Outsiders rarely passed through the town, and with the royal kiln, once the town's economic lifeline, now closed, it was even less likely that new faces would appear. When old Yao was still around, there was one evening when he had drunk too much and, in a rare moment of loosened lips, told Chen Ping'an and Liu Xianyang, his apprentices, that they were running a unique business, one that was like no other in the world—the royal kiln. They crafted porcelain exclusively for the emperor and empress. No matter how rich or powerful other people were, if they dared to lay a finger on it, even in the slightest, they would be beheaded. That day, old Yao had seemed particularly animated, as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.
Today, as Chen Ping'an looked out past the fence, he noticed several people waiting for the gate to open. No fewer than seven or eight people, men and women, old and young, all stood there, their faces filled with anticipation.
They were all unfamiliar faces, as the local townsfolk rarely passed through the eastern gate for their daily tasks—whether it was porcelain firing or farming—since the road leading out of it had neither royal kilns nor fertile farmland.
At this moment, Chen Ping'an and the outsiders found themselves on opposite sides of the wooden fence, each studying the other with keen scrutiny.
The youngster, wearing homemade straw sandals, couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the thick, warm clothing worn by the outsiders.
It was clear that the group beyond the gate wasn't a unified entity, but rather a collection of individuals. Still, their collective gaze was fixed on the slender young man within the gate. While most wore indifferent expressions, a few seemed to be gazing past him, their eyes locked on the farthest reaches of the town.
Chen Ping'an wondered if these people were unaware of the court's ban on royal kilns or if they knew the truth and saw this as an opportune moment to take advantage.
A young man, dressed in an unconventional, towering hat with a trim physique, and sporting a green jade pendant at his waist, exuded impatience. He stepped forward from the group, intent on swinging open the unlocked gate. But just as his fingertips brushed the wooden door, he stopped abruptly, slowly retracting his hand. Instead, he placed both hands behind his back and gave the straw-sandaled youth a broad smile, offering nothing more than silence and a grin.
Chen Ping'an, glancing out of the corner of his eye, noticed the varied reactions among the young man's companions. Some appeared disappointed, others amused, a few frowned, and a couple emitted sarcastic remarks—each person displaying subtle, differing emotions.
At that exact moment, a middle-aged man with disheveled hair burst through the door, scolding Chen Ping'an, "You mischievous brat, are you after money? Coming so early to bother me like this, you eager to reunite with your dead parents in your next life?"
Chen Ping'an rolled his eyes, unfazed by the harsh words. After all, living in this remote village, where access to books was scarce, if one let themselves be upset by a few curses, they might as well jump into a well for peace and quiet. Besides, this bachelor-like, middle-aged gatekeeper was often the subject of mockery among the villagers, particularly the bolder, fiery women, who not only cursed him but occasionally got physical. He also had a knack for telling grandiose tales of valor to the local children, boasting about a time when he supposedly fought fiercely at the gate, leaving five or six burly men toothless and bloodied, soaking the entire three-meter stretch in blood, making it as muddy as a rainy day!
In a foul mood, the middle-aged man addressed Chen Ping'an, "We'll deal with your nonsense later."
Nobody in the town took this man seriously.
Nevertheless, he held the authority to decide whether outsiders could enter the town, a power that, in this context, was a matter of life and death.
As he walked toward the wooden gate, he casually reached down into his crotch area.
With his back turned to Chen Ping'an, the man unlocked the gate, occasionally accepting small embroidered pouches from incoming individuals. He would slip them into his sleeve before allowing them access.
Chen Ping'an stepped aside without hesitation. The eight individuals entered the town, grouped roughly into five factions. Among them was a young man with a tall hat and a green jade pendant, accompanied by two children, about seven or eight years old. A boy in a festive red robe passed by, followed closely by a girl with delicate features, her complexion like fine porcelain.
The boy was nearly a head shorter than Chen Ping'an. As he brushed past, his mouth opened slightly, though no sound emerged. Yet, the clear shape of his lips revealed that he had spoken two provocative words.
The middle-aged woman holding the boy's hand softly coughed, gently reminding the child to curb his behavior.
Behind the boy stood the little girl, guided by a sturdy old man with snow-white hair. She turned her gaze toward Chen Ping'an and spoke rapidly, pointing at the boy in front of her, who appeared to be around her age.
Chen Ping'an couldn't understand a word she said, but he suspected she was telling tales about him.
The old man, sturdy as a mountain, shot a brief glance at Chen Ping'an, who wore straw sandals, whether intentionally or not.
That single glance was enough to make Chen Ping'an instinctively step back, like a mouse encountering a cat.
After witnessing this, the little girl, who had been chatting animatedly like a small yellow sparrow, immediately lost interest in fanning the flames. She turned her head away, no longer sparing Chen Ping'an a glance, as if looking at him any longer would soil her eyes.
Although Chen Ping'an was still young and relatively inexperienced in the complexities of life, he was not oblivious to the subtle cues in people's facial expressions.
After the group had left, the gatekeeper smiled warmly and asked, "Want to know what they said?"
Chen Ping'an nodded in agreement. "Yes, please."
The middle-aged bachelor chuckled and replied, "They were just saying how handsome you are. All good things."
Chen Ping'an tugged at the corner of his mouth, thinking to himself, Do you really think I'm that naive?
Noticing the skepticism in Chen Ping'an's expression, the man laughed even louder. "If you weren't so naive, you wouldn't think I'd be sending you on a messenger's errand, would you?"
Chen Ping'an didn't dare respond, knowing that provoking the man might cause the copper coins, which were almost within his grasp, to slip away.
The man turned his gaze back to the departing group, reaching up to rub his scruffy chin. He clicked his tongue and murmured in a low voice, "That woman over there, her legs could crush a man to death."
Chen Ping'an hesitated for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him. "Did that lady practice martial arts?"
The man was momentarily taken aback, looking down at the youngster with a solemn expression. "Kid, you're really naive."
Chen Ping'an was utterly confused.
The man asked him to wait and strode towards the house. When he returned, he held a stack of envelopes in his hand, neither too thick nor too thin—about a dozen of them. After handing them to Chen Ping'an, he asked, "Foolish people have foolish luck, and good people are rewarded. Do you believe that?"
Chen Ping'an held the letters in one hand and stretched out his other, blinking his eyes. "We agreed on one coin per letter."
The man, feeling both embarrassed and irritated, slammed five copper coins into the young man's palm. With a sweeping motion, he added boldly, "The remaining five coins, I owe you!"