Year after year — counted in days, it feels slow. Counted in years, it seems to pass so fast.

Sometimes you feel a particular gladness, because every year has been lived forward, the days growing better with each passing one, and so there is something to look forward to.

And sometimes a sadness creeps in from nowhere, because for every person alive, time is really a countdown.

In the blink of an eye, Li Chi was no longer the little Diudiu’er, but a big Diudiu’er.

No matter what measure you used — big in every sense.

By the time they returned to Jizhou, it was already the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth lunar month. The streets and lanes of Jizhou were already hung with festive lanterns and decorations.

Just think — the last time little Li Diudiu sat on a wall waiting for Xiahou Zuo to come back seemed like only a few days ago.

Time stays the same, yet it plays so many tricks on the mind.

With the New Year approaching, the common folk had time to sit down and slowly savor life. A pot of tea, a handful of melon seeds — enough to taste the bittersweet decades gone by. Add a handful of peanuts, and you could taste the joys and sorrows of the decades yet to come.

And so people couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all — what life was like a few years ago, and what it is like now.

Before the Prince of Ning became master of Jizhou, going all the way back to Zeng Ling’s era, when had the people of Jizhou ever had an easy time? The ease was never theirs — it belonged to the great noble families. The lantern-lit revelry was for the officials and the powerful.

But the Prince of Ning had been in Jizhou for fewer than three years, and the lives of Jizhou’s people had already more than doubled in quality. At the very least, come New Year, every household’s table had wine and meat and grain — every household’s life had laughter, tears, and something to spare.

The wealthy merchants of the city even began talking about commissioning a statue of Li Chi in Jizhou.

They pooled together and requested an audience with the Prince of Ning.

The Prince didn’t refuse. He received them in the Jizhou prefecture office.

Everyone sat together — tea and sweets and pastries laid out, the conversation warm. Though everyone was a bit stiff in the presence of the Prince of Ning, being able to see him at all was joy enough.

Li Chi listened as they described their plan to spend tens of thousands of taels of silver — possibly even a hundred thousand — on a statue of him in Jizhou, standing thirty-three feet tall, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“You genuinely want to spend this money?”

Li Chi asked.

The merchants nodded, fast enough that slower nods might have seemed insincere.

Li Chi said slowly: “If your names were inscribed on the statue — saying that you raised the funds to build it — that would be wonderful, naturally.”

The merchants nodded again, fast enough that slower nods might have seemed like disagreement.

Li Chi said: “But if the statue had those words carved on it, it would look rather shabby. First, it’s undignified — raising funds from everyone for someone’s statue, people would laugh at that. Second, it’s not elegant — carving that many words on it makes it look like some kind of memorial…”

He sighed: “But if your names aren’t on it, it doesn’t feel fair to you.”

The merchants looked at one another, unsure what Li Chi intended.

Li Chi said: “This way — since you’re so determined to spend this money, let me suggest a better use for it.”

He swept his gaze across them and said: “Use this money to make shields. I’ll have your names engraved on the shields.”

Li Chi smiled: “Every shield that is made and distributed to the soldiers — the moment they receive it, they’ll know who spent the money to make this thing that saves their lives.”

Li Chi rose and walked as he spoke: “You say building me a statue earns you merit… then think about this — how much merit is earned by saving a life?”

Li Chi’s smile was warm and gentle.

“The most important teaching in our Central Plains Daoist tradition is that saving a life is the highest merit. The Zen Buddhist teaching of the Western Regions holds that saving one life surpasses building a seven-tiered stupa.”

“Each shield you make saves one person — and not just once. Every campaign, that shield is there to protect and preserve life.”

“The merit of one shield — by the modest reckoning of Zen teaching, it’s worth at least seven stupas. By Daoist reckoning — saving a life once is accruing the highest merit…”

Li Chi looked at the merchants: “So what about a hundred shields? A thousand? Ten thousand?”

Li Chi smiled: “If that were truly the case, everyone here could be said to have earned enough merit to ascend to the heavenly realm and join the ranks of the immortals.”

The merchants exchanged glances. Every pair of eyes lit up.

Li Chi said: “Imagine it — soldiers raise their shields in battle, and at a glance, they see your names. Every single one of them will remember, all their lives, that you were their benefactors.”

“Make shields!”

One merchant jumped to his feet, face flushed with excitement: “I’ll do it. I’ll make a thousand!”

Another stood: “I’ll make a thousand too.”

One after another they declared themselves, and Li Chi watched them, knowing full well that men who had built businesses to this scale were not so simple as to be carried away by a few words.

They were excited because they decided they should be excited.

But Li Chi didn’t care whether their excitement was genuine or performed, because the silver was being spent where it mattered most.

If the money meant for a statue truly produced ten thousand shields, Li Chi felt these men could ascend to the heavenly ranks without objection.

He’d put in a word with Zhang Yuxu and her immortal associates afterward.

As long as the heavenly realm had enough room.

A little cramped was fine — immortals were still immortals whether cramped or not. Sharing quarters was still immortal. Splitting rent was still immortal.

And so both sides reached a happy agreement: make shields.

—

The next day, near midday. The carriage depot.

Li Chi still loved this place. It felt freer here somehow.

As Tang Pidi once put it — being the Prince of Ning meant wearing a mask. But in the carriage depot, he was just Li Chi.

Cast iron pot. Wood fire.

Li Chi stared at the great pot of braised meat bubbling away, wondering whether to eat rice or steamed buns alongside it.

This braised meat, with its rich, thick aroma that made your stomach tremble — it was a rare delight in this world.

Making something taste good was simply a matter of practice. Put in enough time, and mastery followed.

