Daybreak arrived as the monks struck the morning bell, its long, low resonance echoing throughout the city.
Within the Ginkgo Study lay a pond filled with water lilies. An ebony bridge spanned the water, leading to a pavilion at the far end. When the Master of the Ginkgo Study was alive, he loved to rest here, enjoying the cool breeze that stirred the curtains.
Wu Zixu stood on the long corridor, gazing at the distant pavilion. "I remember when the Master was alive, he called this pavilion 'Floating Autumn Sounds.' As a child, I didn't understand. This was clearly a place for summer retreat; why name it after autumn? When I grew older, I thought perhaps it was because the Master had seen all the world had to offer, and thus his eyes held only the chill of autumn."
"I used to guess for fun when I was young, but I never asked the Master for the truth. Now, it has become an unsolved mystery." He gave a gentle smile. "I hope I haven't amused you too much, Great Master."
Standing beside Wu Zixu was a monk—the Abbot of Baishui Temple. The old man chanted a low prayer before speaking. "Amitabha. There is something the Impermanence does not know."
"Oh? Please enlighten me, Great Master."
"When the Ginkgo Study was first built, this old monk was still young. At that time, the Mozi of two generations ago was still alive, and he personally oversaw the construction of the entire study. When it was nearly finished, several carts of scorched wood were delivered to Baishui Temple. The Mozi asked the monks for help in assembling that scorched wood into the pavilion in the pond," the Abbot recounted slowly. "I was one of them. I heard the Mozi say then that this pavilion had been built elsewhere originally, and its name was always 'Floating Autumn Sounds.'"
"So that’s how it was." Wu Zixu was struck by the realization. "You said the wood was scorched. Was the pavilion once burned?"
"I do not know. But when it arrived, it was indeed charred black. It was only through the Mozi’s divine craftsmanship that it was restored," the Abbot said. "After years of wind and rain, the traces of its original state have faded."
Wu Zixu pondered for a moment, then bowed deeply to the Abbot. "Thank you for clearing my doubts, Great Master."
"Life is full of delusions; the Impermanence need not be so formal." The Abbot pressed his palms together. "Decades have passed. The last time the Seven Houses gathered at the study was many years ago."
"Yes. Last time, when the Master passed away, the Longevity of Penglai was unable to attend due to other matters. If I calculate correctly, since I took over as the Impermanence, I have never seen all the Masters gathered together." Wu Zixu looked at the distant pavilion with a bitter smile. "Today is the same. The Constellation has not arrived, and Old Fourth... he might not come at all."
Today, Wu Zixu wore traditional ancient robes—white clothes, white socks, with wide sleeves and a broad sash. This was the tradition for such gatherings. The pavilion in the distance had been expanded several times its usual size; mechanical joints in the floor had opened, extending outward until it occupied nearly half the pond. Seven white paper screens were arranged in a circle on the sandalwood floor. Before each screen stood an incense altar and a bronze censer.
Three bronze censers already held lit incense, their light smoke drifting through the air. A person in white, dressed identically to Wu Zixu, sat before each screen. Behind the screens stood many others in rows, their family crests embroidered on their lapels.
The Longevity of Penglai, Hua Bucheng.
The Elder of the Zhu Family, Zhu Baizhi.
The Spiritual Pivot of the Medicine Family, Chai Shuxin.
Wu Zixu watched from a distance for a moment, shook his head, and walked into the pavilion. The other three rose to greet him. After exchanging pleasantries, Wu Zixu sat before a screen, drew a stick of incense from his sleeve, lit it, and placed it in the censer.
As the smoke rose, two figures appeared behind the Wu family screen. One was a magistrate in green robes holding an ivory tablet; the other was a young girl with her hair in twin buns, wearing a white-faced mask. She was the Great Lord Taisui, Wu Nie.
Seeing this, Zhu Baizhi stroked his white beard. "Today is the day the Seven Houses gather. Why has a Magistrate of Fengdu appeared here?"
Before Wu Zixu could speak, Wu Nie cut him off with a yawn. "My, my, old brother, you aren't dead yet?"
Zhu Baizhi was one of the highest-ranking elders of the Vermilion Bird lineage, with nearly a thousand years of cultivation. Wu Nie was also a "Great Ancestor," having settled in Fengdu over nine hundred years ago. Both were among the oldest members of the Seven Houses. Zhu Baizhi, lean and vigorous with a red mark on his forehead, glanced at Wu Nie as she leaned against the screen. "It seems you are in good health, Sister," he said tonelessly.
"Hardly. I can't compare to your pine-like frame and crane-like bones, brother. If you walked outside, people would think I was your granddaughter."
"I would not dare insult your seniority, Sister."
