After the meal, Mu Gesheng spent until midnight scrubbing dishes.
"I’ve decided. I’m not calling him 'Little Doctor' anymore." Mu Gesheng shook the water from his hands and leaped onto the roof tiles, tossing a jar of wine to Song Wentong. "I’m calling him Midwinter."
Song Wentong caught it with one hand. "What kind of nonsense are you up to now?"
"Look at him—so cold and aloof. I’ve never even seen him smile. It’s like his face is plastered with snow. If that isn't Midwinter, what is?" Mu Gesheng argued righteously. "Standing next to him in the summer would definitely beat the heat."
It was the honest truth. Chai Shuxin exuded a sense of cold detachment from head to toe. Likely due to an excellent upbringing, he didn't come across as offensive, but he certainly maintained a polite, distant manner, his features etched with a chilling frost.
"Stop looking for trouble," Song Wentong said. "The Medicine Family is the most worldly of the Seven Houses. As the Head, he’s busy. You’re the only one who’s bored enough to go looking for ways to pester people."
"I’ve only seen him three times, alright? How is that pestering?" Mu Gesheng arched an eyebrow. "I heard from Old Third that when you were first taken in by Master, you fought with him constantly. Word is, he even knocked out your baby teeth."
"Screw you. Why don't you mention that I beat him so hard he couldn't get out of bed for half a month?" Song Wentong took a long swig of wine. "My mother had just died back then. I was frustrated as hell. There wasn't a single person in the Ginkgo Study I didn't pick a fight with."
Song Wentong’s mother was the previous Mozi, a woman of spirited character who lived by her own code of honor. During her travels in the martial world, she had fallen for the head courtesan of Guan Shan Yue, but her beloved was destined for a short life. Mu Gesheng had heard from their Master that when the courtesan passed away, the previous Mozi had stormed the gates of Fengdu with a single blade. She had stepped onto the magistrate's desk in the Hall of Judgment, demanding the release of her lover's soul, throwing the entire Underworld into chaos. Wu Zixu’s father had gone to mediate, only to be kicked straight back into the mortal realm.
Eventually, after much negotiation, a compromise was reached. The Underworld granted the courtesan permission to remain at the Bridge of Helplessness for five years, while the previous Mozi was required to leave behind an heir to inherit the Mohist lineage. When the new Mozi turned five, the two would enter reincarnation together to fulfill their bond in the next life.
"I went to see her off when I was five. I saw her wife sitting at the edge of the bridge, playing the pipa," Song Wentong recalled. "She threw down her blade, lifted her skirts, and ran toward her. Everyone on the Bridge of Helplessness was staring at them."
"At first, I looked down on my mother. I thought she was weak, making such a fuss over a woman," Song Wentong scratched his head. "But standing there holding my blade, I was dazed too. I thought, to be able to marry someone that beautiful... she really was my mother."
"Truly worthy of your mother, and truly worthy of you," Mu Gesheng burst out laughing. "I heard from Eldest Brother that when you first arrived at the study, you looked for fights every day. You even chopped up his desk with your blade to use as firewood."
Before her death, the previous Mozi had entrusted Song Wentong to the Master of the Ginkgo Study. The Mohist bloodline was thin and their family traditions eccentric; they never accumulated property, passing down only the Crimson-Licked Blade through the generations.
"I was too rowdy back then. Eldest Brother had no choice but to ask Chai Shuxin to drug me. But the dosage wasn't enough, and I found out, so we fought. Afterward, Master confiscated my blade and told me I could only have it back once I had thoroughly mastered everything my mother left behind."
"And yet, when I came to the study at age ten, you were already using that blade to slaughter pigs," Mu Gesheng chuckled. "Not bad, Old Second. You were only twelve then, right? You achieved mastery in seven years. How did you do it?"
"Master taught well."
"Master is the Heavenly Calculator. How did he teach you Mohist techniques?"
"Master gave me a letter and sent me to Penglai. There is a master smith in the Penglai Sword Pavilion. With his guidance, I learned quickly."
"You’ve been to Penglai?" Mu Gesheng’s interest was piqued. "How was it? Fun?"
