Qingshan

Chapter 23 : Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Bound by Fate

At dawn, before the rooster crowed, I opened my eyes and saw five small silver ingots by my pillow.

Yunyang’s promised reward. I didn’t know how he slipped into the clinic or when, as if the ingots appeared from thin air.

It was not just payment but a warning.

I rose quietly, changing into the new clothes Xibing sent. Unfolding them, I found a dark blue stand-collar robe with silver buttons at the collar, far finer than my old rags.

This outfit must’ve cost several taels.

Pity Xibing sent only the robe, inner layer, and pants—no boots or belt. So, in my fine robe, I wore tattered cloth shoes and a wide hemp belt…

I chuckled—I looked absurd.

Whatever. A poor apprentice shouldn’t fuss. I’d buy better when I had money.

When the rooster crowed, I stepped out, just as the grain shop across the street removed its shutters.

“Good morning, boss lady,” I said, entering the shop.

“Hey, Little Doctor Chen, what’re you buying?” The boss lady, busy opening, paused for me.

“How much for a jin of millet?” I asked.

“Eight wen for others, but six for you,” she smiled.

“And a jin of rice?”

“Nine wen—no discount, sorry.”

Doctors were rare, with high status. My master, a proper seventh-rank imperial physician, made neighbors treat me kindly.

“Give me five jin of millet, five of rice… and a jug of sesame oil. Oh, and a string of cured meat!” I said.

The boss lady beamed: “Got it. Total’s one hundred ninety-five wen. I’ll take one hundred ninety.”

I broke the one-tael ingot, exchanging it for copper coins to pick up later, and carried the bundled packages out.

The straw straps dug into my hands, but I was in good spirits.

I bought these for my day off to visit home. Given my situation, my family’s conditions likely weren’t great.

From Master’s hints, my father worked on the river dike, didn’t he?

For him to afford my apprenticeship gift and secure my future, it must’ve taken their all.

This moved me, sparking curiosity about my family in this world.

The Chen family lived in Cuiyun Lane. I asked a shopkeeper for directions and headed north through Luocheng.

Morning brought bustle. I saw an ox cart pass, laden with sacks, heading to market. A merchant caravan entered from the north, stacked with stretched hides—winter’s hottest commodity among nobles.

They say Red Cloth Lane, East Market’s famed pleasure district, had a top courtesan who rarely took clients, but a white sable fur would win her favor.

Street kids chased each other, singing rhymes, waving homemade pinwheels.

Women by the city’s small river washed clothes, chatting and laughing.

At Cuiyun Lane, I asked a stall owner: “Sir, where’s the Guandong Chen household?”

He glanced at me: “Aren’t you Chen Ji? Don’t know your own home?”

I: “…”

A familiar face.

Hesitating, I didn’t ask more, just carried my bundles into the lane.

Ahead, commotion: “Steward, where do we hang these lanterns?”

A sharp male voice snapped: “Do I have to teach you everything? On the eaves above the stone lions—hooks are there! Hurry, the young masters are coming back! Dawdle, and I’ll have your hides!”

I saw a festive household, unsure what they celebrated. But something felt off—the plaque read… Chen Mansion.

Two Chen Mansions in Cuiyun Lane?

The gate gleamed, vermilion with stone lions—not lavish, but no common home.

“…This can’t be my home, right?” I muttered.

“Chen Ji?” The mustached steward looked over, puzzled. “Why’re you back?”

I hesitated: “It’s my day off.”

The steward said: “Good timing. You’re tall—get on the ladder and hang the lanterns.”

“Oh.”

I set my bundles on the ground, climbing to hang lanterns.

The steward directed maids: “Come, bring water and sprinkle the entrance to keep dust down when the young masters return. Clumsy lot—you’re servants of Luocheng’s Deputy Prefect! People will laugh at your lack of manners!”

He noticed my bundles: “Who left these here? Move them!”

I stepped down calmly: “Steward, I…”

He realized: “Here for tuition? The master mentioned it, but I forgot to send it.”

He had a servant fetch three hundred copper coins: “Use it sparingly. Times are tough—the Chen family’s struggling.”

I still didn’t understand my place in this Chen Mansion.

Hoofbeats and chatter drifted from outside Cuiyun Lane: “The Chen family’s eldest and second young masters are back! Three years at Donglin Academy, and they’re almost unrecognizable.”

“The young masters look even more dashing.”

I looked and saw two young men on white horses enter the lane, wearing cyan brocade robes with elegant patterns, the embroidery costly. They wore cloud-toe boots, jade pendants on their belts, and pearl-adorned collars, about eighteen or nineteen, exuding grace.

