The sky had just begun to brighten when the monks struck the morning bell. Its long, resonant toll echoed through the air, spreading throughout the entire city.
There was a pond inside the Ginkgo Study, filled with water lilies. A long bridge made of ebony stretched across the pond, leading to a waterside pavilion at the far end. When the Master of the Ginkgo Study was still alive, he had loved resting there. Whenever a gentle breeze stirred the curtains, the entire room would be filled with a quiet, refreshing coolness.
Wu Zixu stood on the covered walkway, gazing at the waterside pavilion in the distance.
“I remember that when the Master was alive, he called this pavilion ‘Autumn Sounds Adrift.’ When I was little, I couldn’t understand why. This place was clearly meant to provide relief from the summer heat, so why give it a name associated with autumn? Later, when I grew older, I thought perhaps the Master had witnessed every aspect of human life, and thus saw the world through eyes tinged with autumn’s chill.”
“When I was young, I simply made guesses for my own amusement and never thought to ask the Master for an explanation. Now, after all these years, it has actually become an unsolved mystery.” He smiled gently as he spoke. “Please forgive my rambling, Great Master.”
Standing beside Wu Zixu was a monk—the abbot of Whitewater Temple. The elderly man softly recited a Buddhist prayer.
“Amitabha. There is something the Impermanent One does not know.”
“Oh? Please enlighten me, Great Master.”
“When the Ginkgo Study was first built, this old monk was still young. At that time, the previous generation’s Mohist Master was still alive. He personally oversaw the construction of the entire study. When it was nearly complete, Whitewater Temple transported several cartloads of charred wood here. The Mohist Master asked the monks to help build the waterside pavilion in the pond, just as it stands today.”
The abbot slowly recounted the story. “This old monk was among them. Back then, I heard the Mohist Master say that this pavilion had originally been built somewhere else, and its original name had always been ‘Autumn Sounds Adrift.'”
“I see.” Wu Zixu suddenly understood. “Great Master, you said that the wood brought here was charred. Could it be that the pavilion had once been burned down?”
“I do not know. But when the wood was first brought here, it was indeed completely blackened by fire. It was only through the Mohist Master’s extraordinary craftsmanship that it was restored to its original form.” The abbot continued, “After enduring years of wind and rain, its original appearance from back then has naturally become difficult to discern.”
Wu Zixu pondered for a moment, then gathered his robes and bowed to the abbot.
“Thank you, Great Master, for clearing up my confusion.”
“People often encounter obstacles and confusion in life. Impermanent One, please speak freely,” the abbot said, pressing his palms together. “Decades have passed in the blink of an eye. It has been many years since the last time the various schools gathered at the Ginkgo Study.”
“That’s right. When the Master passed away last time, the Longevity Master of Penglai was unable to attend due to other matters. If I count carefully, ever since I took over as the Impermanent One, I have never seen all the schools gather together.” Wu Zixu gazed at the waterside pavilion in the distance and gave a bitter smile. “And today is no different. The Star Lodge Master hasn’t arrived, and there’s no guarantee the Fourth One will come either.”
Today, Wu Zixu was dressed in traditional attire: white robes and white socks, with wide sleeves and flowing garments. This was the custom for such gatherings. The waterside pavilion in the distance had also been expanded several times beyond its usual size. The mechanisms in the floor had been opened, extending outward until they occupied nearly half the pond. Seven white-paper screens had been placed on the sandalwood floor, arranged in a circle. In front of each screen stood an incense table with a bronze burner.
Three bronze incense burners had already been lit with ceremonial incense. Wisps of smoke drifted through the air. In front of each screen sat a white-clad figure, dressed just like Wu Zixu. Behind the screens stood numerous people in a row, each with their respective family crest embroidered on their lapels.
The Longevity Master of Penglai, Hua Bucheng.
The Zhu family elder, Zhu Baizhi.
The Spirit Pivot Master of the Medicine family, Chai Shuxin.
Wu Zixu stood where he was and watched for a moment before shaking his head and entering the waterside pavilion. The other three rose to greet him. After exchanging greetings, Wu Zixu sat down in front of one of the screens, drew a stick of ceremonial incense from his sleeve, lit it, and placed it in the burner.
Smoke filled the air. A moment later, two more figures appeared behind the Wu family’s screen. One was a judge in blue robes, holding a ceremonial tablet. The other was a young girl with her hair arranged in two buns and a white mask covering her face. It was none other than the Grand Tai Sui, Wu Nie.
