Chapter 4: The Ink Wash Vision and a Humble Transaction

Hues of black and white bled into grey, encompassing all things and beings within its expanse, yet depicting no human figures.

More precisely, the only living presence Qíngyǔ could discern through this method was that of her own Little Girl.

“A shade of blue… is it?”

The Little Girl sat beside her, gazing curiously at the characters Qíngyǔ had written.

In this world of ink wash, a playful hint of blue settled between the black and white.

Shaking her head, Qíngyǔ dispelled the ink wash vision.

Her master had never once mentioned the ultimate extent to which this Calligraphy Cultivation Art could be honed.

After her master ascended to the heavens in her previous life, Qíngyǔ, as his disciple, had diligently guarded the Daoist temple.

She had spent her days handling countless mundane affairs involving spirits and mortals, excelling in numerous minor arts and spells for daily use, yet she had failed to achieve any breakthrough in the core cultivation technique that defined her existence.

Consequently, after a mere century, she had become nothing more than a handful of dust.

Seeing the ink had dried sufficiently, Qíngyǔ casually gathered her brush and paper.

She called for the Little Girl, closed the courtyard gate, and together they navigated the winding alleys towards the bustling market.

“Little Girl, slow down!” Qíngyǔ, her hands clasped behind her back, ambled along behind the Little Girl.

This was her first time observing the small town from such a perspective.

Truth be told, the town’s scale was not particularly grand.

As far as the eye could see, there were only haphazardly intertwined alleyways, the tallest structures being a three-story building in the town center and the temple outside the town.

“Little Mom! What is that!”

The Little Girl scampered about, and when she grew tired, she turned back to her Little Mom, tugging at her hand and pointing towards the small building in the town center.

“That? Oh, what was it called… the Yang Manor, I believe,” Qíngyǔ mused for a moment.

“It should be the wealthiest family in this town.”

“What does it mean to be rich?”

“Being rich means you can buy many, many things you desire.”

“Then I want to be rich too, when I grow up!”

“Becoming rich isn’t always a good thing.”

“Eh, why?”

Qíngyǔ shook her head, reaching out to take the Little Girl’s small hand.

“Come, Little Mom will take you to eat candied hawthorn.”

The two continued their aimless stroll through the town, conversing as they went.

When the Little Girl grew tired, Qíngyǔ simply carried her on her back, allowing her to rest for a while.

By evening, they still hadn’t bought much in the way of groceries, though they had acquired a good number of snacks, most of which had already found their way into the Little Girl’s stomach.

“Little Mom—”

“Are you hungry?”

“No, not at all!”

The Little Girl giggled, pressing her small head firmly against Qíngyǔ’s cheek.

“Well, Little Mom is hungry then.”

“Shall we go eat?”

“Let Little Mom find a shop to sell something first.”

“Oh—”

With that, Qíngyǔ closed her eyes, and the world unfolded around her like an ink wash painting.

The Immortal Sword, slumbering within the Little Girl’s sea of consciousness, suddenly awoke as if sensing something, yet its frantic probes found no trace.

“Hmm, that’s the place.”

Having pinpointed the location, Qíngyǔ opened her eyes and, with the Little Girl on her back, walked towards the town’s sole brush stand shop.

The distance was not far; they would see it after turning two street corners.

Setting the Little Girl down, Qíngyǔ knocked on the door before stepping inside the shop.

The establishment was run by an Old Gentleman, who, dressed in scholarly robes, was dozing in a chair.

Only when Qíngyǔ knocked did he grudgingly lift his eyes to look.

“Come to buy brush and ink for your husband?”

“To sell calligraphy.”

“Oh?”

The Old Gentleman seemed to gain a measure of interest.

In all his years of running the shop, aside from impoverished scholars in town who, unable to make ends meet, would come to copy books for a writing fee, this was the first time he had encountered someone coming to sell calligraphy.

“The calligraphy is here.”

Qíngyǔ took a piece of Xuan paper from her sleeve.

The paper was not large, and the characters on it were few.

“Young lady, are you perhaps making sport of this old man?” The Old Gentleman squinted.

He had handled many literary curiosities and artworks, but this was the first time he had seen someone attempt to sell calligraphy without any mounting or seals.

“You will know once you see it.”

Qíngyǔ offered no further explanation, simply unfurling the Xuan paper and inviting him to examine it closely.

Shaking his head but not annoyed, the Old Gentleman slowly straightened himself, then began to scrutinize the calligraphy and painting presented by Qíngyǔ.

The paper and ink were certainly not cheap, but as for the characters…

As for the characters…

The Old Gentleman gazed at them, and it seemed, for a moment, that a mountain bird cried out from the surrounding forest.

Then, as he reached out, a sensation like an exquisitely cool spring flowed over his hands.

When he started and turned around, the faint shadows of trees and the murmuring of flowing water seemed to twist before his eyes, only to vanish into the characters once more.

