Qingshan

Chapter 7 : Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Parents

The long street was silent, with gray-tiled buildings rising and falling, their curved eaves like waves frozen in time in the black ocean of night.

Old Man Yao shuffled slowly ahead, hands behind his back, while I followed quietly. I had so many questions—Where is Beijuluzhou? Do you know a young man named Li Qingniao? What are the forty-nine heavens?—but I knew I couldn’t ask. I buried them deep in my heart.

Old Man Yao glanced back, puzzled: “You’re usually as chatty as a torn rag. Why so quiet today?”

My heart tightened: “It’s because of what happened at the Zhou residence. You told me not to mention it.”

Old Man Yao suddenly asked: “Did you kill someone?”

I was silent for a long time: “No.”

Old Man Yao let out a soft scoff and didn’t press further.

All along the way, the old man truly didn’t ask about tonight’s events, as if nothing had happened.

After about an hour, I saw the grand vermilion gates of Prince Jing’s Mansion in the distance. Guards stood with halberds, clad in iron armor, flanked by imposing stone lions.

Under the gray-tiled eaves hung two white lanterns inscribed with “Prince Jing’s Mansion,” and above the gate, a plaque read “Upright and Radiant” in gold lacquer.

Physician Yao didn’t enter through the main gate but led me to the side of the mansion, where a clinic named “Taiping” stood right against the mansion’s wall.

The plaque above the door bore four bold characters: “No Credit Allowed.”

Old Man Yao pushed open the clinic’s door and stepped over the high threshold. Inside, a long counter was lit by a single kerosene lamp.

Outside was the dark street and night; inside, the warm orange glow felt like the only color in a black-and-white world.

It was as if stepping inside would shelter me from the storm, granting peace.

Old Man Yao stood inside, glancing back at me: “Throw away what’s in your hand. The clinic doesn’t need that stuff.”

I froze, then tossed the blood-stained piece of broken porcelain I’d been clutching.

I looked at the clinic’s high threshold and Old Man Yao’s hunched figure, then stepped inside, closing the door to shut out the night.

…

…

The clinic was a small siheyuan, separated from the mansion by a single wall, with a gnarled apricot tree in the courtyard’s center.

A robust crow perched at the top of the branches, flying off as we approached.

Old Man Yao, seemingly tired, waved a hand: “Go sleep.”

I stood still… Where was I supposed to sleep? The rear wing had three rooms, and I didn’t know which was the right one. Choosing wrong could raise suspicion.

Seeing me unmoving, Old Man Yao turned back suspiciously: “Why aren’t you going to bed?”

As he spoke, a lanky youth in a long robe emerged from the west wing, looking at me with disdain: “Chen Ji, you were just delivering medicine, and it took you this long? You even made Master go fetch you… Master, you must be tired. I’ll heat some water for you to soak your feet before resting.”

I silently observed this… senior brother.

How could someone be so specific with their flattery?

Old Man Yao said: “Get to bed, all of you. Don’t delay tomorrow’s morning lesson.”

“Got it,” the lanky youth said briskly, ducking back into the west wing.

I followed him inside. The room had a large shared bed. A burly figure slept soundly at the far end, oblivious to everything that had happened. My lanky senior brother slept in the middle, and my spot was by the door.

The apprentice dormitory had tattered wooden windows and no furniture beyond some pots and jars.

In the dim room, my lanky senior brother sat on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, staring at me with gleaming eyes. He whispered: “What happened? Why were you gone so long?”

“Nothing happened,” I shook my head, climbing wearily into bed, staring at the wooden ceiling beams and old cobwebs.

The lanky senior brother rolled over, muttering: “Fine, don’t tell me!”

The room fell quiet again, filled only with the sound of breathing.

Only in this moment could I pause to think about my situation: Would Jiaotu and Yunyang let me go? No way.

Tonight, I’d shown abilities far beyond a clinic apprentice, and I’d just happened to be at a Jing Dynasty spy’s home. How could those two venomous snakes not suspect me?

So why did they let me go? Was it my master’s status, or did they have other plans?

Whatever the reason, my best choice now was to stay in the clinic. Next to the Prince’s Mansion, they’d likely hesitate to act.

As I thought, my pupils suddenly contracted.

A cold sensation in my dantian was spreading, devouring the warmth of my muscles, bones, and blood.

