“…after the flying horses landed, they turned into white jade horses, and Commander Pang vanished without a trace. He must have gone to pay his respects to some immortal. There was a half-immortal at the gate to welcome the disciples. He introduced himself as Yang-shixiong, Yang Anli, Imperial Princess Xincheng’s son, a shixiong from the last Grand Selection class.

“Yang-shixiong is very friendly. He looks a little like san-ge, though naturally he can’t compare with my san-ge.”

It was night in Jinping. In the south study of Prince Zhuang Manor, Zhou Ying held a white jade board identical to the white jade proximals he had sent to the Marquis Manor—these white jade proximals weren’t a pair; they were a set of three. 

Xi Ping must have gotten settled in at the Latent Cultivation Temple already and had begun to write his grandmother a lengthy letter; line after line of writing appeared quickly on the white jade board. 

Next to him, Wang Jian was laying out their weiqi game as though nothing were the matter, pretending that there was absolutely nothing remarkably about his lord spying on a letter Viscount Xi was writing home to the old lady. 

Since her early years, Old Madam Xi had been a well-bred lady who didn’t leave the house. She had never pursued any studies. Everything Xi Ping wrote was in plain vernacular and included illustrations along with the text. 

For example, he wrote: “In front of the temple gates, there are blue luan and white deer running around. A blue luan is a bird about the size of a swallow, with a long tail like a cape.” 

Underneath was a lifelike drawing of a blue luan… though the draftsmanship was a little rough, and it looked like a duck with a fan stuck to its butt. 

The corners of Prince Zhuang’s mouth turned upward. 

“None of the footmen in the temple are human, they’re scarecrows powered by spiritual stones. They’re called ‘straw children.’¹ They can give directions, sweep the courtyards, beat a gong to tell time, and so on. You just need to stick the right talisman onto the back of the straw children’s heads, and you can make them do tasks. When I’ve learned to make straw children, I’ll definitely make you a bunch, a pair to rub your legs, two to fan you, and we can put together a theater troupe.” 

Prince Zhuang laughed. “No wonder our grandmother favors him so much. This brat can flatter the old lady better than I can.” 

Wang Jian humored him: “As the saying goes, everyone has his weaknesses and strengths. When it comes to winning favor, Your Highness truly falls short.” 

On the white jade proximal, Xi Ping finished flattering and went on to discuss the food at the Latent Cultivation Temple. Generally he was very satisfied and only said regretfully: “They only provide two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. The disciples don’t get snacks.” 

Having commented on the food, he went on to the residence: “The male and female disciples are split up here, with totally separate classes and accommodations. Too bad, too bad! The female disciples live one to a courtyard, while the male disciples live two to four to a courtyard because there are so many more of them. I’m living in the Qiu courtyard along with two classmates.

“One is Chang-xiong, the eldest grandson of Grand Tutor Chang, with a face as round as a pancake. He’s friendly to everyone, but very talkative. Less than two marks after he moved in, he’d already passed along eight pieces of news. He's like a trumpet that’s developed intelligence.” 

Prince Zhuang thought, You have the face to call someone else talkative? You’re the one who needs a slap on the mouth. 

Wang Jian, seeing him for once in a good mood, tactfully went to refill his cup of water. He had just lifted the pot when he saw the smile on Prince Zhuang’s face cool, so he shot a furtive glance at the white jade board. 

He saw that Xi Ping had written: “The other one, Yao-xiong, is the Grand Scribe’s son, the Crown Princess’s younger brother by a concubine. When he learned that he was going to be sharing a courtyard with me, he got so scared that he ran to the outhouse seven times in one night, nearly excreted himself out into a noodle. I felt very conscience-stricken. In the future, I’ll have to get friendlier with him.” 

Prince Zhuang’s fingers stroked the white jade board. “The Crown Prince’s brother-in-law…” 

Wang Jian quickly said, “Since the Marquis of Cheng’en’s Zhang family was convicted, the Eastern Palace has been increasingly subdued. The Crown Princess’s background isn’t very noble, so the Yaos have been even more cautious. This Second Young Master Yao who’s been sent to the Latent Cultivation Temple has never been heard from in Jinping. He must not have a particularly flamboyant disposition.” 

