Chapter 11

After the meal, Muge Sheng washed dishes until midnight.

"I've decided—I won't call him 'Little Doctor' anymore." Muge Sheng shook water droplets from his hands, leaped onto the roof eaves, and tossed Song Wentong a jug of wine. "I'm going to call him 'Midwinter'."

Song Wentong raised his hand to take it, "What kind of mischief are you up to again?"

"Look at him, all cold and lonely—never seen him smile, like his face is covered in snow. Isn't that just like the coldest days of winter?" Mu Gesheng declared with conviction. "Standing next to him in summer would definitely cool you right down."

It was the plain truth. Chai Shuxin exuded aloofness from head to toe, likely due to his impeccable upbringing. Though not offensive, he carried himself with polite detachment, his gaze chillingly distant.

"Stop causing trouble for others," Song Wentong said. "The Chai family is the most worldly of the Seven Houses. As its head, he's extremely busy—only someone like you, with nothing better to do, would keep pestering him."

"I've only met him three times, okay? How did I become a nuisance?" Mu Gesheng raised an eyebrow. "I heard from Lao San that when you were first adopted by our master, you fought with him constantly—even lost your baby teeth from the beatings."

"Go to hell! Why don't you mention how I beat him so badly he couldn't get out of bed for half a month?" Song Wentong took a big swig of wine. "Back then, my mother had just died. I was pissed off—there wasn't a single person in Ginkgo Academy I didn't fight with."

Song Wentong's mother was the previous generation's Mozi, a free-spirited woman who lived by her own code. While roaming the martial world, she fell in love with Guan Shanyue's courtesan beauty, only for her beloved to meet an untimely demise. Mu Gesheng had heard from their master that when the courtesan died, the previous Mozi stormed Fengdu alone, planting her foot on the judge's bench in the underworld courtroom to demand her lover's release—throwing the entire netherworld into chaos. Wu Zixu's father tried to mediate, only to get kicked straight back to the mortal realm.

After much negotiation, a compromise was finally reached: the underworld permitted the courtesan to linger at the Naihe Bridge for five years, while the previous Mozi had to produce an heir to inherit the Mohist lineage. When the new Mozi turned five, the two could be reincarnated together to reunite in their next life.

"When I was five, I went to see her off and saw her wife sitting at the bridgehead playing the pipa." Song Wentong said, "She dropped her knife, lifted her skirts, and ran over—everyone on the Naihe Bridge was watching them."

"At first, I really looked down on my mom. I thought she was spineless, making such a fuss over a woman." Song Wentong scratched his head. "But back then, standing there holding my knife, I was stunned too. I thought, 'Damn, my mom's got taste—marrying someone so beautiful.'"

"Truly worthy of your mother, truly worthy of you." Mu Gesheng burst out laughing. "I heard from the eldest disciple that when you first came to the study, you picked fights every day and even chopped up his desk with your knife to use as firewood."

Before the previous Mozi passed away, he entrusted Song Wentong to the care of the Ginkgo Study's master. The Mo family's bloodline was sparse, their customs peculiar, and they never accumulated property—only the Crimson-Licking Knife was passed down through generations.

"Back then I was too rowdy, and Eldest Brother couldn't handle me, so he asked Chai Shuxin to drug me. But he didn't use enough dosage—I noticed and we ended up fighting. Afterwards, the Master confiscated my knife and told me to master everything my mother left behind before coming back to claim it."

"By the time I came to the study at age ten, you were already slaughtering pigs with that knife." Mu Gesheng laughed: "Not bad, Second Brother—you were only twelve that year, right? Mastering it in seven years—how'd you manage that?"

"The Master taught well."

"But Master is the Celestial Calculator—how could he teach you Mohist techniques?"

"The master gave me a letter and sent me to Penglai. The Penglai Sword Pavilion has a master swordsmith, and with his guidance, I learned quickly."

