FMT 17

Chapter 17 Social Dealings

After Liandan hid the money, he thought for a moment, then reached in again, counted out ten copper coins, and stuffed them into Chen Shuangning’s hand. He told him, “Keep these on you for pocket money. When working outside, you will inevitably need to deal with people. When it is time to spend, don’t be stingy. If it is not enough, tell me again.”

Chen Shuangning replied with a quiet “Mm” and kept the coins close.

The next morning, Chen Shuangning left early.

After stepping out of the courtyard gate, he turned back once. His thin ger stood at the doorway looking at him. When he saw Liandan wave toward him, he finally walked toward the town.

But today he did not stop in Miaoyun Town. Instead, he met with Liu Shuqi and the others waiting in secret. Using his qinggong, they pursued westward along the Lingyun Mountain range, running fifty to sixty li, and on the mountain near another town, they intercepted a fake monk whose hair had already grown down to his ears. The man refused to say anything.

“He is Yuanjing’s most trusted subordinate. That day Yuanjing slipped away, he only took this man. Yuanjing left him here to gather news. He must know how to send word to Yuanjing,” Liu Shuqi said.

Chen Shuangning lowered his eyelids and looked at the fake monk. His robe hem swayed lightly in the wind.

The fake monk was forced to kneel on the ground, his expression vicious, eyes bloodshot. He spat toward him with a “Peh” and cursed, “You betrayed the Sect Leader, you will not die well!”

Chen Shuangning’s expression did not move. Liu Shuqi instead retorted, “You commit all manner of evil, aiding tyranny. If anyone is to die, it is you first!”

The fake monk’s eyes widened. He was about to curse back when Chen Shuangning took a step. He immediately clamped his mouth shut warily, his eyes straining to hide his fear.

The hoarse strange voice asked slowly, “Where is Yuanjing?”

The veins on the monk’s forehead bulged, but he still kept silent.

Chen Shuangning said no more. As he turned away, the monk’s head slid from his shoulders in an instant. Blood sprayed upward, and the face on the fallen head still bore its shocked and terrified look.

As Chen Shuangning walked off after killing, Liu Shuq i pressed his lips and said faintly to the others, “Yuanjing poisoned and controlled him. Asking further is a waste. Clean up and bury him.”

At that moment, the man ahead stopped again. Liu Shuqi quickly leapt to catch up.

Chen Shuangning looked at him once and asked, “Do you have copper coins?”

Liu Shuqi froze, then finally found a little over ten coins on his person and handed them up with both hands.

Chen Shuangning seemed not very satisfied, but still took them. His figure vanished in a flash.

Though puzzled, Liu Shuqi dared not ask.

He and the others disposed of the corpse, erased all traces, and then slipped away through hidden paths in the forest.

After about the time of one incense stick, Liu Shuqi suddenly halted, watching warily toward a gap in the woods ahead. When he saw clearly who it was, his expression relaxed, then quickly tensed again.

He and the other followers all bowed deeply with lowered heads.

Returning once more, Chen Shuangning’s robe edges fluttered as he landed almost soundlessly before them. Then he stuffed a paper-wrapped bundle into Liu Shuqi’s hand, tapped his toes, and vanished again.

The followers exchanged baffled glances, looking together at the oil paper bundle in Liu Shuqi’s hands.

It was warm.

Puzzled, Liu Shuqi opened it and found inside a few steaming cornbread buns.

None of them understood the Sect Leader’s intent. But since it was in their hands, they could not waste it.

With a blank look, Liu Shuqi shared the buns with the equally blank followers.

The buns were soft. When pinched, each one was only a small lump.

They had not felt very hungry before, but after eating… they seemed even hungrier.

….

By suppertime, Chen Shuangning was back home. He handed over the dozen or so copper coins he carried to Liandan.

“The employer today did not pay much.” Seeing Liandan had not asked, he explained.

Liandan smiled. “Even villagers who go out for day labor don’t always find work. To not come back empty-handed is already good.”