“Oh, I know,” Prince Zhuang said. “That bastard Xi Shiyong may be obnoxious at home, but there’s no need to worry about him being bullied when he goes out… It’ll be a good thing if he manages to hold out and not cause any trouble for me.” 

Wang Jian said, smiling, “Set your mind at ease, Your Highness. Among the disciples who have entered the Latent Cultivation Temple in this class, there are few direct descendants of the great families. Apart from His Fourth Highness and Her Ninth Highness, there’s only one son of the Lin family. The Lin family is His Fourth Highness’s mother’s family, so presumably he wouldn’t get into a dispute with him. Her Ninth Highness is young, and her disposition is weak. I don’t think there’s any suspense about which disciple the inner sect will choose this time. His Fourth Highness conducts himself properly. With him there to keep watch, the others won’t be able to make any big waves. Anyway, his relationship with you in the mortal world has always been very good. We can assume he would look after the Viscount for you.”

“I wouldn’t call it very good. Zhou Xi has known since he was little that he would enter the immortal sect. He never associated with mortals like me. He only kept from offending anyone for the sake of his mother.” Prince Zhuang smiled. “But, in fact, he truly isn’t a rash person…hm?”

The white jade tablet was nearly filled with writing. Though the chatterbox Xi Ping hadn’t yet fully expressed himself, he had to wind it up here. Having asked after the whole family’s health, he added a line in the corner: “Heaven’s Design Pavilion’s Commander Pang and I have hit it off pretty well. He even gave me a half-human half-puppet little servant. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you in more detail tomorrow.” 

“Pang? Pang Wenchang?” Prince Zhuang raised his eyebrows when he read the words “hit it off”—no wonder the Yongning Marquis Manor had received a selection card even after they removed Xi Ping’s name from the alternate name list. “Him?” 

“This Lord Pang is known as a smiling tiger, unmoved by force or persuasion, deferring to no one. Many members of the great families have tried to curry favor with him but could find no opening,” Wang Jian said. “As the Viscount has entered the Latent Cultivation Temple, when he returns in the future, it’s almost certain he’ll enter Heaven’s Design Pavilion. At this stage, if he’s hit it off with him… that isn’t a bad thing.” 

Prince Zhuang still thought was a little strange. A lone wolf like Pang Jian didn’t sound like the type to give someone a “little servant.” 

But on the other hand, the mighty Assistant Commander of the Right of Heaven’s Design Pavilion would have no more difficulty squeezing a handful of mortals to death than knocking over an anthill. He wouldn’t play any tricks on a young disciple… would he? 

“Don’t forget to send Commander Pang a gift for the Dragon Boat Festival.” 

Wang Jian agreed: “Of course.” 

The little fish on the white jade proximal began to swim on its own, erasing Xi Ping’s words and drawings. The old lady began to write a response. 

Prince Zhuang put down the proximal and said to Wang Jian, “The Chu ambassador came today.” 

Wang Jian quickly sat up straight. “About the train business?” 

“Yes. His Majesty has made up his mind to expand ground transport. A few Maze Stations within Great Wan won’t satisfy his appetite. He’s planning a connection to Chu’s Dongheng.” As Prince Zhuang spoke, the look in his eyes became cold once more. It seemed that the illustrated white jade proximal could only dispel the frost from his brow for a moment. “Dongheng’s Xiang family are unorthodox; they’ve actually fallen in with his plans.” 

Wang Jian considered. “What about Water Transport?”

Steam engines had blown the skies of Jinping full of smoke and dust, and they had also blown up the purses of water transport. A single Grand Canal, with so many noble families latched on sucking blood—how could they stand to give a share to the “Cloud Soaring Flood Dragon” that ran over the ground?