"You've been to Penglai?" Mu Gesheng perked up with interest. "How was it? Fun?"

"Too many rules. Once I killed a white crane and roasted it to eat, and a bunch of apprentices chased me around." Song Wentong recalled something. "Tomorrow, a guest from Penglai is visiting the study."

"That’s not surprising. Master’s guests come in all sorts." Mu Gesheng lay on the roof, rolling over lazily. "Aren’t you going down the mountain tomorrow? Might be an old acquaintance. Won’t you meet them?"

"I'm not interested. Those cultivators are all troublemakers—they'd make me compensate for their cranes the moment we meet."

"It's just a crane. Just compensate them if you have to."

"A three-hundred-year-old spiritual crane—where am I supposed to find one? At best, I can compensate them with a three-month-old goose."

"...Then you'd better flee down the mountain to escape your debts."

The next day, Muge Sheng slept in as usual until the sun was high. Yawning, he passed by the waterside pavilion and suddenly froze, "Master? Didn't you have guests today?"

The master of Ginkgo Studio sat by the water, pasting a paper umbrella. "Did Wen Tong tell you?"

"Yes, he was busy dodging debt collectors and rushed down the mountain late last night." Muge Sheng stepped forward and bowed in greeting. "You're making an umbrella? Is it going to rain soon?"

"Winter begins soon, and snow approaches with the evening." The master of Ginkgo Studio replied, "This umbrella doesn't shield from rain—it shields from snow."

"Avoiding snow but not rain." Mu Gesheng chuckled. "Master, how refined."

"Merely an affectation."

"My mistake." Mu Gesheng smacked his forehead. "Master isn't refined—he's noble in character. What was it that visiting poet said last time? 'White robes by the water's edge, noble spirit reflected in the cold window.'"

"Knowing you're going to Guan Shanyue today, are you practicing your sweet talk on me first?" The master of Ginkgo Studio looked at him with amusement. "Or are you broke again? Go ask your senior brother for money."

"Big Brother left me money early in the morning." Mu Gesheng took out a purse. "Same old spot—I found it right away."

"Due south, the Li position? He left the money for you 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, light upon light.

"Fire symbolizes separation, and so does the human heart; fire brings light, and so does the clarity of the heart." Ginkgo Hall's master remarked casually, "Even when giving pocket money, you never forget to impart wisdom—this senior brother of yours is more attentive than I, his master."

"Not at all, not at all." Mu Gesheng replied with silver-tongued flattery, "How could I compare to the master's unparalleled erudition?"

"Eloquence is indeed a skill passed down through the lineage of celestial calculations. Though I never taught you, you've grasped its essence remarkably well." Ginkgo Hall's master poured fish food into the water and handed Mu Gesheng a bowl. "Since you've mastered it, why not carry on the tradition?"

"Huh?"

"This bowl is a relic from our predecessors—don't break it." Ginkgo Hall's master said, "Take it down the mountain today and set up a fortune-telling stall. Only return when the bowl is filled with coins."

Mu Gesheng: "..."

"Don't panic. The previous generation wandered the streets with this bowl, relying entirely on silver-tongued eloquence." The master of Yinxing Zhai said leisurely, "If you can't divine it, just bluff your way through."

Guanshan Yue was the most famous pleasure house in the city, its entrance adorned with a pair of gilded couplets: "Under Guanshan's moon, all are fellow travelers; chance encounters by the waterside, every guest shares spring nights." Outside the building flourished flower shops, shoe stores, and qipao boutiques, sustaining an entire street's worth of industry.

The top floor housed private rooms, with the Celestial Chamber being the most expensive and rarely entertaining guests. Yet today it was packed. "Thirteen Wonders, I win!" A lightly made-up woman clapped her hands with laughter, "Little boy, pay up!"

A mahjong table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a bevy of beauties. At first glance, anyone would assume this was some wealthy young master splurging extravagantly, yet the conversation unfolding was entirely different. "Little Tong has grown quite tall recently. Have you been eating properly?"

