This chapter includes visual illustration and cinematic scene.
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Months ago—
"Kacha—" The wooden crate loosened. He slowly lifted the lid.
Light poured down from the top window, illuminating the flying dust; the air seemed to freeze at that moment.
Lin Dalu's hand suddenly stiffened, his pupils instantly contracted, and his heart raced in a mess.
Within the crate, there actually crouched a person.
Lin Dalu stood frozen on the spot, his head buzzing. His fingers trembled slightly and his throat moved as he spoke in a low, hesitant voice.
"This... this is... a girl?!"
The wind outside was light, and the wind chimes under the eaves tinkled like dreams. The air was silent, so much so that even the echoes of a heartbeat could be heard. At that moment, the serenity of the mountain village was quietly sliced open by the silent hand of Fate.
Then, twenty-some days ago—
In the Second Realm — Kunwu Realm, within the Jiudi Star Domain on the Shiyuan Star, upon the Jinyao Continent, and within the borders of the Qi Kingdom, there lies a place cradled by mountains and embraced by waters. Here sits a small mountain village named Liangdou Village. This village's name is recorded in the provincial registers and found within the local annals. Surrounded on four sides by verdant peaks, with a stream winding past, ten miles of peach blossoms stretch out, shrouded in mist and rosy clouds, appearing like a dream from afar. In spring, flower shadows dance in the wind as orioles warble; in summer, waves of rice ripple under a lingering mist; in deep autumn, maple leaves burn like fire along a vermillion path; and in winter, white snow blankets the eaves while cooking smoke curls upward. The wind sighs through the bamboo groves like the strumming of a zither, slow and gentle. At sunset, the golden light on the stream melds with the shadows of the clouds, creating a scene of absolute serenity between heaven and earth. If a traveler were to arrive here, hearing the bark of dogs and the crowing of roosters while catching the scent of damp earth, any lingering troubles in their heart would gradually dissipate.
The folk here are simple and honest, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. Winding stone paths echo with the distant bark of dogs. At the foot of the mountain, an old man leads an ox with steady steps; by the bridge, barefoot children chase butterflies with crisp laughter. The old tree at the village entrance twists like a dragon or snake reclining on the earth, its shadows flickering. Thick moss covers the stone benches; upon closer inspection, it seems as if time itself has carved its traces upon them, silently recounting tales of years gone by.
At this moment, on a small path between the fields, a youth slowly drives an ox. He is dressed in coarse cloth robes with simple cloth shoes on his feet. Though his pace is not hurried, it is steady and strong. The yellow ox's tail swishes lightly, disturbing no dust. The setting sun casts the youth's shadow long, extending toward the distant mountain hollow, as if an unknown road lies at its end.
His name is Lin Dalu, seventeen years of age. He is of medium build, neither fat nor thin, with a fair complexion and an ordinary countenance. In a crowd, he would appear as nothing more than a common village youth. Yet his eyes are as clear as spring water, distinct in black and white, as if they could reflect the clear sky. Though his gaze is calm, it hides an imperceptible trace of persistence and kindness.
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Suddenly, a call comes from the other side of the ridge, "Lin Dalu, going home? Your mother is looking for you!" The speaker is an old farmer with graying temples, wearing a coir raincoat and holding a hoe, his eyebrows curved in a smile like a crescent moon.
Lin Dalu looks up and gives a simple smile, revealing a row of white teeth, "Grandpa Li, I'm headed back now."
The old farmer nods with a smile, watching him walk away, sighing to the person beside him, "This child was an abandoned infant found by the Lin couple by the roadside that year, so he was named 'Lin Dalu'. Alas... Heaven has its mandates, and people have their fates."
The Lin family runs a dyehouse in the village. The courtyard is small, enclosed by a bamboo fence, with wind chimes hanging from the eaves that tinkle whenever the wind passes. Several dye vats are lined up within, steam rising and water colors churning. Colorful cloths are tied to wooden racks, fluttering in the wind like clouds or mist. In a stone trough in the corner, spring water runs clear, transparent enough to reflect a person's shadow. Outside the dyehouse, willow shadows lean diagonally, and the breeze carries the scent of dyed fabric—ink blue, cinnabar red, plain silk, and indigo. That fragrance, mixed with heat, permeates the small courtyard, carrying a touch of human warmth.
Though the Lin couple has no children of their own, they treat Lin Dalu as their flesh and blood. Father Lin is a man of substance, and Mother Lin is virtuous and gentle. Working together with one heart, they have operated the small shop for over a decade, barely making a living yet finding joy in it.