“Water Transport? Ha, they nearly scraped the ground with their heads before the ambassador had even left. They said that railroads ‘pierce mountains and go around forests, obstruct fengshui, harm the nation’s fortunes.’ They all but brought in an immortal from Xuanyin Mountain to deliver a verdict.” Prince Zhuang smiled. “The Water Transport Department’s Sun Yuqing sure is quite the genius.” 

Wang Jian, shaking his head, said, “The Sun family’s greed is bottomless. They want to have everything both ways. Once they curried favor with the Marquis of Cheng’en, and when the Marquis of Cheng’en fell, they couldn’t cut ties with the Eastern Palace fast enough.”

Before he had finished speaking, he saw a cold smile appear at the corners of Prince Zhuang’s eyes. 

“Do you have some instructions for me, Your Highness?” 

Prince Zhuang pressed a hand to his lips, turned his head away, and coughed a few times. “When the railroad was first being laid from Jinping to Yuzhou, there was an instance of corrupt officials tricking the common people out of their farmland and selling the land to the court at a high price. Do you remember?” 

“I remember. Later a few people were punished for it, but as for the land, well, the court already had it, so naturally it couldn’t be returned,” Wang Jian said. “You mean…” 

“The Cloud Soaring Flood Dragon is awe-inspiring to be sure, but the common people have lost farmland where they could settle down and make a living. How are they to live now? A pity.” As softly as if he were blowing dust off fine porcelain, he sighed. “Why don’t you give Lord Sun a hint. Tell him to stop thinking about bringing a complaint before the Southern Sage—there’s a ready-made ‘right path.’” 

Wang Jian understood him. After giving an affirmative, he added, “But, Your Highness, His Majesty has always been hard-hearted. A handful of common people who lost their land won’t necessarily stop him…”

“Why would I want to stop him? Whether he wants to expand the railways or the waterways, what connection does it have to a homebound invalid like me?” Prince Zhuang swept his sleeve wearily. “This is the Crown Prince’s business.” 

“The Crown Prince? How could the Crown Prince wade into these muddy waters?” 

“He won’t have a choice.” Prince Zhuang toyed with the coarse pottery cup at his fingertips. His voice was almost inaudible. “After all… what does the Crown Prince have apart from his reputation for all-encompassing benevolence?”

At this point, he propped his head on his hand and inadvertently glanced at the white jade proximal next to him. 

Old Lady Xi had already written a whole long-winded heap in enormous characters. Their old grandmother’s exhortations were nothing more than these three: “Eat well, dress warm, don’t make trouble.” There was nothing new. Prince Zhuang read it and was about to avert his gaze when he saw the old lady write: “I don’t want any scarecrows, those are like monsters, they’d be terrifying if you caught sight of them at night. It would be better if the immortal sect taught you how to make pills and elixirs. Be sure to keep His Third Highness in mind.” 

Prince Zhuang was startled. For a moment, his eyelids trembled slightly, as if his eyes had been burned by the old lady’s writing. After a long while, he finally turned the proximal over and waved a hand at Wang Jian. 

In the Latent Cultivation Temple, Xi Ping, done corresponding with his grandmother, put away the white jade proximal and forced himself to lie down and go to sleep early. 

The Latent Cultivation Temple was in the Xuanyin Mountain Range’s outermost valley. Green pines and cypresses formed rolling blue-green waves. There was no buzz of machinery, no clamor of gears. There wasn’t even a striking clock in the room. The disciples’ rooms only had a half-cun square hanging calendar block of blue-green jade. This was an unconventional immortal tool. Every night at midnight, the calendar block would automatically change to reflect the date, the solar term, and the day’s weather.

It was too quiet in the mountains, so quiet that Xi Ping was having a hard time sleeping in his new surroundings. He had wild dreams all night. Once again hearing that Soul Calling Melody reverberated over and over in his ears, keening all night. 

At the Hour of the Rabbit, the calendar block on the wall suddenly beamed with dazzling white light. Next, a thunderclap exploded in the small room, with tremors that shook the beams. 

