Before the words had even fully left his mouth, An Ping had already recoiled several feet.
"No need to be so distant. I don't eat children," Mu Gesheng said languidly. "Ever watched any TV dramas?"
The topic shifted so abruptly that An Ping couldn't keep up. "What are you talking about?"
"Fortune tellers always have that one common line: 'Heaven’s secrets must not be leaked.' Some are flashier and go into detail about how 'leaking the designs of Heaven will bring down a lightning strike,' and so on. It all means the same thing: one must not recklessly calculate the mandate of Heaven, or they will surely suffer the consequences."
"You're afraid of that?" An Ping asked skeptically. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of powerhouse?"
"Thanks for the compliment." Mu Gesheng looked helpless. "The lineage of Heavenly Calculation is indeed capable of divine foresight, but that’s not just because every generation is gifted; it’s also because we use the power of the forty-nine Mountain Ghost Flower Coins. The Seven Houses have a creed: if it is a hex cast by the Heavenly Calculator, it will never err."
"And so?"
"Precisely because it cannot be wrong, the greater the matter calculated, the more accurate the result, and the stronger the heavenly punishment the Calculator suffers," Mu Gesheng explained. "Most Heavenly Calculators rarely meet a peaceful end. That’s why every generation takes on disciples early. Take my master, for instance—he was taking care of three of us while he was still a young man, acting as both father and mother..."
Seeing the man starting to ramble again, An Ping quickly pulled the conversation back. "What does this have to do with how you died?"
Mu Gesheng took a sip of his goji berry tea and shrugged. "Back then, I cast a hex I shouldn't have."
"What hex?"
"I forgot."
An Ping gave him a look that clearly said, *Are you kidding me?*
"Cross my heart, hope to die," Mu Gesheng said. "I died when I was about eighteen or nineteen. I slept for nearly a hundred years and only woke up a few years ago. I woke up knowing nothing of the modern world, which is why I’ve been held back for three years. Seriously, math, physics, and chemistry are too damn hard. If you showed the Three Laws of Motion to the folks at Penglai, the immortals would probably get into a fistfight with Newton."
"Your memory seems fine now, though. How could you forget something that important?"
"The hex I cast back then invited heavenly punishment. My lifespan was exhausted, and my soul was barred from reincarnation. I should have ended up with both my spirit and form obliterated. But a friend helped me lock my soul, nurturing it within my corpse for decades. I eventually woke up, but my memories are riddled with holes. After all, I’m old; it’s normal for the brain to get a bit rusty."
An Ping looked him up and down. "So how much can you remember now?"
"Just some things from when I was young, though I didn't exactly have time to get old," Mu Gesheng laughed. "It’s no big deal. A rusty brain doesn't mean it's broken; memories can be recovered."
"How?"
"When I died, the Mountain Ghost Flower Coins were scattered. According to our deductions, some memories might be attached to those coins. If I find the coins, I can find the memories," Mu Gesheng said. "Most of my 'money' is missing. Otherwise, An Ping, why do you think I’m always playing with coins? Because I’m obsessed with money? Well, I *am* pretty broke, actually."
"...Fine." An Ping reluctantly accepted the reality. "One last question. Why do you call yourself a 'dead man'? Haven't you come back to life?"
"I have consciousness, yes. But I am a departed soul in a dead body. My soul does not belong to the Three Realms, and my internal organs no longer function. The two are barely forced together—I'm just half-dead, half-alive." Mu Gesheng used an analogy. "A bit like a zombie, but I’m not that stupid, and I’m not that vicious."
An Ping was speechless. He thought to himself: *And zombies aren't as greedy for money as you are.*
"That’s also why I fed you my blood back then. If it were the old me, a mere San-tu-jian would have been nothing. But now, stuck in this crumbling corpse, I’m lucky if I don't get osteoporosis. One wrong move and I’ll lose an arm or a leg; I don't have the energy to look after everyone."
An Ping felt a bit uncomfortable hearing this. "...You've had it rough."
Mu Gesheng waved a hand dismissively. "It’s nothing, it’s nothing. Just treat me to breakfast, An Ping."
