Chapter 89: The Beggar

This time, the moment of enlightenment lasted a long while; no one knew what Pan Yun was thinking in that small head of hers, so the spiritual energy of heaven and earth lingered for a long time.

Tao Ji sat on the steps, dazed, feeling for the first time the stark disparity between people.

Pan Yun sat there straight through to midnight.

The street grew busy with people, then slowly thinned; as dusk deepened and Pan Yun still hadn’t opened her eyes, Tao Ji pulled out a handful of copper coins and asked a clerk from the Minxin Bureau to deliver a message to Da Zhou Zhuang: they would return the next day, so the Zhou family wouldn’t think their master and disciple had run off.

The street gradually emptied; shops shut their doors, and the entire lane fell silent.

Tao Ji lay on his side on the steps, drowsiness creeping in, but he remembered his duty as guardian and kept opening his eyes to glance over now and then, sleeping uneasily.

Pan Yun slept soundly.

She thought of many things; the thick fog before her slowly parted, and the path ahead finally became clear.

She thought she had only pondered for a moment, but she had thought all day; she was about to open her eyes when a figure walked slowly toward her from the end of the path—Pan Yun did not open her eyes.

Pan Gong walked step by step, holding a precious sword, stopping ten paces away from her.

The master and disciple locked eyes, both silent.

Pan Yun had already decided what she would do in the future; she no longer cared much for the Dao of Heaven, but she could not help but care for her master.

Because she had finally understood.

Everything she had suffered was because of Pan Gong.

There was no such thing as the Dao watching over her—this was simply the rule!

Pan Gong stared at her for a long while, then asked, “Will you leave?”

“Will you let me go, Master?”

Pan Gong said, “You are the most gifted person I have ever seen. I cannot deny I wish to keep you—but I will not force you to stay.”

He said, “Since you have seen through it, you should know the benefits of staying here. I leave the choice to you.”

Pan Yun lowered her gaze, thought for a moment, then looked up at him and said, “I will not leave.”

Pan Gong’s lips curled slightly, then he slowly vanished before her eyes.

In the darkness, Pan Yun opened her eyes. Everything was pitch black, utterly still—except for the black cat on her knees shifting slightly, and Tao Ji’s breathing beside her.

Pan Yun brushed the black cat aside, stood up, stretched her neck and waist, then turned to find Tao Ji’s eyes gleaming brightly in the dark.

Pan Yun said, “Thank you, Third Master, for guarding me.”

Tao Ji twisted his stiff body and asked, “What realm are you in now?”

Pan Yun said, “I’ve just understood some things—my cultivation base hasn’t changed.”

Tao Ji snorted. No advancement, certainly, but there must have been gains.

He sat on the steps, staring at the dark sky, and said, “Dawn’s coming—this is the darkest hour. Will you stay here or go to an inn?”

“Let’s stay here. This is when people are most exhausted—why disturb them?”

Tao Ji thought the same.

Neither minded the dirt; they lay down on the steps and went back to sleep.

Pan Yun woke to the sound of small, nibbling bites. Before she opened her eyes, sunlight rushed through her eyelids; half-open, she saw a ragged child sitting beside the steps, head bowed, gnawing on a bun.

Seeing her watch, the little beggar paused, then broke off half the bun and offered it to her.

Pan Yun stared at the bun extended toward her, hesitated, then reached out and took it.

She squatted beside the child and ate the bun together.

The bun was hard, dry, slightly dirty and stale—no one knew where it came from or how long it had been kept.

Pan Yun bit down hard, chewing slowly; just as she focused on eating, two copper coins were placed beside her.

Pan Yun looked up blankly, following the slender fingers to a boy in a blue lan shirt standing before her. He had placed the coins, then stood.

Seeing her stare, the boy nodded at her, turned, and gave the little beggar five copper coins. Then he walked back to a stall across the street, bought four buns, and handed two to each of them.

Pan Yun held one bun in each hand, too hot to hold, so she shoved them into her mouth, eager to finish quickly and free her hands.

The little beggar, however, could endure the heat; she didn’t eat the buns but tucked them into her bosom, clutched the coins in her palm, and beamed her thanks: “Thank you, Big Brother! You’re so kind—you’ll surely top the imperial exam and become a great official and grow rich!”

The boy smiled at her, then turned and left.

The little beggar was about to leave with her buns when Pan Yun called her back, gave her one more bun, and handed her the two copper coins beside her.

The little beggar paused, then refused: “Miss, you’re even worse off than I am—keep them yourself.”

Pan Yun insisted: “Take them. I’m not pitiful at all.”

The little beggar frowned seriously: “Miss, you just left your family—you need money and food more than I do.”

Pan Yun: “My family just went shopping—they’ll be back soon.”

The morning market’s herbal shops had cheap prices and wide variety; with luck, you might even find something good.

When Pan Yun woke and didn’t see Tao Ji, she knew he had gone to browse the herbal shops.

Her cultivation base was now higher than his—she didn’t need his protection.

She didn’t feel pitiful herself, but to outsiders, she looked it: her face was covered in grime, her neck and clothes filthy and wrinkled, her expression drowsy, with marks from the stone steps still on her skin.

