Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Morning woke Shu Cailing up with the sounds of life— thrumming through the building was the faint hum of the kitchen getting to work, and distant creaks of heavy carts out on the streets slipped in with the breeze.

Hongshi was already awake, practicing his sword moves in the middle of the room. Shu Cailing watched him sleepily for a while. As a peach tree yao, he was naturally pretty, and his innate grace imbued his movements with elegance the austere moves lacked. Maybe if somebody played the qin, it would look no less than a sword dance.

“Get up,” Hongshi said, not even sparing a glance. “How long will you stay in bed?”

“As long as you’d let me ah.” But even as he said that, Shu Cailing stretched, letting out a long noise as he did so, before exhaling a great gust. As he sat up, he asked, “Did you stay up all night practicing?”

Anyone with as many centuries of cultivation as Hongshi no longer needed sleep, nevermind someone born a tree spirit. It didn’t mean that they didn’t rest, though; every evening, of course Hongshi would retreat to his room. It was simply that he did so to get a reprieve from social life.

Back when he was small, Shu Cailing would often wake up in the middle of the night. Bai Mingyuan was in a drunken stupor most evenings, so it was usually Hongshi who came out to see what was wrong. Sometimes he would boil medicine, if it was necessary. Sometimes he would just light the candle, so that Shu Cailing could entertain himself with a book until he fell back asleep. If it was a nightmare, he would sit on the side of the bed, letting Shu Cailing clutch his hand for comfort.

Shu Cailing had been too old for that for years now. He could light his own candles and boil his own medicine. But on nights he truly couldn't fall back asleep, he'd come out to watch Hongshi practice his swordsmanship in the courtyard.

"Mm." Hongshi put away his sword. "It's long past sunrise, get up."

After washing his face and taking care of morning needs, the two of them left their room to get breakfast. The bustle grew louder as they climbed down the stairs, and they were met with a half-filled restaurant.

"Over here," He Zhecheng called out. Shu Cailing waved back, heading over.

Today, He Zhecheng looked more casual and relaxed, while Xu Boyan beside him appeared a bit sleepy. Still, he smiled at the two of them as they sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"How are you feeling today, He-xiong?" Shu Cailing asked.

He Zhecheng rolled his eyes. "Is that always the first question that comes out of your lot's mouths? I'm fine. I could probably go beat up a man before breakfast. You guys here to eat?"

"Else?" Hongshi raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know. Offer to sell Mr. He's jade to random passersby…"

While the two continued, Xu Boyan called for the kitchen to bring over extra portions to the table. Shu Cailing watched in amusement; when Xu Boyan caught his gaze, he shot him a small, helpless smile.

"Xu-xiong, did you have a good rest? You look a bit tired."

"He's not a morning person," He Zhecheng answered instead. "Don't ask him too many questions or chat with him until after breakfast, it'll just make him take longer to wake up."

"Why not have breakfast in his room, then?" Shu Cailing asked, head tilted.

"Zhecheng is joking with you," Xu Boyan cut in. "I'm still not at my best, but it will pass soon. How are the two of you? Was the room and service to your liking?"

The waiter came over with a heaping array of dishes, putting down bamboo baskets of steamed buns, dumplings, and various side dishes, a bowl of congee, and a still-steaming pot of mushroom and dumpling soup. Shu Cailing stared at them with great interest. As chopsticks started to move across all the plates, Hongshi first clipped some steamed soup dumplings for Shu Cailing, while Xu Boyan landled a bowlful of dumpling soup for He Zhecheng. With a bright smile and a thanks, Shu Cailing in turn clipped over the turnip cakes that were placed too far away from Hongshi.

"It was great, thank you!" Turning to Hongshi, he said, in a lower voice, "Shige, you should try the lotus seed buns too. It tastes like what Huihua-jiejie makes."

"Huihua makes them too dry and crumbly," Hongshi commented, but tried it anyway. "Mm. This one is better. Though it's not as sweet as hers."

Shu Cailing grinned. "It's still pretty good, I think."

"Mm. The turnip cakes also aren't bad."

"You guys have so much room to try all sorts of food early in the morning," He Zhecheng commented as he held his bowl. Notably, although Xu Boyan had already taken several of the spicier food for himself, He Zhecheng had only touched his bowl of congee and nothing else.

"We usually eat only congee or buns for breakfast at home, really," Shu Cailing said. "I'm just really curious about how everything would taste."

