When Chen Ping'an emerged from the well, carrying a basket brimming with soil, he felt momentarily dazed. Outside the well stood a group of scholars adorned in tall hats and embroidered robes. At their forefront was the venerable Minister of Rites who, not long ago, had vociferously reprimanded the Supervising Official beneath the archway plaque. Beside him stood the former Supervising Official who had overseen the construction of the covered bridge before his retirement—rumored to be Song Jixin's father, Lord Song—his complexion slightly fairer than when last seen in the small town. The other five or six men, mostly in their thirties or forties, each bore an air of distinction, appearing even more commanding than Lord Song himself.
It was not only Chen Ping'an who wore an expression of stupefaction; these high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Rites, the most esteemed department in the Dali court, were equally astonished to behold the town's sole wealthy magnate, a pauperish youth covered in dust, clutching wealth equivalent to half the imperial treasury of Dali. And yet, with a single extravagant stroke, he had acquired five entire mountain peaks, including the once-dilapidated Luoposhan.
Ruan Qiong remained absent, but beside him stood the maiden Ruan Xiu, clad in azure, alongside Wu Yuan, the magistrate of Longquan County. The latter's face was inscrutable, his gaze slightly lowered, exuding an aura of restrained discontent. It was as if the formidable Lord Wu was silently sulking at the Ministry of Rites, for who could relish having a precious piece of his own territory carved away by outsiders? The uproar beneath the archway had concluded unexpectedly with Wu Yuan retreating decisively, permitting Deputy Minister Dong Hu to take full rubbings of the sixteen inscribed characters, despite the fact that a secret seventh-floor disciple had confirmed the plaques' calligraphy had lost all spirit, rendering the precious Fenglei paper unnecessary. Yet Dong Hu, resolute and obstinate, as if willing to dismantle the entire plaque and carry it away, insisted on completing every rubbing he had brought before finally conceding, and with satisfaction led his retinue to lodge at a wealthy residence on Taoye Lane.
Wu Yuan's hard-won reputation, bolstered by the town's grand construction, was immediately shattered. The denizens of Fulu Street and Taoye Lane took delight in this spectacle, gossiping with schadenfreude, mocking Wu Yuan as a mere ornamental figure—useless and spineless. Some remarked that had Wu Yuan dared to stand his ground against the Ministry's emissaries, they might have respected his backbone; now, he was nothing but a coward hiding behind his official garb, destined to be tyrannical only within his own domain.
Chen Ping'an lightly hopped down from the well, standing before the Dali officials. Deputy Minister Dong Hu stroked his beard with a genial smile and said, "You must be Chen Ping'an. I am Dong, serving at the Ministry of Rites of Dali. My visit is no official matter, merely a whim to see the man who owns these five mountains. Now that I have my answer, this trip has been worthwhile." He glanced around and chuckled heartily. Except for Lord Song, the former Supervising Official who remained silent, the other officials burst into laughter as if Dong Hu had delivered a tremendous jest.
Chen Ping'an felt awkward. "Sir, I can barely understand the refined officialese of Dali." Wu Yuan's lips curled into a subtle smile. Lord Song, fluent in the local dialect, made no effort to rescue the minister's embarrassment. The two belonged to different factions, and after recent bitter conflicts, their relations were irreparably strained. Had the emperor not personally decreed that Song Yuzhang accompany him south, this pleasant task would not have fallen to him.
The Ministry of Rites was populated by scholars—elite survivors of countless intellectual battles—and their verbal duels were artful, elegant, and captivating. Song Yuzhang, a peculiar figure who had acclimated to small-town life, kept his silence upon returning to the capital, focusing solely on his duties without complaint.
Having climbed the ranks within the Ministry over decades, Deputy Minister Dong Hu, a shrewd veteran, quickly sensed his misstep and sought a graceful exit. Smiling, he turned to the lone daughter of Master Ruan, silently hoping she might relay a message. Yet he immediately dismissed the idea; daring to burden the daughter of a revered military sage, a guest honored even by the emperor himself, would be folly. Should she take offense and complain to her father, a single whispered word could imperil Dong Hu's career, reducing his comfortable third-rank position to misery.
The minister's thoughts raced but lasted only a moment. He changed course, smiling kindly at the girl, prepared to inquire if Miss Ruan had settled comfortably in town and whether the Ministry might assist in securing a modest, elegant residence on Fulu Street or Taoye Lane.
