Chapter 6: Bad Omen

Chen Ping'an arrived at the east gate and saw the man sitting cross-legged on a tree stump at the gate, lazily basking in the early spring sun. He closed his eyes, humming a little tune, and patted his knees.

Chen Ping'an crouched down beside him. To the young man, the matter of debt collection was truly difficult to broach.

The boy could only quietly gaze at the wide road to the east, winding and long, like a thick yellow serpent.

He habitually grabbed a handful of dirt, clenching it in his palm, slowly kneading it.

He had followed Old Yao around the town, traversing mountains and ridges, carrying a heavy burden filled with hatchets, hoes, and various other tools. Under the old man's guidance, they would stop and go, and Chen Ping'an often needed to "eat dirt," grabbing a handful of soil and directly putting it in his mouth, chewing the dirt, and carefully savoring the taste. Over time, he became skilled at it. Chen Ping'an could clearly discern the soil's texture even with just a finger's grind. So much so that later, he could assess broken porcelain shards from old kilns in the market, identifying the kiln and even the master craftsman who fired them.

Although Old Yao was solitary and aloof, often scolding and hitting Chen Ping'an, there was once when Old Yao disliked Chen Ping'an's poor comprehension, calling him a blockhead. In anger, he left him in the wilderness and returned to the kiln alone. When the boy had walked sixty miles, nearing the dragon kiln, it was already late at night. That day, the rain poured down. As the boy stumbled through the mud, he finally saw a glimmer of light. The stubborn boy, after struggling to make a living on his own, felt the urge to cry for the first time.

But the boy never complained about the old man, much less held a grudge.

The boy came from a poor family and had not attended school, but he understood a principle beyond books: no one in the world, except one's parents, is obliged to treat you well.

And his parents had passed away early.

Chen Ping'an patiently spaced out. The slovenly man seemed to think he couldn't get away with it, so he opened his eyes and smiled, "It's just five copper coins. A man being so stingy won't amount to much in the future."

Chen Ping'an looked helpless. "Aren't you the one haggling?"

The man grinned, revealing a mouthful of uneven, yellow teeth, and chuckled, "So, if you don't want to become a bachelor like me, don't dwell on those five copper coins."

Chen Ping'an sighed, raised his head, and said seriously, "If you're tight on money, forget about the five copper coins. But let's make it clear in advance, one copper coin per letter in the future. No more debts."

The man, exuding a sour smell, turned his head and smiled. "Little guy, with your stubborn temperament, you'll easily suffer big losses in the future. Haven't you heard the saying, 'Suffering losses is a blessing'? If you're unwilling to suffer even small losses..."

He glanced at the dirt in the boy's hand, paused slightly, and teased, "You're destined to face the yellow earth and turn your back to the sky."

Chen Ping'an retorted, "Didn't I just say not to take the five copper coins? Doesn't that count as suffering a small loss?"

The man was somewhat embarrassed and annoyed. He waved his hand to shoo him away. "Get lost, get lost. It's tiring to talk to you, kid."

Chen Ping'an released his fingers, dropped the dirt, got up, and said, "The tree stump is damp..."

The man looked up and cursed with a smile, "Do I need you to teach me? Young people have strong Yang energy. You could bake pancakes on your butt!"

The man turned his head and glanced at the boy's back, muttered something under his breath, as if cursing the heavens.

The tutor, Mr. Qi, for some unknown reason, ended his lesson early today.

Behind the school was a courtyard with a low wooden door on the north side leading to a bamboo forest.

While Song Jixin and his maid were listening to stories under the old pagoda tree, he was summoned to play chess. Song Jixin was unwilling, but the person said it was Mr. Qi's wish to see if their chess skills had improved. Song Jixin held an inexplicable regard for the stern Mr. Qi, which could be described as both respect and fear. Therefore, since Mr. Qi had personally issued this edict, Song Jixin had to comply, but he insisted on waiting for the storyteller to finish the story before going to the backyard of the school. The young man in a green robe who helped deliver the message had no choice but to return home first, reminding Song Jixin not to arrive too late, repeating the same old refrain, that Mr. Qi was a stickler for rules and disliked those who broke their promises, and so on.

