Chapter 141: Lighting Incense

Once Xi Fangping boarded the carriage, the rest became much easier to handle. Chen Jianchen had initially expected him to be a stubborn and inflexible scholar, but upon seeing him now, he found him to be a deeply filial young man with a strong sense of responsibility, which immediately sparked a favorable impression in his heart.

The two began to converse, exchanging casual remarks.

Suddenly, Xi Fangping fixed his burning gaze on Chen Jianchen and asked, "Brother Chen, there is one matter that has puzzled me all along."

"Please go ahead."

"My late father and you were total strangers in life. Why would he託梦 (entrust a dream) to you instead of directly appearing in my dreams?"

It seemed he possessed a clear and sharp mind; after a moment of reaction, he had instantly zeroed in on the crux of the issue.

Chen Jianchen shook his head. "To be honest, I don't understand this either."

For reasons that were difficult to explain, he simply used the phrase "I don't understand" as a brush-off. In any case, the event itself was real, and that was enough.

Xi Fangping frowned, the lingering doubts still unsolved in his mind.

Chen Jianchen asked, "Brother Xi, if this dream is true, how do you intend to deal with it?"

Xi Fangping immediately rose with indignation. "My father was a simple and honest man. If he was truly bullied and tormented by malicious ghosts, as his son, I will journey into the netherworld alone to seek justice and avenge my father."

"However, the realms of the living and the dead are separated by an insurmountable barrier. If Brother Xi cannot find a way to enter, what will you do?"

Xi Fangping froze, left speechless.

Chen Jianchen smiled slightly. "If Brother Xi truly dares to risk your life and storm the underworld to demand justice, I can lend you a helping hand."

Xi Fangping was overwhelmed with joy and repeatedly expressed his gratitude. Then, a sudden flash of inspiration struck him, and he asked, "Could it be that Brother Chen possesses a method to enter the netherworld? Ah, I see—perhaps my father foresaw this very point, which is why he entrusted his dream to Brother Chen."

Chen Jianchen was momentarily taken aback. He had not expected the logic to round itself out so conveniently, so he replied, "I once met a Daoist priest in the past, and having gained his favor, I was taught a few humble arts."

In this world, whenever there was an explanation that could not be openly articulated, one only needed to invoke a Daoist priest or a Buddhist monk to make the narrative self-consistent. The existence of cultivators and arcane arts was taken for granted by many; even scholars who typically professed not to speak of "strangeness, force, disorder, and gods" acknowledged their reality.

The method Chen Jianchen mastered for entering the netherworld originated from Ding Yin's instruction. It was rather simple: one merely had to ignite a stick of "Chicken-Crow-Silence Incense" nearby, focus one's intent, and the soul would be able to enter the unique realm of the netherworld.

This "Chicken-Crow-Silence Incense" fell into the category of a magical tool—a specialized auxiliary artifact. However, its sole function was to assist mortals in entering the netherworld, possessing no other notable utilities. Furthermore, this incense could only be used at night and came with numerous taboos. For instance, once the incense burned out, the person's soul had to return to the real world; another restriction was that during the burning process, one must not hear the crowing of a chicken, otherwise the flame would immediately extinguish, and so on.

In order to enlist Chen Jianchen's aid in dealing with Hou Qing, the mountain god of Pen Holder Mountain, Ding Yin had truly spared no expense. Not only did he offer a Water-Averting Pearl, but he also gifted an additional ten sticks of "Chicken-Crow-Silence Incense."

While this incense was hardly an exceedingly rare treasure, it was nonetheless quite difficult to refine, leaving Ding Yin with a reserve of only twenty sticks in total. To his surprise, the moment Chen Jianchen learned of such a fine item, he boldly demanded ten sticks right off the bat.

Chen Jianchen naturally had his own uses for these incense sticks. Besides, having a bridge that could communicate between the world of the living and the netherworld was hardly a bad thing, was it?

Having learned that Chen Jianchen possessed a method to enter the netherworld, Xi Fangping bowed repeatedly in thanks, his belief in his father's dream-託梦 growing even stronger.

The carriage sped along, managing to reach the foot of Pen Holder Mountain just before sunset. At this time, a fine spring drizzle was still falling ceaselessly.

