In the blink of an eye, late autumn had arrived.
The ginkgo leaves had turned yellow, appearing even more brilliantly golden beneath the afternoon sunlight. The ancient temple’s bells rang out, while clouds drifted across the vast sky.
The bedroom door creaked open, and Mu Gesheng walked in with a robe draped over his shoulders.
“Second Brother, what’s for breakfast?”
His eyes were bleary with sleep, and his face was full of exhaustion. It was obvious he had only just woken up.
Song Wentong was wearing an apron and stir-frying tea leaves. Late autumn was the final harvest season for ginkgo leaves, and he had been spending his days by the stove lately. Hearing Mu Gesheng’s question, he immediately swung the spatula at him.
“Look at what damn time it is! And you still have the nerve to ask for breakfast?”
“What’s the big deal? It won’t interfere with my studies.” Mu Gesheng dodged the spatula with his eyes half closed, as though he had done it a thousand times before. He then reached into the cupboard and pulled out a basket of pastries. “Look at you. You clearly saved breakfast for me, yet you insist on pretending you don’t care. You go out of your way to play the bad guy. What’s the point of that?”
Song Wentong lifted the pan, looking ready to hurl it at him.
“I saved it to feed the dogs! Eat it or don’t!”
“I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it. Woof, woof, woof!” Mu Gesheng held a pastry between his teeth, made a face at him, and swiftly slipped out of the room.
Song Wentong naturally wasn’t about to let him get away so easily. Wielding the spatula, he chased after him. The two men shouted and hollered through the covered corridors, sending tea leaves flying everywhere and startling a flock of magpies into the air.
An Ping had grown accustomed to these two making a racket every single day. Compared with their usual antics, today’s incident was relatively minor. He had spent several months stumbling through this dream, watching their daily lives unfold. All he could think was that the buildings at Ginkgo Academy were remarkably sturdy. If these two had carried on like this at the Chai residence, who knew how many times the place would have collapsed by now?
By this point, he had more or less figured out the circumstances of his dream. It was probably some year during the Republic of China era, in an ancient city in the southeast.
Beyond the city stood a mountain. On the mountain was Whitewater Temple, and within the temple was Ginkgo Academy. The academy housed an impaired immortal who had three little demons under his care. None of them aspired to wreak havoc in Heaven, nor did they possess the noble spirit of vanquishing demons and monsters. In short, they spent every day eating, drinking, and waiting for death to come.
All things considered, they lived a remarkably comfortable life.
This ancient southeastern city was an important military stronghold. The city’s garrison commander had the surname Mu. Ordinary civilians didn’t understand military ranks, so they called him all sorts of things. Some called him Marshal Mu, others Commander Mu, and still others General Mu.
The Mu residence had an equally confusing assortment of names, including the General’s Residence, the Mu Mansion, and the Marshal’s Residence. The various titles were all thrown together in a jumble, and even now, An Ping still had no idea what official rank this Commander Mu actually held. He only knew that the man was probably someone very important. In any case, people addressed him respectfully as a military lord.
To be honest, An Ping wasn’t particularly interested in any of this.
What was truly remarkable, however, was that this Commander Mu was Mu Gesheng’s father.
Mu Gesheng was the only son of Commander Mu. He had entered Ginkgo Academy at Whitewater Temple when he was ten, but before that, he had practically grown up in military camps. His mother, the Commander’s wife, had died young, and the Mu household practiced a rather hands-off approach to parenting. When Mu Gesheng was only three, his father had simply tossed him into the military camp and left him there. From an early age, Mu Gesheng had absorbed more than enough of the rough, unruly habits of soldiers. After turning ten, he spent several years cultivating his character, eventually developing a veneer of refinement that was almost like a painted mask. He had become a well-mannered, scholarly-looking little demon who could wreak havoc wherever he went.
The two men ran and chased each other all the way down the corridor. An Ping had witnessed Song Wentong’s skills several times by now. The man’s handsomeness was directly proportional to his ferocity, while Mu Gesheng never confronted him head-on. Whenever he provoked Song Wentong, he would run faster than anyone else.
In the blink of an eye, Mu Gesheng darted into a room.
“Third Brother, save me! Second Brother’s trying to kill someone!”
