Sword Arrives

As the sky began to gently brighten, though not quite the hour for the roosters' dawn chorus, Chen Ping'an had already risen from his bed. The meager quilt provided little warmth, a remnant of his apprenticeship days at the porcelain kiln, where early rises and late nights became a steadfast routine. He pushed open the door to his modest dwelling and stepped into the small yard, its soil soft underfoot. Taking a deep, invigorating breath and stretching his limbs, Chen prepared himself for the day ahead before venturing out. Upon turning his head, his gaze fell upon a graceful form bent in concentration, carrying a wooden bucket of water with both hands and using her shoulders to nudge open the gate of her courtyard. It was Song Jixin's maid, presumably returning from the Iron-Chained Well in Apricot Alley, her burden testament to her early morning labor.

Chen Ping'an discreetly averted his eyes and made his way through the labyrinthine streets and alleys, jogging towards the eastern side of the town. Mud Bottle Alley, where he resided, lay in the town's west, while the eastern gate was guarded by a diligent sentinel who oversaw commercial travel, conducted night patrols, and served as the conduit for letters arriving from beyond the town's borders. This was Chen Ping'an's next destination, as he had secured a modest yet steadfast means of livelihood: delivering these letters to the townsfolk, earning a hard-won copper coin for each one. He had taken over this task on the second day of the second lunar month.

According to Song Jixin, Chen Ping'an's destiny seemed entwined with poverty, as if fate itself refused to let him hold onto even the fleeting fortune that occasionally crossed his path. Song Jixin often spoke in cryptic, enigmatic terms, peppering his discourse with quotes from obscure texts that left Chen Ping'an scratching his head in confusion. For example, a couple of days prior, Song Jixin had muttered something about the bone-chilling cold of late spring capable of claiming the life of a young man, a statement that left Chen Ping'an utterly perplexed. Yet, the youngster had personally witnessed how, after the apparent warmth of winter's thaw, spring could unexpectedly revert to icy grip. Song Jixin referred to this phenomenon as "late spring cold," likening it to a sudden, devastating counterattack on the battlefield, one that could prove fatal to many.

The town itself lay unprotected by walls, as the area was relatively free of thieves and bandits. Consequently, what passed for a gate was nothing more than a line of decrepit, ramshackle fences, barely adequate as a narrow passage for pedestrians and carts, serving merely as a symbolic facade for the town.

As Chen Ping'an jogged by Apricot Alley, he noticed a cluster of women and children huddled around the Iron-Chained Well, their conversations blending with the incessant, creaky groans of the water wheel.

Upon rounding another corner, Chen Ping'an caught the familiar sound of reading emanating from a nearby location. There stood a modest rural schoolhouse, its establishment funded collaboratively by a handful of affluent town families. The teacher, an outsider, had brought his expertise from afar. During Chen Ping'an's younger years, he would often stealthily sneak over, crouching beside the window, and soaking in every word with rapt attention. Despite the teacher's stern demeanor during lessons, he never reprimanded or discouraged children like Chen Ping'an who "eavesdropped" on the sessions with avid curiosity. However, after Chen Ping'an embarked on his apprenticeship at a royal kiln situated beyond the town's borders, he never found his way back to that schoolhouse again.

Further ahead, Chen Ping'an came across a stone archway adorned with twelve majestic pillars, locally renowned as the Crab Archway. Song Jixin and Liu Xianyang held vastly differing views regarding its authentic name. Drawing from an ancient tome titled the Local Gazetteer, Song Jixin steadfastly contended that it was originally dubbed the University Scholar Archway, a royal accolade bestowed to commemorate a historical official's exceptional achievements in governance and martial valor. Conversely, Liu Xianyang, who shared Chen Ping'an's lack of sophistication, maintained that it had been known simply as the Crab Archway for centuries and saw no rationale in renaming it to something as obscure as the University Scholar Archway. Liu Xianyang even quizzically inquired of Song Jixin, "Just how grand is a university scholar's official hat? Larger than the mouth of the Iron-Chained Well?" This question left Song Jixin visibly flushed with embarrassment.

Chen Ping'an dashed around the impressive twelve-pillared archway, taking in the four bold, quirky characters etched into each side: "Be Righteous and Unyielding," "Let Words Be Rare and Natural," "Seek Not Outwardly," and "Vitality Soaring Like a Bull." Song Jixin revealed that, with the exception of one set, the other three inscriptions had been defaced and tampered with over time. Chen Ping'an, however, paid little heed to these details and had never given them much thought. Even if he had wanted to explore further, it would have been in vain, as he was unfamiliar with the Local Gazetteer, a publication Song Jixin frequently referenced.

Just past the archway stood a lush, ancient locust tree. Beneath its sprawling canopy, someone had thoughtfully positioned a slightly chopped-down tree trunk atop two emerald green stone slabs, creating a cozy makeshift bench. During the sweltering summers, the townsfolk loved to gather here for some relief from the heat. The wealthier families would bring baskets brimming with chilled fruits from the nearby well, and once the children had their fill, they would form little groups and play merrily in the cool shade beneath the tree.

Chen Ping'an, seasoned from years of climbing mountains and wading through rivers, arrived at the fence gate without the slightest sign of exertion. He came to a halt in front of the isolated yellow mud house, its solitude unbroken by visitors.