"Too many rules. Once, I killed a white crane to roast and eat, and a bunch of young disciples chased me around trying to beat me." Song Wentong remembered something. "The study has a guest visiting tomorrow. Apparently, they're from Penglai."
"That’s not surprising. Master has all sorts of guests." Mu Gesheng rolled over on the roof, lying lazily. "Aren't you heading down the mountain tomorrow? It might be an old acquaintance. Don't you want to see them?"
"Not interested. Those cultivators are nothing but trouble. The moment they see me, they'll demand I pay for their crane."
"It’s just a crane. Just pay for it."
"It was a three-hundred-year-old spirit crane! Where am I supposed to find a replacement? At most, I can give them a three-month-old goose."
"...Then you'd better head down the mountain to dodge the debt."
The next day, Mu Gesheng slept until the sun was high as usual. Yawning as he passed the water pavilion, he suddenly paused. "Master? Don't you have a guest today?"
The Master of the Ginkgo Study sat by the water, pasting paper onto an umbrella frame. "Did Wentong tell you?"
"Yeah. He was busy dodging debts and hurried down the mountain in the middle of the night." Mu Gesheng stepped forward with a respectful bow. "Are you making an umbrella? Is it going to rain?"
"Winter is coming. The snow will arrive with the evening chill," the Master said. "This umbrella does not ward off rain; it wards off snow."
"Wards off snow but not rain." Mu Gesheng grinned. "Master, you are truly elegant."
"Merely an affectation."
"I misspoke." Mu Gesheng tapped his head. "It’s not elegance; it’s character—how did that poet put it last time? 'A white robe by the water’s edge, a noble spirit reflecting through the cold window.'"
"I know you’re heading to Guan Shan Yue today. Are you practicing your silver tongue on your teacher?" The Master looked at him with amusement. "Or are you out of money again? Go ask your Eldest Brother."
"Eldest Brother left me money first thing this morning." Mu Gesheng pulled out a coin pouch. "The usual spot. I found it immediately."
"The South, the Li position? He left it under the stove again?"
Mu Gesheng paused. "Master, how did you know?"
The Li Hexagram was Lin Juansheng’s favorite. Li represents fire—flames upon flames, brilliance upon brilliance.
"Li is fire, and the human heart is also fire. Li seeks clarity, and the human heart seeks that same light," the Master said casually. "Even when giving out pocket money, he doesn't forget to subtly teach a lesson. Your Eldest Brother is more diligent than I am as a teacher."
"Not at all, not at all," Mu Gesheng said smoothly. "He can't compare to Master’s world-tilting talent."
"Eloquence is a talent passed down through the Heavenly Calculation lineage. I never taught it to you, yet you have captured its essence perfectly." The Master poured the fish feed into the water and handed Mu Gesheng a bowl. "Since you’ve learned it, why not put it to good use?"
"Huh?"
"This bowl is a relic of the previous generation. Do not break it," the Master instructed. "Take it down the mountain today and set up a stall for fortune-telling. Do not return until the bowl is filled with coins."
Mu Gesheng: "..."
"Do not panic. When the previous generation carried this bowl through the streets, they relied on nothing but a glib tongue," the Master said leisurely. "If you can't calculate it, then bluff."
***
Guan Shan Yue was the most famous music house in the city. A gold-flecked couplet was pasted by the door: *Under the moon of Guan Shan, all are travelers on the same path; meeting by chance as strangers, all are guests of the spring night.* Outside the building, flower shops, shoe stores, and qipao boutiques flourished, sustaining the economy of the entire street.
The top floor held the private suites. The "Heaven" suite was the most expensive and rarely hosted guests, yet today it was packed. "Thirteen Orphans! I win!" A lightly made-up woman clapped her hands with a laugh. "Little Tong, pay up!"
A mahjong table was set in the center of the room, surrounded by a flock of beautiful women. To any observer, it would look like a wealthy young master squandering a fortune. However, the conversation was entirely different. "Little Tong, you’ve grown taller lately. Have you been eating properly?"
"Not a meal missed. Rest easy, Auntie Zhao."
