Chapter 95: False Identity

Pan Yue saw him out the door and replied, “That’s difficult—it’s a prescription written by a Daoist from Jiangnan based on the pulse diagnosis.”

Upon hearing it came from such a distant place in Jiangnan, the physician fell into deep disappointment and shook his head before leaving.

It seems I may never see him again in this lifetime.

Pan Yu used the new prescription; his wound healed rapidly, his complexion improved day by day, he stopped bleeding internally, and his lips regained color.

Pan Yu: “My third senior brother is truly remarkable—even a prescription written from afar is so effective. I wonder if I can learn his skills.”

Pan Yue: “She’s always been clever and learns quickly—it shouldn’t be hard.”

Pan Yue urged Pan Yu, “Why don’t we write her a letter and ask? If she hasn’t started yet, we can encourage her to learn. Though she’s a girl, it’s better to master a craft—no matter what circumstances she faces later, she can rely on it to survive.”

Pan Yu hesitated: “Will Father allow us to write to Xiao Mei?”

He wouldn’t even let them read her letters before.

Pan Yue said, “I’ve already noted down Xiao Mei’s exact address. Even if Father refuses, we can still send it. But I don’t know if someone’s still watching us, or what identity she’s using over there…”

“So you finally realize someone up top might be watching us?” Pan Hong walked in.

Pan Yue and Pan Yu immediately bowed their heads in apology.

Pan Hong said, “Write it. Send it together with my letter.”

He added, “She writes in the tone of an old friend of mine, and the return address uses her third older brother’s household registration. It’s a stretch—Sanqing Temple got her a registration under the name Zhang Xiaomei. You’ll correspond with her as pen pals.”

Pan Yu was heartbroken: “Will Xiao Mei never be able to use her real name again?”

Pan Hong sighed: “As long as she’s alive, that’s enough.”

Pan Yun had almost forgotten her fake name, for except when entering or leaving a few major cities where her household registration and travel permit were checked, the documents she bought had never been used.

When traveling outside, she still used the name Pan Yun.

She only remembered it now because the Mountain God Temple needed a temple keeper.

Wang Feiyin said: “Since you funded the construction of the Mountain God Temple, you should be the temple keeper.”

Whether building the temple or serving as temple keeper, both required official notification to the government office.

The Great Ming strictly regulated monks and Daoists.

The founding emperor had once been a monk; he knew monks and Daoists were exempt from taxes and corvée labor, and many people deliberately became monks or Daoists to avoid these obligations.

Thus, he tightly controlled the total number of monks and Daoists nationwide. To become a legal monk or Daoist, one had to pass the du die examination.

Monks and Daoists without a du die were illegal. If the people didn’t report them, the authorities wouldn’t investigate—but if the authorities chose to investigate, they caught them every time.

Wang Feiyin told Pan Yun: “You’re too young to take the du die exam, but if you can obtain the official paperwork for temple construction, you can legitimately become the temple keeper as the patron.”

Pan Yun found it troublesome and asked: “Why can’t you be the temple keeper, Master Brother?”

“I can’t,” Wang Feiyin shook his head directly. “I’m already the abbot of Sanqing Temple—I can’t hold both positions.”

“Then let the third senior brother be it.”

Wang Feiyin: “That won’t work.”

Pan Yun silently stared at him.

Wang Feiyin looked torn: “Sister, you know how cursed our master is. We’re his direct disciples—we’ve benefited from him, so it’s natural we suffer his ill fortune too. Letting your third senior brother take our place in bearing the curse? That wouldn’t be right.”

Pan Yun was convinced and nodded: “Fine, then I’ll be it.”

Only then did they realize something was wrong—the household registration document she produced bore the name Zhang Xiaomei.

Pan Yun hesitated only a moment before saying: “Use this name. A name is just a label—I don’t care much about it.”

“No!” Wang Feiyin’s expression turned grave. “A name is a label, but not just a label. You took your vows as Pan Yun—your birth chart and destiny are Pan Yun. Switching to Zhang Xiaomei now means becoming a different person.”

Pan Yun spread her hands: “Then what do you suggest? Can I just rewrite this registration to say Pan Yun?”

“Why not?” Wang Feiyin turned to Tao Ji. “Where’s Wang Cong? Why hasn’t he returned?”

Tao Ji: “...He’s out doing business.”

“Write him a letter telling him to come back. There’s no end to business in this world.”

Pan Yun asked eagerly: “Master Brother, does your senior nephew have such abilities?”

Wang Feiyin said: “He’s familiar with the county government office and has some connections in Guangxin Prefecture.”

