Finding the Road Beneath the Trees
The neighing of horses gradually faded from the tea stall, until only two faint trails of dust remained at the end of the official road.
Fang Yingjie stared in the direction Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi had ridden, his heart tightening. He had just lifted a foot to dash forward when Feng Feiyun caught him by the back of the collar and yanked him short.
"What are you in such a hurry for?" he said with a slanting grin. "There are two horses up ahead. Even if those legs of yours belonged to a rabbit, you still wouldn't outrun their hooves."
Fang Yingjie stumbled from the pull, his face flushing. "Even so, we can't just stand here and watch them get farther away."
"They may not get far at all." Releasing him, Feng Feiyun snapped off a thin twig and drew two winding lines on the ground. "When people travel, it isn't only a question of whether their feet are fast. It's also a question of which road they take. If you follow the official road like a fool and eat dust behind them, you won't catch them in three days. But if you know which mountain paths run shorter and which ferry crossings have the fastest boats, even slow people can keep their teeth in the heels of the quick."
Xi Qian had already found his mouth too restless and his manner too cocky. But now, seeing him crouched there drawing routes on the ground, she could not help looking more closely. There really did seem to be something to him.
Without even lifting his head, Feng Feiyun tapped the ground with the twig and said, "From the foot of Mount Hua, you head southeast, first by the outer road past Huayin, then across the old road along the Wei River, then bend east of Tongguan. The official road is broad and good for horses. Mountain paths are narrow, but people can move faster on them. Those two up ahead are carrying gift boxes, and they're going on Mount Hua's behalf to offer birthday congratulations. They won't drive their horses at a dead run. They'll take the steady road. If we know how to cut across, then before dusk today, we may well catch sight of their backs again."
Fang Yingjie understood only half of it. But the phrase may well catch sight of their backs again was exactly what he wanted to hear. He nodded eagerly. "Then let's cut across!"
Only then did Feng Feiyun rise, dusting off his hands and giving the pair a careful once-over.
Xi Qian was dressed today in a blue-gray novice's robe. It dulled her pretty features by three parts, but could not hide the spirit in them. Fang Yingjie, on the other hand, looked even more like a little Daoist boy who had secretly slipped down the mountain—his face somewhat pale, but his eyes bright. This appearance might pass well enough while they were hurrying through the hills, but the moment they reached a crowded place, anyone would know at a glance that something was off.
After studying them for a moment, Feng Feiyun said, "First straighten your hair and your hems."
Xi Qian frowned. "Straighten what?"
"Make yourselves look like traveling little Daoists, not runaway little Daoists." As he spoke, Feng Feiyun retied Fang Yingjie's lopsided bundle and tugged straight at the boy's hem. "If you go on looking like this, you'll be stopped and questioned before you even reach the edge of the nearest town."
Watching him bustling around, Xi Qian let out a soft snort. "Why do you insist on meddling in everything?"
Feng Feiyun glanced up and smiled. "Fine, I can leave it alone. But if you get stopped on the road later by patrols, by innkeepers asking where you've come from, or by anyone who sees you like this and grows suspicious, don't expect me to smooth it over for you."
Xi Qian felt her breath catch in annoyance, and naturally refused to yield. "Why are you like some mad monkey—leaping all over the trees and never letting that mouth of yours rest for an instant?"
Feng Feiyun stared for a beat, then burst into laughter so hard his shoulders shook.
"How did you know?" he said. "That useless master of mine calls me that all the time—Mad Monkey."
Fang Yingjie froze, then could not help laughing too. "Mad Monkey?"
"That's right." Feng Feiyun clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head. "Feng Feiyun is my name. Mad Monkey is my title. If you think my name sounds too refined, you can call me by the title instead."
At that laugh, most of the irritation in Xi Qian's heart dissolved, though her mouth still refused to spare him. "It suits you perfectly."