Pen Holder Mountain was akin to a scenic tourist destination. A dense population had gathered at its foot, forming a small, bustling market-style settlement many years ago, complete with all sorts of shops and stores.

Chen Jianchen paid the carriage fare, opened his umbrella alongside Xi Fangping, and began the ascent. The peak season for Pen Holder Mountain was winter; coupled with the approaching dusk and the ongoing rain, virtually no one else chose to climb the mountain at such an hour.

Through years of maintenance, a stone-paved path had long since been constructed on Pen Holder Mountain, winding spirally all the way to the summit. While high, it was not particularly steep or perilous.

This was Chen Jianchen's second time visiting Pen Holder Mountain.

The first time, of course, was during the spring outing of the previous year, when students from Minghua Academy and Qingxue Academy had come together for a joint excursion. Back then, aside from Chen Jianchen, everyone else had essentially ridden up the mountain on bamboo sedan chairs.

Even now, a few weary laborers who made a living carrying sedan chairs had yet to pack up and go home. Sitting together in groups of twos and threes, waiting to take on one last job, they eagerly stepped forward to solicit business upon seeing Chen Jianchen and Xi Fangping arrive.

However, due to certain special reasons, Chen Jianchen chose to ascend on foot, and Xi Fangping, naturally, had no objections.

Thus, holding their umbrellas, the two men stepped forward and began their climb.

With the slant wind and fine drizzle, their paper umbrellas swayed gently as they climbed step by step. This process was also a process of conversation. Through it, Chen Jianchen gained a relatively comprehensive understanding of Xi Fangping.

To sum it all up in a single sentence: How pitiful were the impoverished scholars of this world!

Chen Jianchen's own past had also been one of humble origins, but at least he had a hardworking mother to hold the household together and support his private tutoring fees. Xi Fangping, however, had lost his mother in early childhood. His father suffered from a foot ailment that made movement difficult and prevented him from doing heavy labor, forcing Xi Fangping to start working at a very tender age to supplement the household income.

His childhood was spent primarily tending cattle.

Yet Xi Fangping possessed a resilient temperament and firmly believed that education was his only way out. Consequently, he would often drive his cattle to graze near the village private school, allowing him to listen to the sounds of reading from the classroom while watching the herd.

This experience of self-education instantly reminded Chen Jianchen of Yingning, though the difference was that Yingning's path of learning had been even more arduous.

Through self-study, Xi Fangping managed to learn to read and write. As he grew a little older, he began borrowing books from everywhere. He didn't borrow them just to read, but specifically to copy them out. One had to understand that the Four Books available in bookstores, along with various commentaries, were priced quite heavily, and those without money simply could not afford them.

To study, one had to first possess books; this was the prerequisite. Since he could not afford to buy books, he had no choice but to borrow and copy them. Therefore, for an impoverished scholar, the experience of copying books was indispensable.

The paper Xi Fangping used for copying was the cheapest yellow-bordered rough paper. Because he had to work during the day, he could only copy at night. Lacking the money for an oil lamp, he had to rely solely on the illumination of the moonlight to write.

Copying books beneath the moonlight cast flickering shadows, but it had nothing to do with poetic romance—it was merely the arduous struggle of an unyielding youth forging ahead.

How bright could the moonlight truly be? Over time, Xi Fangping inevitably developed myopia. And his nearsightedness was by no means mild; by Chen Jianchen's estimation, if it wasn't five hundred degrees, it was at least three hundred and fifty.

In truth, within the Tiantong Dynasty, scholars suffering from myopia were not few in number. Chen Jianchen considered himself fortunate that, although his original physical vessel had been somewhat frail, it was at least free from the affliction of nearsightedness.

Xi Fangping's diligence was truly bitter, but Heaven does not let down those who heart-whole seek. Last year—the exact same year Chen Jianchen achieved his status—Xi Fangping also successfully passed the imperial examinations to attain the rank of Xiucai. It was a major breakthrough, after which his prospective path forward shone as bright as a ray of light. Last year, he was twenty-five years old.

Having earned the rank of Xiucai, he was like a long-suffering daughter-in-law who had finally lived to become a mother-in-law. Yet, due to his impoverished family background, he was unable to enroll for further studies at Minghua Academy. He had originally intended to spend the next year or two writing and selling characters to improve his family's living conditions and even earn enough for tuition. Unexpectedly, a catastrophic misfortune struck: his father, the only person he had relied upon and lived with, suddenly passed away.

