Chapter 91: Disciple

The entire village was busy; the villagers of Fen Shui Village only discovered the Daoists had come down the mountain to harvest rice after they’d cut more than half of it.

They no longer rushed home for meals, instead standing on the road chatting with Wang Feiyin and others: “Master Wang, I saw a lot of stuff piled up near Xiao Jing’s place—is it true you’re building a temple?”

Wang Feiyin replied, “After the autumn harvest ends, I’ll ask everyone to help.”

The villagers all agreed: “We’ll definitely come.”

The rice was cut for two days, then left to dry in the fields for two more days before being carried to the village’s large courtyard for further drying and threshing.

Only now did Pan Yun finally recognize everyone in the village.

Truly recognized them all—and it was lively.

From seventy-year-old elders down to one-year-old children, all gathered at the courtyard.

Adults beat the rice to thresh it, kept an eye on the children, and still managed to chat together.

Many there were older than Wang Feiyin; each one who saw him called out, “Ah, it’s Er Yaizi! Haven’t seen you in so long—how come you still don’t look a day older?”

Some his own age looked like his elders; their expressions were complex: “Er Yaizi, how do you stay so youthful?”

Wang Feiyin chuckled: “I drink wind, eat dew, don’t worry about children—so I never age. You all just worry too much.”

The old comrades brightened: “Oh come on, we can’t help worrying! Er Yaizi, hasn’t your Wang Cong gotten a bride yet? He’s over twenty, right?”

Wang Feiyin: “He’ll come of age next year, next year—he’s not over twenty.”

“Still, he’s old enough. He should marry. If he waits any longer, he’ll end up like your junior disciples.”

They glanced meaningfully at Tao Ji and Xuan Miao, who were silently beating rice, clearly disappointed.

Wang Feiyin smiled warmly: “We Daoists believe in fate regarding marriage—we don’t force it, we don’t force it.”

An elderly man lectured him: “Once you’ve had the wedding ceremony, fate is sealed. So many people in this world—just meeting is fate; staying connected deepens it further; marrying is the greatest fate of all. Respect each other, and life goes on. You keep riding the donkey looking for the horse—say ‘no fate’ with this one, ‘no fate’ with that one—you’ll never marry at all.”

Wang Feiyin: “Their Daoist fate runs deeper.”

The villagers turned away, disbelieving.

The old man’s gaze shifted and landed on Pan Yun; he hurried over to study her face, then nodded approvingly after a moment: “This girl is well-formed—only slightly less lovely than Miaohe, but her face is as round as a full moon—clearly a woman of good fortune.”

Pan Yun said: “My eldest brother also said that.”

Wang Feiyin lowered his voice: “Don’t speak nonsense—don’t ruin my reputation. Do you think I’d dare say you’re lucky?”

Pan Yun ignored him and leaned toward the old man: “Elder, would it be good if we expanded the Mountain God Temple at the foot of the mountain?”

“It would be good,” the old man said, “but do you have money? We still don’t know how much we’ll have to hand up this year—we can lend labor, but we can’t raise cash.”

Pan Yun immediately said: “We won’t ask you for money—we’ll pay wages for labor. I just want to ask the Mountain God ahead of time: once the temple’s built, will there be incense offerings?”

“Of course there will be,” the old man smiled. “Our village worships the Mountain God every year, praying for harvest. When the temple’s built, I’ll pray for you to find a spouse.”

Pan Yun: “Elder, pray for my wealth instead. I’ll pray for my own marriage—my heart will be more sincere.”

“True enough—marriage must be prayed for personally.”

Someone nearby asked quickly: “Is the Mountain God Temple good for wealth?”

Pan Yun’s heart tightened—she didn’t know if her master’s temple was even effective.

She forced a stiff smile: “Sincerity brings results, sincerity brings results. But I know our Mountain God Temple is very effective for safety and health.”

Everyone lost interest.

Safety and health sounded important, but the crowd still preferred praying for wealth and marriage.

Especially wealth—it wasn’t just about money, but power and future prospects.

It had always been the most popular request.

“Where do you plan to build the Mountain God Temple?”

The location of the Mountain God Temple mattered.

Wang Feiyin had instinctively built all structures on Mount Sanqing according to the Eight Trigrams; the Mountain God Temple at the foot of the mountain was no exception.

There was no better spot than the current temple’s location.

So they decided to build the new temple on the same site, leveling the ground behind the existing temple, cutting down trees, and filling the earth to create a flat, spacious area.

Wang Feiyin and Pan Yun worked together to draw the plans.

Not bad—Pan Yun’s drawing skills were solid; from the moment they decided, she already had the image clear in her mind.

Wang Feiyin adjusted some details after she finished; by the time all the rice was threshed, the blueprint was complete.

The autumn harvest ended, most villagers were idle, and all were willing to lend a hand.

Trees were cut, land leveled—no one dared touch the small temple by the roadside.

Wang Feiyin and Pan Yun didn’t touch it either; the two disciples bowed respectfully to the temple, then began construction.

Wang Feiyin had calculated the finances: even including the hundred taels from Sun Xianniang, plus the temple’s current funds in Tao Ji’s possession, after deducting the cost of three months’ qi-strengthening herbs for the three of them, they had eighty-nine taels left—he was willing to contribute eighty.

One hundred and eighty taels total still wasn’t enough.