*...What happened to you treating me?*
It was An Ping's first time going to the cafeteria during class hours. Breakfast was mostly sold out, leaving only lukewarm buns and porridge. Mu Gesheng didn't mind. He pulled out a porcelain vial and sprinkled some unknown seasoning into his food, eating with great relish.
An Ping took a bun, but after three bites, he still hadn't reached the filling. He couldn't help but say, "I remember you being quite picky. You can actually eat this?"
"If I can be fastidious, I will; if I can't, I'll make do," Mu Gesheng said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "After all, I was born in a chaotic era. I’ve seen fields of starving corpses and tasted military rations. Naturally, I understand that every meal is hard-won."
An Ping recalled Mu Gesheng’s enthusiasm for pickled cabbage instant noodles and realized the man wasn't necessarily difficult to please.
Then he thought of that pot of Red Date, Onion, and Koi soup, and decided it wasn't a matter of being picky—the man’s taste buds were simply broken.
He looked at the porcelain vial by Mu Gesheng’s hand. "What’s that?"
"Incense ash." Mu Gesheng spoke with a spoon in his mouth. "A corpse can't digest, but the dead can receive offerings. This ash is a specialty of Fengdu. Add a bit, and things from the world of the living can be used by the deceased. I have to add it to everything I eat."
An Ping suddenly lost his appetite. He searched for another topic to distract himself. "What is this 'Fengdu' you mentioned?"
"The Underworld, the Capital of the Ghost Kingdom. That area is managed by the House of Yin-Yang," Mu Gesheng said while eating. "The Seven Houses deal with the affairs of the Three Realms. The House of Penglai reaches up to the heavens, while the Wu clan of the House of Yin-Yang governs the underworld. Haven't you noticed that Old Third—Wu Zixu—is always out? He spends half his time working underground."
"That’s miserable. He pulls more all-nighters than a high school senior," was An Ping's first reaction. "Can't his family help him?"
"The Wu clan of the House of Yin-Yang possesses innate Half-Hades bodies, allowing them to travel freely between the worlds of the living and the dead in mortal form. But everything has a price. Most members of the Wu clan die young. By Old Third’s generation, the family is sparse. Among the living Wu bloodline, excluding distant relatives several times removed, Old Third is the only one left in the direct line."
"That's so tragic."
"Don't be so quick to judge," Mu Gesheng said leisurely. "Members of the Wu clan have a special privilege after they die. They can choose not to enter reincarnation and instead settle in Fengdu, continuing to live in the spirit realm or even holding important positions in the Underworld. Old Third has a whole crowd of aunts and uncles down there. Every time he goes on a business trip, he’s basically visiting relatives."
"...No wonder he became the Head of the House at such a young age."
"The position of the Impermanence Sage carries heavy responsibility, and only the living can hold it. His aunts and uncles couldn't take the pressure and hurried to die so they could go down and enjoy their retirement."
An Ping: "..."
"I'm full. Take your time, An Ping." Mu Gesheng set down his chopsticks. "By the way, you might be prone to sleepiness and dreaming lately. It's a normal phenomenon, don't worry."
"How long will this last?" An Ping didn't want to get hit by flying chalk for sleeping in class.
"A grand dream of many years, through the heat and the cold." Mu Gesheng smiled. "Don't worry. It'll be over soon."
Mu Gesheng was right. An Ping found himself becoming increasingly lethargic. After sleeping through three consecutive evening self-study sessions, even his seatmate started teasing him. "Rep, are you... pregnant?"
An Ping couldn't be bothered to respond. He yawned, packed his bag, and went home. He didn't even have the energy for dinner. His eyelids felt like lead, and after a quick wash, he collapsed onto his bed.
By now, An Ping was quite familiar with the Ginkgo Study. Most Heavenly Calculators of the past preferred to travel alone in solitude, but the current Master of the Ginkgo Study was an exception. This man was proficient in the Six Arts and the Eight Refinements; he established the study to teach and pass on knowledge. The people of the city loved sending their children to the Ginkgo Study to learn.
The study advocated education for all without discrimination, holding large weekly lectures that any seeker of knowledge could attend. However, there were only two formal, indoor disciples: Song Wentong and Wu Zixu.
As for Mu Gesheng, he hadn't joined the Ginkgo Study but had entered the lineage of Heavenly Calculation itself. Thus, he called the Master of the Ginkgo Study "Master" rather than "Teacher." He also had a Senior Brother who was of age to enter the world and spent most of his time traveling, making him a rare sight.
