by Tao Wong
Chapter 5
Days later, Wu Ying found himself slipping into the crowded lecture hall that would host Liu Song’s lecture. In the past few days, Wu Ying had successfully joined the blacksmith class, having worked the bellows to the satisfaction of Elder Wang. In addition, Wu Ying had spent time with the martial specialists. His initial impressions had proven true, to his delight. The group was even less stuck-up than the blacksmiths, and what little animosity Wu Ying had felt for his upbringing was directly dealt with on the dueling stages, which he happily accepted.
Which was why the disdainful sniffs, the “accidental” elbow bumps, and the discourteous replies to questions about the availability of empty spots in the lecture hall was even more jarring for Wu Ying. Whereas the martial specialists might be openly but friendlily competitive and blacksmiths competitive but cordial, pill refiners were just competitive.
Eventually Wu Ying found a seat in the upper tiers of the lecture hall, a seat that provided one of the worse possible viewing angles. But luckily, the section was also relatively empty. Seated with a pad of papers by his side and his ink brush ready, Wu Ying took a moment to review the hall again. The lecture hall was extremely busy for a beginner’s lecture. As he tried to puzzle out the reason why, Wu Ying saw numerous individuals pulling out careworn copies of the Principles and Species of Roots and Herbs. Wu Ying winced, realizing he had forgotten to purchase his own.
Before he could chide himself further, Liu Tsong made her way onto the stage. In her hands was a large wooden box she set on the stone table before turning to the attendees. Her gaze swept over the group, taking them all in and waiting till they quieted before she spoke.
“I am Lee Liu Tsong, here to represent my master, Elder Wei. This class is meant for those looking to study the basics of pill refining and will cover the most common herbs and plants you will be required to know when you begin refining,” Liu Tsong said. “Now, turn to page eighteen of your book.”
What followed over the next four hours was a lecture on numerous plants listed in the book, their characteristics as explained in the Principles, as well as the incorrect, misleading, or missing information and common mistakes. For example, northern yu ginseng was easily mistaken for southern shen ginseng due to the way the lower leaflets of the southern shen sprouted from a lower point on the stem but the northern yu all came from one point. In addition, during different times in its growth, the ginseng itself would look different, with varying amount of compound leaves.
On top of identifying the plant, Liu Tsong went into detail about the differences in potency and effect which occurred when the plant was harvested at different times. As each plant also had numerous portions that could or could not be used—from leaf to stem to root and, of course, the various berries or nuts or flowers it might create—each discussion of a plant took up to forty minutes.
Wu Ying found himself scribbling notes constantly. The sheer amount of detail Liu Tsong provided meant no beginner would be able to remember it all. It soon became apparent that while everyone in the hall was paying close attention to Liu Tsong’s words, some of the attendees were only occasionally making notes in their books while others, like Wu Ying, were desperate to take it all down. It did not take much conjecture to realize that some were experienced pill refiners, here to verify the details of their prior notes and potentially learn a little more. Certainly whenever Liu Tsong came to interactions and potential complications, they paid more attention.
The hours passed in a blur, leaving Wu Ying lamenting his lack of paper and preparation. Toward the end, Wu Ying was forced to set aside his brush and focus on Liu Tsong, doing his best to remember all the pertinent details. If there was one advantage Wu Ying had, it was his background. While some of the newer nobles frowned and sucked air through their teeth whenever Liu Tsong described or pointed out minor variations in a plant, Wu Ying found he could spot those differences easily. A childhood running around the nearby forests and plains, often tasked with finding wild herbs and vegetables to add to the family cookpot, was paying off. While he might not have recognized some of the names Liu Tsong used, in many cases, he recognized the plants themselves. And their variants.
Watching her discuss the different ways to tell the difference amused him, as he recalled the cruder methods the villagers used. Check if a plant bloomed on the third day of the new moon? Why not break off a leaf and rub it on the edge of your arm? If your skin flared up in a few minutes, it was Bottle Fern. If not, you could pick to your heart’s content.