"Not a single meal missed, Auntie Zhao, rest assured."

"That hairpin Little Tong gifted me last time was quite exquisite. The others have been eyeing it enviously—wherever did you buy it?"

"I made it myself. If you aunties like it, I'll craft a few more sets."

"Tongtong, have you tried the new snow cream from the rouge shop?"

"I have, it's too greasy, but it works well in winter. Third Sister, you might want to give it a try."

"Brother Tong, what do you think of my new nail design?"

"This pattern is too flashy for you. I'll paint you a new one later."

"Me too, me too..."

Song Wentong sat at the lower end of the mahjong table, effortlessly bantering amidst the sea of flowers, yet his expression remained free of any impropriety. Anping had once heard Mu Gesheng say that Song Wentong was a born winner at life. Back when the previous generation's Mozi married the courtesan, the entire brothel had rejoiced, and they had always cherished that old connection. Later, when Mozi proved incapable of raising a child, everyone fought to take him in. Before the age of five, Song Wentong had been raised amidst a sea of rouge and powder. Now, coming to Guanshanyue was like visiting family—the whole place was filled with his elder sisters, younger sisters, aunts, and cousins.

Song Wentong was extraordinarily beautiful. It was said that as a child, he had been swaddled in brocade and raised like a girl. Even now, the courtesans would bring cheongsams to drape over him, saying, "Come help your sister try this on, let's see how the pattern looks on you!"

Song Wentong didn’t mind. He was naturally open and unashamed of his looks. The Mo School dabbled in all manner of folk arts, so he could discuss skincare and makeup with as much ease as if he were an expert—less a winner at life and more a friend to women.

But the funnier one was the guy next to him.

Wu Zixu was surrounded by a crowd in the center, trembling as he played a tile, "H-Hu..."

"Oh, Young Master Wu won?" Aunt Zhao clapped her hands with a smile. "What a coincidence—Little Tong here just lost everything. Hand over your winnings to make up for it!"

"Lost it all." Song Wentong stretched his hand toward Wu Zixu. "Pay up."

Wu Zixu's face flushed crimson as he seized the opportunity while handing over money to pull Song Wentong aside, whispering urgently, "Second Brother, if you need money you can just ask me directly! Why on earth did you bring me to your house?!"

"Break that damn habit of yours—scaring yourself half to death at the sight of women." Song Wentong counted the bills as he spoke. "Managing the Wu family business means you'll inevitably deal with women. Who was it last time that got invited to a brothel and ended up fleeing in tears?"

Anping: "..."

He truly hadn't noticed before—Wu Zixu usually carried himself with composed grace, the most steady presence in Ginkgo Study. In terms of eloquence, Wu Zixu could rival Mu Gesheng, though Mu Gesheng specialized in preposterous arguments that infuriated listeners, his tongue sharp enough to kill. Wu Zixu, by contrast, was gentle and tactful, persuasive with his flowing-water voice that made one feel bathed in spring breezes.

But now the jade-faced youth had turned into a boiled watermelon, his usual refinement thrown to the dogs, his expression torn between anger and panic. "I can't take this anymore! You, you... let's get out of here!"

"Leave? Not until we've lost all our money." Song Wentong snapped his fingers and accepted a cigarette. "By the way, have you learned to smoke yet?"

Wu Zixu looked like he was about to lose his mind: "Have mercy on me!"

Ignoring him, Song Wentong casually stuck the cigarette in his mouth and went back to playing cards. "Take care of our third brother here—don't let him leave the table."

Wu Zixu was suffering miserably here, while Mu Gesheng was thriving like a fish in water.

The master of Ginkgo Studio ordered him to tell fortunes, and instead of cutting corners, he genuinely set up a street stall, basking in the sun while attracting customers.