Song Jixin was digging his ears at the time, impatient, saying he knew, he knew.

When Song Jixin arrived at the backyard of the school with Zhi Gui, a cool breeze was blowing, and the refined young man in a green robe was sitting on the bench on the south side, as usual, upright and serious.

Song Jixin plopped down opposite the young man in green, facing south.

Mr. Qi sat to the west, always silent while watching chess.

Whenever his young master played chess, the maid, Zhi Gui, would take a walk in the bamboo forest to avoid disturbing the three "scholars." Today was no exception.

In this remote town, there was no so-called scholarly family, so scholars were rare.

According to the old rules established by Mr. Qi, Song Jixin and the young man in green would draw lots to determine who would go first with the black pieces.

Song Jixin and his peer had started learning chess almost at the same time, but Song Jixin was naturally intelligent, and his chess skills improved rapidly. Therefore, Mr. Qi, who taught them chess, regarded him as a high-level player. When drawing lots, Song Jixin would first take a handful of white pieces from the chess box, a varying number, kept secret from the other. The young man in green would then take out one or two black pieces, guessing the odd or even number of white pieces. If he guessed correctly, he could go first with the black pieces, gaining the advantage. In the first two years of their matches, Song Jixin had never lost, whether playing white going second, or black going first.

However, Song Jixin was not very interested in playing chess, only doing it sporadically. On the other hand, the young man in green, despite his inferior talent, was both a village school student and a book boy, spending time with Mr. Qi day and night. Even just watching the teacher sit in meditation and study chess scores benefited him greatly. Therefore, the young man in green went from occasionally winning by luck when playing black to now being able to have a fifty-fifty chance of winning against Song Jixin when playing black. The improvement in his chess skills was obvious. Mr. Qi did not say a word about this change, simply watching with folded arms.

Just as Song Jixin was about to grab a chess piece, Mr. Qi suddenly said, "Today, you will play a game of 'seat chess,' with white going first."

The two young men were at a loss, not knowing what "seat chess" was.

Mr. Qi explained the rules carefully, neither hurried nor slow. It was not complicated, simply placing two black and white pieces at the four star points.The middle-aged man moved the chess pieces with practiced ease, his movements flowing smoothly, a delight to watch.

The young scholar in a green robe, who usually adhered strictly to the rules, was stunned upon hearing the "bad news." He stared blankly at the chessboard before cautiously saying, "Sir, in this case, it seems many established formations are useless."

Song Jixin frowned and pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up and his brow relaxed. "It's because the chessboard's pattern has become smaller."

Then, as if seeking praise, Song Jixin looked up and asked with a smile, "Right, Mr. Qi?"

The middle-aged Confucian scholar nodded. "Indeed."

Song Jixin raised an eyebrow at his peer across the table and asked with a smile, "Should I let him have the first two moves? Otherwise, this fellow will definitely lose."

The other boy's face flushed crimson, and he mumbled incoherently. He knew very well that his increasing number of victories were not solely due to his improved skills. The main reason was that Song Jixin had become increasingly distracted during their games over the past two years, even bored. Song Jixin would deliberately make mistakes, or after gaining an advantageous position in the opening, he would risk everything to attempt a large-scale dragon kill.

For the exceptionally talented Song Jixin, whether the game was fun and interesting was his top priority.

But for the young scholar in green, from the moment he placed his first piece on the board, he was fixated on winning and losing.

Mr. Qi looked at his student, "You may play white and move first."

The young scholar in green then placed his pieces slowly, cautiously, advancing step by step. Song Jixin, on the other hand, moved with lightning speed, playing boldly and freely, like an antelope leaping over a chasm.

Their personalities were as different as heaven and earth.

After only eighty or so moves, the young scholar in green was utterly defeated, his head hanging low, his lips tightly pressed together.

