The “divined” auspicious date was a little over two months away.
It was an excellent day: the second of the second lunar month, when the dragon raises its head.
Yet Xue Ting felt something was off—perhaps it was Qin Lu’s odd expression as he held the red paper with the birth data, or perhaps it was Mo Li’s flicker of surprise when, after all that calculating, Qin Lu finally announced the date. Most likely, it was Meng Qi’s almost overly relaxed and pleasant smile. In any case, something certainly wasn’t right!
During the banquet, everyone was toasting and merry, except for Magistrate Xue, whose mind was elsewhere.
They ate until the sun set in the west. By the time Constable Qin and Steward Li cheerfully prepared to take their leave, Xue Ting still hadn’t come up with any reasonable explanation.
It was as if “Meng Qi” were the most ordinary of names, the role of Chu’s national adviser nothing remarkable. Qin Lu maintained his usual composure as he bid the guests farewell, and Mo Li maintained his calm as he handed out the wedding invitations, urging them all to return for wine again in the second lunar month.
If people chose not to explain a marriage, Xue Ting could do nothing about it.
Besides, the letter he’d sent to Mrs. Xue had yet to receive a reply, and anyway, he’d seen quite a bit today—even if he was no closer to making sense of it all. After a little contemplation, Xue Ting decided to simply wait and see what would happen.
No sooner had they left than Mo Li couldn’t help saying, “Teacher actually guessed right—County Magistrate said nothing at all.”
“Seeing is believing; hearing is not,” Qin Lu tucked his hands into his sleeves, sitting upright and still. “Qixing said as much himself: he and County Magistrate Xue never really knew each other back then, perhaps never even exchanged a word. And based on what you relayed, it’s clear County Magistrate’s aversion to Meng Qi mostly stems from those old Taijing rumors, and…”
Back then, the national adviser might really have seemed intimidating. Add his formidable martial arts, and perhaps some minor official standing beside Xue Ting had rubbed Meng Qi the wrong way—a scowl in return was only natural.
But Meng Qi himself couldn’t recall the incident—not who’d been standing with Xue Ting, nor even precisely where they’d met. He could only shake his head helplessly.
“After all, County Magistrate trusts us more than Meng Qi,” Qin Lu concluded—then grew stiff, a bit embarrassed.
It amounted to staking his own reputation as a guarantee for Meng Qi. Together with Xue Ting’s admiration and understanding of Mo Li, plus the shock of the engagement banquet being held so suddenly, it had left Xue Ting utterly unprepared. He’d had no time to come up with any countermeasure—and was probably thinking of going to Xue Zhu to get the real story.
Mo Li silently bowed to Qin Lu.
—It was all for him, to trouble his teacher so greatly, to risk his reputation engaging in a battle of wits with County Magistrate Xue.
Meng Qi, at Mo Li’s side, also bowed, his thoughts complicated.
His dear A-Li, though unlucky, had “emerged” only to meet Old Mr. Qin, and upon emerging again had immediately met himself—perhaps all his luck was spent on just those two occasions.
Now, loath as he was to admit it, Meng Qi had to concede that Qin Lu’s encounter might have been even more important than his own.
Without Qin Lu adopting and instructing him, Meng Qi might never have had such a fine A-Li.
Qin Lu looked at the two seated together in their lower places, then at Tang Xiaotang romping outside, and stroked his beard with a smile. He was already old—growing older by the day—with no other wish but for his disciples to live safely and happily.
“Xiaotang, come in and recite your texts.”
No need to worry about the senior disciple now; time to keep an eye on the little one.
Tang Xiaotang stumbled, his smile quickly fading.
***
“Haha,” Meng Qi found it amusing as he thought of Tang Xiaotang’s face scrunched up all at once.
“Xiaotang is usually very diligent—just a bit too playful these past few days.”
Mo Li couldn’t help defending his junior apprentice.
His senior apprentice returned from a journey, bringing tasty treats and novel toys. New Year’s was approaching, and now there was to be a wedding feast: for a child caught up in all that excitement, no wonder he got carried away. Mr. Qin’s summons was no less than a cold dousing.
“Xiaotang doesn’t have the constitution for martial arts, so he only learns some basic exercises for health. Besides medicine, someday he’ll likely have to pick up some toxicology from County Magistrate Xue for self-defense. Being so young, he’s still very unsettled; Teacher is quite worried about him.”
Mo Li spoke in all seriousness, all the while doing his best to ignore the strange happenings around him.
From the moment he and Meng Qi set foot in Qimao Mountain, the winter-dormant mountains seemed to come alive.
Spiritual energy surged, and frozen rivers began to thaw.
These changes came slowly and would be invisible to regular eyes, but could a dragon vein not be aware?
Mo Li: “…”
Thinking of what he’d seen on Shangyun Mountain, he found himself oddly chilled.
It wasn’t that Qimao Mountain didn’t try to make a big scene—its “family fortune” (spiritual energy) just couldn’t compare to Shangyun Mountain.
What good was dignified amnesia when, even if he and Meng Qi could keep their composure, the mountain beneath their feet would not cooperate? It was literally rejoicing!
At first, Meng Qi didn’t notice. He assumed it was just that Mo Li had been gone a long while, so the earth veins were reacting—but gradually, his expression grew stranger.
