Chapter 3: Sunrise

The town was neither large nor small, comprised of just over six hundred households. Chen Ping'an knew most of the poor families by their doors, but the homes of the wealthy were too grand for a mud-footed youth to enter. He had never even stepped foot in the wide alleys where the affluent resided, their streets paved with large, smooth flagstones that wouldn't splash mud on a rainy day. These stones, of excellent quality, had been polished smooth as mirrors by centuries of carts and footsteps.

The Lu, Li, Zhao, and Song families were the dominant clans in the town. They had funded the village school, and owned most of the large dragon kilns outside the city. The official residences of the kiln supervisors were located on the same street as these families.

Unfortunately, almost all ten letters Chen Ping'an had to deliver today were to the town's wealthiest residents. This made sense, of course. Like begets like, and those who could afford to send letters home were likely from well-off families; otherwise, they wouldn't have the means to travel afar. Nine of the letters were for just two areas: Fortune Deer Street and Peach Leaf Lane. The first time he stepped onto a flagstone as large as a bed, the boy felt uneasy, slowing his pace and feeling ashamed, as if his straw sandals were dirtying the street.

Chen Ping'an's first delivery was to the Lu family, whose ancestor had been gifted a jade scepter by the Emperor himself. Standing before their gate, the boy felt increasingly awkward.

The wealthy certainly had their standards. The Lu residence was not only large, but also flanked by two stone lions at the entrance, each as tall as a person, exuding an intimidating aura. Song Jixin said these things warded off evil, but Chen Ping'an had no idea what "evil" was. He was simply curious about the round stone ball seemingly held in the lion's mouth – how had they carved that? Chen Ping'an resisted the urge to touch the stone ball and walked up the steps, knocking on the bronze lion door knocker. Soon, a young man opened the door. Upon hearing that it was a letter, the man, expressionless, pinched the corner of the envelope with two fingers, took the letter, and quickly turned back into the house, slamming shut the gate adorned with colorful images of the God of Wealth.

The boy's subsequent deliveries were similarly unremarkable. At a quiet corner of Peach Leaf Lane, an elderly man with a kind face answered the door. After taking the letter, he smiled and said, "Young man, you've worked hard. Would you like to come in and rest, have some hot water?"

The boy smiled shyly, shook his head, and ran off.

The old man gently slipped the letter into his sleeve, not rushing back inside. He looked up at the distance, his vision cloudy.

Finally, his gaze lowered, from far to near, focusing on the peach trees lining the street. The seemingly senile old man then offered a faint smile.

The old man turned and left.

Soon after, a cute little yellow bird landed on a peach tree branch, its beak still tender, chirping softly.

"The oriole wanted to hold the flower, the peach blossoms of your family have not yet bloomed."

Chen Ping'an needed to deliver the final letter to the schoolteacher at the village school. On the way, he passed a fortune-telling stall manned by a young Taoist in a worn robe, sitting upright behind his table. He wore a tall hat resembling a blooming lotus flower.

Seeing the boy hurrying by, the young Taoist called out, "Young man, don't miss out! Draw a fortune stick, and I'll tell your fortune, predict your luck, and avert misfortune!"

Chen Ping'an didn't stop, but turned his head and waved.

The Taoist wasn't giving up. He leaned forward, raising his voice, "Young man, usually I charge ten coins to interpret a fortune stick, but today, I'll make an exception and only charge you three! Of course, if you draw a lucky stick, you can add an extra coin for good luck. And if you strike it rich with a supremely lucky stick, I'll still only charge you five coins, how about that?"

In the distance, Chen Ping'an's footsteps noticeably faltered. The young Taoist quickly rose, pressing his advantage, and called out, "Early in the morning, young man, you're my first customer. I'll just do this as a good deed to the end, as long as you sit down to draw a stick, I'll also, and this is just between you and me, write some yellow paper talismans that will bless your ancestors, accumulate blessings. It's hard to guarantee that I can get them reincarnated into wealth and nobility, but I can surely add a little extra good fortune, if you want to give it a shot."

Chen Ping'an paused, turning back with a hesitant expression, and sat down on the bench in front of the stall.

A plain Taoist and a poor boy, two penniless souls, sat facing each other.

The Taoist smiled, gesturing for the boy to pick up the fortune stick container.

Chen Ping'an hesitated, suddenly saying, "I won't draw a stick, can you just write me a yellow paper talisman?"

In Chen Ping'an's memory, this wandering Taoist had been in town for at least five or six years. He hadn't changed much, and was always friendly. He usually helped people read palms, tell fortunes, and draw sticks, and occasionally wrote letters for them. Interestingly, in all these years, no one in town, male or female, had ever drawn a supremely lucky or unlucky stick from the container of one hundred and eight bamboo sticks. It was as if all one hundred and eight sticks were good, with no bad luck to be found.