Seeing this, Zhu Baizhi stroked his white beard. “Today is the day when all seven schools gather. Why has a judge from Fengdu appeared here?”
Before Wu Zixu could answer, Wu Nie yawned and cut him off.
“Well, well, old brother. You’re not dead yet?”
Zhu Baizhi was one of the most senior elders of the Vermilion Bird lineage, with nearly a thousand years of cultivation. Wu Nie, meanwhile, was the Grand Tai Sui and had settled in Fengdu more than nine hundred years ago. Both could be counted among the oldest members of the seven schools. Zhu Baizhi was lean and vigorous despite his age, with a red mark between his brows. At Wu Nie’s words, he glanced at her, where she was sprawled over the screen, and replied calmly, “It seems Elder Sister is in good health.”
“Not at all. I can’t compare with you, Brother. You have the appearance of a pine tree and a crane. If you walked outside like that, outsiders would think I was your granddaughter.”
“I wouldn’t dare show disrespect to your seniority, Elder Sister.”
Watching the two trade barbs, Wu Zixu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Wu Nie rarely attended the gatherings of the seven schools. First, she found them troublesome; second, she thought they were boring. But the Star Lodge Master was still young, and at the previous few gatherings, Zhu Baizhi had attended on his behalf. Zhu Baizhi was of senior rank and had never been fond of smiling or joking. Even the Master of the Ginkgo Study treated him with great courtesy. Mu Gesheng, on the other hand, had never known his place. Wu Zixu was worried that the other man’s careless remarks might offend Zhu Baizhi, so he had specifically invited Wu Nie. Between two evils, Zhu Baizhi would surely not take offense at a junior.
The exchange between Wu Nie and Zhu Baizhi had always been a running joke among the seven schools. Both were so old that neither could calculate exactly how many years the other had lived. Zhu Baizhi insisted that Wu Nie was older than him and refused to risk addressing her incorrectly. Wu Nie was even less willing to accept that. Being called Elder Sister by an old man made her sound like some wrinkled old hag. Neither would give way. The sight of two people who looked as though they belonged to the grandfather-and-granddaughter generation calling each other Brother and Elder Sister was genuinely rather amusing.
Still, among all seven schools, Wu Nie was the only one who dared to speak to someone like that. She wore a white paper mask that constantly changed its expression. One moment it showed a broad, toothy grin; the next, it looked as though it were about to burst into tears. Then it changed into a comical grimace, puckering its lips and baring its teeth at Zhu Baizhi. She was making quite a commotion.
The silence in the waterside pavilion was somewhat broken, and the atmosphere eased a little. Wu Zixu looked around and happened to meet Chai Shuxin’s gaze. The other man shifted his eyes, indicating the ceremonial incense in front of him.
There were rules governing the incense in the bronze burners. Each school would light its incense upon arrival, and it would continue burning until the last school’s incense had been lit. Anyone who had not arrived by then would be counted as absent.
Wu Zixu had lingered outside the waterside pavilion for quite some time. By now, even Chai Shuxin’s incense was nearly burned out. Only then had he finally entered, but he couldn’t delay things for much longer. A single stick of incense would last, at most, a little over half an hour.
Wu Zixu sighed and shook his head at Chai Shuxin. He truly couldn’t say whether Mu Gesheng would be willing to come.
At that moment, Mu Gesheng was drilling troops in the military camp outside the city.
He had introduced training methods from Western military academies. Although they were advanced, the soldiers had only just begun learning them and needed time to adapt. Commander Mu had said he was to defend the city, but in effect, he had thrown every matter, big and small, concerning the entire city onto Mu Gesheng’s shoulders. Aside from drilling the troops every day, there was also a mountain of other matters to handle. He was busy from dawn until late at night. Fortunately, he was already familiar with these things, and there were quite a few brothers in the military camp whom he had known for years. Apart from the hard work, he had gotten the hang of things very quickly.
Mu Gesheng had just finished inspecting the training and giving all the necessary instructions. He returned to take a shower. As soon as he came out, he saw Song Wentong standing outside the door, holding a set of white clothes in his arms.
“What is it?” Mu Gesheng looked at the things in Song Wentong’s hands. “Who died? Why are you here so early in the morning to mourn?”
“Go to the Ginkgo Study.”
“Some other day. I’m so busy these past couple of days I can barely keep my head above water. I’ve still got a pile of documents to read later… Oh, right, Second Brother, if you’re free, why don’t you help me drill the troops? There are a few fresh recruits who refuse to follow orders. Go beat the hell out of those little bastards for me.”
