Chapter 7

Hearing Zhu Congyun say this, a look of envy appeared in Zhu Fenglan’s eyes.

“Father, why didn’t you tell me this when I was a child? My goodness, turning stones into gold—if I had that skill, I would have started by turning my laundry bat into gold.”

Holding a heavy, solid gold laundry bat in her hands would make washing clothes feel like a luxury.

Wang Chan couldn’t help but smile.

Zhu Congyun was speechless. He had finally figured it out: his eldest daughter was exactly like the legendary naive lady in the palace who used a golden hoe to till the fields.

“And who said I didn’t tell you?” Zhu Congyun retorted crossly. “It’s just that you didn’t believe me. Don’t think I don’t know that ever since you were little, you’ve thought your old man was just a drunkard, a rooster jumping on a fence, crowing nothing but empty, high-flown nonsense!”

Zhu Fenglan looked sheepish.

“Forget it, you,” Zhu Congyun said bluntly. “You don’t have the talent for the craft of stone-nurturing. It’s not just you; neither your brothers Bangzhi nor Bangcai have it. Even our ancestor, the one who founded this craft, only managed to scratch the surface.”

Being ignorant is not scary; knowing only half the truth is what is truly regrettable. A complex emotion flickered in Zhu Congyun’s eyes as he thought of something.

“I know, I know. Is there any other father like you? I say one thing, and you have ten replies ready. You don’t even know how to give way!” Zhu Fenglan grumbled, then turned to Wang Chan and explained, “I saw these two treasures when I was a child. Your great-uncle even let me handle them for a while. Back then, I was even younger than you are now.”

Recalling the old days, Zhu Fenglan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Back then, your great-uncle would ask me every single day if I felt anything different.”

“What was there to feel? It was just a couple of stone lumps! If you ask me, they weren’t even as fun as clods of dirt—at least you could mold those into little mud figures!” Zhu Fenglan laughed, then continued, “I still remember the look your great-uncle gave me after I said that.”

She mimicked his expression of exasperation at her lack of potential, making Wang Chan laugh again.

“It wasn’t just me; your cousins Bangcai and Bangzhi were also made to ‘nurture’ these stones by your great-uncle when they were kids. It scared your uncle-in-law so much—he kept saying your great-uncle was looking for an apprentice to grind stone mills! Haha! Even after your great-uncle let them go, he would still grab them and walk the long way around to avoid the old man. Only after two months of seeing that your great-uncle wasn’t shoving stones into the boys’ pockets anymore did he finally set his mind at ease.”

Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, and the children of mice dig holes. While that may be true, what parent hasn’t dreamed of their child achieving greatness? The regrets of the previous generation must be rewritten by the children and grandchildren. A grandson who grinds stone mills must not end up grinding stone mills again! Xie Shihua gritted his teeth to pay for the boys’ schooling, firmly opposing them becoming stonemasons.

“Hmph, wild boars can’t appreciate fine bran; what does he know?” It was rare for the father-in-law and son-in-law to see eye to eye, and Zhu Congyun snorted, taking any chance he could to belittle him.

Wang Chan held the stone *Xiezhi* (a mythical creature), bringing her large eyes close to examine it, while the other sheep-fat white stone, shaped like a scroll, was set aside for the moment. Her great-uncle had said that whether one could nurture stones didn’t depend on the scroll-shaped stone, but could be determined by the *Xiezhi*.

This *Xiezhi* was a stone that the ancestor had nurtured with his heart’s blood for half a lifetime. He had traveled across mountains and wilderness to find a stone with spirit, and with his chisel, he had followed the stone’s own inner energy, stripping away impurities bit by bit and carving out the energy field until it looked as if it were carved by nature itself. In the hands of someone with talent, these stones were not mere rocks, but magical instruments capable of warding off disaster and dispelling evil.

As for the other scroll-like stone, it was something the ancestor had obtained by chance in middle age; it was a "stone heart."

“So, you mean this scroll wasn’t carved or polished by human hands?” Wang Chan looked at the small stone sculpture, filled with curiosity. “Did it grow like this naturally?”

How marvelous. The uncanny workmanship of nature. It truly looked like a scroll of bamboo slips, slightly unfurled. The sheep-fat white stone resembled paper, yet it had no markings or engravings—it looked like a book, yet it was not.