He chose a brilliant spot—right in front of the Matchmaker Temple, next to a shop selling incense and offerings, its entrance adorned with bright red love threads. Handsome and silver-tongued, he soon drew a crowd. "Young master, I just got this fortune stick from the temple—can you interpret it for me?"

"Congratulations, sister. Your destined love is heaven-sent. Next time a matchmaker comes calling, why not loosen your tongue and meet them?"

"Could the young master help me divine for safety? My fiancé is about to embark on a long journey..."

"The temple has protective charms—they're quite efficacious. Sister, you could go and pray for one. Remember to keep it close to your body to ensure a smooth journey."

"Young master, could you also take a look at mine..."

Business was booming, with most visitors being women seeking divinations about love and marriage. A blushing maiden asked what her ideal husband would look like. Muge Sheng, seemingly seeing something amusing, laughed and slapped the table, pointing into the distance. "Sister, look quickly! Your future husband will be as handsome as that man over there!"

The crowd turned their heads with a rustle, only to see a youth standing in the middle of the road, holding a medicine chest, his expression as cold as snow—his features so striking they seemed painted. It was Chai Shuxin.

Hearing the commotion, he slightly turned his gaze toward them, causing the fortune-telling girl to blush instantly.

Mu Gesheng propped his chin on his hand and laughed brightly, "What a handsome young master! Would you like to have your romantic fortune told?"

Chai Shuxin glanced at him without a word, then turned and entered the mansion across the street.

"What a pity, such an aloof temperament." Mu Gesheng didn't seem offended at all, smiling as he looked at the person before him. "Don't worry, sister, your future husband will be much more affectionate than him."

Mu Gesheng kept his stall open until dusk approached. As the crowd gradually dispersed, he wasn't in any hurry to pack up, leisurely tossing copper coins while sitting there.

In the distance, the sun was setting behind the western hills when the gate of the mansion across the street creaked open.

Chai Shuxin paused mid-step upon seeing him. "You're still here?"

"I'm just waiting for my last customer." Mu Gesheng spread out the coins. "The coldest days of winter—care for a divination?"

Chai Shuxin frowned slightly. "What did you call me?"

"Ah well, you never respond no matter what I call you, so don't fuss over it. Hey don't walk away!" Mu Gesheng grabbed the other's sleeve. "Have your fortune told, won't you? I've been doing free readings all afternoon—at least let me earn my supper money."

"Let go."

"I won't." Mu Gesheng wore an expression that said 'what can you do about it', threatening to throw a tantrum right there if the other dared to leave.

The two stood at an impasse for a moment before Chai Shuxin spoke up: "Why refuse payment?"

"Can't be bothered with proper calculations. Just reading faces to roughly predict fortune or misfortune—close enough, though not entirely accurate." Mu Gesheng explained: "The Tian Suan sect has rules—no payment for inaccurate divinations. Not that many follow them anyway, our lineage has always been small in numbers."

Chai Shuxin gazed at the mountain ghost coin on the table, silent for a beat before asking: "What shall we divine?"

"This is quite unusual—the fortune-seeker asking the fortune-teller what to divine." Mu Gesheng laughed. "No great matters call for no grand answers, so let's just do a simple fortune reading."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed the coins as if throwing away a fortune. The coins scattered noisily across the table, forming a hexagram. Picking up one, Mu Gesheng grinned:

"You shall meet a noble soul, and the gloom shall lift—auspicious indeed."

Chai Shuxin's expression remained unchanged as he pulled out his purse and dropped it into the bowl. "Vague nonsense."

"I've said enough—it's an auspicious sign." Mugesheng looked quite pleased. "Today's luck is good; two divinations, both favorable."

"What was the other one?"

"Similar to yours." Mugesheng opened his coin pouch. "Meeting a virtuous person, light after darkness—great fortune."

With a clattering shake, the coins fell into the bowl, neither too many nor too few, perfectly leveling the surface.

"It's a fine day today." Muge laughed: "An auspicious day, perfect for travel."