Song Wentong remained where he stood, simply looking at him without saying a word.
Unable to withstand his gaze, Mu Gesheng scratched his head. “Come on, seriously? We just fought a few days ago, and my waist is still bruised. You want another round?”
“I know we fought a few days ago,” Song Wentong finally replied. “You won.”
“Second Brother, don’t be so polite. I’m not used to it…”
“You won, so I’ll go with you.” Song Wentong interrupted him. “You understand perfectly well. Don’t fucking play dumb.”
Mu Gesheng swallowed the words stuck in his throat and stared at him with his neck stiffened.
Their eyes met.
In the end, Mu Gesheng was the first to back down. He sighed. “Those who know me understand that I am troubled; those who don’t wonder what I’m after.” As he spoke, he looked at Song Wentong with a bitter smile. “I give up. Knowing full well I don’t want to go, only you, Second Brother, would go this far.”
“Whether you go or not is one matter. Whether you take up the position of Heavenly Reckoner is another.” Song Wentong replied calmly, “As the Mohist Master, my responsibility is only to bring you there. If anyone tries to force you into anything after that, they’ll have to get past the saber in my hand first.”
“Fine.” Mu Geshen snatched the clothes from Song Wentong’s hands and carelessly crumpled them up. “We’ll find somewhere to change at the foot of the mountain. Wearing this in a military camp is practically asking to be shot. Just draw two red circles on it, and you’d have a perfect target.”
Inside the waterside pavilion, Wu Zixu’s incense was also nearing its end. Hua Bucheng said, “It’s almost time.”
Hua Bucheng was the current Changshengzi and also the sect leader of Penglai. Cultivators aged slowly, and the man before them, dressed in white with an ancient-style crown, had the appearance of a young man. His eyes held neither sorrow nor joy, resembling a white crane standing in the snow.
The Penglai lineage was distinguished by its sect, and it was also a cultivator of the immortal path. Hua Bucheng was moreover the oldest among the current Seven Sages, giving him an almost unrivaled position. However, Hua Bucheng had always been quiet and inactive, rarely appearing in the outside world over the years. He had not even attended the funeral when the Master of Ginkgo Studio passed away.
This was Wu Zixu’s first time meeting him, and he couldn’t figure out what the man intended. Even Wu Nie remained silent, his mask having turned into a blank white face.
It was Chai Shuxin who spoke up. “There are still fifteen minutes.”
Zhu Baizhi looked displeased. “When his mentor passed away, he didn’t come to pay his respects. Now that the Seven Families have gathered, he is still late. This Tian Suanzi…”
Hua Bucheng said calmly, “He is not yet Tian Suanzi.”
Chai Shuxin followed up, “The incense hasn’t burned out, so it doesn’t count as being late.”
“Ling Shuzi is right.”
A figure strode into the waterside pavilion. It was Song Wentong. He was dressed in white, with the Red-Licking Saber still strapped to his back. He thrust the incense stick in his hand into the incense burner.
“The Mo Family has arrived. I ask that everyone wait another half an hour.”
The expressions of the Seven Sages varied. A burst of whispered conversation came from behind the screen.
Song Wentong flicked his sleeve and sat down at the table. The Mo Family had been a single-line inheritance for generations, with no relatives or disciples. He was the only one among the Seven Sages whose space behind the screen was completely empty.
Wu Nie watched the scene inside the waterside pavilion, and his mask transformed into a huge laughing face.
Mu Geshen and Song Wentong had entered Ginkgo Studio together. At that moment, they were in the incense hall.
It was still summer. Outside the window, the ginkgo leaves remained green, and the rustling of branches and leaves drifted through the window. Sunlight filtered through the lattice, illuminating floating dust and casting mottled shadows from the trees.
Mu Geshen offered a stick of incense and said, “Master, I’ll light this incense here with you. I won’t take it into the waterside pavilion.”
“Back when we were at the Studio, everyone thought Senior Brother was far more promising than I was. I knew I wouldn’t stay at the Studio for long, so I treated those few years as a period of stolen leisure and never bothered to strive for anything. I was young and reckless. What’s past is past. When I get drunk in the future, it’ll make for a rare and beautiful dream.”
“I truly never expected you to pass the position of Tian Suanzi on to me. You know that soldiers contend with fate itself and have never believed in destiny. The forty-nine Shanguí flower coins are something this disciple is unworthy of accepting.”