Although the island had a main kitchen that would cook for everyone, many people also liked to cook every now and then, and had their own special recipes. As the youngest addition to the island who was held in everyone's palms, Shu Cailing was often invited to eat whenever someone cooked, and thus had sampled a truly wide array of dishes. It seemed inevitable that he'd become adventurous in this regard.

Cooking, like any other thing that came from the soul, often reflected oneself in some way. Bai Mingyuan, for one, usually made food that tasted mild and comforting yet edged on bland. There was no shortage of flavors, but they all seemed to blend into one whole that tempered the edges of each individual ingredient. Hongshi didn't cook much, but he made great stuffed buns and leaf-wrapped sticky rice dishes. He never liked fire or oil, which made sense for a tree yaoguai, and preferred steaming. Huihua liked to make sweet desserts with bean or lotus seed paste fillings. And Shu Cailing, well. He learned recipes from everyone, and in some way, he always felt himself a patchwork of the kindness everyone showed him.

"Makes sense, I suppose," He Zhecheng said. As he finished his vegetable congee, he picked up the dumpling soup ladled for him. "Say. You guys were looking for someone, right? Did you decide where to go?"

"East Sea, for the time being," Shu Cailing answered.

"Oh, what a coincidence," Xu Boyan said, looking up from his bowl. "Zhecheng and I are heading to Dongyang. From there, the coast is only a two or three days' trip by horse or boat. Why don't you travel with us?"

Dongyang was marked on the map as the prefectural capital, so it made sense to Shu Cailing. Still, Hongshi asked, "Ah?"

Stirring his bowl of soup, He Zhecheng rolled his eyes. "Don't get so paranoid. Dongyang is Boyan's maternal hometown. Avoiding cold winters for the patient, you see."

For once, Xu Boyan didn't seem to react to his friend's acerbic tone. Instead, with brows furrowed, he said, "Dongyang is also connected to many ports through a network of rivers, so it's much easier to get to other cities. Furthermore, if you plan on raising funds for another stretch of your trip, Dongyang is one of the best places to do so."

It was on the way, and they wouldn’t need to go find a carriage themselves. Shu Cailing truly couldn’t see a reason why not. And since Hongshi had continued to eat his stuffed bun, he reckoned that his shige had nothing more to comment now that they knew Xu Boyan and He Zhecheng’s reason to head there.

“That’d be great, thanks Xu-xiong.”

Finishing his food, Xu Boyan smiled wanly. “It’s not a problem. That being said, it will be an eight-day trip where we won’t be stopping in any other towns. If you need to prepare anything beforehand, you should do it now. We’ll be departing in two days.”

“Shige, let’s go and see what this town has to offer then,” Shu Cailing said, grinning at Hongshi. 

After breakfast, the two of them bade He Zhecheng and Xu Boyan goodbye and left the inn. The morning sun was bright and warm even as the breeze had cooled, and they reflected like sunset glints on Hongshi's red silk robes. Even as dust was kicked up by a passing cart carrying gravel, Hongshi seemed untouched, not a single strand of hair out of place. He's so pretty, Shu Cailing thought, but he shook his head and changed course. "Do you have any idea where we should go, Shige?"

They had walked through a good section of the main street and saw the stores and stalls that lined it yesterday, but the question was, what would they need? Food was accounted for.

"I saw a bookstore," Hongshi said, turning his gaze up the street. With a glance back, he gestured at Shu Cailing to follow, getting a curious look in return.

"Are you looking for anything specific, Shige?"

The bustle of the streets picked up as a group of girls passed by, whispering to one another as they stole glances at Hongshi. Shu Cailing couldn't help the flash of fond exasperation that flitted through his mind. Hongshi, however, didn't seem to register the noise, seeming serious still.

"A summary of recent history."

"Ah? Why can't we just ask Xu-xiong?" Shu Cailing asked, blinking. "He probably could answer anything related to that, I think? He seemed the type."

"You've become dependent on him rather quickly," Hongshi commented in a dry voice. 

"Aah, well… He's a nice person, and he's been very willing to help us. I know you're doing due diligence, but I really don't think they're bad people? I don't see the issue with asking for help in such small matters."

"You don't think anyone is a bad person, Cailing. That wasn't an issue on the island, but it can become one here. Anyone could lie or give half-truths."

