If Chen Ping’an had never ventured to Fulong Street or Peach Leaf Lane, perhaps he would have lived his entire life unaware of the dim and cramped nature of Mud Bottle Alley. However, the straw sandal-wearing boy felt no sense of loss; instead, he finally felt at peace. He smiled and stretched out his hands, his palms just touching the yellow mud walls on either side. He remembered that perhaps three or four years ago, he could only touch the walls with the tips of his fingers.

Reaching his house, he found the gate wide open. Thinking he had been robbed, the boy rushed into the courtyard, only to see a tall youth sitting on the threshold, leaning against the locked door, yawning listlessly. Upon seeing Chen Ping’an, he jumped up as if his tail were on fire, ran to Chen Ping’an, seized his arm, and dragged him towards the house. Lowering his voice, he said, “Hurry, open the door! I have something important to tell you!”

Chen Ping’an couldn’t break free from the fellow’s grip and was forced to open the door. The sturdy youth, two years older than him, quickly pushed Chen Ping’an aside and tiptoed to Chen Ping’an’s wooden plank bed, pressing his ear tightly against the wall to eavesdrop on the neighbors.

“Liu Xianyang, what are you doing?” Chen Ping’an asked, curious.

The tall youth ignored Chen Ping’an’s question. After about half an incense stick’s worth of time, Liu Xianyang returned to normal, sitting on the edge of the wooden bed with a complicated expression, a mix of relief and regret.

Only then did Liu Xianyang notice Chen Ping’an engaging in a strange activity. He was squatting inside the doorway, leaning outwards, using a stub of a candle, no bigger than a thumb, to burn a piece of yellow paper, the ashes falling outside the threshold. Chen Ping’an seemed to be chanting something, but Liu Xianyang was too far away to hear clearly.

Liu Xianyang was the close disciple of Old Yao, the master of the old Dragon Kiln. As for the slow-witted Chen Ping’an, the old man had never truly acknowledged him as a disciple. In those parts, a disciple who hadn’t offered a formal tea to the master, or whose tea the master hadn’t drunk, wasn’t considered a true disciple. Chen Ping’an and Liu Xianyang weren’t neighbors; their ancestral homes were quite far apart. The reason Liu Xianyang had introduced Chen Ping’an to Old Yao stemmed from an old grudge between the two youths. Liu Xianyang had once been a notorious troublemaker in the town. Before his grandfather’s death, there was at least an elder to keep him in check, but after his grandfather passed away, the twelve or thirteen-year-old youth, already as tall and strong as a young man, became a headache for everyone in the neighborhood. Later, for some reason, Liu Xianyang angered a group of the Lu family’s sons, who cornered him in Mud Bottle Alley and gave him a severe beating. The youths were at their peak vigor and didn’t hold back, and Liu Xianyang was soon spitting up blood. The ten-odd households in Mud Bottle Alley were mostly low-level artisans who relied on the Dragon Kiln for their livelihood and dared not interfere.

At the time, Song Jixin was fearless and happily squatted on the wall to watch the excitement, hoping for chaos.

In the end, only a scrawny child secretly slipped out of the courtyard and ran to the alley entrance, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Someone’s dying! Someone’s dying!”

Hearing the word “dying,” the Lu family’s sons were startled awake. Seeing Liu Xianyang on the ground, covered in blood and barely alive, the wealthy youths finally felt a wave of fear. They exchanged glances and fled from the other end of Mud Bottle Alley.

