In the dead of night, heavy snow blanketed Red Garment Lane, its once vibrant lights now gone. She Denke arrived in a hurry, braving the snow.

He hesitated before the gates of the Glazed Palace, trying to knock on the door, but no one answered.

He stepped back a few paces and looked up. The Glazed Palace, the most renowned establishment in Red Garment Lane, had its doors and windows tightly shut, curtains drawn. It was pitch black.

“Wasn’t Brother Gou’er supposed to be inside?” She Denke muttered to himself. “It looks completely dark and deserted; it doesn’t seem like anyone is here.”

Just then, a bowing attendant scurried out from a nearby alley and asked with a fawning smile, “Young Master, are you here to enjoy the Glazed Palace?”

“I’m looking for someone,” She Denke replied, “Liang Gou’er.”

“So you’re Brother Gou’er’s esteemed guest,” the attendant said, smiling warmly. “Please, this way, this way.”

With that, the attendant led She Denke into the alley and guided him to the dim back entrance of the Glazed Palace.

As the door opened, the sounds of women’s laughter and chatter spilled out from inside the building. A vibrant spectrum of colors greeted his eyes, and warm, fragrant air wafted towards him. It was a lively scene.

She Denke stared in astonishment. “I thought no one was inside…”

“The city is crawling with the Secret Service’s living Yama Kings these days,” the attendant explained with an apologetic smile. “We really dare not draw attention to ourselves.”

She Denke stepped inside. He was surprised to find that the Glazed Palace was heated by underfloor pipes, making it warmer than spring indoors. Bewitching dancers, with their snow-white skin, moved back and forth, almost dazzling him.

The attendant led him upstairs and knocked on the door of the ‘Spring Evening’ private room. He heard Liang Gou’er’s voice from inside: “Come in!”

When the door opened, Liang Gou’er was seated at a round table, laughing boisterously while embracing two dancers. Beside him, Liang Mao’er sat resignedly, constantly stuffing food into his mouth.

She Denke quickly took a few steps, pulled a dancer aside, and sat next to Liang Gou’er, whispering a few words. Liang Gou’er, still embracing the dancer, cast a sidelong glance at him. “Young She,” he said, “you know Liang Gou’er’s rules. There are three things I won’t help with. First, I won’t help with…”

“Brother Gou’er,” She Denke said gravely, “we’ve been friends for a while. Can’t you make an exception just this once?”

“What friends?” Liang Gou’er sneered. “I just need money to spend. Fair-weather friends only drink your wine, but you want a fair-weather friend’s life? What kind of logic is that…”

Yu Denke was silent for a moment. He took out a letter from his sleeve. “If you follow the plan,” he said, “and present this letter afterward, I guarantee you will meet Jiang Liuxian.”

Liang Gou’er suddenly sat up straight. “Say that again?” She Denke said seriously, “Jiang… Liu… Xian.”

Liang Gou’er’s expression gradually grew cold.

“If you don’t follow the plan,” Yu Denke continued, “you’ll never see her…”

Before he could finish, Liang Gou’er pushed the dancers away from him and said in a deep voice, “Everyone out!” Once the dancers had left the private room, he took the envelope, pulled out a page from within, and read it repeatedly, his expression shifting unpredictably.

A moment later, the drunken haze in his eyes vanished. He stared intently at Yu Denke. “You have no business talking to me like that,” he said. “You shouldn’t even know where Jiang Liuxian is. Who taught you all this?”

She Denke hesitated, then looked back at Liang Gou’er, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “No one taught me,” he said.

“And you dare to utter Jiang Liuxian’s name in front of me?” Liang Gou’er scoffed. “I already know who it is. That young man has deep thoughts and will stop at nothing to achieve his goals… Doesn’t he fear my reckoning afterward?”

She Denke grew a little impatient. “Tell me if you’ll do it or not,” he said. “I have several other places to go; I’m very busy tonight.”

Liang Gou’er closed his eyes in contemplation.

When he opened his eyes again, he drained the wine from the glazed goblet. “Tell him,” he said, “as he wishes.”

She Denke quickly departed.

As he left, he glanced at the heavy snow falling from the sky, then clutched his collar with his right hand and hurried away, head down.

In the early hours of the morning, it was still pitch black.

Hoofbeats echoed outside Luocheng Granary. A soldier on the watchtower, holding a lantern, squinted. “Who’s there!?” he called.

