Some faces inspire trust at first glance, yet the truth hidden beneath may belie that initial impression.

Having encountered the scholar, Chen Ping’an walked halfway across Fulu Street, seeking to dispel the shadows clinging to his spirit. He quickened his pace, clutching a humble clay jar.

A warm smile graced the young scholar’s face as he approached. “You are Chen Ping’an,” he stated, “I am Li Xisheng, brother to Baoping. She is studying at the Shanya Academy. I have just received a letter from home. I scarce know how to repay you, friend, for your kindness to her. I hear you are devoted to your studies. Pray, visit my home often. My library is yours to peruse.”

Without pause, the young man gently took the pottery jar from Chen Ping’an, bowing low. “A debt of gratitude is owed for this kindness.”

Chen Ping’an felt a pang of awkwardness. Gesturing to the jar, he said, “Sir Li, within this vessel swims a mountain crucian. I sought it out on my return from the mountain as a gift for Baoping.”

Li Xisheng peered into the jar, watching the golden fish weave through its watery confines. Lifting his gaze, he sighed, “I have read of the marvels of mountain crucian in my ancestors’ writings. A golden crucian is a rare sight in this world. I never thought to witness it with my own eyes. Fear not, I shall care for it with the utmost care. Baoping will be overjoyed upon her return.”

Li Xisheng’s sincere enthusiasm, so uncommon in one of his station, left Chen Ping’an speechless. Though he and Cui Dongshan had labored together, enduring sore eyes from their search among the teeming school of crucian, this single fish, regardless of its recorded mystique, held little inherent value to him.

For those Chen Ping’an held dear, he would gladly offer his heart.

Unskilled in the art of effusive conversation, Chen Ping’an scratched his head, offering a hasty farewell. He turned to leave.

“Why not tarry a while at my home?” Li Xisheng called after him. “Let me escort you there today, that you might find your way to my library unguided thereafter. I shall inform the gatekeeper of your expected visits.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Another time, perhaps.”

Li Xisheng’s smile was one of gentle resignation. “Then allow me to deposit the crucian and return your jar?”

This time, Chen Ping’an offered no resistance. “I shall wait here, then.”

“A moment only,” Li Xisheng replied with a smile, and hurried away with the clay pot.

In that instant, the young man ceased to be a sage expounding ancient wisdom and instead resembled a simple elder brother, caring for his sister clad in a red coat.

Presently, Li Xisheng returned, not only with the empty pottery jar, but also with a stack of books tucked beneath his arm. As Chen Ping’an accepted the jar, he bent low to place it on the ground, rubbing his hands before accepting the books. Mimicking Li Xisheng, he clutched them beneath his arm. Finally, with an awkward grip, he hefted the jar. “I shall return these tomes when I am done.”

Li Xisheng smiled, his warmth akin to the touch of spring, and waved dismissively. “Bother not yourself with their return. Read at your leisure. They are far more obedient than Baoping, and will not wander off on their own.”

His jesting manner faded as he spoke seriously. “Chen Ping’an, do not think my invitation to read is mere courtesy. I truly desire your company. Though Baoping is clever, she is still but a child, and to keep her seated quietly with her books at home is harder than reaching for the stars. In recent years, it has felt as though I alone seek solace in the written word. And truth be told, it has grown rather tiresome.”

Li Xisheng had spoken a truth long hidden within his heart.

Were any of the Li family present, they would surely believe the sun had reversed its course.

For this eldest son of the Li, considered dull and predictable against the vibrancy of his younger brother Li Baozhen, maintained a kind demeanor towards all, yet spoke little and possessed scant humor. Rather than seeking companionship, he would retreat to his study, observing the sunrise and sunset, the wind, snow, and moon, searching for some hidden meaning in all that unfolded. Fortunately, being the eldest grandson and possessing a virtuous reputation, none within the household harbored ill will towards the future head of the family. Yet, to his brother Li Baozhen, he was a source of constant irritation.

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I shall come.”

Li Xisheng returned the gesture, waving farewell as the boy departed.

Watching Chen Ping’an’s retreating figure, Li Xisheng murmured, “I see how charming the green mountains are.”

A knowing smile played on his lips. “I wonder, what might the green mountains think of me?”

Turning towards the gate, Li Xisheng crossed the threshold, murmuring to himself, “Another wonderful day.”

Yet, as his thoughts turned to news from the capital, a sigh escaped his lips. Every family bore its own burdens. As he walked through the corridor, he laughed self-deprecatingly, “Do not let it dim the beauty of this day.”

A young maid, fair of face, paused as she met him in the corridor, offering a curtsy. “Young Master,” she spoke softly.

Li Xisheng, as was his custom, slowed his pace, offering a smile and a nod in return, and continued on his way.

The maid, gazing after him, could not help but sigh and inwardly lament, “The eldest son is a good man, but alas, he knows not how to appreciate beauty.”

Had it been the second young master, he would surely have paused to chat, praising her newly acquired headdress.

She knew not, of course.

The eldest grandson of the Li family, while perhaps lacking in the art of flirtation, possessed an appreciation for beauty in other forms.

Like a sudden rain revitalizing a withered lotus, the spring breeze rustling an iron horse, a beauty gazing into a bronze mirror, a general wielding a treasure knife, or heavy snow blanketing the green mountains.

All these, in his eyes, were the true beauties of the world.

Li Xisheng returned to his courtyard, where a small pool lay nestled amongst pebbles of myriad hues.

Kneeling beside the pool, he gazed into its crystalline depths, where a golden mountain crucian swam, heedless and free.

