Ning Caichen (Part One)

Only three people remained in the room, and for a moment, no one spoke.

In truth, he had already prepared himself last night, expecting that some would shrink back in fear and withdraw from the matter. Yet, confronted with the reality, his feelings were complicated.

He did not blame Daoist Luoxian and the others for their self-interest. In these chaotic times, those who are not a little selfish do not survive for long. Moreover, as unaffiliated cultivators, they each knew the limits of their own abilities and harbored no delusions of grandeur about saving the world.

He lifted his teacup, took a sip, and glanced at Monk Yuanlin. “Friend Yuanlin, today I shall ascend the mountain and personally guard Lanruo Temple. As for you and Elder Zhao, I must trouble you both to continue your efforts to prevent the demoness from abducting more townsfolk.”

They had no idea how many people the demoness had already captured, nor how much human heart’s blood was needed to break the seal. Though they had destroyed one lair, who could say how many more remained hidden? Thus, the best plan was to divide their forces and guard against unforeseen changes.

Upon hearing his words, Monk Yuanlin looked at Daoist Zhao, who pondered a moment before speaking. “Since you are willing to brave the danger, there is nothing more for the two of us to say. But remember this, my friend: if matters reach a point beyond hope, preserving your own life is paramount. Let fate decide the rest.”

Since the demons planned to break the seal upon the tree spirit’s true body at Lanruo Temple, that place was certain to be the most perilous of all. A single misstep could cost him his life.

He nodded. He could not claim to be a villain, yet neither was he a saint set upon saving the world. Should things become impossible, he would naturally look to his own safety first.

The three discussed a few details; then, with his belongings packed, he stepped outside. The main street was ever more desolate, wind and sand swirling, stinging the eyes.

Leaving the city, they bid each other farewell, and he set off at a brisk pace. Dozens of miles passed in just an hour, with no one met along the way. Wild grasses choked the abandoned path; all was barren.

Upon reaching the mountain, he soon returned to the Daoist temple. Chen Lan and Chen Nier were both safe; they had not dared leave the house during his absence. As for the resentful ghost, it was just as carefree as ever, lounging on the rooftop all day, sunning its behind.

…

Outside the county seat of Guobei, a young scholar trudged along, carrying a battered book basket woven from bamboo, a ragged cloth draped over it to shield the sun. Dust covered him from head to toe.

Reaching the city gates, he wiped the sweat from his brow, his face beaming with relief. “At last, I’ve arrived in Guobei County. I’ll rest here a few days before continuing on my journey.”

He stopped a passerby and greeted him with clasped hands. “My name is Ning Caichen. I’m traveling to Hangzhou for the imperial examination, and I’ve endured many hardships along the road. I wish to find an inn to rest for a few days—could you kindly direct me to one?”

The passerby halted and sized up the scholar. “Do you have any money?”

Ning Caichen patted his sleeves and gave an awkward smile. “I do not, but I can paint and write. I’m willing to do odd jobs in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep.”

“If you don’t have money, what’s the point of asking?” The man swung his sleeve in irritation and walked off without another word.

Left bewildered, Ning Caichen could only try again. Yet after asking two or three more, he was met with either silence or a cold shoulder. He got nowhere and had to give up.

But because of this, everyone nearby now recognized him for a penniless scholar. Any predatory glances that had lingered vanished; no one spared him a second look.

Once inside the city, he saw its streets were in disrepair, the townsfolk’s faces wary and strange. Most went about armed, and their eyes held a hostile glint, as though sizing up prey.

Daring not to meet anyone’s gaze, he kept his head down, pressing forward, only to find himself blocked by a group. Forcing himself to appear calm, he watched as one of them rummaged through his basket. He coughed lightly and said, “I have no money, gentlemen. There’s no need to trouble yourselves.”

He was well-practiced in this sort of encounter, for since leaving home for the exam, except for the rare kind merchant who offered a ride, he had mostly traveled alone and had run-ins with bandits more than once.

His meager funds had long been spent on food and water. Finding nothing worth taking, the thieves usually let him go.

Even in these increasingly lawless times, scholars still enjoyed a certain respect and leniency.

Sure enough, when they heard his words, the group sighed in disappointment, casting him contemptuous looks, then waved him on impatiently. “No money? What are you doing here, then? Get lost!”

Ning Caichen clutched his basket, dusted off his sleeves, and with a smile, walked on with chest held high.

But then, to his surprise, a boot caught him from behind, sending him sprawling. One of the men spat and cursed, “Go ahead, smile again! I can’t stand you penniless scholars. If this country’s in ruins, it’s all your kind’s fault!”

He raised a foot to kick again, but Ning Caichen scrambled to his feet and fled without looking back. The passersby watched with indifference, their faces cold.

After much difficulty, he finally found an inn. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a young attendant hurried over. “Welcome, sir! Will you be dining or seeking a room?”

Ning Caichen glanced at him. “May I speak to your manager?”

The attendant was taken aback, giving Ning Caichen a curious look. “What business do you have with the manager, sir?”

“I have a matter to discuss—would you kindly fetch your manager?” Ning Caichen replied with a cough.

The attendant hesitated, then nodded. “Very well, please wait here. I’ll fetch him at once.”

Before long, a prosperous-looking elder bustled out, followed by two burly men, with the attendant at his side.

“I am the proprietor of this inn,” the elder said, studying Ning Caichen with a practiced smile. “May I ask what brings you here?”

Ning Caichen took in the two intimidating men at the proprietor’s back and swallowed nervously. “My name is Ning Caichen. I am en route to Hangzhou for the imperial examination and wish to stay here for a few days. I hope you might grant me this favor.”

The innkeeper laughed heartily. “You must be joking, sir. My inn welcomes guests from all corners—of course you may stay!”

Overjoyed, Ning Caichen cupped his hands. “Many thanks to you! I shall not forget your kindness.”

He quickly added, “I won’t stay here for nothing. I can help with chores, bookkeeping, or writing couplets—whatever you require.”

“Hold on,” the innkeeper’s smile faded halfway. “This is a humble business. We cannot let anyone stay for free.”

Ning Caichen was about to speak when the attendant cut in. “Scholar, just tell us straight—do you have money for a room or not?”

“I have no money,” Ning Caichen admitted quickly, “but I can work, and I’m skilled with brush and abacus. Any odd job will do—I only ask for a roof over my head.”

“No money?” The attendant’s voice grew loud, and if not for the innkeeper’s presence, he might have scolded outright.

The innkeeper’s face turned cold. “You seem a learned man, so I’ll let you go this once. Don’t let me see you here again.”

And with that, he turned to the two burly men. “Throw him out.”