Feng Feiyun did not take offense. Turning, he pointed toward the deeper woods. "Come on. Stay close, and don't snap any branches underfoot. A bamboo grove can hide a man, but a pine grove can give away his feet. When you travel mountain roads, don't keep staring at the back of the person in front. You have to watch what's underfoot, what's to either side, and the sky as well."
"What do you look at the sky for?" Fang Yingjie asked.
"The clouds, the wind, the sun." Feng Feiyun walked as he spoke. "So you know what hour is fit for pressing on, what hour is fit for finding an inn, and what hour even the horses up ahead will have to stop. Do they not teach you these things on Mount Hua?"
Fang Yingjie shook his head honestly.
Feng Feiyun clicked his tongue. "Then going down the mountain like this, you're playing with your lives."
Spring Dust on the Pass Road
Leaving the tea stall at the foot of Mount Hua, the three did not take the official road. Instead, they followed a woodcutter's path that slanted southeast along the mountainside.
The spring hills had only just cleared after rain, and dew still clung to the blades of grass. The soil by the pine roots was faintly damp, soft underfoot, and their soles picked up tiny beads of mud. At its narrowest, the mountain path allowed only one person to slip through sideways. At its widest, they could see the official road in the distance, stretched like a gray-white belt along fields, hamlets, and old posting stations, dragging east and south in long winding curves.
Though Fang Yingjie had run wild all over Mount Hua before, he had never truly gone down the mountain like this. The moment he left the familiar roads behind, everything before his eyes felt new. At the foot of the hills there were woodcutters trudging along under heavy loads, muleteers leading donkeys laden with salt, and women by the roadside with little stalls selling steamed cakes, ginger candy, and hot bean soup. Farther down, he could see light yellow dust rising from the courier road, short escort caravans guarding freight wagons beneath oilcloth covers, small flags planted at the corners, and courier riders galloping past on lean horses with long banners of dust streaming behind them.
By the time they had gone half a day, the terrain gradually flattened, and the fields and villages grew more numerous. Freshly turned spring earth lay on both sides of the road. Wooden rakes stood in the fields, and old oxen, led by children, plodded slowly along the edges of the furrows. Beneath a locust tree at a village entrance, several old women sat sifting rice, white grains and broken husks separating into two colors inside their bamboo trays. Barefoot children were catching fish in the ditches, their shouts carrying far down the road.
Xi Qian said nothing aloud, but her eyes were brighter than usual. She had grown up on Mount Hua. Though she had occasionally gone down the mountain with her father, she had never done so like this—without attendants, slipping through woods and along hidden paths with two half-grown boys. Everything beyond the mountain seemed to her like pages turning alive from an illustrated book.
Feng Feiyun, by contrast, seemed familiar with all of it. Sometimes he led them along the ridgelines to avoid the most obvious stretches of road. Sometimes he took them around behind a ruined temple, cutting across a dike between fields. And whenever they poked their heads out again, Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi's two horses would once more appear not far ahead on the official road.
At one slanting slope, Fang Yingjie's foot slipped, and he nearly went rolling down with bundle and all. Feng Feiyun snatched him by the back of the collar and hauled him up in one motion, then flicked a finger against his forehead for good measure.
"I say, sickly one," he scolded with a grin, "are you hurrying along the road, or hurrying off to be reborn?"
Fang Yingjie flushed. "I—I just didn't plant my foot properly."
"Nonsense. If you had planted it properly, I wouldn't have had to haul you back." Feng Feiyun said, "Remember this: on mountain roads, stop staring at the person in front. You look at them, and they won't look at the ground for you. If the path is wet, step on the roots, not the smooth stone. If the ground is loose, step on the firm edge, not the center. What do they teach on Mount Hua—sword forms only, and not where a man's legs are supposed to go?"
Xi Qian found it funny, but held back her laughter. "You should save a little virtue with that mouth."