Lin Dalu has been intelligent since childhood. Besides learning to read and write, he has mastered several parts of the dyer's craft. In his spare time, he helps his parents carry cloth and grind dyes, occasionally drawing patterns himself. The designs on the cloth—landscapes, flying birds, or fish swimming in water—all come from his hand. Though not exceptionally intricate, they possess a sense of true intent.
Father Lin often guides him in the courtyard. That day, as the twilight wind grew still and the furnace fire remained warm, mist swirled around the dye vats, filled with the faint scent of Indigo Woad.
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"Dyeing cloth is like being a person," Father Lin said slowly, his hands pressing on a wooden stick as he stirred the dye liquid. "You cannot rush, nor can you be lazy. If the color does not enter the bone, the cloth will not be vibrant; if the heart does not guide the hand, the hand will not have spirit."
Lin Dalu listened intently, watching the water turn from pale to deep, the blue intent like ink swirling between his father's fingers.
"People of the world often seek gaudiness in dyeing," Father Lin continued, "yet they do not know that gaudiness long held becomes vulgar. In true color, value lies in steadiness. Look at the green of the mountains and the blue of the waters; they do not compete in brilliance, yet they are the most enduring to the eye. The way of dyeing should be the same—better to not startle the eye than to lose one's original color."
Lin Dalu replied softly, "I will remember."
Father Lin smiled, his features filled with a steady aura. "Look again at this drawing pattern. Your brushwork is young but has spirit. However—" He paused, reaching out to take an old piece of cloth printed with a crane spreading its wings, its feather patterns distinct and its charm ancient. "The bird beneath your brush has the form but lacks the spirit; my crane has coarse lines, yet its spirit is concentrated. Where is the difference?"
Lin Dalu thought for a moment and answered softly,"Did I draw the form too solidly, failing to leave empty space?"
Father Lin nodded with a deep smile. "Correct. The mutual generation of the void and the solid is how one obtains spirit. Humans are the same; if one seeks perfection in all actions, one instead becomes constrained. Leave three parts unfinished, and Heaven and Earth will naturally fill the rest. Dyeing cloth is like one's life, and drawing lines is like one's heart—if the heart is set, the color will form naturally."
Outside, the wind blew softly and bamboo shadows flickered. Mother Lin poked her head out from the kitchen, saying with a smile, "Is your father teaching you those grand principles again? Little Lin Dalu, it is a blessing if you can remember even a few parts. Your father has a stubborn temper; he doesn't say much, but he holds you very dear in his heart."
Father Lin coughed lightly, feigning displeasure, "Womenfolk, why so much talk?"
Mother Lin covered her mouth and smiled softly, her gaze tender. "I only fear that when the child grows up and isn't before our eyes, he might forget the family's craft."
"He won't forget," Father Lin said, looking at his son with a slow and certain tone. "If he truly has the heart, ten years from now, a single look at dyed cloth should let others know it is the craft of the Lin family."
The wind chimes tinkled lightly, and the mist in the courtyard dispersed. Mother Lin was busy at the stove, occasionally looking back with eyes full of gratification. Father Lin continued to stir the dye, meticulous in every movement. The furnace fire reflected on the faces of the three, as well as on that slice of ordinary yet warm life.
In his seventeenth year, he gradually entered the age of a youth's yearning. Every market day, he would go to the town to deliver cloth with his two good friends—Liu Hai and Sun Ge. Though the town was not prosperous, it was bustling with people and merchants. Bluestone paved the streets lined with shops; tea houses waved their banners, and rice shops, pharmacies, and blacksmith shops were arranged in order. At the street corner, an ancient building with high eaves towered, wind chimes tinkling beneath them as if recounting dreams of the past.
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That day, the three drove a cart into the town. The sun was pleasant, and the breeze carried the scent of cloth. Lin Dalu looked up and saw people coming and going on the street, among whom were several maidens, some carrying flower baskets, some holding blue umbrellas, and some with hair coiled like clouds. Their smiles were like flowers, and their steps were light. Lin Dalu's heart fluttered, but he dared not look for long, intentionally turning away and feigning composure, though his ears had quietly turned red.
Liu Hai saw this and laughed uncontrollably, "Brother Lin Dalu is yearning again—"
Before he could finish, a maiden in a pale pink silken skirt happened to walk by. Hearing those words, her pretty face flushed, and she lowered her head and ran off.