The room was filled with desks, documents, and books. A man raised his head from behind a mountain of scrolls and asked helplessly, “What have you done to provoke him this time?”
Golden ginkgo leaves filled the view beyond the windows. Behind the writing desk sat a young man holding a brush and a book, his features gentle and refined. He was a handsome young scholar with the face of a jade statue.
What was most captivating, however, was his voice. Smooth as flowing water, it could calm a person’s mind with just a single sentence.
“Second Brother, why are you holding a spatula? Are you planning to requisition my study to stir-fry tea?”
Song Wentong stormed in and kicked the door open.
“Third Brother, don’t try to smooth things over! Say another word in his defense, and I’ll beat both of you up!”
“Mercy, great hero!” Third Brother said, then looked at Mu Gesheng and spread his hands. “See? I can’t save you.”
“That’s fine. Just lend me a place to hide.”
“You bastard, get out here!” Song Wentong stood at the doorway, pointing at Mu Gesheng’s nose and cursing. “Stop hiding like a coward!”
“Nope.” Mu Gesheng made a face at him. “This place of Third Brother’s is pretty nice. I’m sleeping here today, and that’s final.”
“You just got up, and now you’re going back to sleep?! Mu Gesheng, are you a pig?!”
Mu Gesheng covered his ears, pretending not to hear a thing, and continued eating the pastries in his hands.
Song Wentong was so furious that smoke practically poured from his ears. He kicked the door again and again, making it bang loudly. It looked as though he was about to kick the entire entrance off its hinges when Third Brother finally spoke.
“Second Brother, why don’t you leave him alone for now? You can’t leave the tea unattended for too long while stir-frying it. You didn’t put out the fire before coming here, did you? The kitchen might burn down if you’re not careful.”
Song Wentong exploded.
“Wu Zixu, are you taking his side again?!”
“How could I dare? Of course not.” The young man called Wu Zixu laughed. “Fourth Brother certainly won’t come out willingly. If you want to catch him, by all means, come in and get him. Just don’t turn my study upside down again. I haven’t even finished balancing this month’s accounts. With you two making such a racket, who knows how long it’ll take me to put everything back in order.”
An Ping remembered this incident. The last time Song Wentong and Mu Gesheng had caused trouble and wrecked the study, they had not only been punished with kneeling, but had also been made to help calculate the accounts while still on their knees. Even while doing the calculations, the two hadn’t stopped fooling around. Abacus beads flew everywhere, and by the following day, both men had bumps all over their heads.
Wu Zixu was born into the Wu family of the Yin-Yang School, one of the Seven Great Schools. He was the current head of the Wu family and held the title of Wuchangzi. Young and accomplished, he was refined and courteous. Unfortunately, he seemed to have been born with a life of endless toil. Every day, he rushed about dealing with family affairs, and whenever he had a spare moment, he had to mediate between his two fellow disciples.
An Ping had spent several months in this dream and had more or less figured out the circumstances around him. The only thing that remained a mystery was the “Seven Great Schools” that everyone kept mentioning.
So far, he had encountered three of them: Song Wentong, head of the Song family of the Mohist School, who held the title of Mozi; Wu Zixu, head of the Wu family of the Yin-Yang School, who held the title of Wuchangzi; and Chai Shuxin, head of the Chai family of the Medicinal School, who held the title of Lingshuzi. There was also the “disciple of the Heavenly Calculation School” mentioned by the master of Ginkgo Academy, though An Ping had no idea whether that had anything to do with the Seven Great Schools.
The heads of all three families were young men of considerable standing. Two of them were even studying at Ginkgo Academy. The academy must have had something special about it.
Yet after watching them for several months, An Ping had come to a different conclusion. The academy master spent his days burning incense and brewing tea. Mu Gesheng slept and cast divinations, while Song Wentong practiced his saber and picked fights. Aside from Wu Zixu, who frequently left to deal with family affairs, the place was essentially a retirement clubhouse for old cadres, complete with games of chess and cards. Occasionally, the academy master would summon them to read a few scrolls, but for the most part, they did nothing but eat, drink, and wait for death.
To put it simply—
This life was fucking fantastic!
