A Chance Gain

Liang Qu turned back and took a good look at his house. It spanned barely ten meters across, looking even slightly sizable only because of the low courtyard wall surrounding it. The aged tiled roof had thatch covering several corners to keep out the rain, and the earthen floor was pitted with hollows. He had not expected that after turning down Xue Chengquan, things would come full circle after all. Liang Qu did not refuse again. Worst came to worst, whenever he could not stay at home, he could simply go to the martial hall. As for acting as chief celebrant, it would not be much trouble and offered a chance to make a good impression, so he accepted. After thanking Village Elder Chen Zhao'an once more, the crowd finally departed in high spirits. With a rare moment of free time at last, before Liang Qu could shut the door to train and examine his gains, another knock sounded at the gate. He opened it to find Uncle Chen returning from selling fish to split the proceeds. Chen Qingjiang looked ecstatic. Fumbling out several silver beans from his pouch, he placed them on the table and gesticulated wildly as he recounted the sale. "Five hundred and sixty-seven wen! The moment Lin Songbao heard the catch was yours, he gave me five qian of silver right away! Five qian—that's half a tael! We earned half a tael of silver in a single day!" Seeing Uncle Chen so thrilled put Liang Qu in an even better mood. He split the silver bits on the table into two equal piles and pushed one across. "Then as agreed, we split it fifty-fifty. Two qian and five fen for you, two qian and five fen for me." "No, no, that won't do! Two qian five is too much. I can't take that. One qian—I'll just take one qian." Chen Qingjiang took a bean from his half and slipped it back into his pouch. "Uncle Chen, didn't we agree from the start on a fifty-fifty split? Do you want me to break my word now? Wouldn't that be putting me in the wrong? If word gets out, won't it ruin my reputation?" Liang Qu had figured out Uncle Chen's personality by now, so instead of polite back-and-forth, he simply pressured him with moral duty. At two qian and five fen a day, Uncle Chen could save at least two qian daily. At that rate, he could pay off his debt to the clinic in less than four or five days. Sure enough, this was exactly what worked on Chen Qingjiang. His face scrunched up. He had never read books, but he had heard plenty of stories about heroes who gave their lives for righteousness and died for high moral virtue. Thoroughly cowed on the spot, he had no choice but to take the silver. "If you really feel bad about it, it's just about time for dinner. Why don't you let me come over to your place to eat, Uncle Chen?" "Alright, alright! I'll tell my wife to cook a few extra dishes right away." Early the next morning. Liang Qu saw that Xue Chengquan had sent men to set up a simple porridge shed by the wharf. Thick vegetable porridge steamed in the cold wind as people queued up, shivering while waiting to receive a bowl. Among them were the children and women he had seen in the alleys before, as well as a lame old man and a toothless old woman. Several others had smeared ashes over their clothes trying to blend in, only to be chased off by Lin Songbao standing nearby. He had come to help out; when it came to who in town was truly poor and who was faking it, Lin Songbao knew down to the last detail. "You bastards! Coming here to freeload—do you even know whose stall this is? Brother Shui! Liang Qu! And who's that? Martial Master Yang's personal disciple, a future master! Come on over if you're not afraid to die. If you can sneak past your Grandpa Lin, I'll give you this!" Lin Songbao thrust his thumb high in the air, shouting at the crowd. Hearing this, Liang Qu chuckled. He did not approach; after watching for a few moments, he turned and left. That afternoon, Liang Qu strapped on his waist tablet and arm guards, changed into a clean set of clothes, and followed the carriage caravan to Shanghu Academy. Through the old man he had met during registration two days earlier, he found his teacher and began with basic literacy, studying primers similar to the Standards for Being a Good Pupil and Child and the Three Character Classic. Sitting at his desk, Liang Qu looked at the surrounding children—most only seven or eight, the oldest barely twelve or thirteen—feeling quite helpless. Starting to read at his age made him an "elderly student." Fortunately, having received a systematic education in his past life and earned admission to a prestigious university through proper examinations, Liang Qu had exceptional learning ability. Coupled with the many similarities in this world's script, he learned characters at an astonishing rate—so fast that the teacher found it hard to believe. "Liang Qu, have you truly never attended a private school before?" "I haven't, Master. I grew up as a fisherman and never went to school. But whenever I passed shops, I would often ponder the signs, so I picked up a few characters. For instance, after walking past Wufangzhai a few times, I committed it to memory." In his heart, the schoolmaster labeled Liang Qu as an