and crossing ridges, carrying a heavy knapsack filled with various items including a firewood axe and a hoe. Under the old man's guidance, they would stop and go wherever they pleased. Chen Ping'an often had to "eat dirt," scooping up handfuls of soil and putting it directly into his mouth, chewing and savoring its taste. Over time, practice made perfect, and Chen Ping'an could discern the texture of soil just by rubbing it between his fingers. Eventually, he became so skilled that he could, by simply touching broken porcelain shards from various old kilns on the market, identify which kiln and even which craftsman had produced them.

Although old Yao was eccentric and unsympathetic, often scolding and beating Chen Ping'an. there was once when old Yao, disgusted with Chen Ping'an's lack of understanding and deeming him a hopelessly slow learner, left him stranded in the wilderness in a fit of anger while the old man returned to the kiln alone. After trekking a long distance through mountainous terrain, the youngster finally approached the royal kiln, only to find it was already the dead of night. On that fateful day, the rain poured relentlessly from the heavens. As he stumbled through the mud-soaked ground and caught a glimpse of a distant light, the once stubborn youngster, who had been fending for himself, felt an overwhelming urge to weep—a sensation entirely new to him.

Despite his hardships, the youngster never uttered a word of complaint against the old man, nor did he nurture any feelings of resentment.

Though born into abject poverty and deprived of the privileges of education, the youngster possessed a wisdom that transcended the confines of textbooks: in this world, besides one's own parents, no one is inherently obligated to bestow kindness upon you.

Sadly, his parents had passed away at an all-too-early age.

Chen Ping'an could afford to lose himself in a daze with patience, while the slovenly man seemed to realize that he couldn't probably get away with it anymore. Opening his eyes, he chuckled, "It's just five copper coins. Being so stingy won't lead a man to great success in the future."

Chen Ping'an looked helpless, "Aren't you the one being penny-wise?"

The man grinned, revealing a mouthful of uneven, yellow teeth, and chuckled, "So, if you don't want to end up like me, a bachelor with nothing to show for, don't be haunted by those five copper coins."

Chen Ping'an sighed, looked up, and said earnestly, "If you're really short on coins, just forget about the five copper coins. But let's make it clear, one copper coin per letter in the future, no more defaulting."

The man, exuding a sour and decaying aura, turned his head and smiled, "Kid, with your stubborn, unyielding personality, you'll easily suffer great losses in the future. Haven't you heard the old saying, 'Loss is gain'? If you're not willing to take even a small loss..."

He glanced at the dirt in the youngster's hand and paused briefly, then teased, "Your fate will be to toil in the fields."

Chen Ping'an retorted, "Didn't I just say I didn't want the five copper coins? Isn't that already a small loss?"

The man looked somewhat flustered and annoyed, waving his hand to shoo him away, "Get lost, it's a pain talking to you kid."

Chen Ping'an released his fingers, letting go of the dirt, and stood up, saying, "The tree stump is quite damp, no good for you..."

The man looked up and laughed while scolding, "Do I need you to lecture me? Young people have strong energy; I could even bake pancakes on my butt!"

The man turned his head to glance at the youngster's back, pursing his lips and muttering something that sounded like a curse.

 ————

For some reason unknown today, Mr. Qi, the teacher, unusually ended his lesson early.

Behind the schoolhouse was a courtyard, with a low wooden gate on the north side leading to a bamboo grove.

While Song Jixin and his maid were listening to stories under the old locust tree, they were called away to play chess. Song Jixin wasn't too keen on it, but the person said it was Mr. Qi's wish to see if their chess skills had improved. Song Jixin had an inexplicable feeling towards the stern Mr. Qi, perhaps a mix of respect and fear. So, with Mr. Qi's personal "command," Song Jixin had no choice but to keep the appointment, but he insisted on waiting for the storyteller to finish before heading to the courtyard. The young man in a blue robe, who had come to deliver Mr. Qi's message, had to return to the schoolhouse first, not forgetting to remind Song Jixin not to be too late, repeating the same old lecture about how meticulous Mr. Qi was about rules and how he disliked people breaking their promises, etc.

Song Jixin, who was scratching his ear at that moment, grew tired of the nagging and said, "I got it, I got it."

When Song Jixin arrived at the backyard of the schoolhouse with Zhigui, the cool breeze was blowing, and the gentle and well-mannered young man in a blue robe was already seated on the bench in the south, sitting upright with a serious demeanor, as usual.

Song Jixin sat down opposite the young man in blue, facing south.

Mr. Qi sat in the west, observing the game without commenting, as always.

Zhigui, the maid, whenever her master played chess with someone, would go for a walk in the bamboo grove to avoid disturbing the three "scholars," and today was no exception.

In this small town, there were no so-called scholarly families, so scholars were rare indeed.

According to the old rules set by Mr. Qi, Song Jixin and the young man in blue had to guess the number of pieces to determine who would play black and have the first move.

Song Jixin and his peer across the table had started learning chess almost simultaneously, but Song Jixin was gifted and his chess skills improved rapidly, so Mr. Qi, who taught both of them, considered him a high-level player. During the guessing game, Song Jixin would first take out a handful of white pieces from the chess box, with a varying number that he kept secret. The young man in blue would then pick out one or two black pieces, and if he guessed correctly whether the number of white pieces was odd or even, he would play black and have the first move, thus gaining an advantage. In the first two years of their games, Song Jixin remained undefeated, whether he played as White with the subsequent move or as Black with the first move.