“The temple needs a statue,” Wang Feiyin said. “What kind do you plan to cast? Even a clay statue, life-sized, costs at least fifty taels. If you want porcelain, given your design—with all those colors and fine details—one hundred taels might not even cover it.”

Pan Yun was startled: “Porcelain costs that much?”

“Naturally. A life-sized statue takes one kiln firing per piece, with extremely low success rates. If he produces it within ten firings, he’s lucky. If he fails ten times, he loses money—and has to pay out of pocket.”

Wang Feiyin said: “This is a bad omen. We can’t let him lose money—we’ll have to add more later.”

He added: “Clay and porcelain are cheapest. More expensive options: bronze, gold, wood.” Pan Yun: “Wood…”

Wang Feiyin: “Don’t think wood is cheap. Wood suitable for statues isn’t cheap at all—and fine carving? The price… Zezeze … a fine wooden statue costs more than bronze.”

Pan Yun decided: “Then porcelain.”

Clay was too cheap, too low-class. Expensive options were beyond her means. Medium was perfect.

She hoped her master was a medium-level deity—fewer troubles.

Wang Feiyin: “Then we need to find a kiln.”

“I’ll go,” Pan Yun said. “Good—I’ll check if there’s any letter from Datong.”

Wang Feiyin waved: “Go, go. Take Miazhen and Miaohe with you.”

They’d been cooped up for a while; it was time to see the outside world.

Wang Feiyin gave Tao Ji a shopping list and told him to take them. But the next day, someone climbed the mountain seeking medical aid: “From Qian Lao Ye of Yushan County—he heard Tao Daochang’s medical skill is exceptional, so Master Cheng asks you to travel to Guangxin Prefecture. Don’t worry—Cheng family will cover all travel and lodging, and pay you one tael per day.”

One tael a day, even doing nothing—thirty taels a month. That was excellent income.

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Remembering all their money was now going to the temple, and the next batch of pills was far off, Tao Ji agreed: “Fine, I’ll go.”

He took Tao Yanbai with him.

The shopping task now fell to Xuan Miao.

The mountain was left with only Wang Feiyin, all alone.

Wang Feiyin was delighted, seeing them off warmly at the mountain gate: “Buy everything you need before returning. If you can’t make it back, stay overnight in town—no rush.”

Miaohe: “Great Master, if we all leave, what will you eat for lunch? For dinner?”

Wang Feiyin: “I practice grain Grain Bigu.”

Miaohe felt sorry for him—she didn’t want to leave anymore.

Wang Feiyin feared she’d stay; he waved her off urgently: “Go, go! Why are you worrying about this at your age?”

He turned to Xuan Miao: “Sister, you should teach them more—be more carefree. Think of yourself more, not always others.”

Xuan Miao: “...”

She turned directly to the three: “Did you hear that?”

All three nodded.

Xuan Miao nodded to Wang Feiyin: “Great Brother, they’ve learned.”

Now it was Wang Feiyin who fell silent.

Tao Ji and Tao Yanbai headed toward Guangxin Prefecture; Xuan Miao’s group headed toward Yushan County—they weren’t going the same way.

The two groups split at the mountain’s foot: Tao Ji and Tao Yanbai boarded the Cheng family’s cart; Xuan Miao’s group harnessed their own mule cart.

Wang Xiaojing had been waiting; he pulled the mule over and hitched it to the cart, then smiled apologetically at them.

Miaohe didn’t react at all—she was hugging the mule affectionately.

Pan Yun asked: “Do you want to come with us to the county town?”

Wang Xiaojing nodded eagerly, eyes bright: “Really?”

Xuan Miao asked: “What will you do in the county town?”

“I don’t want to go to the county town—I want to go to the kiln,” Wang Xiaojing said. “Master Xuan, my family plans to send me to learn carpentry, but I don’t like carpentry—I want to fire porcelain.”

Xuan Miao: “Have you told your family?”

“My grandfather knows I want to go—he agreed. As long as the Daoists from the temple take me, I’ll go anywhere.”

Xuan Miao said: “Get in.”

Wang Xiaojing beamed and scrambled onto the cart.

Pan Yun and the others settled in, and they leisurely headed toward Yushan County.

The old mule knew the way, so little driving was needed—just steer the direction; the mule could run on its own.

Wang Xiaojing had never been to the county town before; he was excited, fidgeting on the cart, waving his arms: “Miaohe, I’ve learned the fist set you taught me—I’ll show you when we get off.”

“Sure. But that’s all external skill. I’ve recently found a book on internal qi methods—I asked Great Master and he said we can teach them externally. I’ll teach you the internal method later.”

“Great! Great!” Wang Xiaojing bowed to her. “I should call you Master.”

Miaohe beamed.

Pan Yun: “Then won’t you have to call me Grandmaster?”

Wang Xiaojing suddenly remembered: “Your rank is so high!”

Pan Yun: “Just say whether you’ll call him or not.”

Wang Xiaojing thought for a moment and decided it was right—he was Miaohé’s uncle-senior, and his martial arts had been taught by Miaohé—so he bowed and said, “Senior Grandmaster!”

Pan Yun smiled broadly, “Good grandstudent!”

Miaozhen: “Then I’m your Senior Uncle, Senior Aunt.”

Wang Xiaojing turned to look at Miaozhen’s face; he couldn’t bring himself to call her Senior Uncle, let alone Senior Aunt, and his face flushed red.

(End of Chapter)