Chapter 85: Departure

Master Guanghan came and went like the wind, delivering a single Pan longevity peach, simply to forge a bond of goodwill with me...

Chen Jianchen ignored the commotion in the hall and fell into deep thought. He understood that both the Taoist and Buddhist traditions placed great importance on cause and effect, karma and retribution. The process of cultivation, in essence, was the severing of karmic ties. Yet this process was anything but simple, fraught with dangers and hidden pitfalls. Thus, those adept at reading fate, once they caught a glimpse of their own fortune, would often take suitable measures to avert misfortune and calamity.

For example, forming bonds of goodwill with certain people.

This was a mysterious matter, difficult to explain in words.

Perhaps Master Guanghan, on his journey to the capital, witnessed or experienced something extraordinary? Unfortunately, he had already departed in a swirl of robes, leaving no way to inquire further. Even if he could be asked, perhaps he would not reveal the truth...

Chen Jianchen sighed deeply, setting these thoughts aside for now and turning to warmly greet his guests.

He had to admit, with Guanghan’s "magic trick" livening up the scene, the popularity of his Liaozhai soared overnight. On its very first day, he sold eighteen calligraphy scrolls, earning a handsome profit—

All these scrolls were written by Chen Jianchen himself.

In fact, every one of the thirty-six pieces hanging in the entire Liaozhai was his own handiwork. According to his plan, the establishment was meant to sell his own creations, exuding a strong personal flavor.

Liaozhai was, in every sense, his own Liaozhai.

Such a business model was rare.

—In the Tian Tong dynasty, it was common for scholars to run personal enterprises. Times had changed; the number of bookish recluses burying themselves in study was dwindling. After all, gaining the status of scholar brought many rights, and failing to make use of them was like sitting atop a treasure mountain without knowing how to harness its wealth.

Take Wang Fu for instance—leveraging his family background, he had already established three businesses in Jiangzhou, all thriving. He was regarded as a promising young proprietor.

...

After a busy day, Ah Bao and Lady Mo were both visibly tired, but as soon as they counted the money earned from selling the scrolls, their fatigue vanished without a trace.

In the past, neither could have imagined calligraphy could fetch such high prices. While not quite as extravagant as "a character worth a thousand gold," it still far surpassed the profits from farming, many times over. At last, their household was officially on the path to prosperity.

Remembering the hardships of former days, Lady Mo wiped away tears—three days of spinning cloth wouldn’t earn as much as her son's single scroll. Truly, books did contain houses of gold; and when Chen Jianchen achieved further success, matchmakers would surely trample their thresholds, and what bride could he not marry?

So it was said, books also contained beauties as fair as jade.

Chen Jianchen saw this, and felt his tender heart touched once again. He spoke softly, "Mother, I’ve always told you—one day your son will let you live a good life. Thankfully, that day has not kept you waiting long."

For "when a child wants to care for his parents, but they are no longer there," that is the deepest regret one could have.

Lady Mo wiped her tears and choked up, "My son has worked so hard... All this money, I’ll save it for you. In two years, I’ll find you a virtuous wife."

At these words, Ah Bao beside them trembled imperceptibly, head bowed, her expression unreadable.

Chen Jianchen smiled, "Mother, your son is still young. There’s no hurry."

Lady Mo replied, "In two years, you’ll be twenty—not so young. Look at Dogwa next door, he became a father at sixteen."

Chen Jianchen remembered Dogwa well—a child bride raised from infancy, married at fifteen. In this world, there was no such thing as late marriage or late childbearing; everyone rushed to become parents, to pass on their lineage.

As for persuading his mother otherwise, Chen Jianchen had no good solution, so he quickly changed the topic, urging her and Ah Bao to rest early.

Winter had come, and the nights were cold. Charcoal braziers warmed every room.

Sitting alone in his chamber, Chen Jianchen felt his mood ripple. First, he thought of Yingning and Xiaoyi, who had returned to Maple Mountain. They must be diligently cultivating, for who knew when the officials might return and seize the Reclining Pine Cave.

All under heaven belonged to the king. Against such power, there was no contest. When people were oppressed, they had to endure in silence—how much more so for those like Yingning and Xiaoyi, regarded as outcasts and monsters? When armies marched, blood filled the air, killing intent soared—enough to make even seasoned cultivators blanch.

He had sent them back to their cave for cultivation; on the one hand, it was inconvenient for them to stay in his home, given the current situation. On the other, the dense spiritual energy of Reclining Pine Cave would greatly accelerate their progress. Once their cultivation reached a certain peak—especially if Yingning broke through to the Golden Core and assumed human form—all would be well.

Speaking of which, Chen Jianchen felt a certain anticipation. He had never seen Yingning’s spiritual form, but imagined she must be a graceful, delicate maiden—well-versed in literature and etiquette, with a shy and gentle demeanor.

Then his thoughts turned to Nie Xiaoqian, who had traveled far to Jinhua in Zhejiang. They had been apart for months, with no news. How was she faring? Had she adapted to her new surroundings? When they parted, he had warned her not to approach Lanruo Temple—but who knew if she had listened...

In truth, Chen Jianchen was not even sure if a Lanruo Temple existed in Jinhua. He simply offered the warning out of caution—better to believe in its existence than to assume it did not.

With winter’s arrival, the academy was on holiday until the following February. In the meantime, the students were free to arrange their own activities.

Chen Jianchen had planned to stay home, tending to his Liaozhai and studying essays in preparation for next year’s imperial exams. But on the third day, Wang Fu visited, warmly inviting him to accompany him to Suzhou for a business venture.

Under the Tian Tong dynasty, there were eighteen provinces; Jiangzhou was one, Zhejiang—where Nie Xiaoqian’s father had been exiled—was another, and Suzhou, which Wang Fu now mentioned, was yet another.

Chen Jianchen seemed to recall Suzhou—the last time, a wealthy patron named Huangfu from there had purchased his calligraphy and invited him to be his daughter’s tutor.

Now, Wang Fu claimed the trip was for business, but the actual business would be handled by hired managers. His true purpose was pleasure. And what was a trip without a companion? He immediately thought of Chen Jianchen.

“Liuxian, as the saying goes, ‘Above is Heaven, below is Suzhou and Hangzhou.’ I’ve heard so much about the beautiful scenery in Suzhou. Now that we have the chance, it would be a shame not to go.”

Chen Jianchen smiled faintly; he saw through Wang Fu’s little schemes, but he himself was interested. After some thought, he agreed. To read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles—in a world where travel was inconvenient, such opportunities were rare. It was a chance to broaden his horizons.

Lady Mo and Ah Bao were reluctant to see him go, but they did not object. A young man’s ambition lay beyond the bounds of Jiangzhou; the city could not confine Chen Jianchen’s footsteps. Thus, Ah Bao packed his luggage, and Lady Mo spent the night preparing five pounds of dry provisions.

With all preparations complete, the next morning Chen Jianchen boarded the Wang family carriage sent for him. After meeting up with Wang Fu, they braved the biting morning wind and left the city behind.