**Chapter 1: Here Comes the Sword**

On the second day of the second month, the dragon raises its head.

In the evening, in a secluded part of a small town called Niping Alley, a thin and lonely boy was following a tradition. He held a candle in one hand and a peach branch in the other, illuminating the beams, walls, and wooden bed, tapping with the peach branch to drive away snakes, scorpions, and centipedes. He chanted an old saying passed down through generations in this town: "On the second day of the second month, light a candle on the beam, tap the walls with a peach branch, and no snakes or insects will hide in the human world."

The boy's surname was Chen, and his name was Ping'an. His parents had died early. The town was famous for its ceramics, and since the founding of the dynasty, it had been responsible for producing sacrificial vessels for the imperial mausoleum. Court officials were stationed there year-round to supervise the official kilns. Orphaned and alone, the boy became a kiln worker at an early age, starting with menial tasks under a temperamental master. After years of hard work, just as he began to grasp the basics of ceramic firing, the town suddenly lost its protection as an official kiln site. Dozens of kilns around the town, shaped like sleeping dragons, were ordered to close and extinguish their fires overnight.

Chen Ping'an put down the newly cut peach branch, blew out the candle, and walked out of the house. He sat on the steps, looking up at the dazzling starry sky.

He still clearly remembered his half-master, named Yao, who was found dead in a small bamboo chair facing the kiln in the early autumn of last year.

However, people as stubborn as old Yao were rare.

Generations of craftsmen in the town only knew how to make ceramics. They dared not overstep by making official kiln tributes or sell their stored ceramics to the common folk. They had to find new livelihoods. Fourteen-year-old Chen Ping'an was also driven out, returning to his dilapidated old house in Niping Alley. The scene was one of abject poverty, and even if he wanted to be a spendthrift, he had nothing to squander.

Having wandered like a ghost for a while, the boy couldn't find a way to earn a living. With his meager savings, he barely kept himself fed. A few days ago, he heard that a blacksmith named Ruan had come to Qilong Alley a few streets away, looking to take on seven or eight apprentices. He didn't pay wages but provided food. Chen Ping'an rushed to try his luck, only to be rejected with a glance by the middle-aged man. Chen Ping'an was puzzled. Wasn't blacksmithing about strength rather than appearance?

Although Chen Ping'an looked frail, he had considerable strength, a result of years of kneading clay and firing ceramics. Additionally, he had followed old Yao through the mountains and rivers within a hundred miles of the town, sampling various soils, working diligently without complaint. Yet, old Yao never liked him, thinking him dense and slow-witted, far inferior to the senior apprentice, Liu Xianyang. It was understandable that the old man was biased; a master could only guide the way, but practice was up to the individual. For instance, in the same tedious clay kneading, Liu Xianyang's half-year skill surpassed Chen Ping'an's three years of hard work.

Even though this skill might never be useful, Chen Ping'an continued to practice kneading clay in his mind as usual, imagining a bluestone slab and a wheel in front of him. He practiced until he was utterly exhausted, then got up to stretch in the courtyard. No one had taught him this; he had figured it out on his own.

In the silent night, Chen Ping'an heard a mocking laugh. He stopped and saw a boy his age sitting on the wall, sneering openly.

This boy was Chen Ping'an's old neighbor, rumored to be the illegitimate son of the former supervising official. The official, fearing gossip and impeachment, had left the boy in the care of a successor when he returned to the capital alone. Now that the town had inexplicably lost its kiln status, the official overseeing the kiln affairs was in trouble himself and couldn't care for the illegitimate child, leaving some silver behind before rushing to the capital to pull strings.

The boy, now abandoned, still lived comfortably, wandering around the town with his maid, never worrying about money. The low mud walls of Niping Alley meant the boy didn't need to stand on tiptoe to see into the courtyard, but he always chose to sit on the wall to talk to Chen Ping'an.

Compared to Chen Ping'an's plain and common name, the neighbor boy's name was much more elegant: Song Jixin. Even his maid had a scholarly name, Zhi Gui.

The girl, with her almond-shaped eyes, stood timidly on the other side of the wall.

A voice came from the courtyard gate, "Is your maid for sale?"

Song Jixin was stunned and turned to see a richly dressed boy with a smiling face standing outside the gate, accompanied by a tall, kindly-looking old man. The old man glanced at the two neighboring courtyards and their inhabitants, his eyes lingering on Song Jixin and the maid, his smile growing.

Song Jixin, sneering, said, "Sell! Why not sell!"

The boy smiled, "Name your price."

The girl, wide-eyed in disbelief, looked like a startled young deer.

Song Jixin rolled his eyes and extended a finger, "Ten thousand taels of silver!"

The richly dressed boy remained calm, "Fine."

Seeing the boy wasn't joking, Song Jixin hurriedly changed his tune, "I mean ten thousand taels of gold!"

The boy's smile widened, "Just kidding."

Song Jixin's face darkened.

The boy ignored him and turned to Chen Ping'an, "Thanks to you, I bought that carp today. The more I looked at it, the more I liked it. I wanted to thank you personally, so I had Grandpa Wu bring me here tonight."

He tossed a heavy embroidered pouch to Chen Ping'an, "This is your reward. We're even now."

Before Chen Ping'an could speak, the boy had already left.

Chen Ping'an frowned.

During the day, he had seen a middle-aged man walking down the street with a fish basket, carrying a palm-sized golden carp that jumped vigorously. Chen Ping'an liked it immediately and asked if he could buy it for ten wen. The man, planning to reward himself with the fish, saw an opportunity for profit and demanded thirty wen. Chen Ping'an, with little money, couldn't afford it but couldn't bear to let it go. He followed the man, bargaining hard to lower the price to fifteen or twenty wen. Just when the man seemed to waver, the richly dressed boy and the old man happened by and bought the fish and basket for fifty wen, leaving Chen Ping'an helplessly watching them walk away.

Watching the boy and his grandfather leave, Song Jixin returned his fierce gaze to Chen Ping'an and jumped off the wall. Remembering something, he said to Chen Ping'an, "Do you remember the four-legged creature from the first month?"

Chen Ping'an nodded.

How could he forget? It was still fresh in his memory.

According to local tradition, if a snake entered one's house, it was a good omen, and the owner should not drive it away. On the first day of the first month, Song Jixin, sunbathing on his doorstep, saw a lizard-like creature crawl into his house. He grabbed it and threw it into the courtyard, but the stubborn lizard kept returning. Frustrated, Song Jixin hurled it into Chen Ping'an's courtyard. The next day, Song Jixin found the lizard under his bed.

The girl tugged at Song Jixin's sleeve.

Understanding her, he swallowed the words he was about to say.

He had wanted to mention the lizard's recent horn-like bump on its forehead.

Instead, he said, "Zhi Gui and I might leave next month."

Chen Ping'an sighed, "Take care."

Song Jixin, half-joking, said, "I might leave some things behind. Don't steal them when I'm gone."

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

Song Jixin laughed, "Coward, no wonder you're poor and bullied. Maybe even in your next life."

Chen Ping'an remained silent.

Returning to his room, Chen Ping'an closed the door and lay on his hard wooden bed. The poor boy closed his eyes and whispered, "Peace in every fragment, peace every year... peace in every fragment, peace every year..."

**Postscript:**

1. A 200,000-word epilogue for "The Snow" is updated on WeChat: fenghuo1985.

2. Over a hundred patrons before the upload, impressive...

3. Long time no see, "Here Comes the Sword!"