"Liu Hai!" Lin Dalu was embarrassed, his brows slightly furrowing as his face reddened.
Liu Hai was sixteen, not very tall, with a lean build and a clever gaze. He chuckled, "Brother Lin Dalu, could it be that you haven't even touched a girl's hand until now? I've touched the hand of Old Liu's daughter from the west of the village; it was as tender as tofu, as smooth as—"
"Shut up!" Lin Dalu's face was crimson as he made a move to strike him.
Liu Hai laughed loudly, dodging as he said, "I heard from my mother that your parents asked someone to act as a matchmaker for you in North Mountain Village; it's the second daughter of Teacher Cheng from the Dongcai Private Academy, a real beauty! I caught a glimpse of her when I went to deliver persimmons the other day—if you truly get married, Brother Lin Dalu's yearning sickness will surely be cured!"
"Liu Hai!" Lin Dalu laughed angrily, chasing after him.
Sun Ge, standing nearby, was tall and sturdy with skin the color of bronze. Seeing this, he laughed like thunder. The three made their way to the end of the town, their laughter scattering into the wind and startling several sparrows by the roadside.
Half a month later, the Lin couple prepared for a long journey. They were going to Qingyang Town, three hundred miles away, to deliver a large shipment and discuss opening a branch shop. Before leaving, Mother Lin carefully instructed him, "Lin Dalu, look after the house well these two months. I've heard there are lands of Immortal laws near the mountains of Qingyang Town; if we find a chance, we must ask for a Talisman to protect the peace of our home."
Lin Dalu nodded in response, thinking to himself. An Immortal? Those must be people from beyond the heavens.
The next morning, the morning mist was heavy and the sky was not yet bright when the sound of horse hooves echoed outside the village. A large cart came from the mountain road, its shafts made of sturdy wood, its wheels rolling with a rumbling and tinkling sound. The cart was fully loaded with cloth, covered with oilcloth. The driver was a burly man with a face full of whiskers and a booming voice, "Lin family kid! Come lend a hand!"
Lin Dalu hurried out and saw it was his acquaintance Lu Han, answering with a smile, "Uncle Lu, you've worked hard this journey!"
Lu Han patted his chest and laughed, "Haha, it's no hardship. It's just that this load is extremely heavy; I feared it might break the axle."
The two unloaded the goods together. Sunlight pierced through the bamboo fence, splashing onto the floor of the dyehouse in mottled shadows. Lu Han lifted a wooden crate while Lin Dalu supported it from the side. The crate was unusually heavy, the wood grain slightly cracked as if it contained something weighty.
Lin Dalu caught his breath, "Uncle Lu, why is this crate heavier than all the others?"
Lu Han laughed casually, "Have you not worked for a few days? Has reading too many books made your hands and feet rusty? This crate contains top-quality fine cloth; it's only natural for it to be heavy."
Having said that, he laughed again and patted the youth's shoulder,"Quickly move it inside. The sun is high, and I must rush back to the town."
Lin Dalu nodded and moved the crate into the storehouse. Beads of sweat slid down his temples, falling into his collar. In the courtyard, the wind blew, and the cloth snapped loudly.
An hour later, all the goods were unloaded. He turned and called out, "Uncle Lu, take a rest and have a bowl of water before you go."
Lu Han took the tea bowl and drained it in one gulp, patting his chest and saying heartily, "Done! This batch of goods is for the wealthy Merchant Liu's family in our Guangde Town; the shopkeeper instructed that they need to be dyed with high-quality Indigo Woad, as per the usual rules."
"Lin Dalu, your family has good craft; learn well, and sooner or later you'll be able to stand on your own."
"Thank you for the guidance, Uncle Lu."
Lu Han laughed and climbed onto the horse cart. The shafts shook, dust flew, and he gradually drifted away.
Silence returned to the courtyard. The wind passed the eaves, and the shadows of the cloth swayed lightly. Lin Dalu wiped his hands and returned to the storehouse to check the goods as per routine. He opened the ledger and verified the crates one by one. When he reached the last crate, doubt rose in his heart again—it was too heavy, unlike cloth.
He crouched down and tapped the crate boards with his fingers; the sound was muffled. He thought, Something is wrong; this doesn't sound like the sound of stacked cloth. Frowning, he hesitated for a moment before finally reaching out to untie the sealing rope.
And so, there he was—the scene of Lin Dalu standing frozen in his tracks...
——(To be continued)