Chapter 6

“Cheng Qian.”

Cheng Qian wasn’t sure why, but his mater always called Han Yuan “Xiao-Yuan”, while he called Cheng Qian by full name. He couldn’t tell whether his master favored him or not from his voice, but there was stress in each syllable.

Bewildered, Cheng Qian lifted his head, and folded his hands in sleeves into fists.

“Come.” Muchun Zhenren looked him up and down. Presently he seemed to realize he was too smileless. He dropped his eyelids a bit and turned back to the benign weasel. Then he said with his voice softening a little, “Come here.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand onto Cheng Qian’s head. The faint temperature of his palm and the incense of wood gradually permeated Cheng Qian’s body.

That didn’t help as a comfort, however. Cheng Qian remained in a fluster.

He was running his master’s comments on Han Yuan in his head and thinking anxiously, “What will Master say about me?”

In a fleeting moment, memories of Cheng Qian’s equally fleeting life flashed through his head. He tried to pick out his own shortcomings before his master, and get prepared for the coming preach.

He started reflecting in his heart, “Will he say I’m narrow-minded? Or unkind? Unfriendly?”

However, Muchun Zhenren didn’t point out his shortcomings as he did in Han Yuan’s case. The sect leader even hesitated for some time, as if he was having difficulty finding the appropriate wording.

Cheng Qian waited anxiously an unconscionable time until Muchun said solemnly, word by word for emphasis, “As for you, you know it well in your heart. So I’ll come straight to the point, I shall grant you ‘Free and Easy’ as your precept.”

The preach was so simple as to be vague and hard to comprehend right away. Cheng Qian frowned, all his mental preparations came to naught at last. But his tension didn’t ease, and conversely, strengthened.

“Master, what’s ‘Free and Easy’?” Cheng Qian blurted out.

But soon he regretted that he had asked, for he didn’t want to appear as stupid as Han Yuan.

Cheng Qian pulled himself together. With a little diffidence, he struggled to work out a far-fetched explanation and asked in a probing tone, “Does it mean to urge me to clear my distracting thoughts and focus on cultivation?”

After a pause, instead of giving a specific explanation, Muchun nodded and said vaguely, “For now… you could say so.”

For now? What about in the future?

And what was “you could say so”?

Hearing the answer, Cheng Qian was even more at a loss. He even scented a ghost of uncertain future from Muchun Zhenren’s words. And he could also tell that his master had no intention of going into details. Due to his tactfulness form precocity, he barely swallowed his doubts and made a formal bow to Muchun, saying “Yes, Master. Thanks for your edification.”

Muchun Zhenren sighed noiselessly. Though he looked like a man in the prime of his life, he was actually so old as to have very rich experience. And of course he could see things — even though Cheng Qian behaved with so good manners that he even called the Taoist child who took care of his living “Brother”, yet evidently it wasn’t because he reckoned others to be respectful, but he refused to damage the redundant “refinements” in front of “OTHERS”.

As the proverb goes, “Propriety is the attenuated form of leal-heartedness and good faith, and is also the commencement of disorder”. Even if this kid had great insight and exceptional talents, his nature was poles apart Great Tao. And moreover, Cheng Qian dwelled on things too much to be pleasing to others… although in view of his haughtiness, assumedly he didn’t care to be pleasing in the slightest.

Muchun took his hand off Cheng Qian’s head, with the worry that he might go astray someday.

He overturned the three-legged table and called Han Yuan and Cheng Qian over.

The reverse side of the wooden table was bestrewn with thousands of worm-eaten holes, and to their surprise, between the gaps of these holes were inscribed thickly dotted characters.

“This is what I am gonna teach you at your initiation — the rules of Fuyao Sect. You two must memorize them word for word, and from today on, write them down from memory once a day, for a total of forty-nine days.” Said Muchun.

In face of so many rules, Cheng Qian finally revealed moderate astonishment — he never felt it was proper to inscribe so sacred sect rules on the back of a rotten table.

…let alone a three-legged wooden table.

Han Yuan was in the identical astonishment with him.