Feng Feiyun shot her a glance. "If I were truly storing up virtue, the two of you would still be eating dust behind them on the official road."
Fang Yingjie had nothing to say to that. But he did not grow annoyed. Instead, he silently fixed every one of Feng Feiyun's words in his heart.
By the time they reached a mule drivers' stop in the afternoon, Feng Feiyun suddenly halted and flung out an arm. "Don't make a sound."
The three crouched behind a low mud wall. Outside the door stood a blue-covered wagon with two mules tethered behind it. A middle-aged man in a felt cap squatted beside the wagon eating a cake, yet at his feet lay a short saber wrapped in cloth. Another man, who looked like some kind of bookkeeper, sat beneath the eaves with his head lowered over an abacus. But though he moved the beads slowly, his eyes kept straying toward the feet of those passing on the road.
Fang Yingjie did not understand. In a whisper, he asked, "What is it?"
"These aren't honest wagon men," Feng Feiyun murmured.
"How do you know?" Xi Qian lowered her voice as well.
"A wagoner's hands are rough. A bookkeeper's hands are fine." Feng Feiyun said. "But the one eating the cake has fingers too steady—he's used to holding a blade. And the one with the abacus isn't looking at goods or money. He's looking at people's feet. A real bookkeeper looks at the cargo first and asks the road after. He's trying to tell where people came from and where they're going."
Neither Xi Qian nor Fang Yingjie spoke for a moment. Both felt that they had been only one day beyond the mountain gate, and yet the world had already become entirely different from Mount Hua.
Feng Feiyun glanced at them and said quietly, "Remember this. On the road, don't look first at what a man says. Look first at his hands, his feet, and his eyes. The best pretender in the world still can't disguise them all."
He led them the long way around behind the inn, willing to lose a quarter of an hour rather than pass hard by the door.
After they had gone some distance, Fang Yingjie finally asked in a low voice, "Then who were they waiting for?"
"I don't know, and I don't need to know." Feng Feiyun said. "For people on the road, the most important thing is not crowding into every matter that appears before them. It's knowing which matters they ought not to crowd into."
At that, he paused, plucked a narrow blade of grass from the roadside, rolled it into a little tube, and tucked it into the corner of his mouth. "On Mount Hua, what you study is how to win. The first thing you study below the mountain is how not to die."
"And another thing." He glanced back at them. "If you meet someone on the road who smiles too warmly at you, keep your distance first. A man who treats you well for no reason is usually lacking either a father or a brain. But in this world, the things people truly lack are usually neither of those."
Xi Qian frowned. "Why is everything you say some twisted sort of logic?"
Without turning his head, Feng Feiyun replied, "Twisted logic can keep you alive. Whether straight logic can do the same depends on your luck."
Fang Yingjie listened in a daze, as though something had gently brushed against his heart.
He had always imagined that going down the mountain to roam the world would be just as the books described it—carrying a sword, riding a horse, stepping in wherever he saw injustice. Only now did he begin to understand that the real road was not about meddling the instant one set foot upon it, but first knowing whether one ought to stand in the middle of that road at all.
East of Tongguan
Near noon on the second day, the three made their way around the eastern road beyond Tongguan.
The spring sky stood high and clear. Far off, the pass loomed between mountain and river, its old walls thick and heavy, its shadow dark and deep. To the north, the Yellow River still ran broad, a single muddy line pressing eastward along the foot of the barrier hills. To the south, the mountain ridges closed in tighter, and the old road seemed pinched between iron walls, no more than a thin gray-white line threading out of the pass.
Feng Feiyun led them around the proper gate, keeping close to the hills by the outer road instead. The traffic there was not dense, but it was far more varied than it had been beneath Mount Hua. There were salt carts from Guanzhong, traders from Henan heading west to buy medicinal herbs, and several men of the martial world in short coats with bulging waists, their accents coming from north and south alike.
At one tea stall by the roadside, a few traveling merchants were talking.