Though this wasn’t Li Chi’s natural gift — not the way it was for some people who seemed born with recipes in their heads, making something magnificent out of almost nothing.

That kind of talent could also, it had to be said, charm a girl into falling for you quite thoroughly.

But Li Chi had diligence and persistence on his side.

The whole row of iron pots was steaming. One pot of braised pork, next to it braised fish, and then braised chicken…

Li Chi stood with his hands on his hips surveying the spread, thinking this probably felt about as satisfying as capturing Yuzhou — the sense of accomplishment must be roughly the same.

Hm?

Why had he used capturing Yuzhou as a benchmark?

Just then, someone came through the doorway, doubled over to fit through, head inside while his backside was still outside. He sniffed the air as he came in, following the smell.

The moment Li Chi saw who it was, his eyes lit up.

“Why did you come back so suddenly this year?”

Li Chi asked at once.

Xiahou Zuo kept walking, kept sniffing: “The smell is extraordinary. Did you make all of this?”

Li Chi said: “Naturally.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “I don’t trust your cooking. Unless it’s something special about the meat. Smells this good… you didn’t braise the divine eagle, did you?”

Across the room, the divine eagle lifted its head and looked at Xiahou Zuo. That look seemed to say: the fool who just walked in, is he for real?

Xiahou Zuo walked to Li Chi’s side, looked at the pot full of pork, then looked at the braised chicken beside it.

“One side’s the divine eagle. The other’s the dog.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “Let me have a taste.”

He reached into the pot and pinched out a piece, put it in his mouth. The flavor hit his soul instantly.

“You’re a fake Li Chi.”

Xiahou Zuo looked at him: “Tell me — what demon took over Li Chi’s body?”

Just then, Xiahou Yili and her mother came in together. The moment Xiahou Yili saw Li Chi, her face reddened inexplicably. As if to hide it, she deliberately looked toward the divine eagle: “The divine eagle — you’ve gotten fat again!”

The divine eagle, who had looked upon Xiahou Zuo with disdain, immediately ran over to Xiahou Yili the moment it saw her.

It circled her, nudging her legs repeatedly with its beak.

Li Chi watched it make a spectacle of itself and asked Xiahou Zuo: “You just asked if I’d braised the divine eagle?”

Xiahou Zuo: “Mm?”

Li Chi said: “Tomorrow. That pot tomorrow.”

Xiahou Yili played with the divine eagle a while, then clasped her hands behind her back and drifted over to Li Chi’s side, where he was chatting with Lady Xiahou.

She pretended to listen for a moment, then gave Li Chi a light kick with her foot.

“Where’s Ningning?”

She asked.

Li Chi said: “Out shopping for things, she should be back soon.”

“Oh…”

Xiahou Yili seemed about to say something else, but suddenly bolted: “I’ll go find her.”

Xiahou Zuo watched his sister run out and couldn’t help but sigh heavily.

Then he suddenly lifted his foot and kicked Li Chi in the backside.

Li Chi looked at him in bewilderment: “What was that for?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “That pig just nudged my sister.”

Li Chi said: “Then kick the pig.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “I did.”

Li Chi: “By the reasoning of us con artists, your line just now is about the lowest-grade trap there is…”

Xiahou Zuo said: “A pig is a pig, never mind low grade or high grade. Pigs are just dim.”

From outside, Tang Pidi and Dantai Yajing came in together. Seeing Xiahou Zuo and Lady Xiahou had actually returned, they hurried forward to greet them.

Tang Pidi said: “I just saw the young Xiahou lady run out — she was muttering something like stupid pig stupid pig stupid pig as she went…”

He looked at Li Chi: “What did you do to her?”

Xiahou Zuo: “Ha ha ha ha ha…”

Li Chi said: “It was the divine eagle!”

Tang Pidi said: “The divine eagle? The divine eagle upset the young Xiahou lady? Should we eat it then.”

Xiahou Zuo: “We agreed — tomorrow, that pot.”

Tang Pidi looked at the divine eagle, then looked at Li Chi, and then started laughing for no apparent reason.

Li Chi shot him a sideways glance: “What are you laughing at?”

Tang Pidi said: “Nothing funny about nothing. Laughing at a pig.”

Yu Jiuling came running in from outside, calling as he ran: “Is the food ready? I’m starving!”

Li Chi said: “Just about. Hungry?”

Yu Jiuling said: “Quick, hide — Luo Jing actually showed up!”

Luo Jing was no more than ten feet behind Yu Jiuling. Hearing what Yu Jiuling said, he immediately looked around.

And suddenly understood.

He thought: now I see why Li Chi’s wife Gao Xining has taken to carrying throwing weapons.

But inside and outside this carriage depot, the place had been swept completely clean.

So Luo Jing looked at the young man beside him — Luo Zhijie: “Take your shoe off.”

Luo Zhijie had no idea why, but immediately took his shoe off.

Luo Jing grabbed it, took aim, and sent it flying — right into Yu Jiuling’s backside.

Yu Jiuling looked back, saw a shoe, then looked at Luo Jing’s knowing expression, then looked at Luo Zhijie’s look of complete innocence.

Yu Jiuling thought: innocent or not, you’re getting it. He called to the divine eagle: “Divine eagle, over here!”

The divine eagle waddled over. Yu Jiuling stuffed the shoe into the divine eagle’s beak: “Happy New Year — here’s your treat.”

The divine eagle grabbed the shoe and took off running, tail swinging with each step.

Luo Zhijie: “…”

Don’t ask why the divine eagle likes to grab shoes.

Ask, and the answer is: it’s all the dog’s fault.

—