“That year, when I received Second Brother’s letter and learned that Master had passed away, I kept thinking back in the middle of the night to the words you said when you first accepted me as your disciple.”
“I don’t ask you to possess profound understanding of righteousness. I only hope you can remain true to your conscience.”
“Now, with the world in such turmoil, I must consider every step carefully. I don’t think I have the ability to judge what is right or wrong.”
“Of all the things I could say, there is only one that matters: my country and my people.”
After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, a loud, clear recitation came from outside the waterside pavilion.
“Green, green are your collars; they linger in my heart.”
A young man arrived gracefully. His white, wide-sleeved robes billowed as he walked, his sleeves fluttering in the wind. He looked like a traveler returning from a spring outing, bathing by the water, enjoying the breeze at the Rain Altar, then singing as he made his way home.
The surroundings immediately fell silent. Everyone’s gaze converged on him.
The young man walked slowly into the waterside pavilion and stopped before Tian Suanzi’s screen. He bowed, then turned around and cupped his hands toward everyone, offering a quiet smile.
Everyone returned his greeting.
Zhu Baizhi was the first to speak. “Young Master Mu, why aren’t you taking a seat?”
“My Master held that position. As his disciple, I dare not sit there.” Song Wentong had already introduced everyone in the waterside pavilion to him. Mu Geshen performed the proper greeting of a junior. “Please forgive me, Elder Zhu.”
Zhu Baizhi was a straightforward man who never beat around the bush. He got straight to the point.
“So, does that mean you don’t intend to accept the position of Tian Suanzi?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I genuinely cannot.”
Hua Bucheng spoke up. “You were personally designated by the Master of Ginkgo Studio as his successor before his death. The disciple he chose would not be incapable of taking the position.”
Zhu Baizhi let out a cold laugh. “I’m afraid it’s simply that he isn’t willing.”
“Changshengzi.” Mu Geshen cupped his hands toward Hua Bucheng. “My Senior Brother is currently staying as a guest at Penglai. His abilities are several times greater than mine. He is undoubtedly a much better candidate.”
“Lin Juansheng has already joined my Penglai sect,” Hua Bucheng said calmly. “Before I came here, he asked me to bring you a message: ‘I will obey Master’s instructions.’”
“Since he has already joined your sect,” Song Wentong suddenly interjected, “I wonder whose instructions he intends to obey—our Master’s or yours?”
“There is no difference,” Hua Bucheng replied. “Back then, Penglai went to Ginkgo Studio to request one person, and a ten-year agreement was made. After arriving at Penglai, that person would not be allowed to leave the mountain gate for ten years. Tian Suanzi could calculate everything with unfailing accuracy. It was impossible for him not to have anticipated this.”
Song Wentong frowned. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Mozi once studied at Penglai as well. You have always been clever, so you should understand what I mean.”
Hua Bucheng glanced at Song Wentong before looking around at everyone in the waterside pavilion.
“The year Penglai made that agreement with Ginkgo Studio, the Master of Ginkgo Studio had already decided who would be the next Tian Suanzi.”
He had simply never said it outright.
Mu Geshen had also entertained this possibility before, but he had never wanted to think too deeply about it. Now that someone had suddenly brought it up, he was momentarily stunned.
He vaguely remembered that on that particular day, he had cast a divination before the Temple of the Matchmaker. It had been an auspicious day, favorable for travel.
Yet that same day, Lin Juansheng had left, Xing Xiuzi had arrived at Ginkgo Studio, and everyone except Master had gone down the mountain.
Everything that had happened at the Studio that day was something they had only learned about later from Master.
What exactly had happened that day?
So many things had taken place on the same day, yet he had never paid them any attention.
Had Master arranged it all deliberately?
And if so, what kind of scheme had he laid out?
Mu Geshen quickly regained his composure. Now was not the time to dwell on these questions. His immediate priority was to refuse the position of Tian Suanzi.
He straightened his back and spoke clearly.
“I believe everyone knows that I come from the Mu family, whose generations have served in the military.”
“That’s not true.” Zhu Baizhi said, “I’ve examined your family genealogy. Nineteen generations ago, the Mu family were teachers.”
Everyone was speechless.
Mu Geshen: “…”
“Old brother, weren’t you still a little chick back then?” Wu Nie interjected. “That was hundreds of years ago. Why are you still holding it against him?”
“Since Elder Zhu knows so much about my family, I presume you also understand my current circumstances.”
