Where Immortals Once Walked

Sun Hongye parted his lips to answer, but, glancing around, said instead, “This isn’t the place.”

The clinic bustled with people. Just then, two young girls were changing the dressings of the patient opposite him, and every so often, they would turn to sneak a peek at He Lingchuan.

This was a place for small talk, nothing more.

Catching his meaning, He Lingchuan changed the subject and asked, “How does your body feel right now?”

“Sore and swollen, aching all over. No strength anywhere,” Sun Hongye admitted, tired after speaking so much.

“There are good physicians here. Just do exactly as they tell you, and you should be all good soon enough. I won’t be prescribing you anything so that the medicines don’t clash.” The arrow poison had been vicious; Sun Hongye had scraped past death last night and would have to suffer a while yet. “Rest up. I’ll come see you the day after tomorrow.”

Afterward, He Lingchuan personally sought out the attending doctor and asked that Sun Hongye be tended with care. All expenses, he said, would be covered by the He Family.

That afternoon, the meals sent to Sun Hongye from the clinic kitchen were clearly of a higher standard. He was served a carefully simmered rice porridge with pork liver and goji berries, two radish-thread pancakes fried to a golden crisp, and a large meat bun stuffed so generously that it bulged with filling. There was even a dish of pickles, sweet and salty in perfect balance.

It made everyone else look on with envy.

After asking a few questions, Sun Hongye’s favor toward He Lingchuan grew even warmer.

* * *

No sooner had He Lingchuan stepped out of the clinic than Fixer Liu returned, and the two rode a carriage back to the inn.

He himself was still a patient; one walk outside and his wound was throbbing again.

Madame Ying had already gone to his room once and missed him. Seeing him come back now, she frowned. “You’re covered in injuries and still running around. Are you so ready to throw your life away?”

Hearing the concern tucked inside her scolding, He Lingchuan grinned and produced a small case. “I just picked up a little something for you, Mother.”

The square case was Chinese rosewood, a light brown with some age to it, the surface smooth and undecorated. Only the lower left corner bore a blob of sealing wax stamped with the words “Yangliu Studio.”

Madame Ying opened it to find a pumpkin-shaped hand warmer nestled on a soft pad.

She owned several hand warmers herself, most bearing flower-and-bird or bat-and-longevity[1] motifs, made of red copper or white brass. But this one had an indigo base with dimly gilded veining, no fixed pattern; the lines rose and faded in depth. And yet it was, paradoxically, utterly composed, sumptuous, and grand, as if it could glow on its own even in shadow.

One glance at it, and her eyes could not pull away.

There were no coals inside, yet the piece still felt faintly warm, and it was silky and round in the hand. “Where did you find this?”

“It’s an antique from the last dynasty,” Fixer Liu chimed in at the perfect moment. “Roughly two hundred years old. In the eastern region of West Luo, Yangliu Studio was the most renowned atelier of its day, and this Glimpse of Spring hand warmer was a treasure the sect master kept for himself. The mirror, the warmer, the comb, the hairpin, and the case were originally a suite, each with a maker’s mark on the underside, but as of today, the other pieces have all vanished.”

Turning the little warmer over, Madame Ying asked, “Beautiful as it is, what does this color have to do with spring?”

Spring meant new grass and warbling orioles; pieces with that theme were usually glazed in reds, yellows, and greens. How could deep blue and dark gold be springlike?

Such hues fit winter better.

Fixer Liu smiled and said, “There’s a story there. When the studio’s master was a boy, he fell into a lake by accident. It was early spring, and the ice had just started to thaw. Looking up from under the water, he saw sunlight lancing down through the cracks in the ice, and it was a sight that he never forgot. Decades later, he finally recreated it in his work.”

Madame Ying tried to stay reserved, but her mouth could not quite stop smiling. “So there’s a little history behind it!”

Not wishing to lose her composure in front of her eldest son, she gave a firm cough before saying, “This is thoughtful, Chuan’er. I like it very much. Fixer Liu, a few officials’ ladies are calling on me later. Go into the city and buy some pastries from an old, reputable shop for entertaining guests.”

