The sky was just beginning to lighten, the rooster yet to crow, but Chen Ping’an was already awake. The thin bedding offered little warmth, and besides, his time as a porcelain apprentice had instilled in him a habit of early rising and late sleeping. He opened the door to his humble abode and stepped into the small, earthen courtyard. Taking a deep breath, he stretched languidly before walking out. He turned his head to see a slender figure, bent low, carrying a wooden bucket of water in each hand. She was using her shoulder to push open her own courtyard gate. It was Song Jixin’s maidservant, likely returning from fetching water at the iron-chained well near Apricot Blossom Lane.

Chen Ping’an averted his gaze and hurried through the streets and alleys, jogging towards the eastern edge of the small town. Mud Bottle Lane lay to the west, while the eastern gate was manned by a man responsible for managing the comings and goings of traveling merchants and enforcing the nightly curfew. He also received and forwarded letters sent home from afar. Chen Ping’an’s next task was to deliver these letters to the townspeople, earning a single copper coin for each one – a source of income he had painstakingly secured. He had arranged to take over this small venture after the second day of the second month, when the dragon raised its head.

According to Song Jixin, he was simply born with a poor man’s fate. Even if good fortune entered his life, Chen Ping’an wouldn’t be able to hold onto it. Song Jixin often spoke in cryptic terms, likely drawing from the books he read. Chen Ping’an often struggled to understand. For instance, just a few days ago, Song Jixin had muttered something about “a biting spring chill that kills the young.” Chen Ping’an didn’t quite grasp it, though he was keenly aware that the period following winter could be even colder. Song Jixin explained that it was called “inverted spring chill,” as dangerous as a “returning spear” on the battlefield. Many people, he said, perished during these precarious times.

The small town wasn’t surrounded by walls. After all, even petty thieves were rare, let alone bandits or brigands. So, what was nominally the “city gate” was merely a row of dilapidated, leaning fences, barely providing a passageway for people and vehicles, and hardly a sight to be proud of.

As Chen Ping’an jogged past Apricot Blossom Lane, he saw several women and children gathered around the iron-chained well, the well’s pulley creaking incessantly.

Rounding another corner, he heard the familiar sound of reading aloud in the distance. There stood a village school, funded by a group of wealthy families in town. The teacher was from out of town, and when Chen Ping’an was younger, he often hid outside the window, crouching and listening intently. Although the teacher was strict during lessons, he never scolded or chased away the children, like Chen Ping’an, who were “borrowing” an education. Later, when Chen Ping’an became an apprentice at a dragon kiln outside town, he stopped visiting the school.

Further ahead, Chen Ping’an passed a stone memorial archway. Because the archway’s structure incorporated twelve stone pillars, the locals affectionately called it the “Crab Archway.” The actual name of the archway, however, was a point of contention between Song Jixin and Liu Yangxian. Song Jixin insisted that an ancient book called “Local County Annals” referred to it as the “Grand Scholar Archway,” an imperial gift from the Emperor to commemorate a distinguished official’s literary and military achievements. Liu Yangxian, a simple fellow like Chen Ping’an, scoffed, saying it had always been called “Crab Archway” for centuries, and there was no reason to call it by some nonsense name. Liu Yangxian even asked Song Jixin, “How big is a Grand Scholar’s hat anyway? Is it bigger than the opening of the iron-chained well?” The question left Song Jixin speechless, his face flushed.

Now, Chen Ping’an circled the twelve-legged archway, each side displaying four large, archaic characters that appeared different from one another: “Acting with Righteousness,” “Embracing Naturalness,” “Seeking Nothing Outward,” and “Qi Reaching the Dipper Constellation.” Song Jixin had said that all but one of the inscriptions had been smeared or altered at some point. Chen Ping’an didn’t understand them and had never pondered their meaning. Of course, even if the young man had wanted to delve deeper, it would have been futile. He didn’t even know what the “Local County Annals,” which Song Jixin often mentioned, was even about.

Not far beyond the archway stood a sprawling old locust tree. Beneath it was a tree trunk, moved there by someone and roughly hewn, with two bluestone slabs placed under each end, serving as a makeshift bench. During the summer, the townspeople loved to gather there to escape the heat. Wealthier families would even retrieve a basket of chilled fruits from their wells. The children, full and happy, would form groups and play under the shade of the tree.

Accustomed to trekking up mountains and down valleys, Chen Ping’an arrived at the gate, stopping before the solitary mud-brick house, neither breathless nor with his heart racing.

Few outsiders visited the small town. Logically, with the official kiln, once a money-making venture, now defunct, even fewer new faces should appear. Old Man Yao, when drunk, had once told Chen Ping’an and Liu Yangxian, “We are making the only official kiln business under the heavens, the imperial porcelain for His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress. Even if other people are rich, even if they are big officials, they will be beheaded if they dare to touch it.” That day, Old Man Yao’s spirit was particularly vibrant.

Today, however, as Chen Ping’an looked towards the gate, he saw several people waiting for it to open, no fewer than seven or eight, men, women, and children.