Watching the two trade barbs, Wu Zixu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Wu Nie rarely attended these gatherings, finding them both troublesome and boring. However, the current Constellation was still young, so Zhu Baizhi had attended the last few gatherings in his stead. Zhu Baizhi held immense seniority and was notoriously stern; even the Master of the Ginkgo Study had treated him with great deference. Wu Zixu feared Mu Gesheng’s irreverent tongue would cause a clash, so he had specifically invited Wu Nie. Between two evils, Zhu Baizhi was unlikely to lose his temper with a junior in her presence.
The dialogue between Wu Nie and Zhu Baizhi had long been a joke among the Seven Houses. Both were so old that no one could truly calculate their ages. Zhu Baizhi insisted that Wu Nie was older and refused to be disrespectful in his address, while Wu Nie refused to be called "Sister" by an old man, as it made her sound like a withered hag. Neither would yield, so these two, who looked like a grandfather and granddaughter, addressed each other as "Brother" and "Sister," a truly comical sight.
However, in all the Seven Houses, only Wu Nie dared to be so blunt. The white paper mask on her face changed patterns constantly—one moment a toothy grin, the next a weeping face, then a ridiculous grimace at Zhu Baizhi. It was lively beyond belief.
The silence in the pavilion was broken, the atmosphere softening slightly. Wu Zixu looked around and happened to catch Chai Shuxin’s gaze. The latter shifted his eyes toward the incense in front of him.
There was a protocol for the incense in the bronze censers. As each family arrived, they would light a stick. Once the final stick burned out, anyone who had not arrived was considered absent.
Wu Zixu had lingered outside for a long time, watching as Chai Shuxin’s incense nearly finished before finally entering. But even he couldn't stall for much longer. One stick of incense lasted, at most, another hour.
Wu Zixu sighed and shook his head at Chai Shuxin. He truly couldn't say if Mu Gesheng would come.
***
At that moment, Mu Gesheng was training troops on the outskirts of the city.
He had introduced training methods from Western military academies. Though advanced, they were new, and both officers and soldiers needed time to adapt. While Commander Mu had told him to "guard the city," he had essentially dumped every administrative and military matter onto his son's shoulders. Every day, besides training, there was a mountain of paperwork; he worked from dawn until late at night. Fortunately, he was no stranger to these matters, and many brothers in the camp had known him since childhood. Despite the exhaustion, he picked it up quickly.
Mu Gesheng had just finished overseeing a drill and giving instructions when he went back to wash up. As soon as he stepped out, he saw Song Wentong standing outside his door, holding a set of white robes.
"What's this?" Mu Gesheng looked at the bundle in Song Wentong's hands. "Who died? You're here to mourn so early in the morning?"
"Go to the Ginkgo Study."
"I'll go in a few days. I've been run off my feet lately. I have a pile of documents to review in a bit... By the way, Old Second, if you're not busy, help me train these troops. There are a few fresh recruits who won't listen; go beat some sense into them."
Song Wentong didn't move. He just stared at him, silent.
Mu Gesheng, unable to withstand the gaze, scratched his head. "No way. We just fought a few days ago; my waist is still bruised. You want to go again?"
"I know we fought a few days ago," Song Wentong finally spoke. "And you won."
"Old Second, don't be so polite, I'm not used to—"
"You won, so I will stay by your side," Song Wentong interrupted. "You understand me perfectly. Stop playing the damn fool."
The words caught in Mu Gesheng’s throat. He stared back, neck stiff.
Their eyes met.
Finally, Mu Gesheng was the first to yield. He sighed. "'Those who know me say I am anxious; those who don't ask what I seek.'" He looked at Song Wentong with a wry smile. "I give up. You know I don't want to go, yet only you, Old Second, would go to such lengths."
"Whether you go is one thing; whether you become the Heavenly Diviner is another," Song Wentong said calmly. "As the Mozi, my only responsibility is to bring you there. If anyone tries to force you after that, they'll have to answer to my blade first."
"Fine." Mu Gesheng snatched the clothes from Song Wentong, crumpling them. "I'll change somewhere at the foot of the mountain. Wearing this in the camp... with a couple of red circles painted on, I'd be a walking bullseye."
***
In the pavilion, Wu Zixu’s incense was also nearing its end. Hua Bucheng spoke: "The time is almost upon us."
Hua Bucheng was the current Longevity and the Sect Leader of Penglai. As a cultivator, his youth was preserved; in his white robes and ancient crown, he looked like a young man, his eyes devoid of joy or sorrow, like a white crane in the snow.
The Penglai lineage flourished as a sect and followed the path of immortals. Hua Bucheng was the eldest among the current Masters, giving him an air of singular authority. Yet he was habitually quiet and detached, rarely involving himself in worldly affairs for years; he hadn't even come to offer condolences when the Master of the Ginkgo Study died. This was Wu Zixu’s first time meeting him, and he couldn't gauge the man's intentions. Even Wu Nie remained silent, her mask turning into a blank white face.