“Then I’ll wait patiently for my senior nephew to return and handle my registration.”

Of course, she didn’t neglect other matters. Under Wang Feiyin’s guidance, she performed her first ritual to summon a deity and, for the first time outside a dream, saw the Mountain God himself.

Pan Yun spun her wooden sword, two swift whooshes, and slung it behind her back. She smiled sweetly at Master Pan: “Master, the statue is too tall and looks awkward. And standing all the time must be tiring. We’ve decided to burn you a new statue—sitting, lying down, or any other pose you like. What do you want?”

Master Pan glanced at the chair she’d placed before the incense altar, waved his hand—the chair flew away and landed to the side. Another gesture, and a square black stone platform appeared before him.

Master Pan stepped forward, lifted his robe, and sat solemnly atop the platform, adjusting the long sword in his arms so it leaned against his shoulder.

He lifted his gaze, his expression stern, fixed on Pan Yun.

“Quick, quick, Master Brother, draw this! Master looks absolutely stunning like this!”

Though she was the one summoning the deity, Wang Feiyin ended up doing all the work.

Wang Feiyin stared at her in silence, but he couldn’t refuse—Master Pan was watching him coldly.

Pan Yun acted as if she hadn’t noticed Master Pan’s icy gaze, chatting away: “Master, do you have any specific requests for the Mountain God Temple? Like how to arrange the statue, your favorite colors? Nothing’s started yet—we can still change everything.”

Master Pan replied coldly: “Since it’s your disciples’ gesture, do as you wish. If it pleases me, I’ll be happy. If it doesn’t, I’ll just be unhappy.”

Pan Yun: “...Why can’t you just say what you want ahead of time, for the sake of happiness?”

Wang Feiyin cleared his throat, stopping her quietly: “Shut up. Master only accepted this temple because he couldn’t refuse your kindness.”

“Oh~~” Pan Yun nodded, giving both man and deity a knowing look. “I understand. I understand—kindness hard to refuse.”

After that, Pan Yun never asked Master Pan about the temple again. After receiving the drawn plans, she and Wang Feiyin revised them repeatedly until they settled on the best version, then she descended the mountain to find Yu Qing and his brother.

She also brought Wang Xiaojing some luggage.

“Your grandmother and mother miss you. Your father told you to work hard. Your grandfather said if you’re mistreated, come home. Your second uncle said he’s taken your place as a carpentry apprentice—you can’t go back even if you want to. He told you to focus on learning porcelain-making. Miaozhen told you to train hard and not neglect your martial arts. Miaohé said your family’s persimmons are ripe—remember to save some for her when you return.”

Pan Yun delivered it all in one breath, exhaled, and asked: “Now, I’ll ask you right here—how far have you gotten? Have you seen the kiln fired yet?”

Wang Xiaojing hadn’t processed all that yet, but he immediately nodded: “I have! I even carried several bundles of firewood for Master Yu.”

“Good. Any insights? Do you feel you have talent?” “I think I do. Master Yu says the most important thing in firing is temperature.”

Pan Yun patted his shoulder: “Then study seriously. I’ll look for books on kiln-firing and bring them to you later. Maybe you’ll become a master? Don’t forget to make me some valuable porcelain when you do—I’ll sell them for profit.”

Wang Xiaojing: “I’m tempted, but I can’t read.”

Pan Yun: “...Your family is respected in Fen Shui Village—how come you can’t read?”

Wang Xiaojing’s face flushed red. He whispered: “I... I’m bad at studying. I went to school for two years as a child, but I only recognize a few common characters. The rest, I don’t know.”

Pan Yun looked at him with disappointment and waved her hand: “Fine. I’ll give you the books anyway. Whether you understand them or not is your problem—figure it out yourself.”

Wang Xiaojing was curious: “Are there really books on porcelain-making?”

“What’s so strange? There are books on composting too—I found one just the other day.”

Wang Xiaojing was baffled: “Do you need a book to compost? Isn’t that something you’re born knowing?”

Pan Yun snorted: “What you know is nothing compared to what’s written in the book.”

!.read

Wang Xiaojing immediately listed three composting methods: wet composting, dry burning, and a combined dry-wet method.

Though his descriptions differed slightly from what Pan Yun had found, they were essentially the same.

Pan Yun: “...How do you know these composting methods?”

“Everyone in the village knows. Every year, the village does this. I’ve watched for years—I’d know it even if I were a fool.”

Pan Yun smirked. So that’s why Master Brother always sighed about lacking fertilizer and poor soil when Third Senior Brother mentioned winter wheat planting and herb fields?

