Chapter 4: Yellow Bird

If Chen Pingan had never ventured to Fortune Deer Street or Peach Leaf Lane, he might have lived his entire life unaware of the dim and cramped nature of Mud Bottle Alley. Yet, far from feeling any sense of loss, the straw sandal-wearing boy finally felt a sense of peace. He smiled, reaching out with both hands, palms just touching the yellow mud walls on either side. He remembered how, just three or four years ago, only his fingertips could reach.

Arriving at his own house, he found the courtyard door wide open. Fearing a burglary, he rushed inside, only to see a tall, strapping youth sitting on the doorstep, leaning against the locked door, yawning in boredom. Seeing Chen Pingan, he jumped up as if stung, grabbed Chen Pingan's arm, and dragged him towards the house. He lowered his voice, saying, "Hurry and open the door! I have something important to tell you!"

Unable to break free, Chen Pingan was pulled to the door and forced to unlock it. The sturdy youth, two years his senior, quickly shoved Chen Pingan aside and tiptoed over to Chen Pingan's wooden plank bed, pressing his ear tightly against the wall, listening to the sounds from next door.

Chen Pingan asked, puzzled, "Liu Xianyang, what are you doing?"

The tall youth ignored Chen Pingan'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, his expression complex, a mix of relief and regret.

Liu Xianyang then noticed Chen Pingan engaged in a strange ritual, squatting inside the doorway, leaning outwards, using a thumb-sized stub of candle to burn a yellow paper talisman, the ashes falling outside the threshold. Chen Pingan seemed to be chanting something, but Liu Xianyang was too far away to hear clearly.

Liu Xianyang was the close disciple of Yao, the master craftsman of the renowned Dragon Kiln. As for the slow-witted Chen Pingan, the old man had never truly accepted him as a disciple. In that region, if a disciple hadn't offered a tea ceremony to the master, or if the master hadn't drunk that tea, then the master-disciple relationship wasn't officially established. Chen Pingan and Liu Xianyang weren't neighbors; their ancestral homes were quite far apart. The reason Liu Xianyang had introduced Chen Pingan to old man Yao was due to an old grudge from their younger days. Liu Xianyang had been a notorious troublemaker in the town. Before his grandfather's death, there was at least an elder to keep him in line. But after his grandfather passed away, the youth, tall and strong for his age of twelve or thirteen, became a headache for all the neighbors, a veritable demon king. Later, for some unknown reason, Liu Xianyang angered a group of Lu family youths and was cornered in Mud Bottle Alley, where they beat him mercilessly. The Lu youths were in their prime and didn't hold back, soon leaving Liu Xianyang coughing up blood. The dozen or so families living in Mud Bottle Alley were mostly lower-level kiln workers who barely scraped by, and they dared not get involved.

At the time, Song Jixin was fearless and cheerfully squatted on the wall, watching the spectacle, reveling in the chaos.

In the end, only one skinny child secretly slipped out of his courtyard and ran to the alley entrance, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Someone's dying! Someone's dying!"

Hearing the word "dying," the Lu family youths finally sobered up. Seeing Liu Xianyang covered in blood on the ground, the tall youth barely breathing, the wealthy young men were finally afraid. 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 to tease and bully him every few days. The orphan was stubborn and refused to cry no matter how Liu Xianyang tormented him, which only made the youth angrier. But then, one year, Liu Xianyang saw that the Chen orphan, it seemed, couldn't withstand the winter. Finally, his conscience was pricked. The youth, already apprenticed at the Dragon Kiln, took the orphan to the kiln located beside the Treasure Stream. It was dozens of miles west of town, a snowy mountain road. Liu Xianyang still couldn't understand how that charcoal-like little fellow, with legs as thin as bamboo poles, had managed to walk all the way to the kiln. Although old Yao finally kept Chen Pingan, he treated the two boys very differently. He would hit and scold his close disciple Liu Xianyang, but even a blind man could sense the good intentions behind it. For example, once he struck too hard, causing blood to seep from Liu Xianyang's forehead. The youth, thick-skinned, didn't feel much. But the old Yao felt regret. The taciturn old man, used to being stern in front of his disciple, couldn't bring himself to say anything. He paced in his house for most of the night, still worried about Liu Xianyang. Finally, he had Chen Pingan deliver a jar of ointment to Liu Xianyang.

Chen Pingan had always envied Liu Xianyang.

Not for his talent, strength, or popularity. He envied Liu Xianyang's fearlessness, his carefree attitude wherever he went, and his never feeling that living alone was something terrible. Liu Xianyang could quickly become friends with anyone, slapping backs, calling them brothers, and drinking and playing dice. Because his grandfather was ill, Liu Xianyang had become self-reliant early on, becoming a child king. Catching snakes, fishing, raiding bird nests, he was skilled at everything. Wooden bows, fishing rods, slingshots, bird traps, Liu Xianyang seemed to know how to make anything. Especially when it came to catching loach and eels in the rice paddies, the youth was undoubtedly the best in town. In fact, when Liu Xianyang dropped out of the village school, the teacher, Mr. Qi, had specifically visited Liu Xianyang's ailing grandfather, saying he wouldn't charge a penny, but Liu Xianyang stubbornly refused, saying he only wanted to earn money, not study. Mr. Qi said he would pay Liu Xianyang to be his book boy, but Liu Xianyang still refused. In truth, Liu Xianyang was doing well. Even after old Yao died and the Dragon Kiln was shut down, it wasn't long before he was spotted by a blacksmith from Riding Dragon Lane and began building a thatched hut and furnace on the south side of town, busily working.