It was Chai Shuxin who spoke: "There is still half a quarter-hour."
Zhu Baizhi’s expression was displeased. "He did not come to mourn his mentor's death, and now, with the Seven Houses gathered, he is late. This 'Heavenly Diviner'..."
Hua Bucheng’s expression remained neutral. "He is not yet the Heavenly Diviner."
Chai Shuxin added, "The incense is not yet spent. He is not late."
"The Spiritual Pivot is correct." A figure strode into the pavilion. It was Song Wentong. He wore white robes, the Red-Licking Blade still strapped to his back. He thrust a stick of incense into the censer. "The Mo family has arrived. I must ask you all to wait another half-hour."
The Masters' expressions varied; a low murmur rose from behind the screens. Song Wentong flicked his sleeves and sat at his altar. The Mo family had been a single-descendant lineage for generations, with no relatives or disciples; he was the only Master whose screen remained empty behind him.
Watching the scene, Wu Nie’s mask changed into a wide grin.
Mu Gesheng had entered the Ginkgo Study with Song Wentong, but he was currently in the ancestral hall.
It was still summer. Outside the window, the ginkgo trees were still green, their leaves rustling in the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the lattice, illuminating floating dust and dappled shadows.
Mu Gesheng offered a stick of incense. "Master, I shall light this stick here with you. I won't be taking it into the pavilion."
"Back when we were in the study, everyone thought Eldest Brother was far more promising than me. I knew I wouldn't stay in the study for long, so I treated those years as stolen leisure, never seeking to improve. Youthful arrogance... once it passes, it passes. In the future, when I'm drunk, it will be a rare and beautiful dream."
"I truly did not expect you to pass the title of Heavenly Diviner to me. You knew that a soldier fights against fate; we do not believe in it. These forty-nine Mountain Ghost Coins... this disciple is ashamed to accept them."
"The year I received Old Second’s letter and learned of your passing, I woke from a dream at midnight and remembered something you said when you first accepted me into the sect."
"'Do not seek to be a hero of great righteousness; only seek to have a clear conscience.'"
"The world is in chaos now. I weigh every step I take, yet I find myself unable to judge right from wrong."
"A thousand words boil down to this: for the sake of home and country."
A cup of tea’s time later, a long, clear chant echoed from outside the pavilion.
"Blue is your collar, deep is my longing."
A young man arrived gracefully, wrapped in wide white sleeves, his robes fluttering. He looked like a traveler returning from a spring outing, bathing in the river, dancing in the wind, and singing his way home.
The surroundings fell silent instantly. All eyes converged on him. The young man walked slowly into the pavilion, stood before the Heavenly Diviner’s screen, and bowed deeply. Then he turned to the assembly, cupped his hands in greeting, and gave a quiet smile.
The others returned the greeting. Zhu Baizhi was the first to speak. "Why does Young Master Mu not take his seat?"
"My Master’s seat is high; this disciple does not dare sit in it." Song Wentong had already introduced the people in the pavilion to him once. Mu Gesheng performed a junior's salute. "I hope Elder Zhu will forgive me."
Zhu Baizhi did not mince words. "So, you are saying you do not wish to accept the title of Heavenly Diviner?"
"It is not that I do not wish to, but that I cannot."
Hua Bucheng spoke: "You are the successor designated by the Master of the Ginkgo Study before his death. A disciple chosen by him cannot be 'unable.'"
Zhu Baizhi gave a cold laugh. "I fear he is simply unwilling."
"Longevity," Mu Gesheng said, bowing toward Hua Bucheng. "My Eldest Brother is currently a guest at Penglai. His abilities are several times my own. He is truly the better candidate."
"Lin Juansheng has already entered the gates of my Penglai," Hua Bucheng said calmly. "Before I came, he asked me to bring you a message: 'Obey your Master’s command.'"
"Since he has entered your gates," Song Wentong suddenly spoke up, "I wonder whose 'Master's command' he is obeying? The Master's, or yours?"
"There is no difference," Hua Bucheng said. "Years ago, when Penglai came to the Ginkgo Study to request a disciple, a ten-year pact was made. Once at Penglai, he cannot leave the mountain for ten years. The Heavenly Diviner, who calculates all, could not have failed to foresee this."
Song Wentong frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The Mozi also studied at my Penglai; you have always been clever, you cannot fail to understand." Hua Bucheng glanced at Song Wentong, then surveyed the room. "In the year the pact between Penglai and the Ginkgo Study was made, the Master of the Ginkgo Study had already decided on the next Heavenly Diviner."
He simply hadn't said it aloud.