They stopped at the intersection as a cart passed by. Hongshi took this opportunity to grab Shu Cailing's wrist, dragging him closer. Shu Cailing couldn't help but feel like he was being treated like a child, as if he would run off to satisfy his curiosity if not kept right by his side, but he didn't say anything. Staying silent, he gazed across the street.

It wasn't that he didn't agree. He knew what kind of person he was— at least he hoped he did.

But it wasn't as if Shu Cailing was a newborn either. He understood and could recall fully the personalities and histories of hundreds of people, and he knew good from bad. He had people he disliked and avoided, people whom he felt didn't deserve the peace of the island.

With a sigh, he let those thoughts go. There was no point in wallowing. Perhaps once they found his shifu and everything was resolved, he could enter human society as a doctor and truly leave the protective bubble of the island's yaoguai.

They found the bookstore shortly after. It was large, as wide as three of the nearby stores, and Shu Cailing looked around with appraising eyes as he walked in. A faint fragrance of good incense wafted from a corner, while masterful paintings of egrets hung on silk scrolls— overall it was nicely decorated with plenty of space to walk, and felt rather inviting.

"Welcome to our store," a middle aged man greeted from behind a desk. Without even a glance his deft hands were counting coins from a string, payment from a young lady clutching a book. "Please come in and take a look at what we have to offer. We now have new poems by Qian Xi available— earlier this summer Prince Xian kindly allowed us to access his private collection of poetry to share with the masses, and you truly do not want to miss out."

With a smile, Shu Cailing said, "Thank you, we'll definitely look around."

There were about a dozen people in the store, milling around the bookshelves, so they picked a less busy starting point to browse. 

"I can't believe so many of them are on paper," Shu Cailing whispered. "And they're being sold for coins?"

Papermaking was a labor-intensive process, and its relative fragility had generally limited its appeal among the island inhabitants who lived and would live on for centuries still. Most writing at home was done on bamboo slips, which were easier to get, and paper would then be reserved for calligraphy, painting, or illustrated compendiums. Walking up one of the peaks, it wasn't rare to find poetry carved onto trunks of trees or on a flat stone either.

Had the people of the world found a way to make papermaking easier? Or had the sheer volume of demand made it lucrative?

There was so much on offer, too. There were those rather-dry Confucian classics used to teach him the new script, but there were also books on Daoism and Alchemy. After realizing that Hongshi beside him hadn't moved at all, though, Shu Cailing looked up in askance.

"Shige?"

Hongshi didn't say anything for a long while. In the end, though, he answered, "I'm not familiar with these characters."

Ah.

Both Hongshi and Bai Mingyuan wrote in ancient script from over 2,000 years ago. It was the first script Shu Cailing had been taught, and he had used it throughout his childhood. It was more or less still readable to the jiaoren when he would practice writing on the wet sand, but he was met with utter bewilderment by those who entered in the past 300 years.

Only because of that did he learn a few thousand or so characters of the modern script from the other yaoguai.

He didn't realize Hongshi never saw a reason to.

Huihua once explained that within the past millennium, the official writing system had evolved three times. By now, the modern characters bore almost no visual resemblance to the old.

After thinking about it for a moment, Shu Cailing turned back to the shelves, rummaging through the piles. Once he found what he was looking for, he immediately handed it off to Hongshi, who accepted with furrowed brows.

"What?"

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"Diagrams of Bai Ze," Shu Cailing explained.

"...Ah."

"The rest we can discuss later." He then turned his attention to the thing Hongshi came here to get: books on history.

Currently there were many states that existed alongside the Great Ji, and presumably, there would've been even more states before that, and before that as well. With so many names, Shu Cailing had never bothered to arrange the dynasties he knew in a chronological order, so he grabbed one of each books of official history and handed the stack to Hongshi.

Hongshi raised an eyebrow.

"The rest we can figure out later," Shu Cailing said.

"Well, all right."

After looking around, Shu Cailing decided to buy some books on medicine, several books of supernatural anecdotes, and the Erya and Guangya.

A young man who seemed to run the store had been following them for the past half-hour, but every time he raised his hand to try and greet them, Hongshi shot him a sharp look to silence him. When Shu Cailing was done picking, though, he turned around and almost jumped a foot into the air.

"A-ah! Sorry, did you want to look at this shelf as well?"