But after that, Liu Xianyang didn’t thank the child who had saved his life; instead, he came over every few days to tease and play pranks on him. The orphan was also stubborn and refused to cry no matter how Liu Xianyang bullied him, which only made the youth more resentful. Only later, one year, when Liu Xianyang saw that the little orphan named Chen seemed unable to survive the winter, did his conscience finally awaken. The youth, who was already apprenticed at the Dragon Kiln, took the orphan to the Dragon Kiln by the Bao Stream, a dozen miles west of the town, through snowy mountain roads. To this day, Liu Xianyang still can’t understand how the little fellow, who looked like a charcoal stick and whose legs were as thin as bamboo poles, managed to walk all the way to the Dragon Kiln. However, although Old Yao eventually kept Chen Ping’an, he treated the two of them very differently. He scolded and even hit his close disciple, Liu Xianyang, but even a blind man could sense the good intentions behind it. For example, once he hit Liu Xianyang too hard, causing blood to seep from his forehead. The youth, thick-skinned and not feeling much, was fine, but Old Yao, who was used to being stern in front of his disciples, felt very remorseful. Ashamed to say anything, he paced around his house for most of the night, still worried about Liu Xianyang. In the end, he had to call Chen Ping’an over to deliver a bottle of ointment to Liu Xianyang.

Chen Ping’an had always envied Liu Xianyang.

Not envying Liu Xianyang’s high talent, great strength, and good social skills. He only envied Liu Xianyang’s fearlessness, his carefree attitude wherever he went, and his never thinking that living alone was a bad thing. Wherever Liu Xianyang went and whomever he interacted with, he could quickly become familiar, call people brothers, drink, and play drinking games. Because of his grandfather’s poor health, Liu Xianyang had become self-reliant at a young age, becoming like a king among children. Catching snakes, catching fish, digging out bird nests, he was skilled in everything. Wooden bows, fishing rods, slingshots, bird cages, Liu Xianyang seemed to know how to do everything, especially in the countryside, catching loach and fishing for eels; the youth was undoubtedly the best in the town. In fact, when Liu Xianyang dropped out of the village school, the teacher, Mr. Qi, had even specifically sought out Liu Xianyang’s grandfather, who was bedridden, saying that he could teach Liu Xianyang for free, but Liu Xianyang stubbornly refused, saying that he only wanted to make money, not study. Mr. Qi said that he could pay Liu Xianyang to be his personal attendant, but Liu Xianyang still refused. In fact, Liu Xianyang was doing quite well. Even after Old Yao died and the Dragon Kiln was closed, it wasn’t long before a blacksmith from Riding Dragon Lane took a liking to him, and he began building a thatched hut and furnace south of the town, keeping busy.

Liu Xianyang watched Chen Ping’an blow out the candle and place it on the table, then asked in a low voice, “Have you ever heard strange noises in the early morning, like…”

Chen Ping’an sat on the stool, waiting for him to continue.

Liu Xianyang hesitated for a moment, his face reddening for the first time, “Like a cat meowing in spring.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Is it Song Jixin imitating a cat, or Zhi Gui?”

Liu Xianyang rolled his eyes, realizing he was talking to a brick wall. He placed his hands on the bed frame, slowly bending his elbows, then straightened his arms, lifting his buttocks off the bed and his feet off the ground. His buttocks悬in the air, he curled his lip disdainfully, “What Zhi Gui? It’s clearly called Wang Zhu. The Song kid has always liked to show off. He doesn’t care what the words mean. It’s bad luck for Wang Zhu to have such a master, otherwise she wouldn’t have to suffer by Song Jixin’s side.”

Chen Ping’an didn’t agree with the tall youth’s assessment.

Liu Xianyang, still in that position, snorted, “Do you really not understand? Why did she never talk to you again after you helped Wang Zhu carry a bucket of water once? Song Jixin, that petty person, must have been jealous and threatened Wang Zhu not to flirt with you, or he’d use the family rules. He’d not only break her legs but also throw her into Mud Bottle Alley…”

Chen Ping’an couldn’t bear to listen anymore, interrupting Liu Xianyang, “Song Jixin isn’t bad to her.”

Liu Xianyang was angered, “What do you know about good and bad?”

Chen Ping’an’s eyes were clear. He said softly, “Sometimes when she’s working in the courtyard, Song Jixin occasionally sits on the bench, reading his local gazetteer. When she looks at Song Jixin, she often smiles.”

Liu Xianyang’s eyes glazed over.

Suddenly, the thin wooden plank bed couldn’t bear Liu Xianyang’s weight, breaking in half, the tall youth landing heavily on the ground.