The next moment, he saw Zhang Zhuo, dressed in a red official’s robe, riding through the wind and snow. Behind him, he led over a hundred garrison soldiers.

Zhang Zhuo reined in his horse before the stockade gate and said coldly, “Open the gates!”

The stockade gate slowly opened. A deputy general, pulling up his trousers, ran out. “Lord Zhang,” he asked, “why have you come so late at night?”

Zhang Zhuo lifted his chin. “Wake all the soldiers,” he commanded. “The transport of autumn grain and tax silver was delayed due to the rebellion. Tomorrow, we must gather and transport them out.”

The deputy general was startled. “My Lord,” he exclaimed, “why such haste? Just gathering all the autumn grain will take three days… And we haven’t even informed the Grand Canal Gang. They might not have large cargo ships waiting at the docks.”

Zhang Zhuo scoffed. “Are you in charge of Luocheng, or am I?” he demanded. “Just prepare as I instruct. By the hour of Shen (3-5 PM) this evening, transport whatever quantity is ready.” The deputy general hesitated.

Zhang Zhuo, still on horseback, looked down at him. “This official executed a deputy general here before,” he warned. “I wouldn’t hesitate to execute another.”

The deputy general hastily bowed his head. “Yes, this humble officer understands,” he said.

At this point, Zhang Zhuo added, “Oh, and the grain transport route needs to be changed. This time, go through Guangji Street before escorting it to the docks, to prevent bandits from familiarizing themselves with our route and setting up an ambush.”

The deputy general looked puzzled. “My Lord,” he said, “Luocheng is crawling with eunuch faction enforcers now. No matter how formidable the bandits in the jianghu are, they wouldn’t dare rob official grain or silver, even if they had nine heads!”

Zhang Zhuo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I said, you do,” he stated. “Why so many questions?” The deputy general flinched. “This humble officer understands!”

The sound of roosters crowing filled the air. Zhang Zhuo looked up at a faint sliver of white light on the horizon. It was the hour of Mao (5 AM – 7 AM).

Among the garrison soldiers behind him, Zhang Zheng, hidden within the ranks, slowly rode forward. “Father,” he asked, “will there be enough time?”

Zhang Zhuo pondered for a moment. “There should be enough time…” he replied. “This matter is of great importance. I am essentially staking the Zhang family’s scholarly fortune on this.”

Zhang Zheng chuckled. “It’s fine. Anyway, my elder brother and I aren’t suited for official positions.” Zhang Zhuo’s eyes widened. “How dare you say that?”

Zhang Zheng quickly changed the subject. “By the way, Father,” he asked, “where’s little sister?” Zhang Zhuo looked into the darkness. “She has her own tasks to attend to,” he replied.

By late morning, the sky was fully bright. The small courtyard of Taiping Medical Clinic was already covered in thick snow.

The snow on Anxi Street had been cleared by the shopkeepers, but the snow in front of the medical clinic remained untouched.

Old Man Yao stood behind the counter in the main hall, taking patients’ pulses and dispensing medicine. When there were no more patients, he would occasionally peek into the backyard to see if Chen Ji had woken up.

Wuyun, paws tucked, meowed beside him. “Master,” she said, “is Chen Ji sick? He never used to sleep in.”

Old Man Yao scoffed. “Sick? What sickness?” he said. “Someone who has entered the Mountain Lord’s path heals quickly from external injuries. How could he get sick so easily?”

“Oh… Then why isn’t he up yet?”

Old Man Yao stood behind the counter, his hands tucked into his sleeves.

He looked at the snow in front of the door and casually replied, “Perhaps there’s nothing left to look forward to.”

Winter hotpot, evening wine – none of it mattered much anymore.

Meanwhile, in the apprentice’s dormitory, Chen Ji lay with open eyes, gazing at the ceiling beams. He watched the dust motes floating up and down in the air, lost in thought.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Chen Ji got up, changed into a brand-new black winter coat, and took the bamboo broom from the courtyard, heading out.

Seeing Old Man Yao and Wuyun, he greeted them with a smile, “Morning!” Old Man Yao glanced at him. “So you decided to get up?” he scoffed. “What, were you planning to wait for me to clear the snow? Dressed so smartly, are you off to Red Garment Lane?”

Chen Ji chuckled. “Don’t be angry, Master, I’ll go sweep the snow now,” he said. “Tonight I’m hosting a banquet for my colleagues, so I dressed formally.”