“That’s right,” Zhu Congyun nodded, reaching out to stroke the treasure. “It was born in the shape of a scroll. Books can resolve confusion, so our ancestor believed that there must be a natural ‘stone language’ within it.”

The so-called stone language was the language of stones. Those with talent could naturally see the energy fields within stones. However, this energy was like a tangled, complex thread; even if one could see it, it took time to understand and read it. The mysteries within were as vast and boundless as the stars in the universe. This was the essence of stone-nurturing.

Yet, once the stone language was understood, it was as if the energy had its own script and illustrations. Mastering it meant knowing all the stones under heaven. Every stone in the world would hold no secrets, visible as clearly as fish in a crystal-clear mountain stream. And within the stones, there was a world of its own—and indeed, isn’t the entire world just another stone, a particularly large one?

From that moment on, the world would have its traces in one’s eyes. Wind has its paths, water has its routes; once the energy stirs, it becomes what we call *Feng Shui*. The changing of fortunes lies in one’s hands. A mere flick of the finger could overturn the heavens, turning clear skies into gathering storm clouds.

Wang Chan was lost in thought. *Changing of fortunes*—they say that when luck fades, gold turns to iron, and when luck arrives, iron turns to gold. No wonder the immortals treat money like dirt; when it can be obtained so easily, it is indeed nothing more than dirt.

Looking at the scroll-like stone again, she exclaimed in awe, “If one masters this, wouldn’t they become an immortal?” This was no mere stone heart; it was clearly a secret manual of the immortals!

“Yes, an immortal,” Zhu Congyun sighed. “Passed down through generations, it has always been called a great treasure, a great treasure for those who practice the path. But in my old man’s view, while it is a treasure, it is also a curse.”

Especially in the hands of those who cannot fathom it. To possess a mountain of treasure but be unable to enter; obsessed with false desires, even a saint can fall into madness.

Wang Chan did not understand, but Zhu Congyun said no more.

“Good child,” he patted Wang Chan’s head with a look of affection. “I will leave these two things to you, Great-uncle. But you must remember: eat only what your bowl can hold. No matter how much other food there is, no matter how delicious, if you cannot digest it, craving it is useless. It only brings vain effort and unhappiness—why bother?”

“That is the principle of being a person, and it is the principle of nurturing stones.” He shook his head, finally letting slip a little more. “It is a pity that our ancestor practiced for half a lifetime but never understood this truth.”

Wang Chan and Zhu Fenglan exchanged a glance, both realizing that the ending for their ancestor, the master of stone-nurturing, might not have been a happy one.

“Father, what happened to our ancestor?”

Wang Chan looked at her great-uncle for the first time, thinking to herself that she now had her roots—she was a descendant of the stone-nurturing ancestor—and now she only lacked a bit of innate wisdom. She held the *Xiezhi* carving, carefully inspecting herself for any signs of such wisdom. A lock of her damp, dark hair fell against her cheek, tickling her; she scratched her face, glancing at her great-uncle with a shy expression. Wang Chan was curious, but she knew better than to pry into the secret affairs of her ancestors.

Zhu Fenglan was different. When his eldest daughter pestered him, even the stubborn old man couldn’t hold out.

“Tell us, tell us! The stories you told before were all about dispelling evil and encountering monsters, like folklore—all strange and bizarre, with no foundation, making it hard for me to believe! It’s no wonder I didn’t trust you.”

“He was my ancestor too. You can’t be the only one who knows. As his great-great-granddaughter, don’t I have the right to know?”

“Tell us, tell us—Ah Chan is waiting to hear too.”

Wang Chan watched in admiration. Her cousin was truly talented at pestering people.

“Stop shaking me, stop it,” Zhu Congyun grumbled, his beard twitching. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you, will that do?”

Zhu Fenglan immediately let go. “Good, go ahead.”

Wang Chan pricked up her ears to listen.

Zhu Congyun glared at his daughter. She was annoying when she pestered him, but her habit of letting go so quickly was just as irritating. Even more so!

...

It wasn’t a secret that couldn’t be told, just a sorrowful one. The ancestor, firmly believing the stone scroll was a heart of stone with a natural language, eventually went mad from his inability to fathom it.

“Sigh, he went mad in his old age and destroyed the stones he had spent half a lifetime polishing, leaving behind only this one *Xiezhi*.” Zhu Congyun looked at the *Xiezhi* in Wang Chan’s hands with regret. This single piece was only saved because the rest of the family snatched it away from his heavy hammer.

