Sword Arrives

Song Jixin, accompanied by his maid Zhigui, arrived at the old locust tree, only to find it brimming with nearly fifty people gathered in its shade. They perched on benches and chairs they had brought from home, while children eagerly tugged their elders over to join in the lively scene.

Standing together at the edge of the shade, Song Jixin and Zhigui observed an elderly man stationed at the base of the tree. With one hand gripping a large white bowl and the other resting behind his back, his face was animated as he spoke loudly, "I've just discussed the general direction of the dragon vein. Now, let me regale you with tales of the true dragon. Wow, it's truly astonishing. Roughly three thousand years ago, an extraordinary immortal emerged in the world. First, he devoted himself to cultivation in a celestial cave, attaining enlightenment, and then he embarked on a solo journey across the globe, wielding a three-foot sword whose sharpness was unmatched. For some inexplicable reason, this individual harbored a deep-seated grudge against dragons. For three hundred years, wherever dragons dwelled, he slew them, eradicating true dragons from the world before finally vanishing without a trace. Some speculate that he ventured to a place of ultimate Taoist foundations to converse about the Way with the Taoist Ancestor, while others claim he journeyed to the pure Buddhist land far in the west to debate scriptures with the Buddha. Still others assert that he personally guarded the gates of Fengdu, the underworld, to prevent demons and evil spirits from wreaking havoc on humanity..."

The old man spoke passionately, but the townsfolk below remained unperturbed, each with a blank expression etched on their faces.

The maid whispered curiously, "What is a 'three-foot sword'?"

Song Jixin chuckled, "It's a sword."

The maid replied with a hint of irritation, "Master, this old man is too fond of showing off his knowledge. He doesn't even speak clearly."

Song Jixin cast a glance at the old man and said, "There aren't many educated people in our town. This storyteller is wasting his time."

The maid asked again, "What's a celestial cave? Can anyone really live for three hundred years in this world? And what about Fengdu, the Underworld? Isn't it a place for the deceased?

Song Jixin was stumped by the questions, but unwilling to show any sign of weakness, he casually replied, "It's all nonsense. He must have read a few insignificant and unofficial histories and is trying to deceive the villagers with them."

At that moment, Song Jixin keenly noticed that the old man glanced at him intentionally or unintentionally. Although it was just a fleeting glance, Song Jixin still caught it carefully. However, the youth did not take it to heart and dismissed it as a coincidence.

The maid looked up at the old locust tree, where tiny rays of light filtered through the gaps in the leaves and fell upon her. She instinctively squinted her eyes.

Song Jixin turned his head and suddenly froze.

His maid, whose side profile was just beginning to shed her baby fat, seemed very different from the skinny, petite, and shriveled little maid he remembered.

According to the customs of the town, when a woman marries, a fortunate person with healthy parents and children is hired to pluck the fine hairs on the bride's face, trim her forehead hair and temples, known as "opening the face" or "raising the eyebrows."

Song Jixin had also heard about a custom from a book that did not exist in their town. Therefore, when Zhigui was twelve years old, he bought the best newly brewed wine in the town and took out a porcelain bottle he had secretly stolen. The glaze on the bottle was extremely beautiful, resembling green plums. He poured the wine into it, carefully sealed it with mud, and buried it underground.

Suddenly, Song Jixin spoke up, "Zhigui, even though that Chen, according to our ancestors, is like 'rotten wood that cannot be carved, or a wall of dirt that cannot be plastered,' he has still done one meaningful thing in his life, regardless."

The maid did not reply, lowering her eyebrows, with her lashes faintly trembling.

Song Jixin continued talking to himself, "Chen Ping'an isn't a bad person, but he's too rigid in his thinking. He sticks to his principles in everything he does, which is why, even if he works tirelessly as a craftsman, he's destined to never create anything truly exquisite. That's why Yao, Liu Xianyang's master, holds Chen Ping'an in such low regard. It's a unique perspective, truly 'rotten wood that cannot be carved.' As for 'a wall of dirt that cannot be plastered,' it roughly means that a pauper like Chen Ping'an will always remain a country bumpkin, no matter how fancy a robe you put on him..."

Here, Song Jixin chuckled and said to himself, "Actually, I'm worse off than Chen Ping'an." She didn't know how to comfort her master.

Song Jixin and his maid were the prime topics of gossip among the wealthy residents of Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Alley in this small town, thanks to Song Jixin's "father," Supervisor Song.

There were no important figures or significant events in this town, so the supervisor stationed here was like the upright and just official in a drama. Among the dozens of supervisors in history, Supervisor Song, the previous supervisor, was the most popular among the people. Unlike other high-ranking officials who were aloof, Supervisor Song didn't hide away in his office, indulge in self-cultivation, or shut himself off to focus on scholarly pursuits. Instead, he was deeply involved in the production of official porcelain, almost more like a commoner than a craftsman. Over a decade, this once scholarly Supervisor Song had his skin tanned dark by the sun, dressing like a farmer every day and never acting superior toward others. Unfortunately, the imperial porcelain produced in the town's royal kilns, whether in terms of glaze quality, appearance, or design, never met expectations and were even inferior to previous standards, puzzling the kiln masters.