So, during festivals, the townsfolk accepted it, paying ten coins simply to get a good omen, but no one would come here to waste money when they were truly troubled. It would be unfair to call the Taoist a complete fraud; the town was small, and if he only knew how to deceive and cheat, he would have been chased out long ago. So, the young Taoist's skill was definitely not in physiognomy or interpreting fortune sticks. However, when it came to minor illnesses, many people recovered quickly after drinking a bowl of the Taoist's talisman water, which was quite effective.

The young Taoist shook his head, saying, "I'm honest in my dealings. I said I would interpret the stick and write a talisman for five coins."

Chen Ping'an retorted softly, "It was three coins."

The Taoist laughed, "What if you draw a supremely lucky stick? Then it's five coins."

Chen Ping'an made up his mind, reached for the stick container, and suddenly looked up, asking, "How did you know I had exactly five coins?"

The Taoist sat up straight, "I've always been accurate at seeing the thickness of a person's fortune and the amount of wealth."

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and picked up the stick container.

The Taoist smiled, "Young man, don't be nervous. If it's meant to be, it'll happen. If it's not, don't force it. Treat the impermanence of life with a calm heart, that is the best way to ensure everything goes well."

Chen Ping'an placed the stick container back on the table, looking serious, and asked, "Taoist priest, I'll give you all five coins. I won't draw a stick. Just please write the yellow paper talisman better than usual, alright?"

The Taoist's smile remained unchanged. He pondered for a moment and nodded, "Alright."

The brush, ink, inkstone, and paper were already prepared on the table. The Taoist carefully asked about Chen Ping'an's parents' names, hometown, and birthdays, then took out a yellow paper talisman and quickly wrote on it, finishing in one go.

As for what he wrote, Chen Ping'an had no idea.

Putting down his brush, the young Taoist picked up the talisman, blowing on the ink, "After you get home, stand inside the doorway and burn the talisman outside the threshold, and that's it."

The boy solemnly took the talisman, carefully putting it away, not forgetting to place the five copper coins on the table, bowing in thanks.

The young Taoist waved his hand, signaling the boy to go about his business.

Chen Ping'an ran off to deliver the last letter.

The Taoist leaned lazily back in his chair, glanced at the coins, bent over, and gathered them to himself.

Just then, a small and exquisite yellow bird swooped down from the sky to the tabletop, lightly pecking at one of the coins. Soon losing interest, it fluttered away.

"The oriole initially wanted to come with flowers, but the peach blossoms of your family have not yet bloomed."

After leisurely reciting this line of poetry, the Taoist waved his sleeve in a feigned gesture of nonchalance, sighing, "If your fate is eight feet, don't ask for ten."

With this wave of his sleeve, two bamboo sticks slipped out and fell to the ground. The Taoist cried out, quickly picking them up, and then looked around furtively. Seeing that no one was paying attention, he breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the two sticks back into his wide sleeve.

The young Taoist coughed, straightened his face, and continued to wait for his next customer.

He sighed to himself. It was definitely easier to make money off women.

In fact, the two bamboo sticks hidden in the young Taoist's sleeve, one was the luckiest one, the other was the unluckiest one, both were used to make the big money.

This was not for outsiders to know.

The boy naturally knew nothing of these mysterious secrets, walking with a light stride, arriving outside the village schoolhouse, surrounded by lush bamboo groves.

Chen Ping'an slowed his pace. Inside, a middle-aged man's rich voice echoed, "The sun rises brightly, the lambskin robe is soft."

Then came a chorus of neat, clear, childish voices, "The sun rises brightly, the lambskin robe is soft."

Chen Ping'an looked up, the rising sun blazing.

The boy was lost in thought.

When he came to his senses, the children were shaking their heads, reciting a passage according to the teacher's instructions: "At the time of awakening of insects, heaven and earth come to life, and all things begin to flourish. Sleep late and go to bed early, walk widely in the courtyard, the gentleman walks slowly, in order to live the aspirations..."

Chen Ping'an stood at the entrance of the school, hesitant.

A middle-aged scholar with slightly graying temples turned his head, walking gently out of the room.

Chen Ping'an handed the letter out with both hands, respectfully saying, "This is the teacher's letter."

The tall man in a green robe took the letter, saying warmly, "You can come here and listen when you're free."

Chen Ping'an was troubled, as he might not have time to listen to this teacher's lessons. The boy did not want to lie to him.

The man smiled, understandingly saying, "It doesn't matter, the principles are all in the books, but doing good is done outside the book. Go about your work."

Chen Ping'an breathed a sigh of relief, taking his leave.

After running far away, the boy turned back as if possessed.

He saw the teacher still standing at the entrance, his figure bathed in sunlight, looking like a celestial being from afar.