It was… the icy current that entered me when Zhou Chengyi died. Back then, it felt like a fleeting chill, almost an illusion. Now, it was like a trapped beast raging in my body, searching for an exit but unable to escape.

Thud.

I heard my blood flow like an avalanche, as if it weren’t blood but icy sand coursing through my veins.

My frail body felt like it hid a sword or an ancient dragon from thousands of years ago. I was plunged into a dark, icy abyss, dragged to the bottom by an unseen hand.

Bone-chilling cold.

I turned to the others in the room, but they slept soundly, noticing nothing. I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket, but the cold came from within—no amount of covering helped.

Was I being haunted by Zhou Chengyi’s vengeful spirit?

Gradually, before I could figure it out, I curled up and sank into a daze.

I don’t know how long passed before a distant rooster’s crow pierced the faint mist, tearing it apart.

I jolted awake, sitting up as if pulled from water, gasping greedily.

My hands and feet were ice-cold. It hadn’t been a dream—the icy current was still raging.

…

…

Outside, faint sunlight filtered through the paper window, leaving the room dim.

My two senior brothers slept side by side, snoring, undisturbed by the rooster’s crow.

As I sat in a daze, the door creaked open.

My master, “Old Man Yao,” stood in the doorway with a bamboo stick, looking disdainful: “The rooster’s crowed, and you’re still in bed? Those who know you’re apprentices might think you’re noble heirs of some great clan.”

With that, he swung the bamboo stick.

I scrambled up, threw on my clothes, and dodged to the side: “Master, I’m already up!”

Old Man Yao turned to the others, and wails rose as the bamboo stick struck. My two senior brothers scurried, clutching their heads: “Master, stop hitting! We’re up, we’re up!”

No matter how they dodged, the bamboo stick landed precisely. The hunched old man, supposedly ninety-two, moved with startling agility.

Old Man Yao drove the three of us to the courtyard with his stick, barking: “Horse stance!”

I’d thought a physician’s morning lesson would involve reciting medical texts, not horse stance training.

I glanced at my senior brothers, who struck odd poses—not quite horse stance, more like shouldering a boulder while climbing a ridge.

Before I could mimic them, a crisp snap landed on me. The moment the bamboo struck, pain exploded from my bones.

The piercing pain, combined with the cold weakness, nearly made me faint. I mimicked my senior brothers’ stance, while Old Man Yao sneered: “Don’t play frail with me—it won’t work. And don’t think flattery will spare you the stick.”

He swung again, striking my lanky senior brother: “Liu Quxing, I’m talking to you! What kind of stance is that?”

Liu Quxing whined: “Master, aren’t we studying medicine? Why do we keep doing this?”

Old Man Yao sneered, landing another strike: “Still talking back? Heaven has three treasures—sun, moon, stars. Man has three treasures—essence, energy, spirit! Without essence, energy, and spirit, you’ll learn nothing!”

In that short quarter of an hour, the three of us were whipped into howls. It was my first time being disciplined like this, and I took the most hits, being the least familiar with the stance.

But.

At one moment in the stance, a warm current surged from my lower back, slowly countering the icy chill.

The warmth came and went… or rather, when my stance was correct, it appeared; when wrong, it vanished.

I adjusted my pose, holding it steady when the warmth flowed. It was like someone had laid out the answer for me to copy.

Old Man Yao approached, raising his stick to strike, but saw my stance was perfect and lowered his hand, finding no reason to hit.

Later, he stopped watching me, focusing his strikes on my senior brothers.

I didn’t know what was special about this stance, how it countered the icy current. My senior brothers didn’t seem to find the stance beneficial.

Could only I feel this warmth?

After half an hour, the icy current was suppressed back to my dantian, immobile. I sighed in relief—if it had kept raging, I might not have survived the day.

Old Man Yao sneered: “Alright, morning lesson’s over. Chen Ji, you’ve improved.”

The three of us grimaced, rubbing our bruises. If we stripped, our bodies would surely be covered in purple marks.

“Get to the main hall’s entrance and wait for your families. Today’s the day for tuition silver. If I don’t see it, you’re packing up and going home!” Old Man Yao barked. “Chen Ji, when your family comes, don’t forget to collect the payment. Last night’s medicine cost three hundred twenty wen—not a coin less.”

I froze.

Family…

Did I have family in this world?