My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 138: The Grain Shopʼs Back Courtyard

The wooden target under the eaves had a dent at its center that was now one layer deeper.

Huo Qing had been standing there since before dawn, thrusting, thrusting, with his left hand. His right arm hung at his side, swaying slightly with the turn of his shoulders, then stilling again. A Sui swept up the wood shavings on the ground twice with her small broom, piling them into a little mound at the base of the veranda pillar.

Nothing else happened on the mountain on the twenty-second. At Mao hour, Shao Ming sat below the stone steps in front of the Ancestral Hall listening to A He recite formulas. A He got stuck halfway through, and A Sui picked up where he left off. Those small voices wound their way from the front courtyard around to the veranda, where they scattered.

Cheng Banshan kept watch over the wood stove in the Medicine Hall: the batch of Qi-Gathering Powder started on the twentieth had to burn a full five days. On the twenty-fifth, at Yin hour, it would yield ten bottles. If the fire went out once, the whole furnace of medicine turned to ash. He held the furnace hook in one hand, gave it a poke, and the chamber flared bright. When the sun slanted west, he came out of the Medicine Hall, stopped under the veranda, and watched Huo Qing.

”Let you keep poking at that target for another two months and itʼll be a sieve.”

”Thereʼs another one in the firewood shed.”

”That oneʼs old too.”

”Iʼll cut a new one.”

Cheng Banshan grunted and went back into the Medicine Hall. At the doorway he turned back: ”Cutting target wood doesnʼt count as strength training. If you want to build your arm, go split firewood on the west slope.” Huo Qing didnʼt answer. He thrust again, and the dent at the targetʼs center gained another speck of white.

Down the mountain, it was a different story.

On the twenty-third, at Dragon hour, Qi Qi went down the mountain alone. Xu Yan set down the paper with the gate roster in his hand and said, ”See where theyʼve settled. Once youʼve found them, come back. Donʼt eat in town.”

”A bowl of noodles in Luoxia is three wen,” Qi Qi said.

”Get the times right.”

”Iʼve got them. Out the Mountain Gate at Dragon hour, at the town gate within the hour.”

Going down from the Mountain Gate, the sun slowly climbed. By the halfway point, his back was damp through. At the town gate, someone was carrying a load of green firewood in on a shoulder pole, and the roadside grass was pressed into a track by cart wheels. Qi Qi entered the town, didnʼt stop in the market, and headed straight for the wharf.

Under the old awning propped on three wooden posts at the wharf mouth, the old woman was stuffing a handful of damp firewood into the stove. Smoke seeped through the gaps in the matting, making her squint one eye half shut. The Heavenly Sword Sectʼs boat was still moored in the same spot. The flag at the bow drooped, and two boat-watchers sat at the stern with their feet propped on the mooring post.

Qi Qi crouched down on the stone steps at the wharf mouth and fished out one copper coin. ”A bowl of hot water.”

The old woman pushed the bowl over. ”That paper still stuck to your mountain gate?”

”Still there.”

”Until when?”

”The gate opens on the fifth of the fifth month.”

The old woman shoved the damp firewood in; smoke rose again. ”This townʼs had a different story every day lately.”

He was halfway through the water when the sound of an oar came around the river bend.

This boat was narrower than the Heavenly Sword Sectʼs. The hull was painted dark and soaked black with water vapor. There was no flag at the bow. On either side of the cabin door hung an old lantern, unlit. The boat slowed and pulled up along the stone steps on the outer side of the wharf. The two boat-watchers on the Heavenly Sword Sectʼs boat lowered their feet from the mooring post.

The gangplank touched the stone steps. The old curtain at the cabin mouth lifted, and out came a woman.

She was not tall, dressed in pale colors, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, exposing a stretch of wrist. She didnʼt glance at the row of rooftops toward town. She came down the gangplank, walked straight to the lowest step, and crouched at the waterʼs edge.

One hand extended over the water, an inch above the surface, and stopped, not touching.

The river flowed beneath her hand, current after current. She crouched there watching for a long while before pulling her hand back and standing. Nine disciples emerged from the cabin behind her, one after another, coming ashore to stand on the steps waiting for her.

”Where does this riverʼs water come from?” she asked the old woman.

The old woman blinked. ”Upstream. From the mountains.”

”Which mountain?”

”There are a lot of mountains around here.” The old woman laughed. ”Who could count them all?”

