Chapter 6: The Wang Family

When the Wang family arrived, Lin Jue was testing in his room.

The ancient book lay in his hands.

Following the book’s instructions, Lin Jue gradually exerted force—starting from his toes, driving energy upward to his dantian; from the crown of his head, pushing downward to his abdomen. The two forces were not far apart, and under his forced compression, they slowly overlapped.

Then, as the book instructed, he focused his spirit and gathered his will, storing this energy there, holding it to its limit until dizziness and blurred vision overwhelmed him—then suddenly, a rolling heat surged within his body.

Could this be the yang qi he was meant to expel?

Lin Jue dared not release it.

Immediately, he followed the book’s method again, clamping down hard on the qi while slowly relaxing his mind, until the heat naturally dissipated and fully returned to his body, only then did he dare to let go.

“Huh…”

A long exhale of turbid air.

Was it real?

Could ordinary people “expel qi” without cultivation?

Lin Jue’s eyes widened in shock.

The experiment’s result clearly told him so.

Was this world truly so miraculous?

Just then, noise came from outside.

Lin Jue stood up, took a few steps, confirmed his body and spirit were unchanged from before the test, then opened the window to look out.

The Wang family of Hengcun truly knew how to conduct themselves—

They likely felt merely sending the meals and wine they’d promised that morning looked too meager, so they added more items, assembling a gift that, in village eyes, was generous.

The Wang family’s steward had come in person.

So had the servant Lin Jue called “steward.”

The old lady was overwhelmed with surprise and hurried to receive them.

Lin Jue also rushed out to greet them.

The real steward was sharp—he exchanged polite words with Lin Jue and the old lady, then went to visit Lin Jue’s uncle. He examined the illness, asked which physician had been summoned, and upon hearing it was the divine physician, nodded several times in approval of the doctor’s skill. He asked the old lady to bring the prescription, studied it, and instantly estimated the cost.

He then produced ten taels of silver, fulfilling Old Master Wang’s promise.

The servant Lin Jue called “steward” also held a favorable impression of him, telling him how the Wang family had reacted after he left—this eased Lin Jue’s unease over receiving such a heavy gift.

As dusk approached, they did not linger long and departed quickly.

Altogether, last night’s stay at the ancestral hall had been promised ten thousand copper coins, yet he ended up with forty taels of silver and numerous gifts.

For an ordinary household, this was a fortune.

The old lady stored away the cloth, hung up the cured pork, placed the stinky mandarin fish in the kitchen, and properly stored the wine. The only thing left related to Lin Jue was the Wang family’s meal.

Dried bamboo shoots from last winter’s mountain harvest were the most common dish here—boiled with pork belly in thick oil and dark sauce, the meat aroma was overpowering and perfect with rice. The fresh shoots just sprouted this season were crisp and tender; only the tips were used to stew with pickled meat, called “Dao Ban Xiang”—one bite with broth could make your tongue tremble with flavor.

Fish head with tofu, mixed stewed fish.

Paired with steamed rice from the steamer—dense, each grain distinct and loose.

Without doubt, this was the finest meal Lin Jue had eaten since arriving in this world.

He focused solely on eating, thinking of nothing else.

With his uncle’s medicine paid for, though his condition hadn’t improved, Lin Jue sighed in relief—and with such a fine meal, the ease brought a sense of genuine enjoyment.

Happiness could be this simple.

The old lady gave all the meat to Lin Jue and his cousin, yet sighed: “I told you to focus on your studies, yet in the end, you had to go through this to earn money. If your father knew, he’d scold us.”

“He wouldn’t…”

Lin Jue swallowed his food and said.

“The steward seems trustworthy—he said that in a few days, the city will hold a temple fair, with many merchants from afar, including herbal vendors and herb collectors, selling medicine at lower prices. Even if you can’t identify herbs and doubt the street vendors, visiting other pharmacies in the city during those days will still be cheaper than usual.” The old lady added, “We have enough medicine for Lin Qi’s father for a few more days. I think we should skip the traveling vendors—we don’t know if their goods are real or fake. We’ll go back to Jishitang, the same pharmacy we bought from last time. Hopefully, prices will be lower.”

His cousin nodded.

Lin Jue listened, and a thought stirred in him—

There were two temple fairs nearby.

One was in Shu Village—the Three Goddess Fair—relatively small, held every year on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, just passed.

The other was in the city—the Luo Xian Fair—larger, held every year on the second day of the second lunar month.

Last year, the Luo Xian Fair coincided with the time Lin Jue fell into the water. After being rescued by his uncle, he spent several days in bed recovering his body and calming his spirit, so he didn’t go to the fair. Back then, his uncle was still healthy; though life was tight, they could still afford the trip. In early spring, with little work, it was rare to have leisure, so the fair was worth visiting. Lin Jue couldn’t go, but others did.

Lin Jue remembered lying in bed, lost in thought about his life, while his cousin Lin Qi sat beside him, envious, recounting the fair’s wonders.

