Chen Ping'an once again laid eyes upon the young girl in green. She followed silently behind a middle-aged man, head lowered as she nibbled on a scallion and egg pancake. The man wore the expression of one who had lost all hope in life.
Upon noticing Chen Ping'an, he halted in his tracks and asked, "Aren't you the brat I chased off last time?"
The girl in green bumped into the man's back and rebounded slightly. Looking up in confusion, she caught sight of Chen Ping'an. Just as her lips curled into a smile, she abruptly turned away and began frantically wiping the corners of her mouth.
Suppressing his amusement, Chen Ping'an gave a courteous nod. "Master Ruan, greetings."
It was clear now that the girl was likely Master Ruan's daughter—though the two bore little resemblance, which was perhaps for the best. Master Ruan was the blacksmith who had relocated to the streamside in the south shortly after arriving in town.
"Why hasn't Liu Xianyang come to the smithy these past two days?" he asked curtly.
Chen Ping'an opened his mouth to explain, but the man cut him off coldly. "Tell that rascal—if I don't see him today, he can forget about setting foot in my shop ever again."
Chen Ping'an rushed to explain, "Master Ruan, something urgent happened at his house…"
But the man interrupted again, voice sharp with impatience. "That's his problem. What's it got to do with me?"
Tongue-tied and flushed with anxiety, Chen Ping'an stood frozen. He had no gift for eloquence and feared making things worse. He had experienced firsthand Master Ruan's famously blunt temper.
The girl in green tried to speak on Chen Ping'an's behalf but was silenced before she could begin. "Eat your pancake," her father snapped.
Frustrated beyond endurance, the girl stomped hard on the man's foot and dashed away like a gust of wind.
With a sigh, Master Ruan resumed walking, leaving Chen Ping'an standing alone.
Chen Ping'an, too, let out a soft sigh, then hurried to a breakfast stall, where he purchased a basket of six meat buns and made his way to Ni Ping Alley.
Upon reaching his home, he spotted Liu Xianyang perched atop the wall, half his body leaning into Song Jixin's courtyard, listening intently.
At times, Chen Ping'an truly found Liu Xianyang's antics infuriating.
"I just saw Master Ruan," he called up. "He said you must be at the smithy today. If not, he'll dismiss you."
Liu Xianyang waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. Someone as quick and hardworking as me is hard to come by—even with a lantern. Master Ruan is just blowing off steam. I'll go tomorrow."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I'm pretty sure he wasn't joking."
"Fine, fine," Liu Xianyang grumbled. "I'll go soon. Don't interrupt me—I'm in the middle of something important."
Chen Ping'an brought breakfast to the girl in black and gave Liu Xianyang three buns, keeping only one for himself.
Liu Xianyang devoured his share in seconds. Wiping his mouth, he whispered, "A visitor came to Song Jixin's house just now. Clearly a man of great stature. If I'm not mistaken, it was the current Overseer of the Imperial Kilns. When he visited our Long Kiln last time, Old Yao didn't let you lot show your faces, saying you were an eyesore. But me? I got to demonstrate the 'jumping knife' technique for him."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "It's no secret in this town that the new overseer favors Song Jixin. Why are you acting so paranoid?"
Liu Xianyang replied gravely, "Song Jixin might be a pampered weakling, but what if Zhi Gui falls for that dignified official? Then I'm doomed! What will I do if your future sister-in-law runs off with him? What will you do?"
Without a word, Chen Ping'an returned to the house, leaving Liu Xianyang to stew atop the wall.
Inside, the girl in black sat upright at the table, one hand gripping her blade as if preparing for battle. Beads of sweat dotted her brow.
It was the first time Chen Ping'an had seen her so tense—her body taut with vigilance, yet her eyes sparkled with eagerness.
He stepped back to the threshold. She asked, "Do you know who's next door?"
"Liu Xianyang said it's the current overseer of the kilns. Seemed like a kind man—he even stepped aside for me at the alley entrance," Chen Ping'an replied.
She sneered. "It's men like him you should fear most."
Chen Ping'an frowned, puzzled.
She asked, "When someone walks along the roadside and sees an ant, would they crush it underfoot?"
Chen Ping'an pondered. "Gu Can definitely would. He often floods anthills or blocks their exits with stones. Liu Xianyang might too, if he's in a foul mood."
The girl said nothing.
With a grin, Chen Ping'an said, "I think I understand your point, Miss Ning."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
He nodded. "You meant two things. First, to outsiders like you, we townsfolk are just ants crawling at your feet. Second, not all outsiders are the same. Childish ones like Fu Nanhua and Cai Jin Jian think stepping on ants is amusing—or annoying. But the official visiting Ni Ping Alley today isn't like them. He behaves in line with his station, so he comes across as courteous. Am I right?"
She asked, "How did you come to that conclusion?"
Chen Ping'an joked, "Ever since I narrowly escaped death, my mind seems to work a little better."
The girl asked seriously, "Before you died—what did you see?"
"I didn't see anything," he replied honestly. "Truth be told, I wasn't thinking about much at all in that alley. You should ask Fu Nanhua and Cai Jin Jian. Maybe they saw something."
She snorted. "Well, someone's getting cocky."
Then, for no apparent reason, she stared intently at the straw-sandaled youth.
Chen Ping'an shifted uncomfortably. "What is it?"
She furrowed her brow, muttering in her hometown dialect with frustration: "The sword techniques of my family—whether the forms or the methods to temper body and soul—are all closely guarded secrets. I haven't even mastered them myself. How could I possibly teach someone else? I've never learned those widespread, shallow techniques either. If I had, I could at least offer him a path forward, even if just to strengthen his body and prolong his life. Where am I supposed to find a beginner's manual now?"
Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Rob someone? No, no—not robbery. Borrow. I'll borrow a manual and return it when I'm done."
But her excitement quickly faded, and she cursed bitterly, "That damned old eunuch… Just wait. I'll tear the whole imperial palace down!"
Then, despondent, she muttered, "Do I really have no choice but to go begging that swordsmith Ruan? I can manage when it comes to fighting—got a decent chunk of my mother's skill—but pleading? That's really not my forte…"
The straw-sandaled youth sat on the threshold, watching the girl named Ning Yao. She murmured to herself, her expression ever-changing—like clouds shifting across the sky.
Meanwhile, a handsome man in white robes and a jade belt stood in Song Jixin's room. He glanced around and frowned. "Is this pitiful place really where that scoundrel arranged for you to stay?"
Song Jixin pursed his lips, silent.
The maid Zhi Gui had long since retreated to her own room, wisely avoiding the conversation.
According to town gossip, the previous Overseer of the Kilns, Lord Song, lacked talent and failed to produce imperial porcelain to the court's satisfaction. In the end, he left behind only a covered bridge and returned to the capital—along with an illegitimate son, to whom he bequeathed a personal maid and supposedly entrusted to an old friend, who happened to be his successor.
It was said this new overseer also bore the surname Song.
But the truth behind these matters remained murky. Even Song Jixin himself had no clear understanding of the man standing before him—or of his connection to the former Lord Song.