"For Gang Leader Qin's birthday this time, Taihu Lake will probably set out three full days of running banquets."
"Three days? You think too little of the Four Seas Gang. What kind of man is Invincible Iron Courage Qin Gang? Who on the waters of Jiangnan wouldn't yield him three parts? I've heard people are coming to Taihu from Shandong, from the Two Lakes, even from western Zhejiang."
"Qin Gang is one thing. His son is the real formidable one. They call him the Young Overlord. Barely in his twenties, and he's already got the gang's fleets, docks, and both the old and new factions all under control."
Another man clicked his tongue twice. "And what about that deputy leader, Ape-Armed Divine Fist Jiang Datao? Who in the martial world doesn't praise him for loyalty and righteousness? With a gang leader like that, a young master like that, and a second-in-command like that, the Four Seas Gang is truly flourishing now."
The first man lowered his voice and laughed. "You all speak only of the men. Why not speak of Qin Gang's daughter? They say she's stunningly beautiful. She's still young, and already the marriage proposals are nearly breaking down the doors. If any family could become kin to the Four Seas Gang—beauty in your arms and the waterways at your back—what more could a man want?"
Another burst out laughing. "And what makes you think you're fit to dream it?"
These were no more than idle words from idle men on the road, yet both Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie found themselves pricking up their ears.
"Qin Xin…" Fang Yingjie whispered. "That's Gang Leader Qin's daughter?"
"Most likely," Xi Qian said.
Feng Feiyun, who had been crouched there chewing half a steamed cake, only smiled faintly. "There you have it. Let a woman be beautiful, or a man powerful, and the whole world busies itself arranging marriages for them. Once the matter truly falls on one's own head, who knows whether it tastes bitter or sweet?"
Xi Qian was startled and turned to look at him.
But Feng Feiyun had already stuffed the remaining half of the cake into Fang Yingjie's hands. "Eat. The worst thing on the road is waiting until you're hungry to eat. By the time your vision goes black with hunger, there may be no inn, no money left in your purse, and you yourself may no longer be standing steady."
Holding the cake, Fang Yingjie said instinctively, "I'm not really—"
"You're not really hungry because you haven't truly been on the road yet." Feng Feiyun cut in. "Walk another hour, and even the soles of your shoes will smell good to you."
Xi Qian could not help laughing softly. "Not one pleasant thing ever comes out of your mouth, does it?"
Feng Feiyun lifted a brow. "What good are pleasant words? Down here, reaching Taihu alive sounds better than anything."
After they left the eastern road beyond Tongguan, the land began to level out. There were more mulberry trees by the roadside, more branching streams, and more paddies and shallow ponds linked together. The wind itself had begun to carry moisture. When they passed through the market towns, they now saw wine flags and grain-shop signs hanging side by side. There were more basket makers, boatwrights, and bamboo craftsmen than there had been farther west.
This region had already drawn close to the waterways of central China, and the speech along the road grew more varied as well. Guanzhong accents remained, but there was more Henan speech now, mixed with soft cadences from still farther south, making Fang Yingjie's ears itch with curiosity.
That night they lodged in a small inn by the river. Outside stood mooring posts for boats, and in the middle of the night one could hear oars striking the water. In the next room stayed several small silk merchants, still whispering over their accounts before sleep. Feng Feiyun would not let the other two sleep by the window, and he would not let them stack all their belongings together beside the bed. He only said:
"Money, medicine, tinder—hide them separately. If a thief comes and finds one stash, the rest are still there. When you stay at an inn, look at the back door first, then the kitchen, and only then the bed. The bed is for a man to sleep on, not for his life to sleep on."
As he spoke, he casually pulled a small silver ingot from beside Xi Qian's pillow and turned it between his fingers.
Xi Qian froze, then her face flushed. "Why are you rifling through my things?"