Of course, Wu Ying had to admit he was learning a lot too. The exacting methods Liu Tsong briefly touched upon could distinguish plants Wu Ying had never heard of and they were all, by far, safer and less onerous on a cultivator’s body.
“Now, the long-eared double-tailed spotted mushroom looks similar to the long-eared single-tailed spotted mushroom. It is at its base you can tell the difference. While the single-tail version is non-toxic and often used by farmers to season their food, the long-eared double-tailed mushroom is highly poisonous. Ingesting even a quarter cap of this mushroom will kill an Energy Storage cultivator,” Liu Tsong said, tapping the cork board and pointing at the differences between the two.
Wu Ying leaned forward, paying particular attention to the last mushroom. In truth, the difference was not hard to see, as the spots were relatively numerous. Of course, that was if the mushrooms were not bruised. Bruising could easily make it difficult to tell.
“For the double-tailed—” Liu Tsong paused as the peal of bells informed everyone that another hour had completed. She straightened, waving to dismiss the group. “That will be all for today. Another lecture will be held next week. Make sure to review your notes before then.”
The class stood in unison and bowed to Liu Tsong, some going so far as to offer verbal thanks. Afterward, they streamed out of the hall while Liu Tsong packed up her living examples. A couple of keen male students joined Liu Tsong on stage, vying to help the beauty and shooting each other glares. As Wu Ying watched the competition between the two, the cultivator changed his mind about approaching Liu Tsong and instead offered her a quick wave goodbye as he finished packing up his own supplies. Being seen as another contender for her affections would likely create even more difficulties for himself.
In addition, he really should make his way to the town below the sect to purchase the book. It would not do for Liu Tsong to learn that her advice had not been heeded. Even if the mistake was genuine.
“Going down?” Elder Lu Xi Qi, the gatekeeper of the sect, asked Wu Ying as the younger man arrived at the paifang which overlooked the entrance to the sect. “Do you have your pass?”
“Yes, Elder. Just looking to do some shopping.” Wu Ying showed Xi Qi the simple wooden pass he had picked up from the assignment hall. As an inner sect member, the pass to enter the town was not strictly necessary, since the town itself was still considered sect territory. On the other hand, acquiring the pass was both a courtesy to Xi Qi and any elder in charge of Wu Ying and avoided any misunderstanding down below.
“Good,” Xi Qi said. “Are you happier now that you’re not carrying rice sacks for Elder Liu?”
“I was never unhappy,” Wu Ying replied. Speaking ill of one’s elders—and Elders—was always bad form. But as Xi Qi had provided Wu Ying help before, Wu Ying clarified further. “I am settling in as an inner sect member. It feels strange, not to have to work for Elder Liu, but I have a month left before I must find a more permanent assignment. More, if I’m willing to trade my sect points.”
“A bad idea. But you know that,” Xi Qi said.
Wu Ying agreed immediately. Sect contribution points were hard enough to gather in any useful amount. Trading them for more time to dither was a foolish thing.
“Unless you intend to be a martial specialist,” he said. “It is not a horrible choice for one of your standing. Many low-born choose that path, since they lack the education or connections to excel at other occupations.”
; “I have trained with them,” Wu Ying acknowledged. “But…”
“But?”
“I do not know if it is my dao. No. I feel it is not. A part of it, but not it.”
Xi Qi stared at Wu Ying, testing the weight and conviction in Wu Ying’s gaze before the Elder’s hand brushed his long beard. “It is good to know one’s path, murky as it is. But you are young yet. What might seem the dao when you are a youth might change as you mature.”
“If your dao changes, then is the dao not your true dao?”
“Har! Do you think the dao we find is the Dao[10]?” Xi Qi said, amusement in his voice as he tugged on his beard. “Of course the Dao itself never changes—except when it does. But the daos we grasp, that we work on to achieve immortality? Those are only a portion of the true Dao. Man is mutable. Man is mortal. If we cannot change, then what kind of truth can we grasp?”
Wu Ying blinked, Xi Qi’s words seeming to resound deep within him. For a moment, Wu Ying stood still, the whisper of enlightenment dancing across his soul. But no matter how still Wu Ying held, the whisper never rose and eventually faded away. Still, a half-remembered resonance stayed.