She looked exactly like someone who had slept on the street all night.

What kind of girl would sleep on a public road?

The little beggar knew well—she had been abandoned just like this.

So she refused Pan Yun’s money and buns, took only her own share, and warned her: “Don’t wait for your family—they won’t come. If you remember where your home is, go back. If not, stay in the city and beg. We’re girls—you should smear more dirt on your face. I’ll take you with me. I know which streets have kind, easy people.”

Then she ran off.

Pan Yun watched her disappear, glanced at the bun in her hand, lowered her head, and kept eating, pocketing the two copper coins as well.

After last night’s enlightenment, though she hadn’t advanced, her hearing and sight had sharpened; she heard the voices nearby.

“Young Master, the younger one was polite, but the older one didn’t even say thank you—so unlikable. Will she ever beg enough to eat?”

“She’s not a beggar.”

“Huh?”

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“I mistook her. You should be grateful she didn’t throw the bun back at my face.”

The servant fell silent. After a long while, Pan Yun heard him say, “She’s that filthy—and she’s not a beggar?”

The young master said nothing. Pan Yun looked down at herself, wondering just how filthy she looked.

But she couldn’t tell—she felt fine.

She ate both buns, but still felt hungry. She glanced at the bun stall, then didn’t go. Instead, she headed toward the herbal shops.

Before she reached them, she met Tao Ji, carrying several large bundles of herbs.

He handed one to her without hesitation: “Hold this. Let’s return to Da Zhou Zhuang now. Zhou Meiniang’s wound is nearly healed—she should be ready to have the stitches removed in a couple days. Then we can go home.”

Pan Yun hugged the herbs and asked, “Third Master, am I really that dirty?”

Tao Ji glanced at her and said, “You slept on the street last night, and the wind was strong—of course you’re dirty. But what does it matter?”

Pan Yun thought about it—he was right. She’d wash up when they got back.

Today, Master Zhou wasn’t harvesting rice in the fields—he was threshing at home.

Half-dried rice was spread on the ground; Master Zhou directed his laborers to bring out a stone roller, tie ropes around it, and have the men grip the ropes, shoulder the weight, and pull the roller inward in slow, circular motions.

Each pass of the roller separated more grains; then they’d turn the rice, pull again, slowly freeing every grain.

This was the roller method. There was also the pounding method.

Master Zhou was now pounding a pile of rice nearby—this was reserved for seed, so it had to be handled carefully, never crushed like the rest with the roller.

He looked up and saw Pan Yun, stunned: “Little Daoist Pan Xiao—did you just crawl out of a beggar’s den?”

Pan Yun stopped. Tao Ji passed by her and replied casually: “Master Zhou, don’t look down on beggars. They’re poor, but cleaner than she is.”

Master Zhou actually nodded.

Pan Yun asked: “Why are you, a landlord, threshing rice yourself?”

Master Zhou: “I’m a landlord because I own a lot of land—and I’m strong. Landlords aren’t idle. Money doesn’t fall from the sky. Ask around the village—when I was young, who worked harder in the fields than me?”

One of the laborers paused mid-turn, wiped sweat from his neck with a cloth, and said: “True enough—Master Zhou still works hard. Yesterday, he harvested rice faster than any of us young men.”

Master Zhou lifted his chin proudly.

Pan Yun gave him a thumbs-up, then followed Tao Ji back to the Zhou house.

Tao Ji, a diligent physician, washed his hands immediately and went to see Zhou Meiniang.

Pan Yun went to the well, drew water, and examined herself closely.

She had smeared dirt on her face earlier and thought it was only a little dust—but now, looking into the water, she realized how absurd she looked.

She scooped water in her palm and wiped her face—her palm turned completely black.

She washed her hands, then grabbed a handful of hair—when she pulled it free, her palm was streaked with black.

Pan Yun silently drew more water and went to the washroom, scrubbing her hair and body with cold water.

When Tao Ji noticed, she had already washed twice and sat cross-legged in the courtyard, her wet hair draped over her shoulders, cultivating under the sun.

Tao Ji watched silently. Of course she had this cultivation base, this insight—such talent, and yet she trained so diligently.

Pan Yun felt his gaze, turned, and asked, “Third Master, how is Zhou Meiniang?”

“The stitches can come out tomorrow,” Tao Ji said. “Will you stay in Yushan County to wait for news from Datong?”

“No,” Pan Yun said, calm now, free of yesterday’s anxiety. “I’ll come back in four days to check. Let’s go home first and harvest the rice.”

Zhou Meiniang’s feet were bare of bandages; Tao Ji gently removed and pulled out the stitches, reapplied ointment, and rewrapped them.

He handed the ointment to Sun Xianniang: “For the first five days, apply it twice daily—morning and night. Before each application, boil the herbal packet I gave you, let it cool, then clean the wound. After five days, apply only once in the morning. When the scabs fully fall off, switch to this second jar—apply every three days. Remember: every time you change the ointment, clean the wound with the herbal packet I gave you.”

Sun Xianniang memorized every word, and while they were alone in the room, quickly opened her purse and handed them two silver notes: “This is one hundred taels—the amount we promised you.”

(End of Chapter)