Song Jixin rested his elbow on the table, propping up his cheek, and gently tapped the stone table with two fingers holding a chess piece as he stared at the board.

According to Mr. Qi's rules, in a game, one should concede silently by placing a piece, never uttering the words "I lost."

No matter how unwilling the young scholar in green was, he slowly placed a piece to concede.

Mr. Qi instructed his student, "Go practice your calligraphy. You don't need to clear the board. Write three hundred '永' characters."

The young scholar in green quickly stood up and respectfully bowed his farewell.

Only after the boy's figure disappeared did Song Jixin softly ask, "Are you leaving this place too, Sir?"

The refined scholar with streaks of white at his temples nodded. "I will leave within ten days."

Song Jixin smiled. "That's perfect. I can see you off, Sir."

The teacher hesitated for a moment, then finally said, "There's no need to see me off. Song Jixin, remember not to be too flamboyant when you leave the town. I have nothing of value, but you can take these three elementary books, *Xiaoxue*, *Liyue*, and *Guan Zhi*, and review them often. Know that reading a book a hundred times reveals its meaning. If you can read ten thousand books, your writing will flow like a river. The true meaning of this... you will understand it in time. As for these three miscellaneous books, *Jingwei* on arithmetic, *Taoli* on chess, and *Shanhaice* on essays, you may browse them at your leisure to cultivate your mind."

Song Jixin looked surprised and a little embarrassed, and boldly said, "Sir, you sound like you're 'entrusting an orphan,' which makes me uncomfortable."

Mr. Qi smiled warmly and said softly, "It's not as dramatic as you say. We will meet again someday."

The teacher's smile was like a warm spring breeze.

He suddenly said, "Go see Zhao Yao. Consider it an early farewell."

Song Jixin stood up and smiled. "Alright. Then I'll trouble you to clear the chessboard, Sir."

The boy ran off happily.

The middle-aged scholar bent down to gather the chess pieces, seemingly placing them haphazardly, but in fact, he picked them up in reverse order, first the black, then the white, starting with the last black piece Song Jixin had placed, not missing a single one.

At some point, the maidservant Zhigui had returned from the bamboo forest, but she stood outside the thatched gate, not entering the courtyard.

Without turning his head, he said in a low voice, "Take care."

The girl, who had grown up in Mud Bottle Lane, looked bewildered, gentle and weak, pitiful.

The gentle scholar revealed a hint of anger and slowly turned to look at her.

His gaze was cold.

The girl still looked confused.

Innocent.

The middle-aged scholar stood up, elegant and handsome, looked at the girl, and sneered, "Wicked spawn!"

The girl slowly withdrew the innocent look on her face, her eyes gradually becoming cold, a mocking smile appearing on her lips.

She seemed to be saying, What can you do to me?

She stared directly at the scholar.

Inside and outside the small courtyard, it was as if two pythons were facing off.

They looked at each other like mortal enemies.

In the distance, Song Jixin shouted, "Zhigui, let's go home."

The girl immediately stood on tiptoe and obediently replied, "Okay, Young Master."

She pushed open the thatched gate and ran past the teacher, and after running a few steps, she turned around and gave the departing scholar a respectful curtsy, her voice sweet and pleasant, "Sir, Zhigui is leaving now."

After a long time, the scholar sighed.

The spring breeze was warm, and the bamboo leaves swayed, like the sound of turning pages.

The young Taoist with a lotus crown was packing up his stall, sighing and lamenting. When familiar townsfolk asked him why, he only shook his head and didn't answer.

The last newly married woman who had once had her marriage fortune told here passed by, and seeing the young Taoist so unusual, she shyly stopped, her voice soft and sweet, asking questions while her watery eyes kept gazing at the young Taoist's handsome face.

The young Taoist subtly glanced at the woman, his eyes briefly drifting downwards to a certain well-endowed landscape, and then the Taoist swallowed and said a cryptic divination, "Today, I drew a lot for myself, an unlucky one, very ominous."