Before hiding the money in the chest, he asked, “Do you still have enough pocket money on you, should I give you more?”

Chen Shuangning said, “It is enough.”

What he had bought was the cheapest buns from a bun shop. After today’s “social dealings,” he still had five coins left, enough to continue tomorrow’s “social dealings.”

….

Xiaodan’s hundred-day celebration was not held like in other families. Old Madam Chen slept day after day, seldom awake, and Chen family relatives were like wolves and jackals, it was best not to provoke them.

Liandan’s parents had not even come when he gave birth, let alone for the hundred days.

From his family, only Lianye had sent through someone a pair of little tiger-head shoes and a tiger-head hat.

Tang Hua came over with a long-life thread woven into a complex and fine knot of colored cords. It looked beautiful on the child’s wrist and clearly had taken much effort.

Neighbor Wu Daniu’s wife brought over a few eggs, saying that in another month Xiaodan could start eating egg custard.

Liandan had already used his spare time to sew a set of patchwork clothes for the child.

Though there was no hundred-day banquet, the day was still lively enough. The child was not treated too poorly.

That night, after the house quieted with no outsiders around, Chen Shuangning stood at the bedside watching Xiaodan, who flailed his arms and legs nonstop and blew bubbles from his mouth. After a while, Liandan saw him take a book from his robe and place it by Xiaodan’s pillow.

Standing nearby, Liandan looked at them. Chen Shuangning said, “Keep this book for Xiaodan. When he grows and can read, give it to him.”

Liandan answered “Mm,” and held the book carefully, treasuring it, then hid it together with the family’s copper coins.

Watching his cautious movements and the way his face looked when holding the book, Chen Shuangning asked after he had put it away, “Have you ever read books?”

Liandan’s face flushed at once, a flush of embarrassment. He shook his head, bit his lip, and replied softly, “I do not know words.”

Chen Shuangning’s expression did not change. As if he didn’t notice anything, he said, “It is late. Sleep.”

Liandan lowered his head and went to the bed to coax the child to sleep.

….

That night, when changing Xiaodan’s diaper, Liandan noticed that the man was still at the window, not gone as he usually would be at some unknown time.

But Chen Shuangning’s posture was unlike ordinary people. He sat cross-legged on the chair, hands clasped in a seal resting on his knees, eyes gently closed like a Buddha, face calm.

Liandan tiptoed to put the soiled diaper in the basin to soak. Before returning to bed, passing the window, he could not help stopping before him, staring fixedly.

In the moonlight, Chen Shuangning with eyes closed looked completely different from when his eyes were open, almost like another person entirely, like a false figure.

After staring at him for a while, Liandan saw his brows gradually knit. He suddenly realized he must have disturbed him, quickly turned away, and hurried back to bed.

….

The next day, when Chen Shuangning returned in the evening, he not only brought back his day wages but also a set of brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

The copper coins he brought back were clearly fewer. Liandan knew he had spent on these things, but he felt no displeasure. Instead, he thought, the man was a scholar, and it was only right for him to buy books.

Only after supper, when the child had gone to sleep, did Chen Shuangning sit at the window table. He trimmed the oil lamp wick bright, laid out the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, and beckoned him over. Liandan still did not understand what was happening.

Chen Shuangning let him sit by the table and asked, “I will teach you to read. Do you want to learn?”

Liandan sat there, his expression under the lamplight indescribable, as if he was both crying and laughing. There was some confusion, disbelief, and an uncontrollable hope.

After a long moment, he asked, afraid of breaking a fragile dream, softly and anxiously, “Can I learn words?”

Chen Shuangning’s reply was to open the book in his hand to the first page. “We will start from the beginning.”

One sat on the chair, the other on the edge of the bed, both leaning toward the table. The one as teacher spoke little, but was not harsh, patient instead. The one as disciple was especially earnest, learning words while quietly wiping away the wetness at the corner of his eyes.