Chai Shuxin stood outside the study doors and struck the knocker, a medicine chest in his hand.
From the outside, the Ginkgo Study looked unremarkable, but the interior was a world of its own. The courtyard layout was the work of the previous Mohist Sage, featuring pavilions and terraces in a complex, staggered arrangement. The benefit was tranquility—even when the front courtyard was filled with the sound of students reciting during a lecture, Mu Gesheng could still sleep soundly in the back. The downside was the distance; when a guest arrived at the gate, it usually took the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn before someone answered.
Wu Zixu came to open the door. Seeing the visitor, he bowed with a smile. "So it is Brother Chai. Next time, feel free to come straight in. We are all classmates; there is no need for such formality."
The two exchanged greetings. Chai Shuxin followed him into the courtyard, saying slowly, "The Ginkgo Study is the Master's residence. The Master is an elder; etiquette must be observed..."
"Old Fourth! If I don't mince you today, I'll take the Master's damn surname!" A sudden roar erupted. Two figures blurred past—Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong. The latter was brandishing a kitchen knife with murderous intent, while also clutching a chicken that was missing the feathers on its backside.
"Catch your father first if you've got the guts!"
"You unfilial son! I raised you with my own sweat and blood!"
The two swept past like a whirlwind. Their shouting match was punctuated by shrill, panicked clucking, leaving a trail of feathers in their wake.
"Forgive the display, Brother Chai. Old Fourth slaughtered one of Old Second's chickens today, claiming it was too noisy," Wu Zixu said with a smile. "There was another one that was only half-plucked when Old Second caught him. And so, they started fighting."
Chai Shuxin held his medicine chest expressionlessly, watching Wu Zixu pull an abacus from his robes. "What is the Impermanence Sage doing?"
"I'm going to break up the fight, but first I must calculate this month's accounts for the study," Wu Zixu said, clearly practiced in this routine. "Lest they tear the house down again."
The Master of the Ginkgo Study was chronically ill, and Chai Shuxin’s monthly visits were a routine. However, today there was an extra person in the water pavilion.
A Go board was set by the water, and the Master was playing against someone.
The young man holding the white stones smiled. "Master, with this move, the game is decided."
"Indeed. After a few years of travel, your skill has improved yet again."
Chai Shuxin stepped forward to bow. "Greetings, Master." Then, with a slight turn, "Brother Lin."
An Ping realized that this was Mu Gesheng’s Senior Brother, the eldest disciple of the Heavenly Calculation lineage: Lin Juansheng.
He was dressed in simple green robes, elegant as a jade tree. An Ping looked at the young man and felt that if the Master of the Ginkgo Study were to trade his white hair for black, stand up once more, and fill his sleeves with the wind of the mortal world, he would look exactly like Lin Juansheng.
*This* was a proper master and disciple. An Ping felt as if a refreshing breeze had washed over him. They were taught by the same master, yet the Senior Brother was so refined and handsome—what kind of monster or painted demon was Mu Gesheng supposed to be?
"It’s been a few years; Shuxin has grown quite a bit." Lin Juansheng looked at Chai Shuxin and smiled. "You’ve become quite the elegant young man."
"He *has* grown! Which proves you're getting old!" A figure suddenly emerged from the water, splashing Lin Juansheng. "Senior Brother, save me!"
"Little Junior Brother, only you could scream for help so sharply." Lin Juansheng gave a helpless smile and fished him out of the water. "It’s cold; be careful not to catch a chill."
"A chill is a small matter. Senior Brother, save me first." Mu Gesheng brushed back his wet hair and pointed at the fuming Song Wentong on the opposite bank. "This guy is trying to commit fratricide over a chicken."
"Wentong’s chickens are treasures," the Master laughed upon hearing this. "They wake you up in the morning and serve as a midnight snack in the evening."
"Master!"
"Alright, alright. Master is here; Wentong won't overstep." Lin Juansheng handed over a cup of hot tea and pointed at the unfinished game on the board. "I can save you, but only if you finish this game with me."
Mu Gesheng shuddered. "Senior Brother, you just beat a national champion last month."