Through all this, Xi Qi sat silent, stroking his beard. When Wu Ying came to himself, he bowed low to the gatekeeper while mouthing his thanks.
“Eh. Go. You are holding up traffic,” Xi Qi said, waving Wu Ying away.
“Thank you, Elder,” Wu Ying once again replied.
As he left, Xi Qi called out behind him, “And if you can, stop by the tobacco shop. You know the one!”
The town beneath the Verdant Green Waters sect was small in comparison to some of the cities Wu Ying had seen on his most recent travels. It barely consisted of a hundred thousand inhabitants, a number that would have staggered Wu Ying before. Now, Wu Ying knew it was small. Thankfully, his numerous trips into town to pick up rice sacks had inured Wu Ying to the size of the city and given him significant familiarity with its layout.
Wu Ying’s first stop was the tobacco shop to pick up a roll of tobacco for the Elder. Wu Ying grimaced as he handed over the coin for the tobacco, knowing he would never see the money back. But the Elder had helped him by providing advice when not asked, and this was only coin. It was not as if Wu Ying worked for the stipend the sect paid him. Or at least, that was the way Wu Ying consoled himself.
Next stop was the bookstore. Wu Ying had to get directions and a recommendation from the tobacco store owner, never having had to buy a book before. The store was off the main eastern road on a side street. Right outside the store were bins of books, some in scroll form and others in wrapped book format. All were tattered and used. Wu Ying looked over the scrolls and books for a moment as he idly noted the names. Judge Wu and the Three Red Doors, about five books of the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Dream of the Red Chamber, King Yan and the Sixteen Candles[11]. Wu Ying’s fingers danced across the books and scrolls as he perused them.
“All books in bin. Ten coins,” the proprietor called, smiling at Wu Ying. “Don’t be shy. If you’re looking for more like that”—a finger touched the Dream of the Red Chamber—“I have more in back.”
Wu Ying flushed, shaking his head. “No. No. I was not looking for that.”
“No shame. No shame. Lonely cultivating unless you found your dao companion,” the proprietor said with a smile. He rubbed the balding spot on his head. “And sometimes, even then.”
“Sir!” Wu Ying protested, backing off.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I should not be so forward. My wife says that. Let me discount the bin for you. Five coins!” the proprietor said.
“Five coins?” Wu Ying glanced at the bin. That was a very good deal. Then he shook his head, reminding himself why he came. “No. I’m sorry, but I’m here to buy something else. The Principles and Species of Roots and Herbs. A used copy would be fine.”
“Used, he says,” the proprietor said with a snort. “Lucky I have one copy.”
“But you do have one.”
“Do you think Uncle Bu would not?” Bu said and sniffed. “If I don’t, no one else has. But more expensive. Half a string.[12]”
“Half!” Wu Ying yelped. “That’s impossible. Too expensive.”
“Half best I can do,” Bu said. “Only copy left in town.”
“I don’t believe that,” Wu Ying said, crossing his arms. “There are obviously more copies coming in all the time. I can always order from another bookstore.”
“Ah, but they have waitlists,” Bu said, crowing in delight. “They never bring enough. You might be waiting a month. Maybe two.”
“I can wait.”
“Can you? Because Elder Wei started her lectures,” Bu challenged. “What were you doing? Writing on paper? How much paper you need? And mine has drawings.”
Wu Ying glared at Bu, knowing he had been caught out. He did want the book, but at half a tael, it was at least five times as expensive as it should be. Even if the Principles was a thick book, it should not cost that much. Half a tael was the equivalent of his entire month’s stipend from the sect as an inner sect member, which meant he would have to dig into his meager savings to cover it.
Then again, it was not as if Wu Ying did not have the money. The rewarded gifts and his savings from before would cover the cost. But it hurt to be cheated so blatantly.
As he hesitated, a noise from within the store caught both their attentions.
“Ah Bu! I’m done. Send the bins up the usual way.” The voice was querulous and high, showcasing both the age and feminine nature of the speaker. “Are you trying to cheat another of Wei’s students?”