The little beggar craned his neck and turned pale in shock. “My goodness, what the hell are these? Master, these characters may know me, but I definitely don’t know them!” He shouted.

Cheng Qian, “…”

A master who was likely a weasel spirit, a preach that didn’t make sense, a set of rules that was inscribed on the back of a rotten table, and a senior brother who was effeminate, as well as a beggar junior brother who was illiterate… what good results could Cheng Qian expect when the starting point of his cultivation career was so extraordinary?

Cheng Qian predicted a bleak future.

But when he returned to his dwelling in the evening, his spirits lifted at the knowledge that he actually had a study. There was not only an immense number of books but also paper and writing brushes prepared by Xueqing.

Cheng Qian had never written on paper — add his natural parents’ learning up and they couldn’t necessarily write from one to ten. And naturally there wasn’t any stationary in their house. These years, by virtue of his photographic memory, he had learned quite a few characters from the old Tongsheng secretly. He stored them in his brain and practiced by writing with a stick on the ground. He had been dreaming of having the four treasures of the study (i.e. writing brush, ink stick, ink slab, paper).

Cheng Qian got addicted to writing, so he didn’t follow his master’s instruction — his master only required him to write the rules once a day. Whereas he was already writing the fifth when Xueqing came to ask him to have dinner. And he showed no sign of stopping.

The writing brush made from weasel hair was totally different from sticks. As it was Cheng Qian’s first time to use a brush and paper, the characters he wrote were naturally intolerable to the eye. But it could be seen that he was intentionally imitating the handwriting of the rules carved on the table — in addition to the rules themselves, he even committed every stroke of those characters to memory.

Xueqing discovered that every time Cheng Qian wrote, he was improving what he failed to write well last time. He was so absorbed that he sat there for more than half an hour without taking a break. He even didn’t notice Xueqing enter the room.

While Cheng Qian had a good sleep the first night, he was too excited to fall asleep this evening. As long as he closed his eyes, the soreness from his wrist would attack, and those characters and strokes would jam his mind.

The sect rules must be written by the same person as the tablet of Qing’an Dwelling. So much did Cheng Qian love his handwriting that he kept tossing and turning restlessly in bed. The tablet apart, the shabby wooden table looked as if it was going to break in a few years. From this, Cheng Qian deduced that it hadn’t been long since the sect rules was inscribed.

Whose handwriting could it be? Master’s?

He turned the problem over in his mind until sleepiness struck. In unconsciousness, something seemed to show him around Fuyao Mountain, and led him to Unknown Hall. Baffled, Cheng Qian thought to himself, “What do I come to Master’s dwelling for?”

But he walked in anyway and saw a person in the yard.

The person was very tall and was supposed to be a man, whose facial features were unusually blurred, like covered under a black haze. His hands were terribly pasty, the bones of which were strongly defined. He was like a wandering ghost.

Cheng Qian was terrified. He took two steps backward subconsciously. But then he felt concerned about his master, so he emboldened himself to ask, “Who are you? Why are you in my master’s yard?”

With the lift of the man’s hand, Cheng Qian felt strong attraction, which suspended him in the air and pulled him over to the man in a wink.

That man raised his hand to touchCheng Qian’s face.

Cheng Qian gave a start of coldness. The man’s hand was so freezing that a mere touch chilled Cheng Qian to the marrow of his bones.

“Little creature, you’ve got guts.” The man seized Cheng Qian’s shoulder and chuckled, “Go back!”

Thereupon, Cheng Qian felt a heavy push and jerked awake on his bed, the dawn yet to break.

The dream dispelled all thoughts of sleep. So he tidied himself up and killed time by watering flowers in the yard, which made Xueqing deeply ashamed that he got up later than Cheng Qian until he guided him to Mission Hall.

Mission Hall was a small pavilion in the midst of a clearing, where there were a few tables and chairs. Although Cheng Qian and Xueqing arrived very early, there were already Taoist children. They had swept the floor and boiled water, and was preparing to make tea.

Cheng Qian found a place to sit down silently, and a well-trained Taoist child served a cup of tea forthwith.