The steward approached, smiling, taking the reins: “Back from Donglin Academy, the young masters will shine in this year’s imperial exams!”

They dismounted, handing whips to maids, laughing: “Steward, you’ve got more gray hair—must’ve worked hard for the mansion.”

“No, no, just my duty… The master was overseeing the river dike but rushed back for you. Go greet him!”

Amid the bustle, they entered the mansion, passing me without a glance.

Not posturing—they genuinely didn’t recognize me, or it didn’t matter if they did.

The lively Chen Mansion gate grew quiet. I stood silently, as if the world forgot me.

I thought carefully. Master knew my family’s situation but never said we were too poor to pay tuition or clarified my father’s dike work.

His anger stemmed from knowing my family had money but delayed payment.

Luocheng’s Deputy Prefect, like Liu Mingxian, was a fifth-rank official.

Looking at the “Chen Mansion” plaque, I didn’t step through the vermilion gate. I placed the three hundred coins at the entrance, picked up my bundles, and left.

The stall owner at the lane’s mouth watched my back, sighing: “A legitimate son with a mother, a bastard without—worlds apart.”

Back at Anxi Street, I retrieved my coins from the grain shop. The boss lady was surprised: “Little Doctor Chen, bringing it all back? No returns here.”

I smiled: “Not returning—gifts for Master.”

At the clinic, Old Man Yao glanced up: “Didn’t I give you a day off? Back so soon?”

I counted five hundred sixty coins: “Master, my family sent this to cover tuition and medicine money. These bundles are for you too.”

Old Man Yao grunted: “Your family’s finally sensible. Didn’t expect your father, fixing the dike, to fix his brain too.”

I: “…Were you banished to Luocheng for your sharp tongue?”

…

…

At night, I sat in the clinic’s main hall, copying notes on febrile diseases. Turning, I saw Dark Cloud on the counter, a blue cloth bundle in its mouth.

“Planning to run away?”

“No way,” Dark Cloud hesitated, then asked: “Can you take me to Qingping Lane?”

“It’s late. I’m scared of the dark.”

“Guess if I believe you?”

I sighed: “Fine, I’ll take you. Why Qingping Lane?”

“I don’t want to say now!”

Where was Qingping Lane? A serious question.

I thought: “Uh… can I take you tomorrow night? Today’s inconvenient.”

“Why not today?!”

“I don’t know where Qingping Lane is…” I said. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t explain why, but I really don’t know.”

Dark Cloud pondered: “I know.”

A watchman passed outside, banging his gong: “Dry weather, watch for fires.”

It was the Yin hour, 3 a.m.

Luocheng’s daytime bustle had faded.

I quietly shut the clinic’s shutters, following Dark Cloud into the night.

I tied the blue bundle to Dark Cloud’s back—cute, and it kept the black cat visible in the dark.

Dark Cloud sniffed here and there, navigating by memory.

We stopped and started, taking an hour, getting lost several times.

I didn’t rush. I could tell this trip to Qingping Lane meant a lot to Dark Cloud.

I had patience.

Finally, Dark Cloud stopped in an alley, staring at a closed door.

“Here?” I asked.

“Here.”

“Should I knock?”

“No!”

Dark Cloud meowed twice, calling something.

But only two stray cats responded.

“I’m going in to check. Wait here.” Dark Cloud leapt over the wall with a flick, so fast it left an afterimage, remarkably agile.

I waited calmly in the alley. Soon, Dark Cloud returned, visibly downcast: “Let’s go.”

“Done?”

“Yeah.”

“What was it?”

Dark Cloud paused, looking back at the door: “I missed my mom.”

I fell silent. Cats miss their moms too.

Dark Cloud mused: “She might not miss me, but I wanted to see her… And since I’m joining you to wander the martial world, I had to show you to her.”

I asked: “She’s not home?”

Dark Cloud’s voice softened: “Probably sold. Her cage and bowl are gone.”

“Want to look for her?”

“No. That’s a cat’s fate.”

“What’s in your bundle?”

“I hid some dried fish to bring her.”

I stood silent in the alley’s dark, then scooped Dark Cloud up, heading back to the clinic.

Dark Cloud didn’t resist, curling into a ball, its fluffy tail covering its head.

My footsteps tapped on the bluestone. The boy’s figure was lean yet upright.

“Chen Ji, what was your mom like?”

“She… was very gentle,” I said, reluctant to say more, as if memories were warm breaths that escaped when spoken.

Holding Dark Cloud, I walked Luocheng’s long street. The months-old cat, curled up, was barely two palms wide.

I suddenly wanted to live well.

“Dark Cloud?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s be bound by fate.”