Chen Ping’an squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hands, sighing, feeling a bit of a headache.

Liu Xianyang scratched his head, stood up, and didn’t say anything apologetic. He just lightly kicked Chen Ping’an and grinned, “Alright, it’s just a broken bed. The reason I came today was to bring you huge news, much more valuable than your broken bed!”

Chen Ping’an looked up.

Liu Xianyang said proudly, “My Master Ruan left town and suddenly decided to dig some wells by the stream south of town. He didn’t have enough manpower, so he needed someone to help. I casually mentioned you, saying there was a shorty whose strength was decent. Master Ruan agreed and told you to go there yourself in the next couple of days.”

Chen Ping’an suddenly stood up, about to give his thanks.

Liu Xianyang raised a hand, “Hold on! Great kindness doesn’t need thanks! Just remember it!”

Chen Ping’an grimaced.

Liu Xianyang looked around. A fishing rod leaned against the corner of the wall, a slingshot lay by the window, and a wooden bow hung on the wall. The tall youth hesitated, but in the end, he held back.

He strode across the threshold, his boots clearly avoiding the ashes of the talisman paper.

Chen Ping’an watched the tall figure.

Liu Xianyang suddenly turned around, facing Chen Ping’an inside the threshold. The tall youth bent at the waist, his feet not leaving the ground, dashed forward a few steps, and threw a heavy punch. Then he retracted his fist, straightened his waist, and laughed loudly, “Master Ruan told me in private that I only need to practice this punch for a year to be able to kill someone!”

Liu Xianyang seemed to think it wasn’t enough and made a strange kicking motion, laughing, “This is called ‘a good leg must go for the groin, kick a donkey to death!'”

Finally, Liu Xianyang pointed his thumb at his chest, proudly saying, “When Master Ruan taught me the fist technique, I had some ideas and shared them with him, like my understanding of Old Yao’s unique ceramic technique, the ‘jumping knife’. Master Ruan praised me as a martial arts genius, one in a hundred years. Just follow me from now on, and you won’t lack good food and drink!”

Liu Xianyang caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the maid from next door entering the house, and suddenly he lost interest in playing the hero.

He casually said to Chen Ping’an, “Oh, right, when I passed by the old locust tree, there was an old man calling himself a ‘storyteller’ setting up a stall, saying he had a bellyful of interesting people and stories to tell us. You can go check it out when you have time.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

Liu Xianyang strode away from Mud Bottle Alley.

There were many rumors circulating about this independent and rebellious youth, but the youth liked to claim that his ancestors were generals who led troops, which was why his family had a treasure armor passed down through generations.

Speaking of the treasure armor, Chen Ping’an had seen it once with his own eyes. It was actually ugly, looking like warts on a person or knots on an old tree.

However, Liu Xianyang’s peers didn’t say so; they only said that Liu Xianyang’s ancestors were deserters who fled to the town and became live-in husbands, lucky to have escaped the government’s pursuit. They spoke as if they had personally witnessed Liu Xianyang’s ancestors fleeing the battlefield and wandering all the way to this town.

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, squatted by the threshold, and bowed his head to blow away the ashes.

Song Jixin stood by the courtyard wall, his maid Zhi Gui by his side. He called out, “Do you want to go play by the locust tree with us?”

Chen Ping’an looked up, “I’m not going.”

Song Jixin twitched his lips, “No fun.”

He turned to his maid and smiled, “Zhi Gui, let’s go! I’ll buy you a whole general’s belly jar of peach blossom powder.”

She said shyly, “A small cricket jar is enough.”

Song Jixin put his hands behind his back, held his head high, and strode forward, “We, the Song family, are people of wealth and high status. How can we be stingy? Wouldn’t that be a disgrace to the family?!”

Chen Ping’an sat on the threshold, rubbing his forehead. This Song Jixin, when he wasn’t saying strange and ridiculous things, didn’t seem so bad. But in situations like this, if Liu Xianyang were here, he would definitely say that he really wanted to smack Song Jixin in the back of the head with a brick.

