He casually said to Ethan Brooks, “By the way, when I passed by the old locust tree just now, there was an old man over there who called himself a ‘storyteller’. He was setting up a stall and said he’s got a bellyful of strange tales and interesting people to share with us. If you have time, you should go take a look.”

Ethan Brooks nodded.

Brian Clark strode out of Mud Bottle Alley.

There were many rumors in the town about this solitary and unruly youth, but the boy liked to claim that his ancestors were generals who led troops into battle, which was why his family possessed that suit of treasured armor passed down through the generations.

As for the so-called treasured armor, Ethan Brooks had seen it with his own eyes once. In truth, it looked ugly—like a wart on a person, or a knot on an old tree.

But Brian Clark’s peers didn’t see it that way. They said that Brian Clark’s ancestor was a deserter who fled to this town and became a live-in son-in-law, only escaping the authorities by sheer luck. They spoke as if it were set in stone, as if they had witnessed Brian Clark’s ancestor fleeing the battlefield and wandering all the way to this little town.

Ethan Brooks thought for a moment, then squatted by the threshold, lowering his head to blow away the ashes.

At some point, Jason Smith was standing on the other side of the courtyard wall, with the maid Evan by his side. He called out, “Want to come with us to the locust tree to hang out?”

Ethan Brooks looked up. “No, I’m not going.”

Jason Smith tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Boring.”

He turned to his maid and smiled, “Evan, let’s go! I’ll buy you a whole general’s-belly jar of peach blossom powder.”

She blushed and said, “A little cricket jar is enough.”

Jason Smith clasped his hands behind his back, lifted his chin, puffed out his chest, and strode forward. “The Song family is a family of wealth and status, with generations of officials and scholars. How could we be so petty? Wouldn’t that disgrace our family’s reputation?!”

Ethan Brooks sat on the threshold, rubbing his forehead. This Jason Smith, when he wasn’t spouting those strange and nonsensical remarks, actually didn’t seem like a bad person. But at times like this, if Brian Clark were around, he would definitely say he wanted to smack Jason Smith on the back of the head with a brick.

Ethan Brooks leaned against the door, thinking about tomorrow—it would probably be just like today. The day after tomorrow would be like tomorrow, and so on, over and over. So his life, Ethan Brooks’s life, would go on like this, until he ended up much like Old Yao.

People spend their lives eating dirt, and in the end, the dirt eats them once.

When you finally close your eyes, and open them again, it might already be the next life.

The boy looked down at the straw sandals on his feet and suddenly started to laugh.

Stepping on bluestone slabs feels different from stepping in a muddy swamp.

———

After leaving the alley, Brian Clark passed by a fortune-telling stall. The young Daoist waved at him, “Come, come! I see your aura is like oil boiling over a fierce fire—not a good omen! But don’t worry, I have a method that can help you ward off disaster…”

Brian Clark was a bit surprised. He remembered that this Daoist used to interpret fortunes and draw lots for people. Whether accurate or not, he had never actively solicited business before—he always waited for people to come to him. Could it be that now, with the dragon kiln shut down by the authorities, the Daoist was down on his luck too, unable to make ends meet, and would rather make a mistake than miss a chance? Brian Clark laughed and cursed, “Your method is just spending money to avoid disaster, right? Get lost, you old rascal! If you want to scam money from me, try again in your next life!”

The young Daoist wasn’t offended. He called out loudly to the tall youth, “You hope for everything to go well this year, but who knows what misfortune fate holds? People only pray to the gods when trouble comes. If you want peace, you should burn incense… You really should burn incense…”

Brian Clark suddenly turned around and dashed toward the fortune-telling stall, rubbing his fists and shouting, “Burn incense, huh? I’ll burn your stall first!”

The Daoist was clearly frightened. He jumped up, abandoned his stall, and ran off clutching his head.

Brian Clark stood by the stall, watching the Daoist’s sorry figure and laughed heartily. He glanced at the bamboo lot-drawing tube on the table, reached out and knocked it over. The bamboo sticks clattered out, finally spreading into a fan shape on the table.

Brian Clark pointed at the Daoist, who had stopped in the distance. “Next time I see you, I’ll beat you up again!”

The young Daoist clasped his hands and bowed, begging for mercy.

Only then did Brian Clark let it go.

The young Daoist waited until the tall youth had gone far before daring to sit down again. He sighed, “Times are hard, and people aren’t what they used to be. Even I, a poor Daoist, can barely make a living.”

Just then, the Daoist’s eyes lit up. He quickly closed his eyes and recited loudly, “The pond is full, frogs croak in chaos; what stabs the gut is the human heart. Fame and fortune here are like duckweed on water—only suited for drifting far and wide!”

The pair of young master and maid clearly heard the Daoist’s words, but unfortunately, they had no intention of stopping.

The Daoist cracked open his eyes a sliver. Seeing that he was about to miss another customer, he slapped the table and raised his voice, “The top scholar is but a man of this world, the prime minister is just another person. Mastery of learning brings fame to the city, and with pride comes spirit and vigor!”

Jason Smith and the maid Evan simply kept walking.

The Daoist, dejected, muttered under his breath, “Life is just impossible these days.”

Without warning, the young master turned his head and tossed a copper coin to the young Daoist from afar, beaming, “Thanks for your good words!”

The Daoist hurriedly caught the coin and opened his palm to look—it was the smallest denomination, just a single wen.

But still.

The young Daoist gently placed the coin on the table.