Her leg was injured, but the bone was sound, and after taking the medicine Ling Guang had given her, the pain had eased. Time in Shihuan City was precious, too precious to spend only on recuperation.

Fixer Liu hastened to agree and, as he turned to go, shot He Lingchuan a quick wink.

He was the one who tracked the item down.

Over the past month or two, numerous officials and wealthy merchants had had their homes raided. Their valuables quickly found their way onto the market through all manner of channels. For anyone with a sharp eye and deep enough pockets, now was truly the right time to go treasure-hunting.

Had the He Family come a year later, the price of the Glimpse of Spring hand warmer would have at least doubled.

He Lingchuan gave him a thumbs-up. The best antiquities come with the best stories; when it comes to gifting women, it really is a job for a professional. Otherwise, you would probably be better off not gifting at all.

He had also prepared a silver-tipped writing brush for He Yue and a full outfit for He Chunhua.

When guests were due to arrive, Madame Ying had the servants add fresh coals to the Glimpse of Spring hand warmer, then, delighted, set it on the tea table. She meant to pick it up and toy with it now and then while chatting with the officials’ ladies.

Something this lovely and full of resonance was like fine jewelry—it was meant to be seen.

* * *

No sooner had He Lingchuan returned to the inn and taken two sips of hot tea than a guard came to report, “Li Fubo of Songyang Mansion has come to see you.”

Overjoyed, He Lingchuan personally went to the entrance of the inn to welcome him.

The Chief Grandmaster Artisan of Songyang Mansion’s Central Furnace arrived with light, efficient steps, and two apprentices filed in behind him.

After a few polite exchanges, Li Fubo made introductions, “These are my personal disciples. They’d like to come north with me, as well as lend a hand and broaden their horizons as we go. I’ll cover their room and board. Would Young Master[2] be willing to indulge us?”

“Of course,” He Lingchuan said with a smile. “Grandmaster Li, there’s no need to stand on ceremony. Having you journey so far at my request already weighs on me. As for these two young brothers, I’ll gladly take care of their expenses.”

Pleased by his forthrightness, Li Fubo did not demur further. He turned to the broken saber. “Recasting is like pill refining. You have to oversee every step, and you only get one shot. With the road full of inconveniences, I’d prefer to wait until we reach Xia Province before we begin.”

Knowing haste would only spoil things, He Lingchuan agreed without argument. Afterward, he pulled a small carved boat from his sleeve, a little sheepish. “Grandmaster Li, could you take a look at this? Can it still be repaired?”

“A mustard seed boat[3]?” Li Fubo blinked. “Sun Fuping’s as well?”

“Good eye. I thought it was just a walnut boat.” He Lingchuan then passed it over. “My father confiscated it from Sun Fuping. I borrowed it last night, and my enemies turned it into this wreck. What do you think? Can it be saved?”

“This is a piece from Songyang Mansion to begin with. It’s only natural that I’d recognize it.”

“You’re telling me this is from Songyang Mansion, too?” He Lingchuan was a little surprised. “Sun Fuping said he borrowed it from a friend.”

“He borrowed it from Songyang Mansion. Our Lord Marquis mentioned it a couple of times back then.”

Well, this is awkward.

The mustard seed boat’s original owner was the Marquis of Songyang, yet it was also He Chunhua’s spoil of war.

Fortunately, as Li Fubo examined it, he said, “No matter. Let it rest with the one who has fate with it; I don’t think His Lordship would mind. Hm, interesting. The boat originally had arrays engraved into it. Its maker bragged to me that once powered by a profound crystal, it would be impervious to water and flame.”

“And here it is, burned to a crisp. Who slapped his face this hard?” Li Fubo asked. “Was it a monster puppet?”

He Lingchuan arched an eyebrow. “So Grandmaster Li’s heard as well?”