"It’s precisely because I beat a national champion that I came back to play against you."
Chai Shuxin was startled and couldn't help but look at Wu Zixu.
"Old Fourth has played nine games against Big Brother," Wu Zixu said softly, still flicking the beads of his abacus as he calculated his accounts. "Two draws, seven wins."
"Who won?"
Wu Zixu looked up and smiled. "What do you think?"
Chai Shuxin remained silent for a moment, turning his gaze back to the water's edge.
An Ping knew nothing of Go, but he saw everyone in the pavilion watching in deep thought. The game lasted from morning until dusk. Wu Zixu watched for a while before heading back to process official documents. The Master also pushed his wheelchair away in the afternoon for a nap, leisurely leaving behind a comment: "If you beat your Senior Brother, I’ll have Wentong go to the kitchen and slaughter his chicken for you."
"Master, don't set me up like that." Mu Gesheng had a bitter face. "This endgame of yours is too hard to save."
"The road is long and arduous; keep trying."
Only Chai Shuxin remained standing to the side, eyes downcast, posture perfect, showing no sign of fatigue even after several hours. An Ping waited until dusk had faded and the lamps were lit in the pavilion before Chai Shuxin finally moved.
An Ping followed him out, only to find that he had actually gone to the kitchen.
Song Wentong was practicing his blade work in the courtyard. Seeing him, he said, "What are you doing here?"
"Helping," Chai Shuxin said calmly. "To kill the chicken."
The small kitchen of the Ginkgo Study.
Amidst the oil and salt, a single lamp burned.
Song Wentong chopped off the chicken's head with one stroke and tossed Sichuan peppercorns into the wok to stir-fry, the aroma filling the air. "I didn't expect you to know how to cook."
"The House of Medicine has many recipes for medicinal cuisine," Chai Shuxin said, his sleeves rolled up as he prepared a soup. "My skills are inferior to my sister's; I only know the basics."
"You're planning to make Pig Stomach and Chicken Soup?" Song Wentong glanced at the stove and tossed the ingredients in his wok. "Two chickens. I'll use the shredded meat for five bowls of soup noodles. The rest will be Soy Sauce Chicken Legs and Spicy and Sour Phoenix Talons. I'll fry the carcasses and mix a red chili oil... What the hell are you doing here again? Scram!"
"I'm here to pay my respects to Brother Chicken." Mu Gesheng leaned on the windowsill, catching an apple Song Wentong threw at him and taking a loud crunch. "I told him when he crowed this morning: those who disturb my dreams shall be ground to dust and scattered to the winds."
"How old are you this year? You're actually taking revenge on a chicken?"
"Hey, remember to save me those feathers; I want to make a shuttlecock." Mu Gesheng quickly changed the subject, looking at Chai Shuxin. "The Little Doctor is actually washing his hands to make soup? What kind of luck are we having today?"
"Pig Stomach and Chicken Soup, with added pepper and Codonopsis. It tonifies deficiency and strengthens the spleen," Chai Shuxin said tonelessly. "It is beneficial for the Master's health."
"Little Doctor, if you have time, why don't you teach Old Second how to make a First-Rank Pot?" Mu Gesheng pushed his luck shamelessly. "I tried it once at your manor and haven't been able to forget it, but this guy insists he doesn't know how."
"The First-Rank Pot is my sister's specialty; I do not know the method either," Chai Shuxin said. "If you wish to taste it, just come over next time."
Song Wentong was stunned, looking at Chai Shuxin with suspicion. "Have you two turned swords into plowshares? What kind of bewitching potion did Old Fourth give you?"
Mu Gesheng threw the apple core at him. "Ivory doesn't grow in a dog's mouth. If you don't speak, no one will think you're a mute."
Seeing the two about to fight again, Chai Shuxin walked to the window. He looked at Mu Gesheng under the lamp and nodded slightly. "Regarding the matter from last time, thank you."
Mu Gesheng blinked. "Huh? What matter?"
Chai Shuxin: "..."
"Oh, oh, oh! I remember now! The shipment at the docks—I just went to say hello. It was a small favor, Little Doctor, don't take it to heart... Little Doctor! Hey, don't leave! Stay for dinner! I'm really not asking you to stay just so you'll do the dishes—"
***
