Chapter 1: Qingyang Town

Qingyang Town was a barren little settlement nestled against the western edge of the Ten-Thousand Mountains, bordering the Wu Kingdom. Here, an unremarkable community of people went about their ordinary lives.

It was early summer, and as the sun crested the horizon, a faint coolness lingered in the morning air. Yet the residents of the town had long since risen, already bustling with the day’s work. Shop after shop along the street had thrown open their doors, their owners eager for business.

In a village within Qingyang Town, a group of children, seven or eight years old, chased one another with boisterous laughter. The clear, ringing voices of their playful banter carried through the air.

“Qiuhan, your clothes are filthy again today. Won’t you get scolded when you get home?” Among them, a taller, chubby boy pointed at a smaller, fair-skinned child—Qiuhan. His curious little eyes fixed on Qiuhan, and worry puckered his round, innocent face, making him all the more endearing.

“I won’t,” Qiuhan replied, grinning. “My parents dote on me. Besides, my father promised to buy me a picture book from town today!”

Unlike his worried companion, Qiuhan seemed entirely unfazed.

“That’s because you’re the smartest among us, and you’re an only child. No wonder your parents spoil you. I can’t compare. I’m the dumbest of the lot. Just yesterday, I broke a bowl while washing dishes and my father thrashed me with a cane, not even asking what happened.” The chubby boy’s face flushed with embarrassment and his eyes brimmed with grievance, as if he endured endless hardships at home.

“You’re not dumb at all—just honest and kind, and that’s a good thing. Don’t be upset. Once I finish my picture book, I’ll lend it to you for a few days,” Qiuhan comforted him.

“Really? You’d let me borrow your picture book?” The chubby boy’s eyes sparkled, all traces of distress vanishing.

“Of course! We’re good friends, aren’t we? But Erpang, you mustn’t let your father find out. After you’re done, I’ll lend it to Xiaogouzi and Xiaochunzi too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it. You’re the best, Qiuhan!” Erpang thumped his chest in solemn promise, not forgetting to shower praise at the end.

“Qiuhan, you’re playing with your friends again? I just washed your dirty clothes from yesterday, and they’re still not dry! You’re such a mischievous child. It’s almost noon—come home for lunch,” a gentle voice called out.

At the sound, the children turned to see a woman approaching—a young mother in her early thirties, dressed in a patterned cotton blouse, her figure full and her features delicate.

“Qiuhan, your mother’s calling. Haha, let’s all go home for lunch. We’ll play again tomorrow!” the other children called out with laughter, scattering in all directions.

Erpang glanced at Qiuhan and whispered, “I’ll head home. See you tomorrow! Don’t forget your promise about the picture book.”

“Don’t worry. When have I ever gone back on my word? Go on, you’ll get it in a few days!” Qiuhan replied earnestly, putting Erpang at ease. Erpang turned and walked off toward his house.

Qiuhan patted the dust from his clothes and hurried to the woman, blinking his bright eyes and calling out cheerfully, “Mother, you came to fetch me? I was just about to head home. Hee-hee. Has Father come back yet? He promised to buy me a picture book today!”

As he spoke, he swung her hand back and forth, his excitement palpable, and led her home. Qiuhan had pestered his father for days about the strange and wondrous beasts in the picture books, and his father had finally agreed to buy one when he had time in town.

“You can’t stop thinking about that picture book, can you? By the way, your father plans to send you to the private school in town next year. Study hard and learn your characters—who knows, you might become an official one day. Even if you don’t, being a teacher would be better than your father working as a blacksmith. Just look at Mr. Zhang in town—everyone respects him. Yes, reading is the way to a better life,” his mother said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiling fondly at Qiuhan.

“I don’t want to be an official. I want to be an immortal—so I can soar through the sky!” Qiuhan declared, looking up at the blue sky and thinking, “When will I be able to fly like Erpang’s uncle said, and become an immortal?”

His mother laughed and scolded him gently. “Where do you hear such tales? If immortals really existed, why wouldn’t they help ordinary folk like us? Just look at Old Liu’s eldest son—he was killed by a tiger in the mountains, and no immortal came to slay the beast. There are no immortals in this world. You’re a child; focus on your studies. Next year you’ll go to school in town, get a good education, and earn honors so your father and I can enjoy an easier life.”

With a fond stroke of his forehead, she led him home.