Feng Feiyun tossed the silver back into her lap with a grin. "If I were a thief, you'd be too late to cry by now. Remember it. Don't hide all your silver in one place. The most convenient place for your own hand is the first place a thief will feel."
Fang Yingjie stared, dumbfounded, then reflexively reached toward the top of his boot. Feng Feiyun shot him a look at once. "And don't touch it. The moment you do, I'll know where you've hidden it."
Fang Yingjie snatched his hand back immediately.
Xi Qian could not help saying, "How is it you seem to know everything?"
Feng Feiyun, now tucking a tiny tinder tube into his own boot, answered without lifting his head, "Most people who didn't know are dead."
Spring Deepens Along the Bian Waters
Several days later, the three had crossed the Luo River and were heading south along the Bian.
Here the waterways were even more abundant. Harbors, ferry crossings, shipping offices, and porters lined the route one after another in dense succession. Small black-awning boats were moored along the banks, as were broad flat-bottomed grain barges. Porters staggered beneath sacks of salt so heavy their steps seemed likely to make the wooden planks cry out. Silk merchants from the south stood on the bows of their boats in fine ramie robes, fanning themselves as they spoke official northern speech tinged with the tones of Wu.
Only here did the full character of Jiangnan truly begin to show itself.
Even the roadside food had changed. Along the road through Guanzhong there had mostly been hot cakes, bean soup, and beef. Here there were sweet lotus root, wine-marinated fish, steamed water chestnuts, and little rice dumplings wrapped in lotus leaves. Even the tea stalls no longer set out only coarse ceramic bowls, but thin green celadon cups. When the wind stirred, waterbirds rose and fell across the river, and willow branches brushed the surface so lightly that even the scenery itself seemed gentler by several degrees than in the west.
That afternoon the three stopped to rest at a large ferry crossing.
Feng Feiyun bought Fang Yingjie a bowl of ginger broth, but he himself crouched by one of the mooring posts, staring at the passing boats as though he were looking for something. After a while, he suddenly lifted a hand and pointed ahead. "See that one?"
Xi Qian followed his finger. A mid-sized passenger boat was moored farther out, and at its bow fluttered a narrow triangular pennant. The flag was small, but around its edge ran a ring of fine black wave patterns.
"What is that?" she asked.
"A small mark used on the water routes," Feng Feiyun said in a low voice. "Proper large banners are flown only by the big ships. Small flags are for one's own people. Merchants won't know them, but men who work boats and docks usually understand at a glance."
Fang Yingjie listened with fascination. Until now he had known only that roads lay beneath one's feet and carts moved across the earth. He had never imagined that the waters, too, had their own set of rules—rules never written on any page.
Feng Feiyun watched for a while longer, then nodded slowly. "I've seen this pattern twice before in the south. It looks like something used on the water routes around Taihu Lake."
As the three spoke in low voices, two men in short jackets indeed jumped down from the passenger boat. One went to a wine shop to fetch hot soup, while the other ducked into a shipping office ahead. Both walked with great steadiness underfoot, and their eyes were nothing like the loose, careless eyes of ordinary boatmen.
Watching them, Feng Feiyun's gaze brightened by a few parts, while the corner of his mouth curled slightly upward.
"The birthday feast hasn't begun yet, and already the road has been laid out first," he murmured. "Looks like Taihu Lake is going to be lively indeed this time."
Holding his still-steaming bowl of ginger broth, Fang Yingjie stared for a long while. Then he said softly, "So the southern roads aren't all on land."
At that, Feng Feiyun turned his head and gave him a glance.
"You've finally understood one thing." he said coolly. "A road may be on the ground. That doesn't mean the people on it walk on the ground."
Having said this, he stuffed another piece of cold cake into Fang Yingjie's hand. "Eat. With that little scrap of a body, don't start thinking about seeing the whole world. First think about not fainting from hunger halfway down the road."
Fang Yingjie took it by reflex, yet the strange warmth inside him still did not fade.