“In a place like Shihuan City, news grows wings.” Li Fubo smiled. “Dong Rui’s monster puppets live up to their reputation. If that fire had touched an ordinary person, they’d have been ash in an instant. Did you see the puppet yourself?”

“Mm-hm, it had a crow head, bat wings, a neck like a snake. It was quite large. Do you know what kind it is?”

Li Fubo shook his head. “I’m curious myself. That sort of true fire would be excellent for refining.”

Catching himself going off topic, he looked back at the little walnut boat and said, “I specialize in forging weapons, not clever contraptions. I can’t promise perfection in this item’s repair, but if you’re willing, I could give it a try.” It would, after all, keep him from growing bored on the road north.

“Of course.” It was not his walnut boat anyway, so He Lingchuan agreed without hesitation.

Li Fubo added, “By the way, pardon my impertinence, but among Sun Fuping’s belongings, were there any other magical artifacts?”

“Sun Fuping’s?” He Lingchuan thought it over. “My father handled the confiscations. All I know is there was also an entangling coiled silk net. Did Songyang Mansion lend Sun Fuping any other magical artifacts?”

“There was a multicolored bamboo tube inscribed with three seals colored gold, red, and purple. It belonged to the previous lord of Songyang Mansion. Our Lord Marquis would like it returned.”

“A bamboo tube with seals?” He Lingchuan nodded. “When my father gets back, I’ll be sure to ask him.”

Li Fubo straightened and said solemnly, “Many thanks, Young Master!”

Because the Coordinating Army could set out north at any moment, Li Fubo and his two disciples simply rented rooms at the same inn and did not return to their sect.

That morning, He Yue was by far the busiest person.

Last night, the He Family and Ke Jihai were ambushed on their way down from Luming Garden. Ke Jihai took the captives into custody, while He Chunhua entered the palace overnight to report in person, stirring up waves upon waves.

By early morning, every person with considerable authority who received the news sent people to pay their respects to the Governor-General of Xia Province and, incidentally, to gather information.

After receiving a few such messengers, Madame Ying was already exasperated and took the chance to slip out for a bit of shopping, leaving only He Yue at the inn to shoulder the thankless task.

As for He Lingchuan, he played the idle young master to the hilt. He ignored the hubbub, had lunch at leisure, and then retreated to his room to cultivate and practice while time allowed.

Last night’s battle had been short, tight, and hair-raising. It was a trial by fire and a timely reminder that personal strength was fundamental. He had to advance, and fast at that.

Compared to two or three months ago, He Lingchuan’s cultivation had grown without him even noticing, and especially so for his movement, eyesight, and spiritual sense. They were now all far beyond what they had once been. The werewolf monster puppet struck swiftly, and the old He Lingchuan would have been gutted in the first exchange or two, never lasting long enough for He Chunhua to finish casting the net.

This was the case with or without origin energy to bolster him.

At the end of the day, one’s own cultivation was the foundation, and origin energy was merely an amplifier.

If the gap in strength was too great, then origin energy would not amount to much, just as with He Chunhua before Sun Fuping.

That evening, He Chunhua returned from the capital and gathered the family for dinner to convey the King’s will.

Seeing the spring in his father’s step, He Lingchuan knew the trip to the capital had gone smoothly in every respect.

Sure enough, He Chunhua told his wife and children that the King had summoned him to court, asked for details about the ambush at Luming Garden, and then pointed to the sand table to question him on strategies for repelling the enemy along the northern frontier.

Someone else might have been caught flat-footed—after all, they had not even reached the front lines yet, nor seen the situation to the north with their own eyes. But from the day he was promoted to Governor-General of Xia Province, He Chunhua had been collecting reports from the lines and gaming out scenarios with his staff. Hence, his answers flowed crisply and assuredly.

1. See note. ☜

2. Note that the specific word used here is closer to boss or master, but I personally feel that to be a bit awkward, hence this translation. ☜

3. The mustard seed part is a reference to a Buddhist text wherein there are mentions of a mustard seed being able to contain Mount Sumeru. ☜