Then, to the astonishment of all the esteemed officials present, the formidable Miss Ruan promptly approached the dust-covered youth. She appeared to relay Dong Hu's words, and the boy listened with an utterly composed expression, leaving the officials thoroughly stunned.
Chen Ping'an had no inkling that such a trivial exchange could divert the thoughts of these powerful dignitaries far beyond the present moment.
After hearing Ruan Xiu's message, Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "Xiu Xiu, please tell this honorable gentleman that I am but a humble dragon kiln laborer, now working at a smithy. If I could acquire those mountains, it is thanks entirely to Master Ruan."
Upon hearing the endearing nickname "Xiu Xiu," the girl's eyes, like autumn waters, curved into crescent moons. She then cheerfully conveyed Chen Ping'an's words in the refined, standard dialect of Dong Baoping Continent to the senior Dali official.
All present, including Dong Hu, were fluent in the "Grand Elegance" language—failure to do so would confirm the slander that the Dali dynasty was nothing but a northern barbarian state. In the capital, fluency in this dignified tongue was a key marker distinguishing noble from commoner.
Dong Hu's expression grew ever more affable; nodding gently, he thanked Miss Ruan for the explanation and excused himself from troubling Chen Ping'an further. He asked her to convey their farewell to Master Ruan, noting the master's busy sword-forging would not permit disturbance lest the emperor, a longtime admirer, take offense.
Ruan Xiu showed little interest in such formalities and merely responded with a dismissive "Oh." The experienced minister dared not press further. After briefly recounting several scenic spots in the capital, Dong Hu calmly led his entourage away.
Song Yuzhang walked at the rear of the procession, followed by Wu Yuan.
Ruan Xiu accompanied Chen Ping'an to empty the soil from his basket, chatting as they walked. "My father says the purchase of the mountains will soon be finalized. Besides these Ministry officials, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau's geomancers must also participate, along with you. Only the combined endorsement of all three parties will make the deal binding. The two geomancers from Qingwu are still meticulously surveying the terrain and feng shui; it will take a few more days."
Chen Ping'an pondered, then set down the basket, surveying the bustling surroundings. "Shall we walk to the creek and talk as we go?"
Ruan Xiu smiled. "Very well."
Lowering her voice playfully, she whispered, "Besides Qingwu and the usual geomancers, the Astronomical Bureau also brought many cultivators from various schools, including two young mountain-moving apes—a silverback and a long-armed species—usually free in deep forests, called upon only when needed to fracture peaks or shift hills."
"And there are the Daoist talisman-armored warriors—remarkable constructs. A thin talisman paper, infused with true qi by a cultivator, can transform into towering armored soldiers, seven or eight zhang tall, immensely strong. Though not as powerful as the mountain apes, they are obedient and far less prone to accidents. The apes, especially the young ones, are notoriously violent and hard to tame; if they go berserk, the casualties are grievous. Even if subdued, the loss is substantial. I've heard of the Mo family's giant mountain-opening automata, personally crafted by their patriarch. I haven't seen them myself, but I must witness them someday."
"My father chose two shops for you—one for New Year's goods and another for herbal supplies—adjacent and familiar to you. If you have no objections, he will finalize the sale immediately, as such small trades are simpler than mountain purchases, which involve the fate and feng shui of the realm."
Chen Ping'an smiled, "Of course, no problem."
Ruan Xiu suddenly recalled a secret and whispered mysteriously, "My father said the emperor personally decreed that since the town now belongs to Dali, all magical relics left in the marketplace must be bought at high prices for the national treasury. Around twenty fine antiques were collected from Fulu Street, Taoye Lane, and common folk alike—about half from each, though the selling prices were not generous. The emperor then personally contributed seven or eight items to complete a total of thirty treasures, distributed as bonuses for the thirty mountain peaks—effectively gifts to the buyers. Ordinary people don't know which mountains have such bonuses, but my father knows Shenshou Mountain and Luoposhan certainly do, with exceptional quality—among the very best. Moreover, our family's Diandeng Mountain and your Luoposhan may each be formally bestowed with a mountain god appointed by the Dali court."
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath, crouching by the creek, his brow furrowed as if grappling with the unreal nature of it all. The boy from the muddy
depths who once dreamed only of making charcoal and firing bricks now found himself ensnared in the grand designs of emperors and mountain gods.
He looked at Ruan Xiu and asked quietly, "Xiu Xiu, if you had never come to this town, would you believe such incredible tales?"
She smiled but said nothing, only brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
The sunlight danced on the creek's ripples, as dreams began to take shape amid the ancient mountains.