As the young boy stepped out of Clay Bottle Alley, he happened upon Zhi Gui, the maidservant of Song Jixin. After escorting the tall woman to Gu Can's residence, Zhi Gui hadn't hurried home. Instead, she had wandered through Apricot Blossom Alley, browsing the little shops there. Though she bought nothing, her mood was light, and she skipped merrily along, airy and joyful.
A girl grown amidst rustic streams and untamed fields, she carried the fragrance of wild grass about her—utterly unlike those poised, genteel young ladies reared within grand mansions and deep courtyards. Upon seeing the straw-sandaled youth, she did not, as usual, avert her eyes and hasten past. Instead, she stopped and gazed at him, as if on the verge of speaking, yet said nothing.
Chen Ping'an gave her a gentle smile, brushed past her with a quick trot, then broke into a full run.
The girl stood silently at the mouth of Clay Bottle Alley and turned her head to watch him. In the sunlight, the impoverished youth running down the street resembled a tenacious wildcat—scrappy and elusive, not much to look at, yet evidently hard to starve.
Zhi Gui was not well-liked in the town. Owing to Song Jixin's strange temperament, the maidservant often seemed out of place—whether fetching water from Iron Lock Well, shopping at the market, or purchasing stationery for her young master. She had no close friends her age and rarely spoke to acquaintances. To the townsfolk, who favored lively chatter and festive warmth, she was hard to approach.
In this regard, Chen Ping'an's circumstances were not dissimilar. Though he was equally quiet, his nature was gentle and kind—never prickly or difficult. It was only his fallen household and the early burden of laboring at the dragon kiln that left him somewhat estranged from the neighborhood.
Yet, there remained something vaguely unsettling about the boy's birthday—an unease hard to name. Born on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, an "inauspicious day" when all venomous creatures were said to stir, and having lost both parents at a tender age, Chen Ping'an had become his family's last surviving branch. Such things gave the elders pause. The old folks who loved to gather beneath the locust tree especially kept their distance, warning their children to stay away—though when pressed for reasons, they could offer none.
Just then, a tall figure emerged from the alley and stood beside the girl. Zhi Gui turned without a word and walked on. The man matched her stride, walking alongside her within Clay Bottle Alley. It was none other than Mr. Qi Jingchun, the schoolteacher—this town's lone scholar, a true disciple of the Confucian tradition.
The girl's steps did not slow, her face cold.
"We draw from different wells—must our waters ever mix?" she said. "Don't forget, sir, that once you held every advantage: timing, location, and favor. I was but a lowly maid of ignoble birth, and so I swallowed my words and bowed my head. But now, it seems that your distant Daoist lineage—who knows how many millions of miles away—has met some… difficulties, has it not? So tell me, sir, isn't it now you who is the well water, and I the river?"
The uninvited guest of Clay Bottle Alley, Mr. Qi, smiled faintly.
"Wang Zhu... no matter. For now, let us follow local custom and call you Zhi Gui. Tell me, Zhi Gui—have you never considered that, though Heaven itself favored your birth, you may be mistaken in thinking I lack the means to suppress you? Do you truly believe that, thousands of years ago, when four elusive sages descended upon this place and laid down the laws, they left no contingencies? You are, after all, merely peering at the sky from the bottom of a well. The vastness of the heavens, the breadth of the earth—far beyond your narrow view."
Zhi Gui frowned.
"Mr. Qi, spare me your lofty rhetoric. I am not my young master Song Jixin, and I care little for your grand theories. Let's speak plainly: whether it ends in battle or in peace, I'm ready either way."
The scholar replied calmly, "Once you are free of this cage, don't push your luck or deplete the waters that sustain you. No one benefits from such recklessness. Especially when you and he embark upon the path of cultivation—whether or not you become Dao companions—you must temper your sharpness and abandon your arrogance. This is no threat, merely a parting word of advice, a sincere warning."
Though their statuses were worlds apart, Zhi Gui showed neither humility nor deference. In fact, she seemed to hold the upper hand, mocking him, "Sincere? For thousands of years, you exalted cultivators have treated this land as a fenced-in farm—harvesting and reaping without end. Now you want to speak of kindness and goodwill? My young master once told me something you people hold sacred: 'Those not of our race must have different hearts.' So I can't fault you, Mr. Qi, not really…"
Qi Jingchun took a step forward, his expression unreadable. "Oh?"
At that step, Zhi Gui's face subtly changed.
They now stood in a place cloaked in darkness, where not even the faintest light penetrated—except from far above, where divine beams of golden light poured down. It was as if they stood at the bottom of a deep, ancient well. Qi Jingchun's scholarly robes shimmered with flowing brilliance, imbued with the righteous air of Confucian integrity.
Zhi Gui's expression twisted for a moment, but she quickly regained her indifferent mask. She murmured:
"Sixty years of Buddhist chants—thunder in my ears, never ceasing.Sixty years of Daoist talismans—like maggots clinging to my bones, gnawing endlessly.Sixty years of righteous qi—blotting out the sky, offering no place to hide.Sixty years of martial sword auras—like upheaval of the earth, splattering me with each tremor.Each cycle, each sixty years, a new torment. Three thousand years without peace…
I just want to know: where is this so-called root of the Great Dao? The truths in your books—I can see them, I can hear them when you teach, but I cannot find them…"
She stared in a daze at the man before her—at once an obscure village schoolteacher and the revered scholar Qi Jingchun of Confucian Cliff Academy, a man even high officials of the Great Sui Empire must address respectfully as "Sir."
The girl suddenly smiled and asked, "Sir, how do you intend to teach me, persuade me toward virtue? If I recall correctly, did not your most exalted Sage, along with one of the Daoist Patriarchs, once espouse the principle of 'universal education, without discrimination'?"
The man shook his head. "Ten thousand words of sage teachings would do you no good."
Though the two seemed to speak casually, Zhi Gui was taut as a drawn bow, her sharp gaze scanning the surroundings for a flaw in the trap.
The scholar took no notice and sneered, "I know you harbor endless fury—hatred and bloodlust. But understand this: indiscriminate compassion is not true benevolence. And the indiscriminate sparing of life has never been the doctrine of any of the Three Teachings."
"My young master always said, 'There's no point arguing logic with scholars,'" the girl said with a smirk, her golden eyes narrowing ominously. "So this is your final blaze before extinguishing… no wonder you're more dangerous than ever."
He merely smiled in return. "Logic may fail, but as long as I, Qi Jingchun, draw breath and hold station here, you ungrateful wretch will not run rampant!"
The girl pointed to herself and laughed. "Ungrateful?"
The scholar's face darkened. "When you were at your weakest, when you bowed your head and forged that pact—who stood by your side in Clay Bottle Alley...?"