It was hard to imagine that this well-liked pool was all due to Li Baoping alone. Every time the little girl sneaks out, she will mostly go to Longxuxi to pick up stones. Over time, she will go to several pieces. Moving at home, one day, Li Baoping had a sudden idea. Seeing the stones piled up in the corners, he wanted to build a pool for his elder brother to raise fish and crabs. Li Xisheng couldn’t stop this and had to help with advice, but from the beginning Finally, Li Baoping is the only one who works. Li Xisheng, the eldest brother, wanted to help, but she was still unhappy.

Li Xisheng saw a small crab peeking from beneath a flagstone. “You two,” he chuckled, “try to get along. No fighting, now.”

He rose and entered his small study, the “Jielu,” where a plaque adorned the doorway. There, he laid paper, prepared his ink, and lifted his brush.

He painted a green pine, rendered in the style of ancient masters.

Setting down his brush, he examined his work, the ink still wet, its scent filling the air.

Finally, he exhaled gently upon the painting.

The green pine in the image swayed as if in a strong wind, and the snow that clung to its branches vanished in an instant.

————

Ruan Xiu, filled with joy, returned to the blacksmith’s shop, only to find her father not at the forge. After searching, she found him seated in a bamboo chair beneath the eaves, nursing a cup of wine.

“Father,” she asked, puzzled, “are you not working the iron?”

The middle-aged man shook his head.

Today was not a day for hammering pig iron, he thought. Though striking Chen Ping’an was a different matter entirely.

Ruan Xiu took a seat beside him. “Father, I forgot to bring you wine today. I shall go to town tomorrow and buy you a pot.”

She had added insult to injury.

The girl, of course, was unaware that her words were akin to pouring salt on her father’s wounds.

Ruan Qiong sighed, took a long draught of wine, and stared towards the distant Longxu River. “Xiuxiu,” he asked in a low voice, “do you…like Chen Ping’an?”

Ruan Xiu smiled. “I do.”

Hearing his daughter’s ready answer, Ruan Qiong felt a surge of relief. Perhaps, he thought, there was still time to avert disaster. “Do you know why I refused to accept Chen Ping’an as my disciple?”

Ruan Xiu frowned, confused. “But Father, did you not say that you held Chen Ping’an in high regard, but that you two were not suited as master and apprentice? And also, that my own proximity to him might draw unwanted attention from powerful forces? I understood your concern.”

Feeling as though his daughter had spoken all his own unspoken truths, Ruan Qiong was speechless. He stifled the words that threatened to escape his lips and took another large gulp of wine.

Drinking only deepened his unease. He had thought that knowing the truth, she would avoid Chen Ping’an. That she wouldn’t need the fleeting advantage he might offer, for she herself was a far greater opportunity! Yet, upon hearing of his return, she had rushed all the way from Qilong Lane to the stone arch bridge, only to feign a leisurely stroll towards the shop. Who was she trying to fool?

Ruan Qiong set down the wine pot and spoke calmly. “Qi Jingchun’s departure marks an end. While Longquan County faces no immediate threat, the arrival of a piece of rich fat from Lizhu Grotto Haven will bring jackals from every corner. Things are not as simple as you believe. It is easy to fix the danger that Chen Ping’an caused himself. Once you get involved, it will be difficult to solve.”

Ruan Xiu stretched out her legs, leaning back in the bamboo chair, and spoke lazily. “I know. In short, I shall practice diligently. Then I will see who dares cause trouble, and I won’t need Father to help me resolve anything.”

Another cascade of salt upon the open wound.

Ruan Qiong nearly choked on the anger that rose within him.

The retired soldier stood abruptly, giving his daughter a playful flick on the forehead as he passed. “Always siding with outsiders!”

The girl turned her head, the corners of her mouth curving upwards as she watched her father’s retreating back.

With no forge to tend or shop to oversee, the girl found herself with idle time. She gently shook her wrist.

The bracelet chimed “lively,” and the miniature fire dragon, roused from its slumber, began to circle slowly around her white and tender arm.

————

Ruan Qiong, heading towards the new sword furnace, found that in addition to the many young workers, he had also accepted three new disciples this year. For now, they are only registered and are not considered disciples. One of them, a youth with unusually long eyebrows, suddenly opened his eyes, having grasped some insight of the sword. He ran to Ruan Qiong and spoke softly, “Master, will you be making iron?”

Ruan Qiong shook his head, changed his mind, and walked towards Longxu River without going to the sword furnace. He wanted to personally consider the amount of the gloomy river water. If it was enough, he could open the furnace and cast the sword as agreed.

The long-browed youth followed closely behind.

Though the relationship of master and apprentice existed between them, they walked in companionable silence.

————

Chen Ping’an returned to the shop in Qilong Lane, handing the pottery jar to the child in green and the keys and books to the girl in the pink skirt, asking them to return to the ancestral home in Nipin Lane.

He walked alone towards the Yang family’s apothecary. Regardless of wind, rain, or sun, the Spring Festival couplets hanging on either side of the doorway were replaced each year, but the words inscribed upon them remained unchanged. They read: “I hope that all people in the world will not be sick. It would rather be ash on the stand.”

Chen Ping’an spoke to a young shop clerk, a new face, and learned that Old Man Yang was in the backyard. Passing through a side door, he saw the old man seated on a small stool, leaning forward, with raised legs, smoking his pipe.

Chen Ping’an remained silent, a rare restlessness stirring within him.

Old Man Yang spoke plainly. “You seek answers about your parents, yes? About the possibility of remaining here, as Gu Can’s father did?”

Chen Ping’an’s breath grew shallow.

“No.”

The old man exhaled a cloud of smoke and offered the blunt truth. “Because it would not be worth it.”

The boy lowered his head, saying nothing.

Only the heavily worn straw sandals he wore were visible, blurred by the dimness of the yard.