As he spoke, the crisp sound of brass bells echoed from afar on Anxi Street.

The next moment, thirty-two monks, clad in gray robes, their shoulders bared to the cold winter air, steadily carried an immense Sumeru throne and a statue of Guanyin of Great Freedom.

Beside the Sumeru throne, monks held brass bells in their left hands and incense in their right. Occasionally, their left and right hands would meet, creating dazzling sparks and crisp sounds as the incense and bells struck each other.

Wherever they passed, the common folk prostrated themselves on the ground.

A wealthy household, surnamed Zhuang, was celebrating the 80th birthday of their elderly father. They had specifically donated incense and invited the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to parade and watch over the human world.

Chen Ji stood inside the doorway, hands pressed together in prayer, closing his eyes and quietly making a wish.

Old Man Yao watched his back and chuckled. “Going to kill someone tonight, so you’re getting some pre-emptive salvation?” he teased. “Didn’t you argue with Buddhist monks before? When did you become a devout Buddhist follower of the Sumeru throne?”

Chen Ji opened his eyes, smiled, and turned back. “Master,” he said, “since there are forty-nine heavens in this world, it never hurts to be extra prepared. What if the Bodhisattvas truly bless me today?”

Old Man Yao lowered his eyelids. “Look at the chaos in this human world,” he said. “If they truly possessed compassion, they should open their eyes and see.”

“Master,” Chen Ji asked curiously, “since Xu Shu and Hu Junyan could descend from the forty-nine heavens, there must also be a way to ascend, right?”

Old Man Yao looked up at him. “What, do you want to go up and see?” Chen Ji leaned on his bamboo broom and chuckled. “Just asking.”

Old Man Yao pondered for a moment behind the counter. “It is rumored that the forty-nine heavens are where immortals reside,” he said. “If one day you cross the Divine Path realm and transcend the tribulation to ascend, perhaps you can go up and become an immortal.”

Chen Ji’s eyes brightened slightly. “Master,” he asked, “has anyone successfully transcended the tribulation and ascended in recent years?” “Yes,” replied Old Man Yao.

“Master, do you want to become an immortal?” Old Man Yao scoffed dismissively. “If you don’t live to be a hundred thousand years old, what’s the point of being a celestial immortal?”

Chen Ji was taken aback. The remark seemed to hold a deeper meaning. He thoughtfully swept the snow in front of the door, slowly clearing it from noon until evening.

Once the last patch of snow was cleared, he turned and went inside to retrieve the ginseng he had bought earlier. In front of Old Man Yao, he swiftly transformed it into crystal beads, which Wuyun promptly swallowed, one by one.

Old Man Yao watched in silence for a long moment. Then he retrieved ten more ginseng roots from the main room and placed them on the counter.

Chen Ji looked up, gazing across the counter. “Master,” he asked, “how much are these ginseng roots?” Old Man Yao pushed the ginseng towards him. “This time,” he said, “they’re free.”

Chen Ji was astonished. “You mean…” he began.

“Don’t go before me,” Old Man Yao said expressionlessly.

Chen Ji grinned. He converted all the icy currents within him into molten flow. One hundred and ten internal furnaces blazed fiercely, and his eyes seemed to light up with stars.

Wuyun’s body suddenly grew in size. Originally only two palms wide, it was now as long as a forearm.

It shook its body, shedding loose fur that turned to dust in the air. Its newly grown fur was sleek and black.

Chen Ji placed Wuyun on his shoulder and walked out. As he reached the door, he turned to look at Old Man Yao, who was quietly watching him from behind the counter.

“One step, one heaven; a hundred steps, and you reach the clouds,” Old Man Yao said slowly. “Go, from now on, you are an inherent master.”

Chen Ji knelt and kowtowed three times to Old Man Yao, then rose and strode away with swift, purposeful steps.

Taiping Medical Clinic grew quiet once more. Old Man Yao idly fiddled with his abacus, though he didn’t seem to be calculating anything specific.

After a long silence, he took a handful of copper coins from his sleeve and scattered them on the counter. After observing the divination outcome, he gathered the coins and scattered them again.

He scattered them more than ten times, before letting out a sigh.

A crow flew into the room from somewhere, landing lightly on his shoulder, and cawed.

Old Man Yao said nothing, only gathering the copper coins. With his hands clasped behind his back, he slowly walked out of the medical clinic and into the setting sun.