"Ah, no, I was about to ask if these young masters needed any help locating anything." The young man, at least, appeared to regain his confidence now, his back straightening. Glancing at the dozens of books in Hongshi's hands, he said "Are you sure you would not like a copy of Qian Xi's poetry? Our copyists are extremely skilled and had replicated his handwriting extraordinarily well, and ours even have commentaries added by Prince Xian himself. You'd be hard-pressed to find it elsewhere!"

"Except for Dongyang," a lady added, amused, "where you can get it anywhere."

"Young miss ah, why would anyone gallop to Dongyang for six days and six nights to simply buy a sloppily copied, mass-produced thing written on inferior material? Although Dongyang is the city of literati, its scholars often do not wish for us commonfolk to get the same high-quality copies they do."

"I suppose you have a point," the woman sighed, clutching the two books in her hand. "This is the importance of studying hard and making it through the Provincial Examinations. On that note, I should go study now. Farewell."

The conversation they were having sounded riveting to those well-versed, perhaps, but Shu Cailing exchanged glances with Hongshi. Who in the world was Qian Xi, or Prince Xian, for that matter?

But Prince Xian seemed to be a living nobleman of some influence, and Qian Xi seemed to be a prolific poet. Perhaps they could become more up to date with this. In the end, Shu Cailing bought it, along with the 32 other books he'd picked.

"Three taels for this many books isn't bad at all," Shu Cailing commented as they left the bookstore and returned to the main street. "That Diagrams of Bai Ze alone is illustrated. It doesn't look as good as Shifu's, but it must have taken time to make. I can't believe they would just let people buy it though."

"The books at home were all painstakingly made," Hongshi mused. "Each and every one in the older collection had been rewritten from memory by Dad and I. Afterwards, Dad began compiling more of his knowledge as he had little else to do. Then several of the older yaoguai started writing down what they could remember, too. I'm not naturally inclined to read and retain only a limited number of books, so I spent my time raising silkworms to make silk."

"I never knew that!"

Hongshi gave a rare smile. "It was fun. The only insects I don't despise by instinct are bees."

Shu Cailing, "......" Wait…

Hongshi left him to process the implications, walking straight ahead.

"Ah, Shige, wait!"

 

____

 

As they browsed around, they picked up some small things here and there. At one point they left the main street and began to traverse the smaller roads, and as the sun reached overhead, Hongshi turned his head after catching the scent of something.

"Ah?"

"Should be a wine shop somewhere near," Hongshi answered.

They found it not long after. Beside a display of large jars on a wooden bench that sagged slightly under the weight, a dingy red fabric hung over the door leading into a dim, small room. Without as much a pause for further consideration, Hongshi walked in.

"Lady, what wines do you have?"

An old lady rose to her feet with the help of her cane, groping around in confusion for a moment. Then, with a slow raspy voice she answered, "We make peach blossom and peach wines…"

As Shu Cailing followed inside, he was hit by a familiar scent. Already sitting on a creaky bench, Hongshi was sipping on a cup, handing it over to him as he came over to sit down.

"I… Ah, all right." A sip wouldn't hurt. But other than the fact that it was more mellow than what Hongshi made, Shu Cailing couldn't comment on much. "It's good."

"It's very nice," Hongshi agreed. After a rather long chat with the old lady about her wines and then brewing methods, they finally left with two jars of each. Hongshi was still contemplating techniques and recipes as they walked, walking out of the cramped alley and rejoining the main street. As children holding wooden sticks up in the air ran past them, laughing and shouting at each other, Shu Cailing tugged his sleeve. Hongshi paused and glanced back.

"I guess I should've expected it, but you're getting really distracted by the wine," Shu Cailing said, tone bordering on helpless. "I was asking, should we go have lunch now?"

"Sorry."

"It's okay, we didn't crash into anything. So, what do you want to eat?"

Hongshi clicked his tongue. "Whatever you like."

"If you say so!" was the cheerful reply. "Then let's get some noodles. That stall over there has something that smells delicious, come on."

The stall in question wasn't too busy, at the moment serving only three people, but those people seemed simultaneously rowdy yet preoccupied with eating. The way they dressed seemed rather foreign, but Shu Cailing didn't think of it much. Instead, he was more drawn to the smell of the food, which was rather different from what he was used to.

"Never seen you before," the middle-aged owner grunted as he glanced at them. In his hand was a butcher's knife he had been sharpening.

"We just arrived yesterday," Shu Cailing answered cheerfully. "Boss, what's this ah?"