"The hairpin Little Tong gave me last time is so unique. The others are all green with envy. Where did you buy it?"
"I made it myself. If you sisters like them, I’ll forge a few more sets."
"Tong-tong, have you used the new vanishing cream from the rouge shop?"
"I did. It’s too greasy, but it’s good for winter. Sister Three, you should buy some and try it."
"Brother Tong, look at my nails. How do they look?"
"That pattern is too gaudy for you. I’ll paint a new one for you later."
"And me! Me too..."
Song Wentong sat at the foot of the mahjong table, answering fluently amidst the flowers, yet his expression was not one of flirtation. An Ping had heard Mu Gesheng say that Song Wentong was a natural-born winner. When the previous Mozi married the head courtesan, the entire house had rejoiced and never forgot that bond. Later, when the Mozi proved incapable of raising a child, the women had fought to raise him. Before the age of five, Song Wentong had been steeped in the world of rouge and powder. Coming to Guan Shan Yue was like a family visit; the room was full of his sisters, aunts, and cousins.
Song Wentong was exceptionally beautiful. It was said that as a child, he had been wrapped in silks and raised as a girl. Now, the musicians were holding up qipaos against him. "Come, try this for your sister. Let’s see how the pattern looks on you!"
Song Wentong didn't mind. He was always straightforward and never shied away from his looks. The Mohists dabbled in all sorts of folk crafts, and he could discuss skincare and makeup with expertise. He didn't seem like a "winner" so much as a "friend of the ladies."
But the person next to him was even more hilarious.
Wu Zixu was surrounded by a group of women, trembling as he discarded a tile. "I... I win..."
"Oh? Young Master Wu won?" Auntie Zhao clapped with a smile. "How perfect. Little Tong just ran out of money. Hand over your winnings to cover him!"
"I’m broke." Song Wentong reached out toward Wu Zixu. "Give me the money."
Wu Zixu’s face turned beet red. Taking the chance while handing over the money, he grabbed Song Wentong and hissed in a low voice, "Old Second, if you want money, you can just ask me! Why did you bring me to your house?!"
"Fix that damn habit of yours—getting scared to death the moment you see a woman." Song Wentong counted the money as he spoke. "You can't manage the Wu family businesses without dealing with women. Who was it that got invited for drinks last time and ended up running home crying?"
An Ping: "..."
He really hadn't seen that coming. Wu Zixu usually carried himself with such poise and was the most stable person in the Ginkgo Study. In terms of eloquence, he was Mu Gesheng’s equal, though Mu Gesheng’s logic was a disaster that usually left people half-dead with rage—his tongue could kill—whereas Wu Zixu was gentle and persuasive, his flowing voice like a spring breeze.
But now, the jade-faced youth had turned into a boiled watermelon. All his usual grace had been thrown to the dogs. He looked somewhere between furious and frantic. "I can't stay here! You... you... we’re leaving!"
"Leave? We haven't lost all the money yet." Song Wentong snapped his fingers and took a cigarette. "By the way, have you learned to smoke yet?"
Wu Zixu looked like he was going insane. "Have mercy on me!"
Song Wentong ignored him, dangling the cigarette from his lips as he returned to the game. "Take good care of our Old Third. Don't let him leave the table."
While Wu Zixu was suffering, Mu Gesheng was in his element.
The Master had ordered him to tell fortunes, and he hadn't tried to cheat. He had seriously set up a street stall, basking in the sun while soliciting customers.
He had chosen an excellent spot right in front of the Matchmaker Temple. Next to his stall was a small shop selling incense and offerings, its doorway draped with bright red marriage threads. Being handsome and quick-witted, a crowd soon gathered. "Little Master, I just drew this slip from the temple. Can you interpret it?"
"Congratulations, Sister. A match made in heaven. Next time the matchmaker visits, don't be afraid to say yes and take a look."
"Little Master, can you calculate a blessing of safety for me? My fiancé is traveling far soon..."
"The temple has safety amulets that are very effective. You should go get one, Sister. Remember to keep it on your person, and it will ensure a smooth journey."