It wasn’t that there was no fertilizer—it was that no one bothered to make it.

Pan Yun understood. She decided to support Third Senior Brother—otherwise, she’d be wasting the two nights she spent researching composting methods.

“Little Auntie? Little Auntie?” Wang Xiaojing called her several times.

Pan Yun snapped back, grinned at him: “You’ve gotten your titles mixed up—you should call me Master Grand-Auntie.”

Wang Xiaojing scratched his head, embarrassed.

Pan Yun didn’t press him. She waved: “Come on, take me to see Yu Qing.”

Yu Qing and Yu Sheng were displeased when they saw a young Daoist come to deliver blueprints—they thought Xuanmiao didn’t take this seriously.

But Pan Yun pulled out the plans and said: “These blueprints were drawn by me and my Master Brother. Ask me anything—once you take this job, I’ll come every three days.”

Yu Qing blinked: “So you’ll be the one we communicate with about the statue from now on?”

“Yes. Me.”

Yu Qing frowned, slightly annoyed but said nothing—who were they to argue? They were the buyers.

To earn this money, even if the task was to shovel dung, he’d have to study it carefully.

Yet no matter what questions Yu Qing and Yu Sheng asked, Pan Yun answered them all—and even revised two details on the spot.

Seeing her sketch changes with ease, Yu Qing hesitated: “Little Daoist, are you really authorized to make these decisions?”

Pan Yun nodded: “Yes.”

Worried he’d delay the work, she added bluntly: “I’m the temple keeper. I paid for the temple. What do you think?”

Hearing she paid for it, Yu Qing and Yu Sheng had no more questions: “We’ll follow your every instruction, Little Daoist.”

Pan Yun left Wang Xiaojing behind: “If you need anything, find him. Masters Yu, I’ll take my leave.”

Yu Qing and Yu Sheng hurried to see her off at the village entrance. If they could complete this job, their reputation would spread—and soon they could take orders for porcelain statues across Yushan County, even Guangxin Prefecture.

The kiln was outside the southern city gate, while Sanqing Mountain lay outside the western gate—so to return to Sanqing Mountain, she had to enter the city first, then leave again.

Walking through the city streets, Pan Yun thought: Since I’m here anyway, shouldn’t I visit an old friend?

So she turned her steps toward the Qian residence.

The Qian steward, seeing Pan Yun, immediately opened the gate and personally led her to the main hall: “Little Daoist, please sit. I’ve already sent someone to fetch Master Qian.”

Pan Yun nodded, then turned her head and saw Sun Wuyi passing through the front hall toward the back courtyard.

He was lost in thought, completely unaware anyone was in the hall.

Pan Yun narrowed her eyes and asked, “Why is Sun Wuyi here?”

The steward hurriedly replied, “Our cousin young master is studying here; after the new year, he’ll take the county school examination, and our master plans to send him to the county school.”

Pan Yun’s eyes brightened slightly. “Is Master Qian well-acquainted with the county government?”

The steward replied with restraint, “Not exceptionally, but our master often sponsors charitable works like building bridges and repairing roads, so the county magistrate, assistant magistrate, and registrar all have some dealings with him.”

Pan Yun understood: this was the famed benefactor of Yushan County, constantly doing charity—how could the county officials not know him?

Master Qian hurried over, followed by his son, Qian Dahong.

Both bowed to Pan Yun.

Qian Dahong was about to begin with polite small talk, but before he could open his mouth, his father bluntly asked, “Young Daoist, what brings you here?”

He added, “Whatever it is, Young Daoist, if I can help, I will.”

Pan Yun was equally direct, pulling out a handful of yellow talismans. “Master Qian, during my cultivation these past days, I’ve drawn many talismans—do you still need any?”

Master Qian nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes! I’m glad you still remember me—my son is leaving in two days, and I was just planning to go up the mountain tomorrow to beg for a peace talisman for him.”

“He should carry one peace talisman,” Pan Yun studied his face carefully. “Best to keep it on his person at all times. Master Qian, let me tell you, the two best talismans I draw are these.”

Master Qian replied instinctively, “Which two?”

Pan Yun: “Peace talisman and wealth-seeking talisman.”

Master Qian asked, “How much for one yellow talisman?”

“Twenty taels.”

Pan Yun felt no hesitation—she believed her yellow talismans were worth far more; twenty taels per talisman was practically a giveaway.

Master Qian also thought it cheap, but his household couldn’t possibly buy so many—so far, each talisman’s effect lasted a long time; unless danger arose, one talisman might last a lifetime.

So he thought it cheap—but he couldn’t use them all.

(End of Chapter)