"Lamb," he grunted.

"Ooh. We'll have two, then!"

As the stall owner prepared two large bowls, Shu Cailing leaned forward, crossing his arms atop the long wooden table. "I hope Shifu ate."

"He doesn't need to," Hongshi muttered. "And he won't. He's probably passed out drunk on the side of a road, getting showered with mud courtesy of a passing cart."

Shu Cailing's chuckle was tinged with helplessness. "Don't be like that. I hope he at least sleeps facing away from the streets."

"But you don't deny he'd sleep on the streets."

A scratch on the cheek. "Well, I've been raised not to lie…"

Their conversation was cut short by two large bowls hovering by their heads as the stall owner handed them their meals, which Shu Cailing accepted with a flustered thanks. As he happily took some chopsticks and dug in, Hongshi started on his bowl with much more grace, picking at the tender pieces of lamb submerged in the milky broth.

"Haah, that's a bit hot in so many ways, but so good." Shu Cailing rubbed at his cheek with a hand for a bit, as if trying to use the sensation as a distraction. "This is wonderful for the colder months, but I think I'd faint if I eat it during summer. Say, since we only have two days before we go, can we come eat here again tomorrow?"

"You're so excited over food," Hongshi replied, amused. "As you wish."

"Food is just one of those unambiguous joys of life, like books," Shu Cailing answered. "Like how at home, conflict is left behind at the doorway of the dining hall."

A good-natured scoff. "You say that, but I still see those stubborn old men brawl over a piece of turnip cake."

"Ah. I was told Old Fang and Old Qiang just enjoy arguing as part of the atmosphere."

"Tsk. I thought we raised you not to lie."

The quiet laughter and conversation that followed didn't feel out of place among the gruff chatter of other customers, which grew in number as the sky grew cloudy and the breeze colder. Once they finished eating, they paid and relented their seat to a pair of young sisters clearly eager to bask in the warmth of both the broth and the steam that wafted from the big pot. Shu Cailing hummed a little tune as they walked back to the inn, content with the day's purchases. 

"You know, Shige, we've been traveling together for a while now, but I think this is the first time we properly got to just walk around and see what's around." Turning his head, he gave Hongshi a wide grin, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Hongshi's expression softened. "Once we're back at the inn, I should write down a letter for everyone back home, I think. At the very least, I can turn it into some notes for when I have to retell everything later."

"Like you did back when you hid away with the jiaoren?" Hongshi asked, eyebrow raised.

Recalling that short stint, Shu Cailing laughed. "I didn't want to have people hover over me, but I didn't want to have you and Shifu miss out too. It must've been funny from your perspective, I guess! That island is so much closer to shore when you're not a child. I reckon you've gone there. It must've been no more than a stone's throw away."

"I've never, actually," was the soft reply.

Perhaps it was the idyllic atmosphere of it all, perhaps it was a return to a baser nature, perhaps it was the weight of time, but oftentimes the people on the island would be trapped in the cage of comfort. Avoidance of the strange and new forming routine, which with decades became tradition, which coagulated into the natural state of being, a law of sorts. Perhaps, like the way sand would settle at the bottom of the deepest ocean given enough time, centuries had quieted the floating specks of curiosity in a creature as old as Hongshi.

When Shu Cailing was young and bedridden, Bai Mingyuan caught him staring at a specific spot on the wall, utterly transfixed. Even as he dangled a piece of dried fruit, he couldn't get his disciple to tear his gaze away. In the end, as the food turned from steaming to warm, Bai Mingyuan sat on his bed and cuddled up to him, draping a warm arm around him before asking, "What are you looking at that's so interesting, hmm?"

"There's things falling in the air, I can see it on the sunlight," Shu Cailing pointed.

Bai Mingyuan had stilled for a moment, before relaxing and saying with a gentle voice, "Ah, Ling'er is right. It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Mmm…! Ling'er never noticed before."

He must have been no older than six. There were already so many wonders he had walked past without a pause.

With a smile, Shu Cailing tugged at his sleeve before grabbing onto the twine and bead bracelet that hung on Hongshi's wrist, the way he would childishly do years and years ago. It was a testament to his care that the messy accessory still seemed new, despite being given to him by an overeager eight-year-old. "Well, that has an easy fix. Let's go once we return— we'll sneak out, we won't even have to tell Shifu."