Watching from the side, Xi Qian felt that Fang Yingjie had been unusually quiet today, as though the boats, the pennants, the docks, and all the people coming and going from north and south had slowly knocked something open inside him. As for what exactly had opened, he himself perhaps could not yet have said. But she had a faint sense that it had much to do with the two words far horizon.
Red Slips at the Ferry
By the time they had truly come near Jiangnan and near Taihu Lake, the sights along the road were utterly unlike anything below Mount Hua.
That evening, the three followed the flow of travelers into a large riverside dock. The dock stood beside a branching arm of a great river. Long planks stretched out over the water, and passenger boats, cargo boats, salt boats, and even little two-storied pleasure craft were packed together as far as the eye could see, their masts standing like a forest. The inns and tea houses along the bank lit their lamps early. Before dusk had fully fallen, a scattered layer of gold was already shimmering across the water.
The most eye-catching thing, however, was red.
From the wooden landing at the ferry all the way to the largest inns along the river, many of the porters, servants, and stewards wore narrow red slips tucked into their belts. On each was written in bold a single large character:
Longevity
Beneath it, stamped in black ink, were four smaller characters:
Taihu Brotherhood Gathering
This time no one needed to explain it for Fang Yingjie to understand. These were the Four Seas Gang's markers, used to receive guests for Qin Gang's fiftieth birthday.
"So this is where the real bustle is," Xi Qian murmured, watching the people come and go.
Leaning against an old piling with his arms folded, Feng Feiyun said, "At the foot of Mount Hua we only heard the wind of it. Here, the wind has finally blown into our faces."
As he spoke, Zheng Chong and Xuanyuan Xi also arrived with a party of northern guests. The two had traveled at an unhurried pace, the gift boxes from Mount Hua still fastened behind their horses. Coming to receive them was a middle-aged man in a black jacket trimmed at the cuffs with a band of sea-blue. He had the brisk bearing of a man far above the level of an ordinary errand-runner. After inspecting their invitation card, he at once clasped his fists with a smile.
"So the high disciples of Mount Hua have arrived! You have had a hard journey. Lodgings have already been prepared outside Changmen by the main office. Tomorrow or the day after, boats will be assigned there to convey honored guests from the various roads into Juyi Isle on Taihu Lake. If you do not find it too simple, please rest first in one of the upper river rooms tonight."
Zheng Chong returned the courtesy with calm composure. Xuanyuan Xi only inclined his head slightly beside him, and under the riverbank lamps his pale blue robe made him seem all the more quiet and untroubled.
Feng Feiyun glanced once and said under his breath, "That Brother Xi of yours—even in a place like this, he still looks as though he were standing on the mountain listening to the wind."
Xi Qian had been looking at Xuanyuan Xi's back. At those words, warmth rose to her face, but she still replied, "At least he looks better than you do."
Feng Feiyun only chuckled and did not argue. Instead, he led the other two toward a small inn on a narrow street to the north.
This time he did not dive into the most broken-down hovel he could find. Instead, he chose an inn that was small, yet stood by the water and offered easy ways in and out. The front was a wineshop. Behind it was a courtyard, and behind the courtyard another narrow gate opened directly onto a river landing. Feng Feiyun first walked a full round of the yard, then peered into the kitchen doorway before finally turning back.
"Remember this when you choose an inn. Bigger isn't always better, and shabbier isn't always safer. Large places have too many eyes. Ruined ones have too many loose mouths. An inn like this, with two courts—lively in front, a back exit behind—that's the best kind to run from if trouble comes."
Xi Qian said irritably, "Why is running always the first thing in your mind?"
Feng Feiyun shot her a look. "If not running, should we stand around and wait for someone to catch us?"
They had only just settled in when a sudden commotion broke out at the street mouth outside.
Riverside places like this never lacked idlers eager for excitement. Yet mixed into the noise were several words—"Young Master Bai," "Flying Snow Manor," "He really does look the part"—enough to make people instinctively want to look outside.