—Spiritual energy was bubbling up for free, slowly but ceaselessly.
Snow melted, dead wood revived; in the blink of an eye, a faint layer of green sprouted where they walked.
And this was winter—blizzards and snowdrifts three feet deep, the chill winds of Beizhou cutting like knives.
Luckily, Qimao Mountain didn’t have that much spiritual energy to expend. Such phenomena only appeared around Mo Li’s presence, and faded once the two walked away, rather than on the scale of Shangyun Mountain’s storms and dragon-shaped mists, or the alarm that would have seized every resident of Zhushan County.
Not that alarm would be bad; the trouble would be all the old folks with their wild speculations, running to gods and Buddhas with every kind of ritual. For example, Aunt Ge walking laps around the yard and tossing osmanthus and willow twigs onto the roof to exorcise evil, while County Magistrate Xue would have to invent an explanation to soothe them…
A bead of sweat crept down Mo Li’s brow. If things reached that point, he’d have to hint to Xue Ting to choose between believing in dragon veins or monsters.
“A-Li…”
Meng Qi called out, half laughing, as climbing vines by the roadside tried to “block” his way.
The wild animals of the mountain, too, had been spooked by the spiritual energy, lurking along the path to peek out at them.
Hares, wolves, foxes, badgers, weasels… Not one or two, but entire families, squatting by the trail as if to welcome them, or like whole clans out to witness a spectacle.
This was already a crowd–with most animals in hibernation. Otherwise, the turnout would have tripled.
Meng Qi: “…”
It felt like a son-in-law’s first visit, or a dragon vein’s wedding parade. Replace those furry creatures with townsfolk, and you’d get a classic wedding circuit, scattering happy coins for a feast.
Just look at them all, soaking up the spiritual energy in utter delight.
Well, Qimao Mountain really was handing out lucky money…
Just as he’d come up the mountain for a glimpse of his beloved, suddenly, a wedding was happening? And with so long to go before the second of the second month!
Meng Qi was baffled.
You’d never see such a sight on Shangyun Mountain—too vast, too rich in spiritual energy; the beasts were all used to it, never making a fuss when the energy surged, and often even shunning the densest patches.
Qimao Mountain was different. Even as it revelled, its spiritual energy was still limited, and in winter, what little could be absorbed went first to the roots underground and only a bit trickled up to the surface. As long as you avoided the nexus of earth veins, no creature would really suffer—hence this festive, family-style scramble for lucky money.
Figuring all this out, Meng Qi fought a smile—embarrassed for Mo Li’s sake—and asked, looking around innocently, “Any particularly clever little ones in your house?”
Mo Li spotted the white fox hiding behind a tree in an instant.
With a flicker, he grabbed it by the scruff and handed it to Meng Qi.
The white fox twisted its head, its eyes like black grapes full of grievance and defiance.
Mo Li produced a spirit pill and offered it to the fox, which stood stubborn and motionless, clearly furious. It hadn’t seen Mo Li in a year, so it was entitled to a bit of a tantrum. But just as it turned away, it met Meng Qi’s gaze.
Two pairs of eyes locked—one dragon vein, one fox—both bristled with peculiar hostility.
Foxes are clever by nature, and this one is especially so. At once, it sensed that Mo Li’s disappearance had everything to do with this newcomer; Mo Li had never brought another person to meet it before.
The gerbil snorted internally—this thieving fox was just angling for extra snacks and pampering, not truly wronged. Creatures like this lived the good life on the mountain; did it really miss A-Li?
“Hmm?”
Mo Li sensed some weirdness and was confused.
The fox shivered, clinging to its head with its paws as if struck dumb by Meng Qi’s very presence.
It was quite the act—ordinarily, Mo Li might have believed it, but now, what with all the “wedding guests” among the trees and rocks, all sharp and alert yet undisturbed, why was this fox acting as if it were about to die of fright?
Mo Li gave its ear a tweak.
Realizing the act had failed, the fox shot him a look, licked up the spirit pill, and, after a kick, leapt down and took off at full speed.
Meng Qi smiled knowingly. The fox glanced back, saw that smile, stumbled, and went tumbling head over tail.
Mo Li could hardly bear to watch.
“Fool,” Meng Qi snorted a laugh.
Dragon veins love spiritual creatures, so how was it he kept crossing paths with the wrong sort? Mo Li suddenly remembered that, when he and Meng Qi travelled before, they’d met a rather spiritual horse—that horse also had a problem with Meng Qi.
With uncanny timing, Meng Qi looked toward Mo Li, his eyes full of helplessness.
Without a word, yet saying more than words ever could.
A-Li, that horse was the same as this fox! Bad-mouthing me all day long!
—Complaints aren’t forgotten, only delayed.
Let’s see “you” offend the Taijing dragon vein!
Author’s note:
Question for Magistrate Xue—please recall carefully, who was standing beside you when you met Meng Qi years ago?
Xue Ting: Eh? Wait, was it Censor Liu? The one who almost became the in-law—
Xue Zhu: …
Everyone: …
Case closed! The one who got used and falsely accused the Marquis of Jingyuan’s son of abducting women.