Mu Geshen smiled.
“I’ve just returned from studying overseas, and I’m bound to devote myself to the battlefield. If I rashly inherit the position among the Seven Families, with bullets and blades flying everywhere, should I lose my life, I’m afraid that would only create an even bigger problem for all of you.”
“These two matters are not mutually exclusive,” Zhu Baizhi said. “There have been quite a few Tian Suanzi throughout the generations who served in the military. Coming from the lineage of Tian Suanzi, you should understand this.”
“This junior understands.” Mu Geshen nodded, then changed the subject. “The seventh-generation Tian Suanzi came from a noble family. He accompanied the army on a distant expedition and defeated an enemy nation, after which he was stationed permanently at the border. The seventeenth-generation Tian Suanzi came from a poor family, joined the army as a young man, and eventually rose to the rank of a high-ranking minister and general. The twenty-third-generation Tian Suanzi entered the military camp as a strategist, but later defected to the enemy camp and personally murdered his former master. The twenty-sixth-generation Tian Suanzi knew that the empire was on the verge of collapse, yet refused to abandon his young lord. In the end, he was cut down by rebel troops beneath his horse…”
Mu Geshen continued speaking at length. Among the hundred generations of Tian Suanzi, he recounted one by one those who had served in the military. The entire room fell silent. His was the only voice ringing out clearly.
Finally, he let out a breath and slowly continued, “However, looking back through the generations of our ancestral masters, whether they advanced or retreated, attacked or defended, remained loyal or turned traitor, their motivations ultimately came down to just two words—Heaven’s Mandate. Every decision they made along the way was determined by the divinations cast using the forty-nine Shanguí flower coins.”
“Tian Suanzi calculates Heaven’s Mandate,” Zhu Baizhi said. “What’s wrong with that?”
“The Seven Families have continued for several thousand years, taking Heaven’s Mandate as their guiding principle. At critical moments, they make decisions and steer the course for all living beings,” Hua Bucheng said. “This is the very foundation of the Seven Families. When Tian Suanzi casts a divination, none of the Seven Families ever disobey its result.”
“You are right.” Mu Geshen smiled. “This is indeed the foundation of the Seven Families, but it is not the foundation of a soldier. Tian Suanzi calculates Heaven’s Mandate and acts according to the circumstances. Soldiers do not believe in fate, nor do they accept it.”
Zhu Baizhi’s expression darkened. “You insolent brat! Don’t speak such nonsense.”
“Mu Geshen comes from the Mu family,” Chai Shuxin said calmly. “What he says is the truth.”
“Everything this junior has said comes from the bottom of my heart.” Mu Geshen continued, “If one day I cast a divination that tells me to abandon my subordinates and defect to the enemy, I absolutely would not be able to do it. The lives of tens of thousands of people cannot be decided by forty-nine Shanguí flower coins.”
“When Heaven is not in season, the sun and moon lose their light. When Earth is not in season, plants and trees cannot grow. When Water is not in season, winds and waves never cease. When a person is not in season, fortune and prosperity do not flow smoothly.”
Hua Bucheng flicked his horsetail whisk, his expression calm and detached.
“Timing, fate, and fortune—you are still too young.”
“Forgive this junior for being presumptuous, Changshengzi.” Mu Geshen raised his voice. “I am young and reckless, so I dare to take this gamble.”
Under the sunlight, the young man shook open his sleeves and flung away his white robes, revealing a military uniform beneath.
In an instant, the entire place fell silent. A tremendous uproar immediately erupted from behind the screens.
“Everyone, be silent!”
Hua Bucheng flicked his horsetail whisk. His voice spread far and wide like ripples across water. He then looked at Mu Geshen and said, “The position among the Seven Families has never been something that can be forced upon anyone. If you insist on this decision, we cannot compel you either.”
Mu Geshen was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard the other man continue.
“There have been others like you in the Tian Suanzi lineage. However, the position of Tian Suanzi has never been left without a successor. It is not because those people eventually found another choice, but because, in the end, they all returned to the path of fate.”
“Everything is determined by fate. Not even the slightest part is within one’s own control.”
Hua Bucheng rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Mu Geshen.
“Sometimes, the price of youthful recklessness is not merely a few shallow tears and drops of blood. If you intend to contend with Heaven over your fate, you must be prepared.”
Mu Geshen smiled. He did not retreat even half a step. Instead, he cupped his hands and said, “This junior will remember your teachings.”