The woman nodded once and walked toward the street. In the middle of the street she paused, raised her head, and looked north—past several layers of tree shadows, toward the ridge of Qingya Mountain. When she was done looking, she said nothing, led her people back to the boat. The gangplank was pulled in; the mooring rope wrapped twice around the post.

Someone on the Heavenly Sword Sectʼs boat poked a head out to look down, saying nothing.

”Xuanshui Palace,” Qi Qi said.

The old woman set the fire tongs by the stove mouth. ”How do you know?”

”Lanterns hung but never lit—thereʼs only one of those in all of Dongzhou.” He drained the last mouthful from the bowl, stood, and noted the time in his mind: Snake hour.

At Wei hour, he moved to the town gate.

Ten people came in along the official road, walking. All wore dark robes with a dark-red trim at the collar, bundles on their backs. The last two carried a wooden chest between them. The one leading was thin, hands clasped behind his back, silent the whole way. He stopped in front of the grain shop and looked up at the sign over the door.

The shopkeeper came out of the shop, an abacus in one hand, still talking to someone. The shop hands had already gotten to work, hauling sacks one by one from the back courtyard and stacking them under the eaves. One sack had split, scattering rice across the ground; a shop hand crouched down and swept it up with his hands.

”Three rooms in the back courtyard,” the shopkeeper said. ”Oneʼs empty, two are stored with grain.”

”Clear them.”

”Clearingʼs not the problem. Itʼs near the river—damp. Grain moved outsideʼll have to come back in when it rains.”

The thin man didnʼt answer. He pressed a hand against one of the sacks, then pulled it away.

The shopkeeper clicked a bead on his abacus. ”One courtyard, ten people, for the room—”

”Charge what you said.”

The shopkeeper clicked another bead and turned to shout at the shop hands: ”Move those sacks by the back wall too. Stack them against it.”

The ten people filed into the back courtyard one by one. Qi Qi stood across the street and counted twice. Ten.

By the time he headed back, the sun was slanting west. At the Mountain Gate, Nie Bo pulled his broom aside and gave way half a step. Qi Qi walked into the front courtyard; the Accounts Room door was open.

”Monkey hour,” Qi Qi said.

It was his habit, announcing the time first thing through the door. Xu Yan lifted his brush and waited for him to continue.

”Down the mountain at Dragon hour, at the wharf by Snake hour.” Qi Qi sat on the long bench. ”Xuanshui Palace, ten people, staying on their boat. The leaderʼs a woman, surname Lin. She came ashore, didnʼt look toward town. First thing she did was crouch at the waterʼs edge, reach out over the water without touching it, and watch for a while.”

”Watching the water?”

”Watching the water. Then she asked the tea-stall woman where the river water comes from. The woman said upstream, from the mountains. She asked which mountain. The woman said there are too many mountains to count.”

Xu Yanʼs brush stopped on the paper.

”Why ask about the river?” Qi Qi asked.

”I donʼt know,” Xu Yan said. ”Note it for now.”

He pulled out another sheet, wrote a line, and set it under the inkstone, then went back to his notes. The first line: ”Xuanshui Palace, fourth month, twenty-third, ten people, on boat.” The second: ”Lihuo Hall, fourth month, twenty-third, ten people, grain shop back courtyard.”

”The ten on the official road entered town at Wei hour. Their leaderʼs surname Tan. Thin, hands behind his back, didnʼt say a word the whole way. At the grain shop he told the keeper to clear the back courtyard. Three rooms in back, two stored with grain. Sacks moved to the eaves, one sack of rice spilled.”

”The room money—Lihuo Hall paid it themselves,” Qi Qi added.

”Thatʼs their account anyway.”

”Someone on the street asked me,” Qi Qi said. ”The Eight Great Sects have sent so many people, he said. Your mountain has all those empty rooms—arenʼt you going to rent any out?”

Xu Yan looked up.

”I said, theyʼre staying in their own quarters.” Qi Qi said it plainly.

”Right,” Xu Yan said. ”Staying in their own quarters, eating their own food.”

”The Heavenly Sword Sectʼs boat is still moored there. Two men watching it. Xuanshui Palaceʼs boat pulled up along the outside, gangplank straight onto the stone steps. The two boatsʼ hulls are only a foot apart.”

Xu Yan recorded this under the ”Xuanshui Palace” line, starting a new sentence: ”Boat docked outside the Heavenly Sword Sectʼs boat.” When he finished, he smoothed the paper, pulled out the one from the twenty-first, and moved its two lines up. Four lines side by side: Heavenly Sword Sect, Jinding Pavilion, Xuanshui Palace, Lihuo Hall.