“This…” The Old Gentleman abruptly looked up, only to see Qíngyǔ’s serene, almost aloof, face.

Swallowing, he lowered his gaze for a closer look.

There was no birdsong from the mountain forest; there were only the characters “Distant Mountains.”

“Young lady, from where did you acquire this calligraphy and painting?”

The Old Gentleman caressed the Xuan paper, the muddiness in his eyes seemingly cleared by astonishment.

“Left by the owner, the Wang family from the north of the city.”

“The Wang family… is that the Wang Weimo family?” he murmured, his hand unwilling to release the Xuan paper.

“The Wang family is a prominent one; even in decline, they still…”

After murmuring for a long while, the Old Gentleman took a breath and looked at Qíngyǔ again.

“Allow this old man to be so bold as to ask, young lady, why you would not sell this calligraphy and painting to a pawn shop, but instead seek out this humble paper shop in such an out-of-the-way place?”

“They wouldn’t know its true worth.”

Qíngyǔ smiled, pushing the two characters towards the Old Gentleman.

“Wouldn’t know its true worth… wouldn’t know its true worth…” He seemed to have heard something immensely amusing, his lips curving into an uncontrollable smile.

“Let us call it not knowing its true worth, then. Three taels of silver; if it’s not enough, I can add more. This calligraphy, this old man will take it.”

“That is enough. If I find more calligraphy or paintings, I will certainly patronize your shop again, sir.”

Accepting the silver weighed out by the Old Gentleman, Qíngyǔ bid him farewell and left, taking the hand of the Little Girl, who was squatting outside and drawing circles.

It was not until he had watched the two walk far away that the Old Gentleman’s gaze returned to the Xuan paper.

“Distant Mountains, Distant Mountains. Who, indeed, wrote these characters? But Master should certainly like this piece…”

He picked up the Xuan paper, looking at it from left and right but discerning nothing until he held the paper up to the sunlight.

Only then could he vaguely — and it was only a feeling — perceive a single character beneath the words “Distant Mountains.”

“Dao… Dao? But why is this character missing a corner?”

The Old Gentleman’s heart skipped a beat.

He wanted to ask the young lady, but when he pushed open the door, the two figures were nowhere to be seen.

The street was deserted and desolate, just as he himself had said; his paper shop was out of the way, and no one else would come.

***

Meanwhile, Qíngyǔ and the Little Girl.

Before long, the two were seated in a restaurant, waiting for the dishes to be served.

“Little Mom, did you earn a lot of money just now?” The Little Girl sat across from Qíngyǔ, tilting her head, poking this and pointing at that, asking with a trailing voice.

“Not a lot, no.” Qíngyǔ shook her head.

In terms of purchasing power, three taels of silver was, at most, equivalent to just over 2,000 RMB from her life before her previous one.

While it was certainly enough to cover their food and water for a few days, it was merely a drop in the ocean for her grander ambition of building a temple and living in seclusion.

“Then shall we just go back home to eat? Everything here is so expensive.”

“Little Mom can certainly fill your little tummy, you rascal.”

Qíngyǔ found it somewhat amusing, reaching out to poke the Little Girl’s plump cheek, which felt quite pleasant.

Before long, three small dishes were brought to their table, and the two, chopsticks flying, quickly satisfied their appetites with the delicious food.

On the way home, the Little Girl continued to frolic about.

When she grew tired of playing, she sidled up to Qíngyǔ, tugging at her clothes.

“Little Mom—why are you so good to me?”

“Because we are family.”

“But, but,” the Little Girl hesitated, then after a moment, she said softly, “I’m not your biological daughter, Little Mom.”

“What does that matter?” Qíngyǔ gently ruffled the hair of the little one, who was lost in thought, and squinted at the setting sun in the west.

“Mm…”

“No matter what, I will always be your Little Mom,” Qíngyǔ said gently, taking the Little Girl’s small hand.

The senior and junior disciples in her Daoist temple in her previous life had, of course, also been family, yet she would never have the chance to see them again.

“Little Mom, carry me!”

“It’s only a few steps; walk on your own.”

Having her thoughts interrupted by the Little Girl, Qíngyǔ shook her head and looked at the little one beside her.

Suddenly, she thought how lovely the Little Girl would look if she wore a Daoist robe.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Little Mom?”

As if she had discovered a new continent, the usually carefree Little Girl actually became a little shy.

“Because my Little Girl is very beautiful.”

Qíngyǔ, feeling no burden, reached out to pinch the Little Girl’s cheek, teasingly remarking.

“Then, then Little Mom can look more.”

The Little Girl turned her face away.

Whether it was the effect of the setting sun or not, her cheeks were faintly flushed.

Golden flecks of the lingering sun adorned her dark hair, and though she wore clothes full of patches, at that moment, she resembled a princess adorned with a sacred crown.

“My little silly one.”

Smiling, Qíngyǔ playfully rubbed the Little Girl’s hair twice more, then clasped her small hand and hurried home.