Mu Gesheng, in particular, was a completely different person in private. Outside, he could maintain the appearance of a respectable young gentleman, but the moment he was among familiar company, his true nature emerged. He had no proper posture whether standing or sitting. He wasn’t spoiled or pampered like some young master; he was simply so lazy that it could drive both humans and ghosts insane.
Unless something genuinely interested him, no one could drag him even a single step out of the academy. He was like a sheltered young lady who never ventured outside, except that he spent most of his time either fighting with Song Wentong or lying down wherever he happened to be. His entire body seemed to have been reduced to a boneless heap, threatening to tarnish the proud reputation of the Commander’s household.
An Ping often watched him with gritted teeth, wishing he could pull out a few volumes of exam-preparation books and slap him across the face with them.
You’re having the time of your life now, but do you know that a hundred years from now, you’ll have repeated three years of school? Why don’t you spend some time doing your homework instead?!
Of all the people there, An Ping liked Wu Zixu the most. The man’s voice was simply too pleasant to listen to, and he was so gentle and refined that there probably wasn’t a problem in the world he couldn’t talk his way through, nor a task he couldn’t accomplish.
The only exception was probably when he found himself caught between Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong. In that situation, he was like Zhu Bajie looking into a mirror—ugly whichever way he turned, and wrong no matter what he did.
Song Wentong stormed off, his eyes practically spitting fire. Wu Zixu closed his book and smiled helplessly.
“Looks like Second Brother won’t be calming down anytime soon. I’m afraid your dinner tonight is going to be ruined.”
Ginkgo Academy was located within Whitewater Temple, but the academy and the temple generally went about their daily business independently. When mealtimes came around, the residents could eat at the temple, where simple vegetarian meals were served. However, no young man could possibly enjoy plain rice porridge and pickled vegetables every day.
Ginkgo Academy didn’t object to its residents preparing their own food, either. Of the three disciples, only Song Wentong had any real cooking skills. Mu Gesheng, meanwhile, mooched food off him every day, enjoying three meals a day, plus afternoon tea and late-night snacks.
An Ping had originally wondered why the two of them fought so often when Song Wentong seemed like such an easygoing person in other respects. After witnessing Mu Gesheng blow up the kitchen with his own eyes, however, he decided that Second Brother was a wise and admirable man after all.
Mu Gesheng brushed the pastry crumbs off his hands.
“It’s fine. I cast a divination a while ago, and it said I’d be going down the mountain today.”
“That’s unusual. Has something interesting come up again?”
“I’m going to apologize to someone.” Mu Gesheng spoke leisurely. “And take advantage of their hospitality while I’m at it.”
As the sun sank toward the horizon, Mu Gesheng descended the mountain and entered the city. He made his way to the Chai residence, climbed over the wall, and jumped inside.
An Ping felt a headache coming on.
Climbing over the wall to enter someone’s home? What a domineering way to apologize!
The buildings they had demolished last time had already been repaired. The gardens were deep and secluded, and the grounds were laid out in orderly fashion.
Mu Gesheng took out a Mountain Ghost Flower Coin and cast a divination. Then he leaped onto the eaves and made his way toward a separate building.
The building had two stories, with dark gray roof tiles and long, intricately carved windows on all four sides. Lamplight filtered through the fine gauze curtains, and faint voices could be heard from within.
Mu Gesheng lay sprawled across the rooftop, pressing his ear against the tiles as he listened. He had also pulled out a handful of sunflower seeds he had just pilfered, cracking them between his teeth as he eavesdropped.
“Beiping has already sent several urgent inquiries, asking when this batch of medicinal herbs will arrive. The major pharmacies have all run out of stock…”
“The end of the year is approaching. Some branches of the family will come to pay their respects before the year is over. They probably won’t be very pleased…”
“After all, he is still young…”
The room was filled with people murmuring among themselves.
Mu Gesheng listened for a while and gradually pieced together what had happened. The riverbanks were under martial law, and several shipments belonging to the Chai family had become stranded at the port, unable to be transported out. Supplies had been cut off for more than a month. Apparently, some Chai family patients in the north had already become seriously ill because they could no longer obtain their medication.