Xi Ping was so shocked by this sudden clap of thunder that his three immortal souls left his seven mortal forms. He scrambled upright, patted himself down to make sure that he hadn’t lost any parts to the lightning strike, then at last, still shaken, looked at the calendar block. 

The date on the calendar block had changed to the sixteenth day of the fourth month. Under the words “clear and fresh, clouds drifting through the sky” had appeared another line of twinkling gold writing that silently urged him: “Make yourself presentable; at three marks past the Hour of the Rabbit, morning class is held at the Qiankun Tower.” 

At this hour, the young master usually wouldn’t even have gone to sleep yet. 

And they wanted him to make himself presentable… It would be about the same as making a corpse presentable. 

Xi Ping meditated profoundly in the direction of the calendar block for a while, then threw himself straight into bed and went back to sleep. 

But no sooner had his face touched the pillow than a strong light once again burst from the calendar block, and a second clap of thunder fell. It seemed to fall right on Xi Ping’s head. Xi Ping’s ears were unusually sensitive to begin with; he was nearly deafened by the blow. All his sleepiness vanished.

“Ah—!” he yelled irritably, pounding the bed. “Servants, servants!” 

Then he extended his arms, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the headboard, waiting to be dressed and coiffed. 

But he waited for ages, and clothes didn’t automatically wrap themselves around his body. Xi Ping opened his eyes impatiently and found that the interior of the room was silent. There was no Haozhong, and no maids; there was only the weird little half-puppet, squatting in a corner like a mushroom, watching him.

Only then did Xi Ping remember that this was the Latent Cultivation Temple. There were no pages here.

The little half-puppet’s mind was incomplete. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand human speech, but he didn’t understand it very well—as Xi Ping saw it, his intellect was about on a level with his san-ge’s lousy cat.

Pang Jian had clearly been talking nonsense. Never mind delicate tasks like dressing and doing hair, you couldn’t even hope for this thing to make the bed or sweep the floor. 

Xi Ping hadn’t thought yet of how to deal with him. All he could do was grumpily toss the little thing into the study. “Move, don’t get in my way.” 

Getting dressed and cleaned up was all right, but fixing his own hair nearly killed him. Before he could get it right, he heard the voice of Chang Jun, who shared the courtyard with him. “Shiyong! Are you coming? We’ll miss class! H-h-hurry up!” 

Even the chatty Chang-xiong was stuttering. Xi Ping pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. He thought that they actually had plenty of time. 

But Chang-xiong was in such a hurry he was about to break down the door, so he had to shove his hair into its headpiece however he could, ignoring how many strands fell out; he wished he could take refuge in monastic life and shave it all off. 

He’d just had time to copy down the map when his courtyard mate Chang Jun pulled him away. 

“Did you bring a guide talisman?” said Chang Jun. 

Xi Ping was bewildered: what would he need one for? 

Before he could respond, Chang Jun quickly said, “No problem, I have a stack. If we mess up, there are replacements. Let’s go find a straw child. Our first time using a talisman, I’m afraid we won’t get it right at once and have to try several times… Hey, over there!” 

Xi Ping looked in the direction he was pointing. Several of their classmates were babbling as they surrounded a straw child. 

“Morning class is in the Qiankun Tower. You have to write ‘Qiankun Tower’ in regular script, make it neat… Don’t go out of the lines!” 

“It’s done, it’s done, hurry, hurry! Stick it on! Stick it on!” 

“Don’t crowd the straw child. If you’re blocking its way, how is it going to lead you? Spread out a little.” 

Chang Jun pulled Xi Ping into the crowd. “Great, they’ve already found a straw child to lead the way. Let’s follow them!” 

Before he had finished speaking, the straw child with the guide talisman stuck to it moved slowly—under everyone’s gazes, this scarecrow walked in mincing steps like a fine lady, as if afraid of stepping on an ant, demurely puttering west along the path. 

By the time its elegant steps reached the Qiankun Tower, they would be just in time to eat a New Year’s reunion dinner. 