The Luo Xian deity statue paraded through the streets; dancers in Fangxiang masks; a dazzling array of snacks and trinkets; wandering witches and sorcerers; fortune-tellers beneath bridges; and all manner of miraculous, inexplicable divine tricks.

Witches and sorcerers…

Fortune-tellers…

Divine tricks…

Were they merely clever tricks—or did some truly possess strange arts?

Would they trigger a reaction from the ancient book?

“Lin Jue must study, and he just spent the night in that family’s ancestral hall—did it harm his body? Oh dear… Lin Qi, you go alone, but be very careful.” The old lady fretted.

“I know, Mother.”

“Auntie,” Lin Jue raised his head, oil still on his lips, and said thoughtfully, “I heard Shu Taiyeye, who tells stories at Xiabridge Pavilion, say that when people interact with spirits or demons, they may absorb demonic qi or unclean things. Today, on my way back from cutting grass, I paid respects at the Three Goddess shrine. I heard the Luo Xian in our county is also powerful—I’d like to pay respects there too. Let me go.”

“Oh, that’s truly wise!” The old lady immediately agreed. “Then Lin Qi will go with you. You’ve read more books—you’re less likely to be tricked. I’ll let him carry the items.”

“Fine.”

“Did you really see a demon?”

“In a dream…”

“What was it like? Tell me!”

People of this era were deeply curious about such things—though family members naturally felt more concern.

Lin Jue’s mind was on food and the fair, but since the old lady had spoken, he set down his chopsticks and thoughts, and recounted last night’s events more carefully than before.

…

In just a few days, the fair arrived.

“Let’s go!”

Before dawn, his cousin slung a large bamboo basket filled with bamboo shoots and called Lin Jue to head for the city.

Lin Jue tucked the ancient book into his robes and carried a small bamboo basket.

Shu Village was two hours’ walk from the county seat by mountain path.

The roads here were uneven; someone once wrote, “Deep forests cluster by water, scarce land, half the fields are hills”—a perfect description. The mountains here were vast, the forests mostly bamboo—rare bamboo groves that entirely covered entire mountains, so dense they blocked the sun even in daylight. Now, before dawn, they were pitch black.

The wind stirred, and the bamboo grove rustled.

Whether from nervousness, a hallucination, or because the demon had breathed on him, weakening his qi and blood—or some other reason—Lin Jue, following behind his cousin, kept sensing strange shadows shifting in the woods.

If only he had a firewood axe, it might have given him courage.

Fortunately, dawn was near. After walking a short distance, light glowed on the horizon; after a bit more, daylight fully broke.

Once daylight came, things improved greatly.

At the same time, travelers on the road gradually increased.

In this era, there were few gatherings; to buy or sell anything, one had to go to the city. Many poor farmers carried heavy loads, slung baskets, and slowly streamed from village paths into the main road, like streams converging into rivers—visually striking.

The road instantly grew lively.

With so many people, where was there room for demons or ghosts—neither in the heart nor on the path?

Soon, the city gate came into view.

“Dump your bamboo shoots into my basket—I’ll sell them first at Tian Deng Alley. You go buy medicine—you’re smarter. When you’re done, I’ll have sold mine too. We’ll meet behind Luo Xian Temple on the back street to watch the magic tricks. If we’re late, they’ll break up. Even if they haven’t, we won’t get good spots.”

These bamboo shoots were all dug by his young cousin—harvested before they even broke the surface, when only a tiny crack showed in the earth—perfectly tender. He had full confidence in their sales.

“Alright.”

Lin Jue agreed.

Walking through the city, it was indeed far livelier than usual; the closer they got to Luo Xian Temple, the more crowded it became.

Many foreign accents filled the air.

This fair occurred once a year, varying in scale; even the same fair had “big year” and “small year” distinctions. The largest fairs could influence several prefectures; during big years, merchants and literati from afar would set out half a month or more in advance to join the festivities.

The Luo Xian Fair wasn’t the largest, but thanks to recent local merchant prosperity, it was no small affair.

Even in the early morning, many had already claimed spots on every street and alley, setting up stalls. Foreign accents outnumbered locals; even the city constables had swapped their iron rods for swords at their waists.

Lin Jue saw many selling herbs and medicinal wines.

He asked prices, didn’t linger, stuck to main roads, avoided side alleys, and hurried to Jishitang, the city’s old-established pharmacy. Using the prices he’d inquired about as reference, and buying in bulk, he got the shopkeeper to lower the price significantly.

When Lin Jue stepped out with the medicine on his back, the outside was even livelier than before.

The streets were packed with people, like a river.

The noise was deafening—every sound poured into his ears, making it impossible to make out anything.

Such bustle was rare even in his past life.

Lin Jue glanced around, flipped his small basket to hang in front, then tried to push into the crowd.

Heading toward Luo Xian Temple, after walking a short distance, he saw a crowd gathered, people tiptoeing to see a clear patch in the center—frequent gasps came from within, as if magic tricks were being performed.