“He regretted choosing this path.”

“I heard he left behind some mad ramblings, saying that if it weren’t for stone-nurturing and pursuing that ethereal path of alchemy, he wouldn’t have ended up with nothing but a pile of rock lumps at the end of his life.”

Having wasted half a lifetime, when old age arrived and most of his life was already gone, only regret remained.

“...He would rave and laugh, sighing that if he hadn’t nurtured stones and had instead focused on his studies, even if he hadn’t become a high official or a prime minister, he would at least have been a man of status.”

The riches of the human world were better than being a self-proclaimed immortal who only knew the surface of the craft. Zhu Congyun shook his head, sighing that his ancestor had been unable to see clearly. People walk a path through life, rugged and winding; who is to say that the road not taken would have been paved with gold? This regret was completely irrational.

Zhu Fenglan felt a hollow ache in her heart. She touched her chest. “Sigh, our ancestor just thought too much. It would have been fine if he hadn’t smashed those things.”

Whether he would have been a high official or not was uncertain, but with those stones, things would have been better than they were now. Weren’t they magical instruments? It sounded so imposing.

Wang Chan glanced at Zhu Congyun. Somehow, she knew that the ancestor’s final mad words were not without reason. The ancestor was her great-uncle’s grandfather. It was said that her great-uncle was the most like him. He looked like him, and he shared his love for stones. That was why, even though he couldn’t nurture stones and his elders opposed it, he still became a stonemason. As he put it, a stonemason might not be able to nurture stones, but he could nurture a family.

Wang Chan pondered secretly. The key was the resemblance. The five short features—head, face, body, hands, and feet—if the bones were fine, the flesh smooth, the brow wide, and the five features aligned, that was the face of a future nobleman.

“Ah Chan, it doesn’t matter if we have the talent or not,” Zhu Fenglan said, turning to Wang Chan with a nervous look. “You must not go down the same dead end as our ancestor.” He went mad and died in misery. Zhu Fenglan couldn’t understand how someone could live a life of such unhappiness until they died.

“If you can’t nurture stones, we’ll do something else. Cousin will teach you embroidery. If you don’t like needles and thread because it strains your eyes, that’s fine too! I’ll send you to learn how to make rouge at the rouge shop! Mistress Xia at the shop grew up with me; we’re very close.”

Besides, Zhu Fenglan looked at Wang Chan and liked her more with every glance. With a face like that, selling rouge and powder to the young ladies and matrons would make her a living signboard. The business would surely boom!

Wang Chan puffed up her chest. “Cousin, I definitely have the talent.”

Who was she? In her previous life, she wasn’t just any little spirit; she was a spirit who could read fortunes! If she didn’t have the talent, who would? Wang Chan was full of confidence, but looking at the *Xiezhi* stone in her hand, she felt stumped again. What kind of talent was required for stone-nurturing, anyway?

“Hahaha!” Zhu Congyun and Zhu Fenglan both burst into laughter. Seeing the little girl’s mix of spirit and frustration was both amusing and heartwarming. If nothing else, having a lively temperament was good. She had been trapped in a dark, suffocating coffin without any vitality, and yet the little girl hadn’t developed any issues; as her elders, they felt nothing but relief and happiness.

“Ah Chan, don’t be—”

“Father, you’re wrong, you’re wrong! Ah Chan likes being called by that name.”

Zhu Congyun was about to speak, but he had barely started when Zhu Fenglan interrupted him. When he realized Wang Chan wanted to be called *Ah Chan* and not *Chan-Ya-Tou* (a nickname implying she was a glutton), he laughed heartily, his voice ringing out like a bell. After a while, he stroked his beard and changed his address with grace.

“Right, right, Ah Chan, don’t be in a rush. Great-uncle will tell you: what does our ancestor’s story show? It shows that you cannot rush stone-nurturing! If you rush, your heart becomes chaotic—”

Wang Chan tugged at the sharp horns of the *Xiezhi* stone, her little face turning red. *Chan-Ya-Tou* is *Chan-Ya-Tou*; she shouldn’t have said anything about being a glutton! Look, everyone laughs when they hear it.

Just as Zhu Congyun was about to continue, a woman’s voice drifted in from the front of the shop, and someone hurried through the store toward the backyard.

“Oh my—I was wondering where everyone had gone; so you’re all back here having such a lively time.”