Chapter 183: Setting Out, Journeying to the Capital

Bees fluttered as they landed upon the morning glories climbing the fence wall. In the courtyard, the old tree gently swayed its branches beneath the midday sun; the shifting patches of light reflected in the water jar wavered and danced. From the kitchen opposite came the steady, upright sound of someone speaking.

“Though this old man is but modestly known in Fushui County, every young lord and woman in the city knows my name. In those years, I even set up on the street and called out to passersby—yes, yes, and that affair with the Chen family four years ago, this old man was there as well. It was Mr. Chen himself who invited this old man to expel a ghost.”

In the half-open kitchen, an oil lamp sat at one corner of the stove. Lu Laoshi was a mild and slow-tempered man. Hearing the old fellow beside him speak of the time he once took Liangsheng out to buy writing brushes, he only smiled faintly and passed the firewood into the stove mouth.

On the other side of the stove, the woman frying vegetables cast a suspicious glance.

“Then what are you doing at my house?”

Two steps from the door, beneath the wall, Wang Banxia leaned close to the wall, stroked his beard, and nodded slightly. His pair of pale eyes gazed toward the smoke-blackened beams as he let out two soft chuckles.

“This old man has also learned the arts of observing a person’s qi and reading the movements of the stars. From this, I learned that I share a karmic affinity with your honored son.”

Before the words had even finished, Li Jinhua, gripping the spatula, frowned deeply. Even Lu Laoshi parted his lips slightly, forgetting to pass the firewood into the stove.

Is he trying to take our Liangsheng as his disciple?

Creak.

The kitchen door opened. A scholar in a blue robe and white garments walked in. Wang Banxia, who had just spoken the words “karmic affinity” by the wall, hurriedly straightened his posture, then clasped his hands and bowed.

“Cheng’en pays respects to Master.”

Uh—

With a clang, the spatula in Li Jinhua’s hand fell into the wok. Over there, Lu Liangsheng set the washed vegetables onto the stove, hooked a finger to retrieve the spatula from the pot, placed it back into his mother’s hand, and spoke as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I haven’t said I would take you as a disciple. Besides, at your age, becoming a disciple is somewhat inappropriate, isn’t it?”

“Master, that isn’t right. This old man is only fifty-five— I just look older than I am.”

Wang Banxia chattered on without pause as he followed him out, moving along beneath the eaves by listening for the sound, stopping at the scholar’s doorway. His old face split into a grin so wide that the wrinkles piled up in layers.

“Besides, when it comes to cultivating the Dao, the one who attains it is the senior. It has nothing to do with age.”

This old fellow truly talked far too much, and his skin was thick as well. Lu Liangsheng could do nothing with him, so he let him mutter on and on. Taking advantage of a quiet moment, he dug out his old books, brushed off the dust, and placed them one by one back onto the bookshelf. In a few days, he would be setting out on a long journey; by then, who knew how much dust would gather.

“Master, do you know—back in Fushui County, when I called your honored father over, it was actually because I discovered that at the time Master had a grand fortune gathered above your crown, brimming with immortal qi.”

Within his blurred vision, he vaguely made out the busy silhouette of the scholar inside the room. Feeling his way along the door and the wall, he slowly entered.

“Master truly is a diligent man. Do you need this old man’s help? I’m not good at much else, but I do understand a bit of the art of observing qi. Otherwise, how could I have called your honored father over that day? Wasn’t it precisely because Master had a grand fortune gathered—”

He kept rephrasing the same line over and over, when suddenly his fingertips brushed against the paper hanging on the wall. With a sudden “aiyo”, Lu Liangsheng turned his face to glance over, only to see Honglian’s elongated fingernail poking him.

He could not help but smile faintly and continued tidying with his head lowered.

“Honglian, don’t cause trouble. He can’t see clearly—if he trips, he’ll only be able to spend his remaining years here in quiet retirement.”

“Hmph. This half-blind—back then, he was frightened half to death by this concubine(a way of referring to oneself). Timid as a mouse.”

Honglian withdrew her fingernail back into the painting. A moment later, her entire figure drifted out, lightly descending to the ground. The sudden surge of yin-cold aura made Wang Banxia shiver; that familiar sensation returned to his body.

“Ah—ah—”

He retreated two steps, nearly stumbling out the door, and looked into the room with trembling caution. Faintly, he could see a graceful shadow drifting back and forth before his eyes.

Gulp.

Unable to help himself, he swallowed and asked in a low voice, “Master, the ghost in your room, could it be the one from Master Chen’s household?”

“What do you think, old man?!”

Honglian seemed to be teasing him. From afar, she blew out a breath, brushing his mottled white beard until it plastered against his face.

“Well—well, Master…” Wang the Half-Blind forced down his saliva and clasped his hands in a respectful salute. “May I ask—could this one be the Master’s wife?”

Honglian, who had been about to continue her mischief, froze for a moment. The corners of her mouth lifted into a faint smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced toward the scholar, then hummed a little tune as she returned to the painting, swinging briskly on the swing.

Sensing the ghostly aura dissipate, Wang Banxia let out a gentle sigh of relief.

On the bed, the Toad Daoist—his eyes closed—opened his eyes and laughed. “Liangsheng, this old fellow is quite amusing.”

“Eh? Master, there’s someone else in your room?”