Chen Ping’an leaned against the door, thinking about tomorrow, which would probably be like today, and the day after tomorrow, which would be like tomorrow. And so, Chen Ping’an would continue walking like this for the rest of his life, until he was almost like Old Yao.

People eat earth their whole lives, and earth eats people once.

Closing his eyes and opening them again might be a matter for the next life.

The youth looked down at the straw sandals on his feet and suddenly smiled.

Stepping on bluestone feels different than stepping in mud.

—

As Liu Xianyang left the alley, he passed by the fortune-telling stall. The young Daoist called out, “Come, come, your face indicates that your life is like a fire fueled with oil, definitely not a good omen. But don’t be afraid. This humble Daoist has a way to help you ward off disaster…”

Liu Xianyang was a little surprised. He remembered that this Daoist used to offer lottery interpretations, but he had never actively solicited business. It was almost entirely on a “willing to pay” basis. Could it be that now that the Dragon Kiln had been closed by the government, the Daoist was also having bad luck and couldn’t make ends meet, so he was willing to risk it to make some money? Liu Xianyang laughed and cursed, “Your method is to spend money to avoid disaster, right? Screw you. You want to swindle money from my pockets? In your next life!”

The young Daoist wasn’t angry. He shouted at the tall youth, “Hoping for everything to be prosperous this year, who knew there would be misfortune in your fate? You won’t think of the gods without disaster. To obtain peace, you must burn incense… you should burn incense…”

Liu Xianyang suddenly turned around, running quickly towards the fortune-telling stall, cracking his knuckles as he shouted, “Burn incense, huh? I’ll burn down your stall first!”

The Daoist was clearly frightened. He got up and didn’t even care about his stall, running away with his head in his hands.

Liu Xianyang stood by the stall, watching the Daoist’s pathetic figure, laughing loudly. He saw the bamboo tube on the table and casually reached out to knock it over, the bamboo sticks sliding out of the tube and spreading out on the table in a fan shape.

Liu Xianyang pointed at the Daoist, who had stopped in the distance, “I’ll beat you every time I see you!”

The young Daoist clasped his hands in a pleading gesture.

Only then did Liu Xianyang stop.

The young Daoist waited until the tall youth had walked far away before daring to sit down again, sighing, “The world is difficult, people’s hearts are not what they used to be. It’s hard for this humble Daoist to make a living.”

Just then, the Daoist’s eyes lit up. He quickly closed his eyes and said loudly, “The pond is full, the sound of frogs is chaotic. What pierces the heart is people’s hearts. Fame and fortune are like duckweed on water, only suitable for moving in all directions with the wind!”

The young couple clearly heard the Daoist’s words, but they showed no intention of stopping.

The Daoist slightly opened a seam in his eyes and, seeing that he was about to miss another opportunity, slapped the table and raised his voice, “The top scholar is just a child of man, and the prime minister is nothing more than a person in the world. His learning penetrates heaven and earth, his name moves the city, in high spirits, full of energy!”

Song Jixin and his maid Zhi Gui continued to walk forward.

The Daoist was disheartened, muttering, “This is no way to live.”

The young man suddenly turned his head, tossing a copper coin to the young Daoist from afar, smiling brightly, “I’ll take your auspicious words!”

The Daoist hastily caught the copper coin, opened his palm to look, and frowned. It was the smallest denomination, one copper.

However.

The young Daoist gently placed the copper coin on the table.

In an instant, a yellow bird fell quickly onto the table, lowered its head, gently pecking at the copper coin. Then it held it in its beak, looking up at the young Daoist, the yellow bird’s eyes intelligent, like a human.

The Daoist said softly, “Go, this place is not safe to stay long.”

The yellow bird disappeared in a flash.

The young Daoist looked around, his gaze finally resting on the tall memorial archway in the distance, directly facing the plaque with the four characters “Qi Chong Dou Niu,” feeling emotional. “What a pity.”

Finally, the Daoist added, “If I could take it outside to sell, it would be worth a thousand or eight hundred taels of silver, right?”