eager learner and remarked with feeling, "If you gave up the martial path and turned to imperial examinations, you might well achieve something notable." The little children nearby all cast looks of admiration his way, which left Liang Qu feeling rather embarrassed. Showing off was not meant to be done like this; there was zero sense of accomplishment in outshining a room of children. "You are a martial practitioner, so you have additional study requirements. Since your foundation is solid, perhaps you can try reading these two books. If there is anything you don't understand, feel free to ask me." The instructor handed over two stacks of books: one was Annotated Miscellaneous Records of Haomu Hall in six volumes, and the other was Reflections on Cultivating Nature and Life in two volumes. Dashun had been founded on martial prowess. Even scholars who had never practiced martial arts possessed a fairly deep understanding of the martial path, and there were even legendary anecdotes of frail Confucian scholars enlightening martial grandmasters on the spot. Liang Qu received the books with both hands and briefly glanced through the tables of contents. Both had been written by Attaining Elephant realm martial practitioners. The former was a compilation of what the author and his friends had witnessed throughout their lives, focusing mainly on the traits of various spirit creatures, the identification of herbs, and encounters with spiritual treasures. Being written from a personal perspective, it made for quite an engaging read. The latter was much the same, though that martial artist had lived in an earlier era; it recounted numerous battlefield experiences alongside insights into martial cultivation, offering more precise and thorough descriptions of certain realms. For instance, the Galloping Steed realm: at its peak, one could hold back dozens of galloping steeds without budging. But what kind of horses were these steeds? Were they all Ferghana horses, or mere nags? Large horses, or small ponies? It was, in truth, an extremely vague description. "These two are merely introductory; there are many more to follow, all of which you must read. Most of the records on spirit creatures and demonic beasts within are accurate, and where errors exist, later generations have added annotations. They are all the hard-won experience of our forebears, exceedingly precious. You may try reading them first and take them back with you to peruse, but remember that you must not damage them. Otherwise, not only will you have to compensate at the original price, but you will also incur a fine for disrespecting the texts. Because they are handwritten copies, each volume costs a tael of silver." Liang Qu nodded earnestly. Being a martial practitioner truly was not easy, he thought to himself. Without some education, one could not get by anywhere—unable to read martial manuals, unable to recognize natural treasures, or worst of all, running into strange spirit creatures without knowing how to deal with them, which could easily cost one's life. For several days in a row, Liang Qu traveled back and forth between Pingyang Town and Yixing, reading and practicing calligraphy. He did not visit the martial hall. Shortening the breakthrough time from twenty days to under five was far too exaggerated; it would be better to hold off for a couple more days before returning. In town, the matter of Lu Shaohui gradually faded. The mountain ghost seemed to have vanished without a trace, and the townsfolk's anxieties slowly subsided. The only strange thing was that while studying Annotated Miscellaneous Records of Haomu Hall, Liang Qu had found a passage regarding mountain ghosts, which stated that such creatures usually fed once every two days. By rights, it should not have stayed quiet for this long. Still, no matter what, no one dying was always a good thing. Liang Qu also made sure not to put himself in harm's way, avoiding the land route as much as possible when traveling between the two places and opting instead to take a boat along the waterways. Pingyang Town did not border the Jianghuai Zeye Marsh directly, but the waterways connecting the two places were linked. A winding river tributary ran right through the large town, seven or eight meters wide and over ten meters deep—the very stream that flowed past Langyun Restaurant, spanned by South Stone Bridge. According to the older generation, it had been carved out by the passage of a great flood dragon. Exceptionally serpentine, it made the journey by water even longer than by land. In addition, the town wharf had a fishing yard where entering to sell fish required paying a river transit fee, so fishermen rarely took that route. For safety's sake, Liang Qu was more than willing to pay the extra toll. In the interim, he had also taken the boat out twice, joining the two beasts in searching for other treasures or treasure plants hidden near Yixing's waters, though unfortunately without any success. Perhaps constant devotion truly brought answers. That day, as Liang Qu flexed his wrist while copying a calligraphy model, he received a mental transmission across their bond from Cannot Move.