Liu Xianyang watched Chen Pingan blow out the candle, placing it on the table, and asked softly, "Have you heard any strange noises in the early morning, like..."

Chen Pingan sat on the bench, waiting for him to continue.

Liu Xianyang hesitated for a moment, his face flushing slightly for once, "Like cats calling in the spring."

Chen Pingan asked, "Is it Song Jixin imitating a cat, or Zhi Gui?"Liu Xianyang rolled his eyes, ceasing his futile attempts at conversation, and placed his hands on the edge of the broken bed. He slowly bent his elbows, then straightened his arms, lifting his backside off the bed and his feet off the ground. Suspended in the air, he mocked, "What Zhigui? Her name is Wang Zhu! That Song fellow has always loved showing off, grabbing 'Zhigui' from who knows where, without any regard for its actual meaning. Wang Zhu is cursed to be stuck with such a master; otherwise, she wouldn't be suffering by Song Jixin's side."

Chen Ping'an didn't echo the tall youth's sentiments.

Liu Xianyang, still holding his pose, scoffed, "You really don't get it? Why did she stop talking to you after you helped Wang Zhu carry water once? I bet Song Jixin, that narrow-minded fool, got jealous, threatening Wang Zhu not to bat an eyelash in your direction. Otherwise, he'd enforce his family rules, break her legs, and toss her into Mud Bottle Alley..."

Chen Ping'an, unable to bear it any longer, interrupted, "Song Jixin isn't bad to her."

Liu Xianyang retorted angrily, "What do you know about good and bad?"

Chen Ping'an's eyes were clear as he quietly said, "Sometimes when she's working in the courtyard, Song Jixin sits on a stool, reading his local gazetteer. When she looks at him, she often smiles."

Liu Xianyang's eyes glazed over.

Suddenly, the flimsy wooden bed couldn't support Liu Xianyang's weight, snapping in two, and the tall youth landed on his backside.

Chen Ping'an crouched on the ground, clutching his head, sighing and groaning, feeling a headache coming on.

Liu Xianyang scratched his head, stood up, and without a word of apology, lightly kicked Chen Ping'an, grinning, "Alright, alright, it's just a small broken bed! I came today to bring you incredible news, worth more than your bed!"

Chen Ping'an looked up.

Liu Xianyang declared triumphantly, "My master Ruan left town and started digging some wells by the south stream. They didn't have enough hands at first, so they needed help. I mentioned you, saying there's this shorty who's strong enough. Master Ruan agreed, telling you to head over there in the next couple of days."

Chen Ping'an abruptly stood up, about to express his gratitude.

Liu Xianyang raised a hand, "Hold it, hold it! Great kindness doesn't need thanks! Just remember it in your heart!"

Chen Ping'an bared his teeth.

Liu Xianyang looked around. A fishing rod leaned against the wall, a slingshot lay by the window, and a wooden bow hung on the wall. The tall youth hesitated, then refrained from speaking.

He strode across the threshold, his boots deliberately avoiding the ashes of the talismans.

Chen Ping'an watched the tall figure.

Liu Xianyang suddenly turned around, facing Chen Ping'an, the tall youth bent at the waist, his feet on the ground, rushing forward a few steps, delivering a heavy punch, then retracting his fist and straightening up, laughing loudly, "Master Ruan told me in private that if I practice this fist technique for just a year, I'll be able to kill someone!"

Liu Xianyang, seemingly not satisfied, performed a strange leg movement, laughing, "This is called 'a good kick always goes to the groin,' kicking a donkey senseless!"

Finally, Liu Xianyang pointed his thumb at his chest, arrogantly declaring, "When Master Ruan taught me the fist technique, I had some thoughts and insights. I even discussed my understanding of Old Yao's unique porcelain technique, 'jumping knife,' with him. Master Ruan praised me as a once-in-a-century martial arts genius! From now on, just follow me, and you'll eat and drink your fill!"

Liu Xianyang, noticing the maid from next door had entered the house, suddenly lost his enthusiasm for playing the hero.

He casually said to Chen Ping'an, "Oh, right, when I passed the old locust tree, there was an old man calling himself a 'storyteller' setting up a stall there. He said he's gathered a bellyful of strange tales and interesting people, and he wants to tell them to us. Go take a look when you have time."

Chen Ping'an nodded.

Liu Xianyang strode away from Mud Bottle Alley.

Many tales circulated about this solitary and rebellious youth, but he liked to claim that his ancestors were generals who led armies, which is why his family possessed a suit of armor passed down through generations.

Called armor, Chen Ping'an had seen it once, and it was actually ugly, resembling warts on a person or the knots on an old tree.