"Little Master, look at mine too..."
Business was booming. Most of the customers were women asking about their romantic prospects. When a blushing girl asked what her future husband would look like, Mu Gesheng seemed to spot something. He laughed, slapped the table, and pointed into the distance. "Look, Sister! Your future husband will be just as handsome as him!"
The crowd turned their heads in unison. Standing in the middle of the road was a youth carrying a medicine box. His expression was like snow, his features so refined they belonged in a painting—it was Chai Shuxin.
Hearing the commotion, he turned slightly to look over. The girl asking for the fortune immediately turned red.
Mu Gesheng rested his chin on his hand and laughed loudly. "What a handsome young master. Do you want to have your fortune told?"
Chai Shuxin gave him a single look, said nothing, and turned into the courtyard across the street.
"What a pity. He’s got a temperament that doesn't like to pay people any mind." Mu Gesheng wasn't offended. He smiled at the woman before him. "Don't worry, Sister. Your future husband will be much friendlier than him."
Mu Gesheng kept his stall open until dusk. As the crowd thinned out, he wasn't in a hurry to close up, leisurely tossing copper coins.
In the distance, the sun began to set. The gate of the courtyard across the street opened with a creak.
Seeing him, Chai Shuxin paused. "You haven't left?"
"I’m waiting for my last customer." Mu Gesheng lined up his amulet coins. "Midwinter, want a reading?"
Chai Shuxin frowned slightly. "What did you call me?"
"Eh, you don't respond no matter what I call you, so don't worry about it. Hey, don't go!" Mu Gesheng grabbed the other’s sleeve. "Just one reading. I’ve been out here all afternoon for free. At least let me earn some dinner money."
"Let go."
"I won't." Mu Gesheng’s face said *what are you going to do about it? If you leave, I’ll throw a tantrum right here.*
After a moment of stalemate, Chai Shuxin spoke. "Why didn't you charge the others?"
"Too lazy to calculate properly. I just looked at their faces to give a general idea of luck or misfortune. It’s mostly right, but not perfectly accurate," Mu Gesheng said. "The Heavenly Calculation lineage has a rule: you cannot accept payment for an inaccurate reading. Not that many people follow it—there aren't many of us left anyway."
Chai Shuxin looked at the Mountain Ghost coins on the table. After a silence, he asked, "Calculate what?"
"Now that’s a first—the seeker asking the diviner what to calculate." Mu Gesheng laughed. "If there’s no great crisis, there’s no need for a great solution. Let’s just do a small reading for your luck."
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the coins. The movement was casual, yet it carried the weight of a thousand gold pieces. The coins clattered across the table, settling into a hexagram. Mu Gesheng picked one up and smiled.
"Meeting a virtuous person, the haze shall dissipate. Great fortune."
Chai Shuxin’s expression remained unchanged. He pulled out a coin pouch and placed it in the bowl. "Vague."
"It’s clear enough. It’s a lucky hexagram." Mu Gesheng looked satisfied. "Luck is good today. I cast two readings, and both were auspicious."
"What was the other one?"
"Similar to yours." Mu Gesheng opened the coin pouch. "Meeting a virtuous person, light at the end of the tunnel. Great fortune."
With a rattle, he emptied the pouch. The copper coins filled the bowl, leveling off perfectly at the rim.
"It’s a fine day today," Mu Gesheng laughed. "An auspicious day, fit for a journey."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
三九天 | Midwinter / Sanjiutian | Literally "The Three-Nine Days," the coldest period of winter. Mu Gesheng uses it as a nickname for Chai Shuxin.
关山月 | Guan Shan Yue | "Moon Over the Mountain Pass." The name of the music house/brothel where Song Wentong grew up.
墨子 | Mozi | The title for the head of the Mohist (Mo) Family.
离卦 | Li Hexagram | One of the eight trigrams, representing Fire and Radiance.
淑人 | Virtuous Person / Shuren | A person of high moral character; often used in divination to refer to a significant other or a benefactor.
山鬼花钱 | Mountain Ghost Amulet Coins | Traditional Chinese numismatic charms used for protection and divination.
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