Liu Xianyang soon returned, a basket strapped to his back. Chen Ping'an was by the well, watching the excavation and dirt-hauling process with quiet interest. Without warning, Liu Xianyang delivered a swift kick to his friend's rear, nearly sending the straw-sandaled youth tumbling face-first. When Chen Ping'an turned and saw the tall boy grinning behind him, he let it slide.
With his usual carefree swagger, Liu Xianyang announced, "It's done. Master Ruan says I've got to stay put for the next few days—no wandering around. I'll be digging wells during the day and forging iron at night. After fifteen days, I'll be officially recognized as his first apprentice in this town. He called it something like an 'inaugural disciple.' I brought you a basket too—come help me gather stones. Start from the smithy and head toward the covered bridge. But fair warning, I can't help you with the water pit behind the green ox boulder. Master Ruan said if I set foot even half a step north or west of the covered bridge, he'll break my legs."
Throwing an arm around Chen Ping'an's neck, Liu Xianyang whispered conspiratorially, "Master Ruan said nothing ever gets stolen in this town. Apparently, even outsiders stick to some strange, ancient code—merchants may deal fair or cheat, beggars may scavenge through the trash, but there's one thing no one becomes: a sneaky thief. He said the heavens here don't sleep—they're watching us with open eyes. Gives me the creeps, honestly."
Suddenly, Liu Xianyang barked, "Hey, Chen! You can keep living in my house, but don't even think about selling my treasured armor while I'm gone!"
Chen Ping'an laughed and punched him in the chest. The tall boy quickly let go, gasping and rubbing the sore spot. "You twiggy little monkey! Where'd you get that kind of strength? Don't tell me all it takes is hiking a hundred miles every few days or chopping wood deep in the mountains for a few months to bulk up like that?"
Chen Ping'an chuckled. "Doesn't matter. Even with a basket of rocks on my back, I'll still beat you back to town."
Liu Xianyang narrowed his eyes. "Then let's see who can hold their breath underwater the longest!"
As they neared the creek, Chen Ping'an rolled up his pant legs and replied casually, "Not interested in any one-breath nonsense."
Before stepping into the water, he gathered a bundle of spring grass from the creekside to line the bottom of the basket, reminding Liu that after every twenty stones, they'd need to add more grass padding. It annoyed Liu Xianyang so much he nearly tossed his own basket at Chen Ping'an. But the latter refused to switch. "If you carry the basket," he said, "you'll just chuck stones in carelessly. I'd feel bad for them."
Liu Xianyang nearly quit on the spot. "These garish little rocks have never been worth a copper in a thousand years. Why are they suddenly so precious just because they're in your hands? And now you're saying I don't have the 'gentle touch'?"
Despite his grumbling, the tall youth reluctantly stepped into the water. Side by side, the two boys combed the creek, determined to scour it clean. The water mostly reached their knees, though in a few deeper spots it rose to their waists. Occasionally, they encountered water-filled pits as deep as a man's height—these were Liu Xianyang's time to shine. He'd remove his basket, pass it to Chen Ping'an perched on a boulder, then dive in one breath to retrieve serpent gallstones hidden in the cracks of massive rocks or buried beneath layered piles of stones.
Chen Ping'an could manage it too, but it cost him far more time and effort.
They hadn't even reached the covered bridge when their baskets were already nearly full. Among the collection was a particularly striking piece: a palm-sized, dark green serpent gallstone dredged up by Liu Xianyang after three dives into a deep pit. Flecked with golden specks, it bore faint wave-like patterns across its surface. The stone was finely textured, remarkably heavy, and when Chen Ping'an ran his fingers over it, it seemed to emit a subtle, gleaming sharpness.
Anyone with eyes could tell—it was no ordinary stone.
The boys ended their search perched shoulder-to-shoulder on a large rock midstream. Liu Xianyang leaned back, palms flat against the stone, watching the water flow lazily past.
"Chen Ping'an, have you ever thought about leaving this town?"
Chen Ping'an replied softly, "Not really. You need money to travel far, and if I left, who'd look after the house? What if it collapses? And my parents' graves still need tending—pulling weeds and all."
Liu Xianyang sighed. "You think too much about pointless things. No wonder Song Jixin says you're cursed to go in circles forever, stuck in this tiny speck of a town for life."
Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "Do you remember what I told you last time? About that tree?"
Liu Xianyang scoffed, "So what? A tree growing over a grave—what's so strange about that? And anyway, it's the grave of a different branch of the Chen family. It has nothing to do with you."
Chen Ping'an sat cross-legged, murmuring, "I wonder how many people out there share my surname."
Liu Xianyang snorted, "I don't know about the outside, but here in town, there's barely a handful of Chens left. Besides you, the rest are all houseborn servants of those old families—generation after generation of servants. The funny part is, they act all humble in the big houses, but step outside and suddenly they're putting on airs, looking down on everyone like they own the place. Old man Yao was right—if you ever end up working for them, then your branch of the Chen clan, the one that stayed in town, will truly be finished."
According to Yao, there had once been two branches of the Chen family in this town. One had left long ago. Chen Ping'an's branch had once been prosperous too—but that was a very long time ago. No one even knew how long anymore—five hundred years? Eight hundred? A thousand? Eventually, it splintered into smaller households, and the family line thinned out. Misfortune seemed to have stayed, while all the luck left with those who moved away. Many ancestral tombs fell into disrepair, and the hills where they lay were gradually sealed off by government orders, becoming forbidden mountains.
On one of their last trips into the hills together, Old Yao pointed out a mountain and said it was where the ancestors of the other Chen branch were buried. Great feng shui, he said. As for Chen Ping'an's own lineage? Not even the gods could find it now. For centuries, the remaining Chens amounted to little more than broken households—refusing to become servants, but achieving little else.
Once, Chen Ping'an had gone to search for the old grave himself. But when he arrived, all he found was a field of weeds and some foxes and rabbits. No tomb. Only a single tree he didn't recognize—shorter than the old locust tree in town, standing alone amid the overgrowth.
Solitary. Wild. A lone tree flourishing in desolation.
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Before she passed, my mother made me swear—I could beg, I could starve, but I must never serve the great households."
Liu Xianyang blurted out, "Didn't she also forbid you from apprenticing at the dragon kiln?"
Chen Ping'an's expression dimmed. He neither refuted nor grew angry at the reminder.
Feeling a little guilty—though never the type to say "sorry"—Liu Xianyang pretended nothing had happened. He stood and said, "Come on, let's go dig that well. I'll talk to Master Ruan again, see if I can get him to let you be a part-time apprentice here. That way you can dig up rocks more easily."
Chen Ping'an said, "No rush. Let's wait until those two groups give up and leave town. In the meantime, I'll watch the house for you."
Liu Xianyang...