Mu Gesheng had harbored similar suspicions, but he hadn't wanted to dwell on them. Now, hearing it brought up so abruptly, he was momentarily stunned. He vaguely remembered that day—he had cast a divination at the Old Man under the Moon Temple. A propitious day, favorable for travel.
But on that same day, Lin Juansheng left, the Constellation arrived at the study, and everyone except the Master had gone down the mountain. Everything that happened in the study that day was something they only heard about later from their Master.
What exactly had happened that day? So many things occurring at once, yet he had never noticed.
Had the Master done it intentionally?
If so, what kind of game was he playing?
Mu Gesheng snapped back to reality. Now was not the time for such thoughts; the priority was to decline the position. He straightened his back and spoke loudly: "I presume you all know that I come from the Mu family. My family has been in the military for generations."
"Not so," Zhu Baizhi said. "I have seen your genealogy. Nineteen generations ago, the Mu family were schoolteachers."
The room fell silent. Mu Gesheng: "..."
"Old brother, you were probably just a hatchling back then, weren't you?" Wu Nie chimed in. "Why quibble over things from centuries ago?"
"Since Elder Zhu knows so much, you surely understand my current situation." Mu Gesheng smiled. "I have returned from abroad to join the battlefield. If I were to rashly inherit a position among the Seven Houses, given that blades have no eyes, my death would only cause you all greater trouble."
"The two matters are not in conflict," Zhu Baizhi said. "There have been many Heavenly Diviners who served in the military. As a disciple of this lineage, you should understand this."
"I do." Mu Gesheng nodded, then shifted his tone. "The seventh Heavenly Diviner was born to a noble house; he followed the army on a great expedition and crushed a rival nation, guarding the border forever after. The seventeenth Heavenly Diviner came from a poor family, joined the army as a youth, and eventually became a general and a minister. The twenty-third Heavenly Diviner entered a military camp as a strategist, then defected to another camp and personally slew his former lord. The twenty-sixth Heavenly Diviner, knowing the dynasty was collapsing, refused to abandon his young lord and was eventually cut down by rebel soldiers..."
Mu Gesheng spoke fluently, listing the military Diviners of the past hundred generations. The room was silent, save for his resonant voice.
Finally, he took a breath and said slowly, "However, looking back at these ancestors, whether they advanced or retreated, attacked or defended, stayed loyal or betrayed, their motive was always the same: Fate. Every choice they made was decided by the hexagrams cast by the forty-nine Mountain Ghost Coins."
"The Heavenly Diviner calculates the Will of Heaven," Zhu Baizhi said. "What is wrong with that?"
"The Seven Houses have endured for thousands of years, using the Will of Heaven as their guide to make choices at critical moments, steering the course for all living beings," Hua Bucheng said. "This is the foundation of the Seven Houses. The divinations of the Heavenly Diviner are to be obeyed by all."
"You are right," Mu Gesheng smiled. "That is the foundation of the Seven Houses, but it is not the foundation of a soldier. The Heavenly Diviner calculates fate and follows the flow; a soldier does not believe in fate, nor does he accept it."
Zhu Baizhi’s face darkened. "Boy, watch your tongue."
"Mu Gesheng was raised in the Mu family," Chai Shuxin said tonelessly. "He is telling the truth."
"What I say is from the heart," Mu Gesheng said. "If one day I cast a divination that tells me to abandon my subordinates and defect, I could never do it. The lives of tens of thousands cannot be decided by forty-nine coins."
"When the Heavens lack the right time, the sun and moon lose their light; when the Earth lacks the right time, plants do not grow; when the Water lacks the right time, the waves do not cease; when Man lacks the right time, fortune does not flow." Hua Bucheng flicked his horsetail whisk, his expression serene. "Time, Fate, Luck—you are too young."
"I hope I haven't amused you, Longevity." Mu Gesheng raised his voice. "This junior is young and arrogant, and thus dares to take a gamble."
In the sunlight, the young man shook off his sleeves and cast aside the white robes, revealing a full military uniform beneath.
The room fell into a sudden, absolute silence, followed by a massive uproar from behind the screens.
"Silence, everyone." Hua Bucheng flicked his whisk, his voice spreading like a ripple across water. He looked at Mu Gesheng and said, "The positions of the Masters can never be forced. If you insist on this path, we cannot compel you."
Mu Gesheng was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard the other continue: "The Heavenly Diviner lineage has seen people like you before, yet the position has never gone unfilled. It wasn't because there were other choices, but because those people, in the end, always returned to the tracks of destiny."
"Everything is fate; not a bit is up to man." Hua Bucheng rose, meeting Mu Gesheng’s gaze. "Sometimes the price of arrogance is more than just shallow blood and tears. If you wish to fight against Heaven, you must be prepared."
Mu Gesheng smiled, not backing down an inch. He cupped his hands. "This junior accepts your teaching."
***