This time, Wang Banxia did not dare act rashly. He stood outside the doorway and asked in a low voice. Lu Liangsheng, who was tidying the bookshelf, walked over to the Four Treasures of the Study and replied casually,

“That is my master.”

“Then that would be Grandmaster.” Wang Banxia hurriedly clasped his hands and bowed deeply toward the room. “Grandmaster, please forgive me. This disciple’s disciple, Cheng’en, did not know you were inside. I shall come in at once to pay my respects.”

The old man shuffled in slowly. Not knowing where the Toad Daoist was, he vaguely saw what seemed like a figure sitting up on the bed. He dropped to his knees and kowtowed in greeting, making even Honglian in the painting laugh until her eyes nearly curved into crescent moons.

The room was filled with lively commotion.

After the midday meal, beneath the slightly slanted, scorching sunlight, Lu Laoshi drove his sturdy donkey, hitching it to the cart as he went out to haul some firewood. Li Jinhua worried about her husband’s clumsy hands; wiping the water from her own, she quickly followed after him. Lu Xiaoxian, too, slung her small satchel over her shoulder and hurried off to the private school.

In the courtyard, Wang Banxia sat on a stone bench, his wooden cane set beside him, listening to the cicadas’ cries.

“Grandmaster must surely be someone with the face of eternal youth and hair like a crane’s—an immortal bearing and Daoist bones, yes?”

On another stone bench beside him sat the Toad Daoist, short of stature, dressed in a small, short jacket.

“Hehe, this old man indeed is so. Thinking back to those years, when I rode the clouds and commanded the mists, crossing mountains and great rivers—whether those cultivating the Dao, demons, or ghosts, upon seeing this old man, all had to prostrate themselves upon the ground.”

“Ah, hearing Grandmaster speak thus, Cheng’en already sees the image in his mind—truly awe-inspiring and imposing. It even reminds me of Fushui County back then, of those crowds gathered around the stalls seeking divinations. What a grand sight it was.”

Zhi zhi—zhi.

The summer breeze was warm. Amid the vexing cries of cicadas and the mutual flattery of two old men, sunlight poured down. In the small courtyard, Lu Liangsheng held a book he had not opened in a long time, bathing in the light as he carefully reread the annotations his mentor had written in years past.

From time to time, he reached out for the clear tea Honglian had brewed beside him and took a small sip.

Sha sha sha.

The courtyard grew quiet, with only the sound of the old tree gently swaying its branches and leaves.

For three consecutive days, Lu Liangsheng spent nearly all his time in this manner—reading, cultivating the Dao, and going up the mountain to observe the condition of Veiled Moon Sword. By the morning of the fourth day, the spiritual accumulation ultimately stalled at the sixth strand of spiritual essence, unable to advance any further.

“Perhaps I need some refined objects imbued with spiritual qi?”

He sheathed the Veiled Moon Sword and withdrew the sword formation, then went before his mentor’s grave to light incense and bow in reverence. At this time, there were only a little over ten days left before the full moon of the Mid-Autumn Festival on the fifteenth of the eighth month.

Returning to the foot of the mountain, all preparations for the journey were already in order. The old donkey seemed to know it was time to set out; it came back from outside with the reins clenched in its teeth, tossed them onto the ground, and hopped about excitedly around the scholar.

Lu Laoshi carried the bookshelf out of the house and helped his son secure both the shelf and the reins onto the old donkey. Li Jinhua, her eyes reddened, checked her son’s silver.

“There’s still money at home. Once you’re out there, don’t treat yourself poorly. When the New Year comes, remember to come back.”

“I know, Mother.”

There was none of the heavy sadness from his first long journey. Once Lu Liangsheng finished packing, he did not allow his family or Lu Pan and the others to see him off. Leading the old donkey to the village entrance, he suddenly thought of Wang Banxia and looked back—sure enough, the old man stood among the crowd, waving at him.

“Master, go with peace of mind! Cheng’en’s eyes are inconvenient and his legs are not nimble, so I won’t be going along!”

This old fellow—still refusing to give up. He was probably planning to stay in Lu Family Village and wait for his return.

Lu Liangsheng smiled. He lifted his wide sleeves and bowed toward the gathered villagers at the entrance, then took up the hanging reins and led the old donkey—already pawing the ground impatiently—onto the road outside.

“Let’s go!”

The scholar sat crosswise on the donkey’s back, lightly patted its rump, and also called toward the bookshelf, “Master, sit steady!”

Inside the partitioned compartment, the Toad Daoist was rolling tobacco leaves he had learned to prepare from Wang Cheng’en. Beside him lay a small smoking pipe. Hearing his disciple’s voice—

His toad eyes suddenly bulged wide. “What?!”

The Toad Daoist’s body lurched violently to one side, then flew sideways in its entirety, slamming with a bang against the small partition wall. His tongue even shot out, and the rolled tobacco slipped from his webbed hand.

Hee-haw—hee-haa!

The donkey brayed loudly. A flash of electric light flickered beneath its hooves, and with a whoosh, it kicked up a long trail of dust along the muddy road, which drifted upward into the sky.

White clouds lay like tufts of cotton. Below them, the rising plume of dust stretched out in diverging paths, receding southwestward toward the border of Fulin Prefecture.

“Minister Min!”

A horse neighed sharply. Zuo Zhengyang, bearing four long sabers on his back, reined in hard at last, finally intercepting the fleeing old man.

“Please come back to the capital with Zuo. I ask that you do not make things difficult for me.”