“We’re here. Your father is waiting for you in the bedroom.”

“Father, I’m home!” Qiuhan burst through the door, running straight to the bedroom.

Inside sat a sturdy, dark-skinned man, a middle-aged father, taking a draw from his pipe. He tapped the pipe on the floor, set it aside, and coughed lightly before gathering his exuberant son into his arms with affection.

“Little Han, you weren’t playing ‘Tiger Climber’ with Erpang and the others again, were you? You’re such a clever child, almost seven now. Your mother and I have decided to send you to private school in town next year. Learn your letters and see the wider world—do better than your father ever could.”

“I know, Father. But Erpang’s uncle says there are immortals who fly through the sky. When I grow up, I want to be an immortal, so you and mother can be immortals too. Then we’ll all live happily ever after. Oh, Father, where’s the book you promised me?”

“You and your fanciful ideas.” At the mention of immortals, Qiuhan’s father’s smile faltered, his brow creasing, but he soon relaxed. “Here, look—your favorite picture book, just as I promised.” With a sleight of hand, he produced a small, palm-sized book from behind his back.

Seeing the book, Qiuhan leapt for joy, hugging his father tightly and planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best, Father! Come on, let’s eat—Mother’s waiting for us.”

Qiuhan’s family was a household of three: his parents and himself. His father, Qiu Yuanshan, was an only child who had attended private school for a few years before apprenticing to a renowned blacksmith in town. He later married Chen Yurong, a daughter of a humble family. But not long after, her parents—Qiuhan’s maternal grandparents—both died of illness.

Though not wealthy, the family lived comfortably, for Qiu Yuanshan’s blacksmithing was prosperous enough to keep food on the table and clothes on their backs. They were well-liked by their neighbors and always ready to help those in need, earning the family a harmonious reputation in the village.

Qiuhan’s paternal grandparents had passed away before he was born. An only child himself, Qiuhan was doted on by his parents, but he was clever, considerate, and polite to the village elders, rarely causing his parents anger. All the villagers—young and old—were fond of him.

At night, quiet voices drifted from the parents’ bedroom—his mother’s gentle tone: “Husband, do you know what Qiuhan told me at lunch today? He said there are immortals flying in the sky, and that he wants to be one when he grows up. Do you really think there are immortals in this world?”

“I heard him too. Apparently, it was Erpang from the Zhang family—he got it from his uncle, who must have seen something unusual during a trip to the county,” Qiu Yuanshan mused, sighing as his thoughts drifted to something he himself had witnessed not long ago.

“By the way,” he continued, changing the subject, “I visited Old Yun at the edge of the village yesterday. We talked about arranging an engagement between Qiuhan and his daughter, Yun Rou. He agreed, and it’s settled.”

“You mean you’ve arranged a betrothal between Qiuhan and Old Yun’s second daughter, Yun Rou? That is wonderful news. We’ve always been close to the Yun family, and when Qiuhan was born with that strange illness, it was Old Yun who found the miracle doctor and even helped pay the medical fees. I’m so glad this is settled; now our families will be bound together.”

Her joy was written on her face, especially when Yun Rou’s name was mentioned, for she clearly adored the little girl.

“Yes, the Yun family did us a great favor back then. Now, with the engagement, our families are joined, and a wish fulfilled. Old Yun is very fond of Qiuhan—he always brings him fruit or little gifts when he visits. When I raised the proposal, he agreed without hesitation; it’s clear he approves.”

“Yun Rou is six now, a year younger than Qiuhan. She’s so sweet and clever, and she and Qiuhan have always been close—childhood friends. I’m sure they’ll get along well when they grow up. As parents, we’ve done our part by arranging this for them.”

She pressed her hand to her brow, unable to hide her smile. With an only child so dearly loved, it was only natural to wish to smooth the road ahead for him.

“Now that it’s settled, it’s truly something to celebrate. It’s late—let’s get some rest,” Qiu Yuanshan said, gazing tenderly at his wife. Yet in his heart, he sighed silently: “Is this truly a blessing, or a hidden calamity? Will we escape what’s to come? That man…he’ll come looking for us one day… If that time comes, he’s too powerful for mere mortals like me to resist… I just hope Qiuhan can survive unscathed, and not be dragged into disaster. Poor child…”

He let the thought fade, and slowly closed his eyes to sleep.