Sword Arrives

The town rarely saw outsiders, and with the official kiln—their main source of income—now shuttered, even fewer new faces graced their streets. In old Yao's heyday, he had once, under the influence of alcohol, revealed to his apprentices, including Chen Ping'an and Liu Xianyang, the unique nature of their business at the official kiln. They crafted porcelain exclusively for the emperor and empress, a privilege that came with dire consequences for anyone daring to lay a finger on it, no matter their wealth or status. That evening, old Yao had been unusually animated.

Now, as Chen Ping'an peered over the fence, he noticed several people waiting for the gate to open, no fewer than seven or eight in total, including men, women, and children, their faces etched with anticipation.

They were all unfamiliar faces, as the local townsfolk infrequently traversed the east gate for their routine tasks, be it porcelain firing or farming, due to the absence of royal kilns or fertile farmland along the road that exited through it.

At this juncture, Chen Ping'an and the outsiders found themselves on opposite sides of the wooden fence, mutually observing each other with intense scrutiny.

The youngster, clad in homemade straw sandals, couldn't help but feel a surge of envy for the thick, warm clothing worn by the outsiders.

The individuals beyond the gate were evidently not a cohesive group but rather a collection of several distinct entities. However, their collective gaze was directed towards the slender youngster within the gate. While most displayed indifferent expressions, a couple of them appeared to be looking beyond the youngster, their eyes fixed on the distant reaches of the town.

Chen Ping'an pondered whether these people were oblivious to the court's ban on royal kilns or if they were privy to the truth and saw this as an opportune moment.

A young man, adorned with an unconventional, towering hat and a trim physique, bore a green jade pendant at his waist. He exuded impatience as he stepped out of the throng, intending to swing open the unlocked fence gate. Yet, just as his fingertips brushed the wooden door, he halted abruptly, slowly retracting his hand. He then placed his hands behind his back, offering the straw-sandaled youngster within a broad smile, remaining silent and merely grinning.

Chen Ping'an, catching glimpses from the corner of his eye, observed the varied reactions among the individuals trailing the young man. Some appeared disappointed, others amused, a few frowning, and still others emitting sarcasm—each displaying subtle and distinct emotions.

At that precise moment, a middle-aged man with disheveled hair burst through the door, scolding Chen Ping'an, "You mischievous brat, are you greedy for money? Coming so early to haunt me like this, are you eager to reunite with your deceased parents in your next life?"

Chen Ping'an rolled his eyes, unfazed by the harsh remarks. Firstly, residing in this remote village with scant access to books, if one allowed themselves to be upset by a few curses, they might as well leap into a well for tranquility. Secondly, this bachelorly middle-aged gatekeeper was often the target of jests by the villagers, particularly those bold and fiery women who not only cursed him but occasionally resorted to physical altercations. Moreover, he loved to recount tales of valor to toddlers, boasting about how he once engaged in a fierce battle at the gate, leaving five or six burly men toothless and bloodied, soaking the entire three-meters -wide stretch before the gate in blood, rendering it as muddy as a rainy day!

In a foul mood, he addressed Chen Ping'an, "We'll deal with your nonsense at a later time."

Nobody in the town gave this fellow any credence.

Nonetheless, this man wielded the authority to determine whether outsiders could gain entrance to the town, a power over life and death in this context.

As he made his way towards the wooden fence gate, he reached down into his crotch area.

With his back turned to Chen Ping'an, this man unlocked the gate, occasionally accepting a small embroidered pouch from incoming individuals, slipping it into his sleeve before granting them access.

Chen Ping'an stepped aside promptly. The eight individuals entered the town, roughly divided into five groups. Among them was a young man adorned with a tall hat and a green pendant, accompanied by two children, approximately seven or eight years old. A boy clad in a festive red robe walked by, followed closely by a girl with a delicate complexion, resembling fine porcelain.

The boy stood almost a head shorter than Chen Ping'an. As the child brushed past him, his mouth opened slightly, though no sound escaped, but the clear shape of his lips revealed that he had spoken two provocative words.

The middle-aged woman who was holding the boy's hand coughed softly, gently reminding the child to tone down his behavior a bit.

Behind the boy stood a little girl, guided by a sturdy old man whose head was crowned with snow-white hair. She turned her attention to Chen Ping'an and spoke rapidly, her finger pointing at the boy who stood before her, around her own age.

Chen Ping'an couldn't comprehend a single word, but he suspected she was telling tales about him.

The sturdy old man cast a quick glance at Chen Ping'an, who wore straw sandals, whether intentionally or not.

That single glance was enough to make Chen Ping'an instinctively take a backward step, like a mouse encountering a cat.

After witnessing this scene, the little girl, who had been chatting excitedly like a little yellow sparrow, immediately lost her interest in fanning the flames and turned her head, not bothering to glance at Chen Ping'an again, as if looking at him any longer would soil her eyes.

Although Chen Ping'an is still young and relatively inexperienced in the complexities of life, he is not oblivious to the nuances of people's facial expressions.

After the group departed, the gatekeeper smiled warmly and inquired, "Want to know what they said?"

Chen Ping'an nodded in agreement, "Yes, please."

The middle-aged bachelor chuckled and replied, "They were just saying how handsome you are. All good stuff."

Chen Ping'an pulled at the corner of his mouth, thinking to himself, "Do you really think I'm that naive?"

Noticing Chen Ping'an's thoughts, the man laughed even louder. "If you weren't so naive, you wouldn't think I'd be sending you on a message-runnin' errand, would you?"

Chen Ping'an didn't dare to retort, fearing that if he provoked the man, the copper coins that were almost in his grasp would fly away.

The man turned his head, gazing at those people, and reached out to rub his scruffy chin, murmuring in a low voice with a click of his tongue: "That woman over there, her legs could squash a man to death."

Chen Ping'an hesitated for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him: "Did that lady practice martial arts?"

The man was taken aback, looking down at the youngster and saying solemnly, "Kid, you're really naive."

The youngster was utterly confused.

He asked Chen Ping'an to wait and strode towards the house. When he came back, he had a stack of envelopes in his hand, neither too thick nor too thin, roughly a dozen of them. After handing them to Chen Ping'an, he asked, "Foolish people have foolish luck, and good people are rewarded. Do you believe that?"

Chen Ping'an held the letters in one hand and spread out his other hand, blinking his eyes, "We agreed on one coin per letter."

The man, feeling embarrassed and angry, slammed the five copper coins he had prepared beforehand into the youngster's palm. With a sweep of his arm, he said boldly, "The remaining five coins, I owe you!"