And they were all strangers. The local townspeople rarely used the eastern gate for their comings and goings, whether going to fire the kilns or work the fields. The reason was simple: the road extending from the eastern gate didn’t lead to any dragon kilns or farmland.

Now, Chen Ping’an and these outsiders stood separated by a wooden fence, gazing at each other.

At that moment, the young man in woven straw sandals simply envied the thick clothes of the others, which must have been very warm and good for keeping warm in the cold.

The people outside the gate were clearly divided into several groups, not a single party. However, they all looked at the thin young man inside the gate. Most of them had indifferent expressions, and occasionally one or two of them had already looked beyond the young man to the further town.

A young man wearing an odd tall crown, slender and tall, with a green jade pendant hanging from his waist, seemed impatient. He stepped out of the crowd on his own and wanted to push open the fence gate, which was unlocked. However, just as his fingers were about to touch the wooden door, he suddenly stopped, slowly withdrew his hand, put his hands behind his back, and looked at the grass sandals with a smile, without saying a word, just smiling.

Chen Ping’an inadvertently noticed from the corner of his eye that among the people behind the young man, some seemed disappointed, some playful, some frowning, and some sarcastic. The emotions were subtle and varied.

Just then, a middle-aged man with messy hair suddenly opened the door and cursed at Chen Ping’an, “You little bastard, are your eyes glued to money? Why are you here so early, calling for your life? Are you rushing to be reborn to see your dead parents?!”

Chen Ping’an rolled his eyes. The young man didn’t care about these mean words. First, living in this rural place with only a few books, if he got angry after being scolded a few times, he might as well jump into a well. Second, this middle-aged bachelor who guarded the gate was often ridiculed and teased by the townspeople, especially the bold and sassy women, who not only scolded him, but also beat him up. In addition, this man also liked to brag to the children in open-crotch pants, such as what a great battle he had in front of the city gate, and beat up five or six big men until they were looking for their teeth on the ground and covered in blood. The entire two-zhang-wide road in front of the city gate was like a muddy road on a rainy day!

He said unhappily to Chen Ping’an, “Let’s talk about your bad business later.”

No one in town took this guy seriously.

However, the man controlled the power to let outsiders enter the town.

As he walked towards the wooden fence gate, he reached out and fiddled with his crotch.

This man, with his back to Chen Ping’an, opened the door and from time to time collected a small embroidered bag from people, put it in his sleeve, and then let them pass one by one.

Chen Ping’an had already made way. The eight people were roughly divided into five groups and walked into the town. In addition to the young man wearing a tall crown and a green jade pendant, there were also two seven- or eight-year-old children. The boy was wearing a festive red robe, and the girl looked fair and tender, like a good piece of porcelain.

The boy was half a head shorter than Chen Ping’an. When the child passed by him, he opened his mouth. Although he didn’t make a sound, there was a clear shape of his mouth, and he should have said two words full of provocation.

The middle-aged woman holding the boy’s hand coughed slightly, and the child restrained himself a little.

Behind the woman and the boy, the little girl was led by a burly old man with snowy hair. She turned her head and said a lot to Chen Ping’an, not forgetting to point at the boy of the same age in front of her.

Chen Ping’an couldn’t understand what the girl was saying at all, but he could guess that she was complaining.

The burly old man glanced at the grass sandals.

Just by being glanced at intentionally or unintentionally, Chen Ping’an took a step back purely subconsciously.

Like a mouse seeing a cat.

Seeing this scene, the little girl, who had been chattering like a little canary, immediately lost interest in fanning the flames, turned her head and didn’t look at Chen Ping’an again, as if another look would soil her eyes.

The young man Chen Ping’an had indeed never seen the world, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t understand his expression.

When the group went away, the gatekeeper smiled and asked, “Do you want to know what they said?”

Chen Ping’an nodded and said, “I do.”

The middle-aged bachelor laughed and said with a grin, “They praised you for being good-looking. All good things.”

Chen Ping’an twitched the corners of his mouth and thought, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

The man saw through the young man’s thoughts and laughed even more happily. “If you weren’t stupid, would I let you deliver letters?”

Chen Ping’an didn’t dare to refute, for fear of angering this guy, and the copper coins he was about to get would fly away.

The man turned his head, looked at the people, reached out and rubbed his stubble, and whispered with a tsk, “That woman just now, her legs can pinch people to death.”

Chen Ping’an hesitated for a moment and asked curiously, “Has that lady practiced martial arts?”

The man was stunned, looked down at the young man, and said solemnly, “You kid, are really stupid.”

The young man was confused.

He told Chen Ping’an to wait, strode towards the house, and when he came back, he had a stack of envelopes in his hand, not thick or thin, about a dozen. After the man handed it to Chen Ping’an, he asked, “Stupid people have stupid luck, and good people have good rewards. Do you believe it?”

Chen Ping’an took the letter in one hand and spread out his palm in the other, blinking his eyes, “It was agreed that one letter would be one copper coin.”

The man became angry out of shame, slammed the five copper coins he had prepared beforehand into the young man’s palm, waved his big hand, and said heroically, “The remaining five copper coins, I’ll owe you first!”