Xi Qian rose first. "Let's go see."
Fang Yingjie, naturally, could not sit still either and hurried after her. Feng Feiyun had been leaning against the doorframe, but seeing them rush out, he could only spit out the grass stem in his mouth, shake his head, and follow at an easy pace.
In the front hall facing the street, a ring of people had already gathered.
At the center stood a youth in white. He wore a white robe belted with silver. The cloth was not ostentatious, yet one look showed it was beyond the means of any ordinary household. He was extremely handsome, with features so fine and clear they were almost translucent, even his lips pale. Had the bright liveliness of youth not shone so strongly through his expression, that white robe would truly have given him an air of cold aristocratic grace.
Beside him stood a servant in green, short in stature but delicate of feature, standing guard with obvious wariness.
Xi Qian needed only one look before something stirred faintly in her heart. On Mount Hua she had heard the name of the Bai family of Flying Snow Manor more than once. This youth in white, standing in the crowd with such striking features, really did carry some of the cold elegance of a northern great-house young master. Only he was still too young, and too lively. It was as though he were imitating someone, but had not yet learned the role to the full.
The ones surrounding him were not ordinary local ruffians. They were three rather neatly dressed young men, with two hanger-on types behind them. The leader among them carried a folding fan, wore a sword at his waist, and planted his feet with great steadiness. It was obvious at a glance that he had some grounding. Another, tall and thin, kept a hand on his sword hilt, and at the hem of his robe could just be seen the cloud pattern marking a lay disciple of Wudang.
Xi Qian's expression shifted slightly. "A lay disciple of Wudang?"
Fang Yingjie was startled as well. In a low voice, he said, "Even men from an orthodox sect act like this?"
Feng Feiyun, however, looked as if he had heard the most ordinary thing in the world. Tugging at the corner of his mouth, he said quietly, "What about Wudang? Hanging the character for righteousness over the gate doesn't mean every man walking out of it is righteous."
The young man with the fan smiled in a frivolous way.
"'Young Master Bai'? That's quite a boast."
"Since when does anyone from the Bai family of Changbai wander all alone through inns by the riverbank?"
Another laughed. "If you say your name is Bai, then show us something worth seeing. The moment anyone hears 'Young Master Bai,' of course they think first of Bai Liancheng's only son from Changbai. But a name like that isn't something you can counterfeit just by throwing on a white robe."
The youth in white looked faintly cold, though his voice remained crisp. "I said my surname is Bai. If you believe it, fine. If not, what does that have to do with me?"
The more fearless he seemed, the closer the others pressed.
After only a few glances, Feng Feiyun said under his breath, "So. A boy who knows how to attract trouble."
Xi Qian frowned. "Aren't you going to help him?"
Instead of answering at once, Feng Feiyun swept his gaze around the corners of the hall. The old man selling sugar cakes still had his head lowered over his stall, yet his eyes had never left the white-robed youth. At the threshold, a porter with a carrying pole had not yet set down his load, but his feet had already shifted into the most advantageous position for intervening. Farther away, two men drinking by the window looked as though they were playing finger-guessing games, but the corners of their eyes kept flicking this way.
A thought stirred in Feng Feiyun's mind. The youth in white clearly was not unprotected. His people were merely waiting—waiting until he himself had stirred the scene far enough that he could no longer hold it up alone.
"Whether we help or not, it won't be your turn to charge in first," he said quietly.
But Fang Yingjie could no longer hold himself back. "But they're crowding him like that—"
Before he had finished, he had already squeezed half a step forward.
Feng Feiyun cursed under his breath—little fool—and moved even faster, slipping into the circle before Fang Yingjie could.
"Make way, make way." He wore a cheerful grin, as though he had come only to watch. "If he says his surname is Bai, then ask him a few questions. Why are you pressing closer and closer? Don't tell me you really think yourselves whiter than the snows of Changbai?"