Xi Ping: “…” 

The disciples howled and went to pieces. That was when Xi Ping learned that, apart from the map he had brought, the others had nothing but guide talismans.

Wonderful! When they couldn’t even read such a simple map on their own, how could they trust a so-called “immortal tool” so much?

“You won’t get any use out of that.” Xi Ping quickly glanced at the map and called upon his experience of getting chased all over Jinping by the Marquis and his discipline rod. “Follow me.”

“May I ask what family you belong to?” 

“Do you know the way to the Qiankun Tower? Do you have an older relative who holds office at the Latent Cultivation Temple?” 

“Could it be that you have some other immortal tool?” 

All you have to do is follow me, Xi Ping thought. None of you can find your way around, so what’s with all this useless babble? 

But it was his first day here, and the Marquis’s order not to make trouble still lingered in his ears. He resisted the urge to talk back and allowed Chang Jun to chatter away behind him, introducing him to everyone. 

All the disciples had perhaps heard of the “renowned” Viscount of Yongning. There was a weird silence; then they started saying “well met,” each in a different tone of voice.

But at the moment, these lost headless flies had no other choice. Give them a butt to fly after, and they would. They stuck behind Xi Ping and crowded their way to the Qiankun Tower. 

After ten years of tranquility, the Latent Cultivation Temple was now subject to this bunch. Startled birds scattered in all directions and angrily dropped several loads of “sky dung,” fertilizing the invalids running the slowest at the back of the line. 

When they could already see the Qiankun Tower’s name plate, Chang Jun screamed breathlessly, “Oh—oh no, the straw child is about to beat the gong!” 

Everything in the Latent Cultivation Temple followed the ancient order: a chime at the Hour of the Dragon, a drum at the Hour of the Monkey, watches sounded at night, a thunderclap for the first mark of the Hour of the Rabbit. Other important times—for example, morning class at three marks past the Hour of the Rabbit—were announced by straw children beating a gong. 

Sound carried well in the valley. The strike of a gong could spread throughout the surroundings.

In the blink of an eye, Xi Ping strode over and snatched away the straw child’s hammer. 

The straw child stood there and watched as a crowd of young men rushed by like a flash flood. It turned circles in confusion, picking at the edges of the gong. 

When the alarmed crowd charged into the Qiankun Tower, the immortal in charge had yet to arrive. The breath caught in Xi Ping’s throat eased at last. 

He tucked away the hammer. He looked around, found an empty spot, and sat down. Before his butt could touch the chair, the person sitting next to him stood and moved away as though avoiding a plague. 

Xi Ping looked up. Oh, it was the Crown Prince’s little brother-in-law. 

The little brother-in-law was named Yao Qi. His birth mother had died young, and his father’s first wife didn’t like him. Though he hadn’t been abused, he also hadn’t been well brought up. Over a decade earlier, Empress Zhang’s bloodline had run into bad luck. The formerly illustrious Marquis of Cheng’en’s Zhang family tree had fallen over, sending the monkeys fleeing. It had also scared Lord Yao out of his wits. 

Though Lord Yao was a mere Grand Scribe, he had his sights set high. He felt that the Marquis of Cheng’en’s rolling head was a lesson he could learn from. Ever since his daughter had married the Crown Prince, Lord Yao would review the story of the Zhang family’s destruction every night before bed. 

In the Marquis of Yongning’s words, the Crown Princess’s whole family was weird. 

Yao Qi had been born into the weird Yao family. He looked tottering, small and skinny as a girl not yet of age. He had already been scared half to death by being unexpectedly chosen to enter the Latent Cultivation Temple; when he had arrived and learned that he would be living in the same courtyard as the Xi family’s son, his vision had gone black. 

The Crown Prince was the heir to the throne, and Prince Zhuang had been sickly since birth. Neither of them was eligible to take part in the immortal selection. Emperor Taiming had only these two grown sons remaining in the mortal world. One, though he was the genuine eldest son of the first wife, was held back by his mother; the other was the son of the accommodating Imperial Consort who fully enjoyed the emperor’s favor. Even if the two of them weren’t interested in a struggle, others still wouldn’t let them off. 