With his father's death, he no longer had any close blood relatives left in this world. The blow to Xi Fangping was indescribably heavy. Especially now, when a certain Chen Jianchen had suddenly appeared at his doorstep to declare that his father's death was highly abnormal and that he had been murdered by malicious ghosts, it came as a bolt from the blue, instantly igniting an intense fury within his heart. He swore a silent vow to uncover the truth behind the matter no matter what.

The mountain path was long, but Chen Jianchen possessed a robust physique, and Xi Fangping had been accustomed to physical labor since childhood—he was not some ordinary scholar lacking even the strength to truss a chicken. Thus, the two of them managed quite well, pushing upward along the winding trail without needing a single rest.

Seeing Chen Jianchen moving as swiftly as flying without even panting heavily, Xi Fangping felt a profound sense of admiration. Although he had developed a certain understanding of Chen Jianchen, for some reason, regarding this academy scholar who had suddenly arrived at his home to deliver such a message, he always retained a mystical feeling, as if looking at flowers through a fog.

He was truly not a man content to remain in a mere puddle. Perhaps only this phrase could adequately describe him.

Xi Fangping did not dwell on it excessively, because no matter from which angle he looked, Chen Jianchen had no motive to harm him.

The rainy weather obscured the sunset, but the twilight nevertheless covered the mountain in an unavoidable blanket. The rain-slicked paths made walking even more treacherous once darkness fell. Although the two of them had prepared well in advance by bringing two rain-proof lanterns, traveling in the dark remained inconvenient, leaving them no choice but to quicken their pace and reach the summit before complete nightfall.

As the twilight deepened, the rain actually grew heavier, the patter of raindrops striking the oiled paper umbrellas creating a rapid drumming sound. Chen Jianchen carried his blood-sandalwood book case on his back, windproof and rainproof, letting the droplets drift as they pleased, yet stubbornly failing to draw even half an inch closer to his body. Had anyone with a discerning eye witnessed this sight, they undoubtedly would have been utterly astounded.

However, Xi Fangping by his side was entirely focused on hurrying along and failed to notice any of this. Compared to Chen Jianchen, several parts of his clothing had been soaked through by the rain, and caught in the mountain wind, he shivered slightly with a touch of chill.

Finally, the two of them reached the summit of Pen Holder Mountain just before nightfall. Gazing all around, they saw only a vast expanse of bleak night, wind, and driving rain; apart from the two of them, not a third soul could be found.

Old Man Huang's old tea stall had long since fallen into ruin and abandonment, with no one else taking it over. It was rumored that many people considered the place ominous, hence no one dared to conduct business atop the peak for long periods. Only during the daytime would an occasional peddler or traveling merchant shoulder their goods up to sell, packing up their burdens to head back down once the time was right.

Walking into the dilapidated tea shed, Chen Jianchen dimly perceived that the poetic verses he had inscribed upon the pillar back then had long since been worn away and rendered illegible due to the prolonged exposure to wind and rain combined with a total lack of maintenance.

*Where has the old tea-selling man gone?*
*The scholar Chen of yesteryear returns once more today.*

Yet things remained while people had changed. Back then, he had achieved overnight fame with a single poem, but having lacked any subsequent noteworthy feats for so long, that renown had probably long since been beaten away and blown off by the wind and rain.

Chen Jianchen gave a self-deprecating smile and called out to Xi Fangping. The two of them sat down upon the stone hearth where tea used to be brewed. Chen Jianchen drew two sticks of "Chicken-Crow-Silence Incense" from his book case, and said in a deep voice, "Brother Xi, are you ready?"

Xi Fangping nodded heavily and tightly closed his eyes.

Chen Jianchen hesitated no longer. He retrieved a fire starter, first inserted the two sticks of incense firmly into place, then waved it against the wind to ignite a spark, setting the incense ablaze. In an instant, wisps of curling smoke began to emanate from the tips of the incense.

The color of this smoke was a striking golden hue, winding without dispersing as it enveloped their bodies.

Chen Jianchen promptly closed his eyes as well, directing his intent. The very next moment, he felt his soul drift outward, entering a wondrous and marvelous world.