“This is a serious blow to our reputation.” An elderly man rose from his seat. “The Chai family of the Medicinal School has always practiced medicine to save lives and help the people. To possess the medicinal herbs but be unable to supply them is a physician’s failure. A shortage of stock is a small matter, but human lives are at stake. I urge the family head to resolve this matter as soon as possible.”
Chai Shuxin sat in the main seat, dressed in white, his expression cool and detached.
“Second Uncle, please rest assured. We have already arranged an emergency shipment of medicinal herbs from the Northeast. It will be more than enough to replenish our supplies within half a month.”
“That is good to hear. However, some of these herbs are native to the south, and their transportation by water must not be interrupted. You will have to devote more attention to resolving the port issue.”
“I understand.” Chai Shuxin replied indifferently, “Please have some tea, First Uncle.”
Mu Gesheng listened for a while, cracking sunflower seeds noisily as he clicked his tongue in admiration.
“Deep within these grand family estates, the drama really is even more entertaining than anything written in a theatrical script.”
An Ping had also begun to see what was going on. This matter was neither particularly serious nor entirely trivial; it could be treated as a minor inconvenience or blown up into a major crisis. Although Chai Shuxin was nominally the head of the Chai family, his uncles were clearly using the opportunity to issue veiled warnings and apply pressure. The young man sat alone in the main seat, surrounded by elders who were all taking turns lecturing him.
An Ping’s own family was also involved in business, so he recognized the situation. It was much like the way various relatives would show up during the holidays, ostensibly to pay their respects but really hoping to take advantage of the occasion to ask for money.
At least his family could still put on a lively show, whether genuine or otherwise. Downstairs, all that remained was a room full of polite words sharpened into weapons.
Mu Gesheng spat out a sunflower seed shell.
“Being rich isn’t necessarily a good thing. That little physician has it even harder than Third Brother.”
The Mu household wasn’t big on spoiling children. Mu Gesheng’s monthly allowance was practically nonexistent. Unlike his two classmates, who had become heads of their respective families at a young age, he was completely penniless. In exchange, however, he enjoyed a carefree life.
Song Wentong seemed to be involved in some kind of business. He occasionally went down the mountain to oversee things, but otherwise acted like a hands-off proprietor. Wu Zixu was by far the busiest of them all. The Wu family appeared to have an endless stream of work, and he spent nearly every day reviewing official documents or traveling on business. Every now and then, he even found time to handle the academy’s accounts.
Whenever Mu Gesheng had nothing better to do and was bored out of his mind, he would bring Wu Zixu some black sesame paste, claiming it would prevent the young man from going bald prematurely.
An Ping had actually once caught Wu Zixu looking into a mirror, sighing repeatedly at the dark circles beneath his eyes.
If Wu Zixu at least had the leisure to look in a mirror and lament his fate, Chai Shuxin wasn’t even that fortunate. Judging from what An Ping had seen, the young man didn’t seem to have a single person around him who could offer genuine support.
The people downstairs were probably all members of the Chai family’s extended clan. Every one of them put on the imposing airs of an elder, yet there was very little genuine warmth in their manner toward him.
What should have been a relatively minor matter had grown increasingly complicated as everyone went around in circles, repeating the same arguments in different words. The gathering lasted from dusk until late at night, when several of the older men finally grew too tired to continue.
“We have said all that needs to be said. Family Head, please take care of the matter yourself.”
Chai Shuxin’s expression barely changed. He rose and bowed politely.
“Take care, Third Uncle.”
The other man stroked his long beard and turned to leave.
“It is late. There is no need to see me out.”
“What impeccable manners,” Mu Gesheng muttered with a yawn. “That bastard even makes him bow in farewell. What a piece of work.”
For once, An Ping wholeheartedly agreed with Mu Gesheng.
The people in the room gradually dispersed. Chai Shuxin remained seated in the main chair, lowering his eyes to the teacup on the table. No one knew what he was thinking.
Mu Gesheng hung upside down from the eaves and knocked on the window.
“That tea has gone cold. Drinking it isn’t good for your health.”
Chai Shuxin’s hand paused as he poured the tea.
“Who’s there?”
“A kind soul on a cold night, here to comfort you in your hour of hardship.” Mu Gesheng pushed open the window and grinned. “Would you like some red-date, onion, and koi soup?”