”The grain shopʼs rice is still two wen dearer,” Qi Qi said.

”Noted.”

”People in the market say once the gate opens, itʼll go up to five wen in town.”

Xu Yan set his brush down. ”It wonʼt get to five. The Eight Great Sects eat their own grain. The streetsʼll be full of rogue cultivators who came to watch—and the rogue cultivators eat ours.”

Qi Qi grinned. ”You say that like youʼre planning to compete with them.”

”Thatʼs how the ledger works it out.”

On the twenty-fourth, at Dragon hour, Qi Qi went down the mountain again. No particular errand this time—just to walk the streets and listen. He stood behind shops, crouched by the tea stall, hearing what people said about the Eight Great Sects and about that gate on Qingya Mountain. The sun moved from the east to overhead; he walked from the east end of the street to the west.

The Luoxia Innʼs east courtyard door was shut. Shop hands had brought water in twice. The west courtyard door was also shut, the dust on its panels still untouched. Qi Qi crouched on the steps across from the inn, gnawing the coarse grain cake heʼd brought from the mountain and sipping from his water flask.

At Monkey hour, a mule-drawn cart came in down the official road and stopped at the inn entrance.

Two people stepped down. The one in front cradled a wooden box wrapped in cloth, both hands supporting its base the whole way down. The one behind carried a cloth bundle on his back, the hard corner of a booklet sticking out at the mouth.

Qi Qiʼs teeth stopped mid-bite.

They were the two clerks who had come up the mountain with the Rank Evaluator on the sixteenth of the fourth month.

The innkeeper came out to greet them, talking as he led them upstairs. ”The room at the very end. Itʼs been kept empty, swept this morning.”

The one with the wooden box went up first. The one with the booklet stood at the foot of the steps, then suddenly turned and caught sight of Qi Qi crouched on the steps across the way.

”From Qingya, arenʼt you,” he said.

Qi Qi stood and stuffed the remaining cake into his shirt. ”Sixteenth of the fourth month, came up the mountain with the Rank Evaluator. I filled in at the gate.”

The clerk nodded, glanced up at the second floor, then turned back. ”Tomorrow at Dragon hour, the rules will be read out in front of the inn.”

”Read to whom?”

”To the eight team leaders. Every one of them has been notified.”

”And our mountain—”

”Whether the host sect comes or not, the rules get read.” The clerk said this plainly. ”Afterward thereʼll be a few words, and the roster handover, and the gate procedures.”

With that, he went upstairs, the cloth bundle shifting on his back.

At You hour, Qi Qi reached the Mountain Gate. Darkness came fast; the front courtyard already had its lamps lit.

Xu Yan was in the Accounts Room. He pulled out the paper and waited.

”Reached the gate at You hour,” Qi Qi said. ”Two clerks, entered the inn at Monkey hour, staying in the room at the end. One carrying a wooden box, one a bundle of booklets—the same two from the sixteenth of the fourth month. The one with the bundle recognized me. He said: tomorrow at Dragon hour, the rules are read in front of the inn, read to the eight team leaders.”

”All eight of them there?”

”He says every one has been notified.”

”He ask you to be there?”

”No,” Qi Qi said. ”I asked him if anyone from our mountain should come. He said, whether the host sect comes or not, the rules get read.”

Xu Yan wrote the line down: ”Fourth month, twenty-fourth, clerks arrive in Luoxia. Staying in the innermost room at the Luoxia Inn. Twenty-fifth, Dragon hour, rules read at the inn entrance.”

Five lines on the paper, four blank lines still below.

He set the brush back by the ink pool and looked up at Qi Qi. ”Tomorrow at Dragon hour—Iʼm going to listen.”

Qi Qi stood in the lamplight, not leaving. ”Youʼre going to listen?”

”Read to the Eight Great Sects.” Xu Yan said. ”I want to hear how he reads it.”

Qi Qi thought for a moment. ”Sixteenth of the fourth month, they read it once in the Main Hall.”

”That reading was for Qingya.” Xu Yan folded the paper once and tucked it into the very front of the account book. ”This one is for the Eight Great Sects.”

Qi Qi backed toward the door, then turned back again. ”Tomorrowʼs Mao-hour shift?”

”After the shift, Iʼll go.”

The door closed, and the Accounts Room was left with only the lamp. On the paper: four sects in four lines, one line for the clerks, and four blank lines below.