The reason that the Crown Princess’s family and Imperial Consort Xi’s family hadn’t been fighting like oil and water was that both families were rather useless and didn’t have any fight in them… but that didn’t mean that they could live in harmony. 

Yao Qi hadn’t slept half of last night. He had been imagining how the human fiend Xi Ping would persecute him and had nearly bedded down in the outhouse. He had crawled to the Qiankun Tower first thing in the morning with his guts empty. Now he saw this malevolent spirit floating towards him. Of course his reaction was a little outsized. 

Perhaps he was too empty. When he clumsily stood up, he banged into the hard wooden chair with a hollow thump. Everyone was startled. All the private chatter among the provisional disciples suddenly quieted. Several gazes fell meaningfully on Yao Qi and Xi Ping. 

Yao Qi wasn’t used to being the center of attention. His face flushed at once. But Xi Ping had found his audience. 

The Xi family’s pampered son smiled carelessly and said like a ruffian, “It’s too late, Ziming-xiong! You’ve slept a night in the same courtyard as me. Your purity is already gone.” 

At this racy remark, all the disciples rocked the room with laughter. Little Young Master Yao didn’t dare to believe that there could be such a shameless person in the world. He was dumbfounded, so ashamed he wanted to die.

“All right, all right.” Just then, a handsome young man in a brocade gown came over to break it up. He pulled Xi Ping over and said, “Ziming is young, Shiyong, stop teasing him. Come sit here next to me. It’s been some years since we’ve seen each other. We played together when we were little.” 

The young man was a little over twenty, with fine features that bore a slight resemblance to Prince Zhuang’s. This was the fourth prince Zhou Xi, issue of the Lin family’s Virtuous Consort. 

Xi Ping couldn't ignore His Fourth Highness, so he sat next to him. Before he could open his mouth to make small talk, he heard an equivocal voice coming from the back door: “Pretty exciting here.” 

These were… the childish tones of a boy whose voice hadn’t dropped yet, but who insisted on drawling his words out lethargically like an old man. Perhaps to demonstrate his great age, it also held the tremor peculiar to the elderly. It was grating to the ear, like an old eunuch who had been castrated too young.

The whole Qiankun Tower went silent. Those who were laughing all hurriedly stuffed their protruding teeth back into their mouths. Xi Ping was held down by Zhou Xi. 

“Don’t look,” Zhou Xi quietly warned him. “Immortal Luo doesn’t like people looking directly at him.”

Xi Ping was all at sea. He thought, Is “Immortal Luo” some unmarried lady it would be indecorous to look at? 

He took the advice and kept himself from looking up. After a moment, he heard the sound of rustling beside him.

At the center of the Qiankun Tower were forty or fifty stone steps leading up to a platform. From the top, you could look down upon all of the disciples’ hair whorls. Xi Ping glimpsed the edge of a wide sky blue sleeve passing by him. The cuff hung down almost to the ground. 

This Immortal Luo, waving “water sleeves” that seemed to belong to an opera costume, mounted the platform without haste, then roared in a high voice: “Which bastard took the straw child’s hammer? Hand it over!” 

Xi Ping’s buttocks were firmly glued to his chair. Haha, he thought, take a guess. 

As soon as he had the thought, something heavy hit him in the ribs, and the hidden gong hammer tore apart the front of his clothes and flew out, nearly smacking Xi Ping on the chin. 

To avoid the hammer, Xi Ping abruptly tilted his head up, so he saw Immortal Luo on the stone steps—Immortal Luo proved to be a boy who looked no older than eleven or twelve, his features drooping in displeasure, the same height as the two straw children fanning him! 

No wonder his sleeves trailed almost to the ground. 

Immortal Luo raised his hand to catch the hammer. Then his cold gaze fell on Xi Ping. “Kid, what’s your name?” 

Next to Xi Ping, His Fourth Highness’s eye twitched slightly. This was a sight too awful to behold.