However, Liu Xianyang's peers didn't see it that way, only saying that Liu Xianyang's ancestor was a deserter who fled to the town, became a live-in son-in-law, and was lucky enough to escape capture by the authorities. They spoke with certainty, as if they had personally witnessed Liu Xianyang's ancestor flee the battlefield and wander all the way to this town.

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment, then squatted beside the threshold, blowing away the ashes.

Song Jixin stood by the courtyard wall, his maid Zhigui by his side. He called out, "Do you want to go to the locust tree with us?"

Chen Ping'an looked up, "I don't."

Song Jixin twitched the corners of his mouth, "Boring."

He turned to his maid and smiled, "Zhigui, let's go! I'll buy you a whole general's-belly jar of peach blossom powder."

She blushed, "A small cricket jar is enough."

Song Jixin clasped his hands behind his back, held his head high, and strode forward, "My Song family, bells ringing and cauldrons feasting, generations of officials, how can we be petty? Wouldn't that be a disgrace to our family!"

Chen Ping'an sat on the threshold, rubbing his forehead. When Song Jixin didn't say those strange things, he wasn't bad, but in situations like this, Liu Xianyang would definitely say he wanted to smash Song Jixin's head with a brick.

Chen Ping'an leaned against the doorframe, thinking about tomorrow, which would probably be like today, and the day after tomorrow would be like tomorrow, repeating endlessly. And so Chen Ping'an would continue to walk this path for the rest of his life, until he was like Old Yao.

People eat earth for a lifetime, and earth eats people once.

Finally closing his eyes, and then opening them, would probably be a matter for the next life.

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

Stepping on bluestone slabs felt different from stepping in mud.

Liu Xianyang left the alley, passing the fortune-telling stall, and the young Taoist beckoned, "Come, come, your aura is like oil poured on a raging fire, definitely not a good omen! But fear not, this humble Taoist has a way to help you avert disaster..."Liu Xianyang was surprised. He remembered this Daoist priest used to offer fortune-telling services. Whether or not he was accurate was debatable, but he had never actively solicited business; it was always up to the individual to approach him. Could it be that with the closure of the Dragon Kiln by the imperial court, the Daoist was also suffering, unable to make ends meet, and thus preferred to err on the side of caution, not wanting to miss any opportunity? Liu Xianyang chuckled and scolded, "Your method is simply 'spend money to ward off disaster,' isn't it? Get lost, you old swindler! You want to trick money out of my pocket? In your next life!"

The young Daoist was not angered. He shouted loudly at the tall youth, "Hoping for prosperity all year round, who knows disaster lurks in your fate? Only in times of trouble do you think of the gods; if you want peace and stability, you should burn incense... You should burn incense!"

Suddenly, Liu Xianyang turned around and ran swiftly towards the fortune-telling stall, rubbing his fists as he shouted, "Burn incense, you say? I'll burn down your stall first!"

The Daoist was clearly frightened. He abandoned his stall and fled, shielding his head with his hands.

Liu Xianyang stood beside the stall, laughing heartily at the Daoist's disheveled figure. He noticed the bamboo container filled with fortune sticks and casually knocked it over. The sticks scattered across the table in a fan shape.

Liu Xianyang pointed at the Daoist, who had stopped some distance away, "I'll beat you every time I see you in the future!"

The young Daoist cupped his hands in apology, begging for mercy.

Only then did Liu Xianyang relent.

The young Daoist waited until the tall youth was far away before daring to sit down again, sighing, "The world is harsh, people's hearts are not what they used to be, making it difficult even for a poor Daoist to make a living."

Just then, the Daoist's eyes lit up. He quickly closed his eyes and proclaimed loudly, "The pond is full, frog songs chaotic, stinging one's gut is the human heart. Here, fame is like duckweed on water, only suitable to drift with the wind in all directions!"

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

The Daoist slightly opened one eye, realizing he was about to miss another opportunity. He slammed his hand on the table and raised his voice, "A top scholar is just a son of man, a prime minister is nothing more than a person of this world. Knowledge of heaven and earth makes one famous in the city, proud and full of spirit!"

Song Jixin and his maid, Zhigui, simply continued walking.

The Daoist was disheartened and muttered, "These days are unbearable."

Without warning, the youth turned his head and tossed a copper coin towards the young Daoist from afar, smiling brightly, "May your words bring good fortune!"

The Daoist hurriedly caught the coin and opened his palm to look at it, his brow furrowed. It was just one *wen*, the smallest denomination.

However...

The young Daoist gently placed the coin on the table.

In an instant, a yellow bird swooped down onto the table, its head bowed, gently pecking at the coin. It then held it in its beak, looked up at the young Daoist, its eyes intelligent and almost human.

The Daoist whispered, "Go, this place is not safe to stay."

The yellow bird vanished in a flash.

The young Daoist looked around, finally focusing his gaze on the tall memorial archway in the distance, directly facing the plaque with the four characters "Qi Chong Dou Niu" (Spirit Reaches the Heavens), sighing, "What a pity."

Finally, the Daoist added, "If it could be taken outside and sold, it would easily fetch a thousand or eight hundred taels of silver, wouldn't it?"