The young man with the fan, jostled by him, first grew annoyed, then glared. "And what are you supposed to be?"
Feng Feiyun grinned. "Me? I'm nothing at all. I just feel a little embarrassed on your behalf, seeing several of you crowd around a prett—" He paused on purpose, then smoothly changed it. "Crowd around a handsome young master and refuse to let him be."
At those words, one of the hanger-ons immediately began cursing.
By then Xi Qian and Fang Yingjie had pushed their way to the side as well. Xi Qian, though she suspected there was something odd in the way this youth was borrowing such a thunderous name as the Bai family's, could not possibly stand idle while he was being mocked and hemmed in. Her face cooling, she said, "A handful of grown men surrounding one person and throwing sharp words at him—aren't you ashamed?"
The youth in white glanced toward her, and his eyes brightened slightly.
The young man with the fan had already been made to lose face by these words. With a sharp snap he closed his fan and reached out to seize the white-robed youth by the shoulder.
"Fine then. Since you're all so good with your tongues, let me see what this Young Master Bai is really capable of—"
Before he could finish, a point of white light shot from the darkness.
The sound was little more than a soft hiss.
The young man's wrist jolted. He cried out, and the folding fan fell from his hand. Looking down, he saw a fine layer of white frost already spreading across his wrist. Cold surged up along the meridians, numbing half his arm in an instant.
Everyone in the hall was shocked.
Feng Feiyun, who had already been prepared to move, suddenly did not. Narrowing his eyes, he swept a glance across the upper floor, the roofline, and the shadowed corners of the street.
The slightly older hanger-on was the first to change expression. The words burst from him before he could stop them:
"Flying Snow Divine Pellet!"
The moment that name fell, the others who had still been spoiling for noise immediately fell silent.
Even the youth in white gave a slight start, as though he had not expected it either. Yet a trace of irrepressible delight flashed very quickly through his eyes.
The hanger-ons' faces changed again and again as they looked around. Tension seized each of them. So men of the Bai family truly were nearby? Then whether or not this youth in white was the real one, he was almost certainly tied to Flying Snow Manor.
"Go, go!"
They had come quickly, and they retreated even faster, leading their people off in a dirty rush.
Meanwhile, the old man selling sugar cakes in the corner and the porter at the door both lowered their eyes again as though nothing had happened. Yet Feng Feiyun, having seen it all, understood more clearly than ever: the white-robed youth had indeed been under guard the entire time.
Most of the onlookers had only gathered to enjoy the excitement. Now that a Flying Snow Divine Pellet had appeared, they exchanged dark glances and no longer dared crowd close to the youth in white.
Slowly, Feng Feiyun let down the sleeves he had already rolled halfway up, then turned to the youth with a smile that was not quite a smile.
"Young Master Bai certainly commands quite a presence. The man himself has not appeared, and already the snow pellets have arrived first."
The youth in white, who had held himself back by three parts before, suddenly seemed to have found solid ground. He lifted his brows, and the bright liveliness of youth shone all the more clearly from him. Smiling, he said:
"Only naturally."
As he spoke, he adjusted his sleeve and turned his head toward Feng Feiyun, Xi Qian, and Fang Yingjie, the corner of his mouth curving upward.
"You three spoke up for me just now. I'll remember it. And as for my name—"
He lifted his folding fan and tapped it lightly into his palm.
"My name is Bai Yuchuan."
Poetic Coda
Spring dust rose beyond the pines,
as Mount Hua's youth came down from the cliffs.
By pass and river, voices mingled on the road;
along the deepening Bian, the willow shadows thickened.
In jest and scolding, the Mad Monkey showed his nature;
in idle talk, the might of Taihu first appeared.
White robes alone could not prove who had truly come—
yet one frost-cold pellet stilled the crowd at once.
(End of Chapter Four)