Emerging from the shadowed interior, a bent older lady clad in the Sect’s robes, marking her as an Elder, walked out. She had a rustic wooden cane in one hand, though Wu Ying noted that she did not use it for movement. Long white hair that had thinned somewhat was tied off in a simple knot at the base of her skull. Bent as she was, the Elder stood but chest high on the proprietor and barely that with Wu Ying.
“Mmm… you’re one of the new inner sect recruits, aren’t you?” the woman said.
“Yes Elder. I am Long Wu Ying,” Wu Ying said after he straightened up from his bow.
“No need for those formalities. I dislike them,” the Elder said.
“Of course. May I know how to address the Elder?”
“I am Elder Li Qiu Xia,” Elder Li said. “You are one of Wei’s new students?”
“I am but a listening-in student[13] for the beginning lectures,” Wu Ying said. In such a circumstance, Wu Ying could not really be considered a student to Elder Wei. But neither could he not be said to owe Elder Wei some of the respect a teacher was due. As such, Elder Wei was a half-teacher to Wu Ying.
“Of course. Wei never takes anyone till they have achieved at least their first level as a refiner,” Elder Li said. “Study well then.”
“Yes, Elder.”
Elder Li nodded curtly to the pair and left, her cane tapping against the ground.
“So. Half a tael. You taking it?” Bu said.
“But the Elder—”
“Asked if I was fleecing you. Did she say I should stop?” Bu pointed out.
Wu Ying blinked, turning to where the disappearing form of Elder Li could be seen. Wu Ying opened his mouth then shut it, realizing that he did not dare question the Elder. Irritating Elders was something that Wu Ying had grown a deep and abiding fear of.
“Are you taking it?”
“I…” Wu Ying sighed in defeat. “I’m going to need more paper too. And I don’t expect to be cheated on that!”
“Of course, of course,” Bu said, grinning at Wu Ying.
A short while later, Wu Ying walked out of the bookstore with his new Principles, a large and empty handbound book, and a free book. That Ah Bu had winked suggestively at Wu Ying when he stuffed the book into the brown paper package told Wu Ying exactly what was within.
Really, Wu Ying was entirely uncertain how he felt about the entire experience. There were two distinct though
ts on the entire area of pleasuring oneself, both of which were well-documented with styles that benefited from either. The first recommended total abstinence. The belief was that any extraction of innate chi was detrimental to the final achievement of immortality. This was because each individual had an innate amount of vital chi that they were born with, a kind of chi that was different and more intrinsic to humanity. Expelling this chi via self-pleasure or male orgasms was detrimental to the entire cultivation process.
The second belief paradigm recommended a more ecological viewpoint toward self-pleasure and orgasms. It believed that the process was natural and that, undertook in moderation as the Dao dictated, it was not detrimental. As such, it was no worse than breathing, bathing, or defecating. Within that belief paradigm, others took the viewpoint that the finding of a dao companion was required—even necessary—to the final step to achieving immortality.
Like most things with the Dao, there were successful immortal examples of both beliefs. Unsurprisingly, the arguments between the two camps could become quite heated, even leading to blows. That the abstinence-only paradigm had fewer adherents often led to the second group of believers crowing victory. If not for the fact that there were a higher number of successful immortals who were abstinent during their ascension, the gloating would not have been as contained.
Wu Ying mused about this strange dichotomy to help him ignore his growling stomach. Unfortunately, the higher-than-expected cost of the Principles had scuppered Wu Ying’s plans of eating in town. While he could still afford it, the cost-conscious farmer in him refused to stop pointing out that he had free food awaiting him. Even if it was up the mountain.
Running, Wu Ying waved and greeted the various coolies he saw on the way. There were even a few outer sect members he knew, working their way up the mountain with bags on their backs to feed the voracious crowd that were the cultivators. Cultivating—at least at the Body Cleansing and Energy Storage phase—was a hungry, hungry occupation. It was probably also why few farmers pushed further than the bottom levels of cultivation. Having to feed themselves three to four times the “usual” rate was likely to cause more significant problems, especially during the hungry months.
