Chapter Forty-Two: The Vast Cold Moon

(Regarding Cui Geng, given the current circumstances, those who read more must simply keep it in their hearts; as for the few readers who insist on tipping three thousand, your heartfelt support truly moves Nan Chao—thank you all. The current success of Strange Tales is inseparable from the support of each and every one of you, dear readers and friends—my deepest thanks!)

Chen Jianchen was not one to indulge in drinking, yet after just a few cups of fine wine, his face was flushed and his mind was swaying. He immediately rose and said, “Master, I am not strong with drink, I fear I cannot continue to accompany you.”

Guanghan eyed him sideways and asked, “Young sir, did not my nephew Qingyun just warn you that this old Taoist is eccentric and unpredictable, advising you to act with flexibility and make allowances for me? Why is it that after only a few cups you wish to take your leave, leaving this old Taoist quite displeased?”

At these words, Chen Jianchen replied earnestly, “I am a scholar. The Master said: To know what you know and to know what you do not know is true knowledge. If I can drink, then I drink; if I cannot, I will not feign bravado and pretend to be what I am not.”

Guanghan laughed heartily. “Interesting.”

After a pause, he continued, “If I am not mistaken, the day I planted the pear trees in the street, you were watching from the upper floor, were you not?”

Chen Jianchen’s heart gave a start; he had not expected the other to have noticed him so soon but answered honestly, “I was.”

Guanghan said, “I heard from Qingyun that you have an interest in the Dao. Why, then, did you not come down to meet me that day?”

Chen Jianchen replied, “Your methods are indeed marvelous, Master, but perhaps lacking in compassion…”

Guanghan’s face instantly cooled. “So, young sir, you blame me for toying with the pear seller?”

“I would not dare… but the vendor earns his living through hard work, supporting his family. Though he is stingy and has his faults, goodwill should be offered willingly. To force it is to leave a mark.”

Guanghan stared at him, his gaze sharp, but seeing Chen Jianchen remain calm and unflustered, speaking with poise and composure, he could not help but chuckle. “For many years, you are the first to dare speak so to me… tsk tsk. But as for your scholars’ talk of benevolence and righteousness, that cannot be imposed upon me, for I wander the world by my own whim.”

Chen Jianchen was silent—for those who cultivate the Dao, the pursuit is freedom and longevity. To be free is to act as one pleases, unbound by appearances, unconcerned with the opinions or feelings of others.

There is, in fact, no right or wrong here, only differing creeds held fast in each heart.

Guanghan drained another cup, then said slowly, “Young sir, you are truly one bound by wealth and status, unable to let go of many ties in your heart. It seems there is no destiny of master and disciple between us. No wonder, last night as I drank with the City God, he said to me that your heart is filled with obsessions hard to dissolve—now I see it is so.”

Chen Jianchen’s heart stirred. “The City God?”

Guanghan replied, “I already know of your grievance with the underworld. In your writings there is righteousness; you are destined for greatness. Since enmities are best resolved, not deepened, and your quarrel stems only from a minor misunderstanding with no deep hatred, why not let it go?”

Only then did Chen Jianchen realize that Master Guanghan had come as a peacemaker—truly an odd affair. After a moment’s thought, he replied slowly, “Master, your words are most reasonable.”

Guanghan clapped his hands. “Excellent!”

He filled another cup and handed it over. “Young sir, this is imperial wine from the palace, named ‘Spring Nourishment.’ Drinking it increases strength and spirit, it is no common brew, and you may drink as much as you like.”

Chen Jianchen found this hard to believe: imperial wine? Had Master Guanghan conjured it directly from the distant imperial palace by supreme Daoist arts? If so, it would truly be beyond mortal reckoning!

He forced himself to rally and drank two more cups.

Afterwards, Master Guanghan stood and said, “Young sir, will you take a walk with me?”

Chen Jianchen’s tongue was already somewhat thick, but he replied, “Gladly.”

The two left, walking straight out of the City God’s temple and onto the street.

By now, night had fallen; the sky was strewn with countless stars, shining brightly, vast and profound.

Master Guanghan pointed at the sky and sighed, “Heaven and earth are boundless, yet my path has its end. Young sir, where should I place myself?” As he finished, he was suddenly overcome with emotion, tears streaming down his face, his expression bleak.

Though Chen Jianchen was a bit bleary with drink, his mind was clear. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “The Dao may have its limits, but the heart is boundless.”

Guanghan instantly broke into a smile, clapping in praise. “What a fine answer: the heart is boundless—marvelous! Let us drink to that!”

As they conversed about the heavens and earth, a commotion broke out on their right. Outside the temple wall, a man had set up a gambling stall, and a crowd had gathered to gamble. In the heat of play, some dispute arose, and an argument broke out.

Master Guanghan, seeing this, chuckled and suddenly asked, “Young sir, do you know why that fat woman chased after me today?”

Chen Jianchen shook his head, indicating he did not know.

Guanghan said, “It was because I saw her beating her son, making the boy cry terribly. Unable to watch, I went over and smacked her backside three good times.”

Chen Jianchen was dumbfounded, speechless for a long while.

Guanghan, however, laughed with satisfaction and, without further explanation, walked straight toward the gambling crowd, squeezing in among them. He heard the men arguing loudly—one insisted, “That money is mine,” while another retorted, “No, it’s mine.” The quarrel showed no sign of stopping.

It turned out that a gambler had won a big bet, gaining a substantial sum, but in his excitement, he spilled all his copper coins onto the ground. The onlookers wasted no time in snatching up the coins, quickly filling their own pouches.

The loser was desperate, seizing people and demanding his money back, but those who had picked up the coins flatly denied it, insisting the money was theirs.

One among them argued, “Chu the Tall, there are no marks on these coins, nor is your name carved on them—how can you claim they’re yours?”

The others all chimed in, and Chu grew angrier, ready to start a fight.

Suddenly, Guanghan spoke up. “Gentlemen, be at ease. This old Daoist can tell whose money it is.”

Seeing a shabby Daoist meddling, the men cursed, “Daoist, stop spouting nonsense…”

“Get lost, you wretched priest! No wonder I keep losing—turns out it’s your fault for being here. What bad luck!”

Guanghan giggled, unbothered. “I truly can tell…”

As he spoke, he neither chanted incantations nor made gestures, but suddenly a clattering sound arose and hundreds of copper coins seemed to sprout legs, leaping nimbly from the bodies of the men, rolling and tumbling until they gathered before Guanghan, standing upright in neat rows—an impressive sight.

Guanghan swayed his head and addressed the coins, “Oh money, I know you have spirit and can commune with the divine. Surely you recognize your true master. If so, nod your heads toward him.”

Whoosh!

All the coins turned in unison and nodded—not toward the men, but toward Guanghan.

“Haha! So after all this fuss, the money belongs to me. I won’t be shy, then—off I go!”

With that, Guanghan turned and strode off across the street; behind him, the mass of coins rolled after him like soldiers following their general—a bizarre and comical spectacle.

The gamblers stood gaping, eyes nearly popping out, speechless for a long while.

Guanghan paid Chen Jianchen no further heed, but walked on, singing:

“Ten thousand strings of cash turn to dust,
Homeless heart knows not where to rest.
The city walls endure, yet none know me,
My eyes see only bones upon bones…”

Within the song, there was a faint note of desolate sorrow.

Chen Jianchen watched him depart into the night and vanished from sight, heaving a silent sigh in his heart: Guanghan—a true Daoist indeed…