Cheng Qian remained a cool face all the time, but he only sat at the edge of the seat cautiously — habit became second nature. Once he learned to suffer hardships, he couldn’t get used to living in comfort. He felt embarrassing fidgets, watching others working while himself drinking tea.

After the time it took to have a cup of tea, Cheng Qian heard footsteps. He looked up and saw a strange young man walking up along the alley next to the pavilion.

The youngster was dressed in a navy robe. He held a wooden sword in his arms and walked quickly, eyes fixed steadily forward. While his Taoist child had to run after him awkwardly.

“That’s Second Martial Uncle.” Xueqing whispered to Cheng Qian.

Second Senior Brother, Li Yun. Cheng Qian had seen his name on the board behind the wicker door of Unknown Hall. So he hurriedly stood up to welcome him. “Second Senior Brother.”

Li Yuan didn’t expect that someone came ahead of him. Hearing the voice, he paused, raised his head and shoot a glance at Cheng Qian. His black eyeballs seemed somewhat larger than normal, and thus his look appeared cold and not very genial.

Li Yun took a quick look at Cheng Qian. Then he abruptly forced a smile, which looked malicious, and said, “I’ve heard Master brought back two junior brothers, is that you?”

Cheng Qian didn’t like Li Yun’s look instinctively. He felt it was like something ominous. So he replied simply, “It’s me and Fourth Junior Brother, Han Yuan.”

Li Yun took one step forward and pressed near to him, asking interestedly, “What’s your name?”

He was like an experienced wolf that spotted a rabbit. Cheng Qian nearly recoiled, but he didn’t. He stood bolt upright in place and answered deadpan, “Cheng Qian.”

“Oh, Xiao-Qian.” Li Yun nodded and said with a hypocritical smile, “Nice to meet you.”

All Cheng Qian could see was his creepy teeth. And he confirmed, as of now, there wasn’t a second person in Fuyao Sect that he liked apart from his master.

Nevertheless, his master wasn’t necessarily a PERSON.

After another while, Han Yuan and his master arrived. Han Yuan naturally sat in front of Cheng Qian and started complaining that Cheng Qian didn’t play with him, and in the meantime, had a taste of all the snacks on the table.

Han Yuan sometimes smiled at his master flatteringly, and sometimes turned around to wink and frown at Cheng Qian, busy but orderly. He perfectly interpreted the saying “Ugly people make more mischief”.

As to their first senior brother, Yan Zhengming, he was late for a full half hour. Then he came yawning.

Absolutely, he would never possibly come on foot — he came in chair, as a matter of fact. He asked two Taoist children to carry the cane chair all the way here from Land of the Tender.

A good-looking maid taking quick short steps fanned him from behind. And another Taoist child next to him was holding up a sunshade.

Yan Zhengming’s robe was fluttering in the wind and his hems were like clouds in the sky. In an exaggerative manner, the young master arrived.

It looked as though he wasn’t here for morning classes, he came to stir up trouble.

Upon entering the Mission Hall, first senior brother glanced sideways at Li Yun arrogantly, his eyebrows showing off disgust. Then he took a sweeping look at Han Yuan and the unfinished cakes on the table, after which he swished his folding fan open and covered up his eyes, in case his pure eyes were stained.

In the end, he had no choice but to walk to Cheng Qian’s side angrily. The Taoist child around promptly wiped the stone stool four times, then laid a cushion on it and brewed a cup of tea. Next, he put the hot tea onto a saucer with charms. Magically, the saucer cooled the eat which had just been steaming so soon that the cup was covered with a layer of moisture. Only then did Yan Zhengming take a sip reluctantly.

With all the procedures done, Young Master Yan finally took a seat.

While Li Yun was inured to the scene and regarded Yan Zhengming as air, Han Yuan was stunned. His expression looked like that he was exclaiming “what the f**k”.

Having watched the whole process closely, even Cheng Qian, who had always been sarcastic, felt speechless at this point.

Thus began the chaotic morning class of Fuyao Sect, in Muchun’s four apprentices’ loathing for each other.