The mountain road after the snow was covered with a thin layer of ice. The caravan's oxcart rolled over the gravel, making a creaking sound. Zhang Yifan sat at the tail of the cart, gazing at the gradually disappearing outline of Cyan Ox Village, his fingers instinctively rubbing the abacus at his waist—the abacus beads still bore fragments of clothing from last night's bandits, mixed with the smell of sulfur. Old Man Wang, the driver, suddenly leaned closer, his turbid eyes staring at the Taiji Jade Pendant at the boy's waist, and dropped his voice to a whisper: "Does the young master know that twenty years ago, the grand leader of the Taiji Commercial Alliance disappeared into Mount Zhongnan carrying such a jade pendant?"
The youth paused, a mischievous smile playing on his lips: "Old man, you surely don't mean to say my pendant can be traded for ten carts of silk?" He shook his abacus, making the Abacus Bead clatter sharply. "Though compared to silk, I'd much rather know—in your thirty years of driving caravans, have you ever seen a trade that could make foreign merchants willingly pay thirty percent extra for their goods?"
Old Man Wang was stunned, then suddenly saw Zhang Yifan pull out seven colored seeds, arranging them in his palm in the shape of the Big Dipper: "Cyan Ox Seven. Planted in spring to yield red millet, harvested in summer for golden wheat, bearing purple yams in autumn, and storing snow lotus roots in winter. If I set up a stall in the Chang'an West Market and let the nobles see with their own eyes that these seeds sprout three days after hitting the ground, even Persian merchants would fight to sign contracts." He suddenly lowered his voice, "And the best part is, every seed carries the morning dew of Cyan Ox Valley. I checked Essential Techniques for the Peasantry; this is called 'drawing vitality from the earth,' and nobles simply adore this touch of natural perfection."
The old man listened, utterly entranced, until he suddenly realized the cart wheel had sunk into an ice pit. Just as he was about to shout for help, he saw Zhang Yifan leap off the cart and pull a Wooden Ox and Gliding Horse model from the bamboo basket—the very one Huwa had secretly stuffed into his luggage, with half an unEaten chestnut pastry still stuck in the ox's mouth. "Let me test the mechanism with your oxcart." The youth blinked, wedging the model onto the axle. As the gears turned, the ox's tail suddenly whipped out an iron chain, hooking onto the old locust tree ahead. "An improved version of Mozi's axle-locking technique. Saves thirty percent of the effort and wards off wolves."
When the caravan stopped to rest at noon, Zhang Yifan squatted by the stream to wash his abacus beads, only to overhear Old Man Wang muttering with the porters: "That kid uses abacus beads to strike meridian points, his technique looks just like the Cyan Ox Thirteen Calculations of the Taiji Commercial Alliance..." He intentionally raised his voice: "Old man, this 'Cyan Ox Thirteen Calculations' you speak of—does it require chanting 'One Yin and one Yang, that is the Dao' when striking the points with the beads?" The porters burst into roaring laughter. Old Man Wang's face turned as red as a ripe persimmon, and he snatched up his driving whip, making a gesture to strike: "What is a little brat eavesdropping for? That was the grand leader's ultimate stunt back in the day, but unfortunately..."
The words stopped at the tip of his tongue. The old man gazed at the jade pendant reflected in the stream and let out a long sigh: "Twenty years ago, the Commercial Alliance was subjected to a sudden bloodbath, and the grand leader vanished with half of the Taisu jade pendant. Jianghu rumors say that only by gathering both the Taichu and Taisu pendants can one unlock the mystery of the Alliance's secret chamber." He suddenly stared at the jade pendant at Zhang Yifan's waist. "Young master's Taichu pendant matches the patterns of the grand leader's Taisu pendant. Could it be..."
The youth chuckled softly, tossing the abacus beads up and down so they danced briskly: "If the old man wants to know, why not teach me the Cyan Ox Thirteen Calculations first—say, how to hit the numbing points of three bandits simultaneously with three abacus beads?" He suddenly pointed at a mountain sparrow in the distance. A bead flew out with a whoosh, startling the bird into flapping frantically toward a snowdrift. "I held back my hand last night and only hit their laughing points; right now, they're probably rolling around laughing in the snow."
The afternoon sun hid behind the clouds, and the caravan reached a mountain pass where a severed pine tree lay across the road, the words "This road is blocked" scrawled on the trunk in charcoal. Old Man Wang's expression changed, his hand pressing against his knife hilt, but Zhang Yifan simply squatted down and picked up a few pine needles from the severed branch—the tips were stained with fresh pine resin, clearly chopped down just this morning. "A road-blocking trick favored by foreign merchants." The youth sneered, fished a gourd out of his bamboo basket, and shook out some brown powder to scatter over the pine trunk. "Chili powder mixed with pipe tobacco. With a tailwind, it can drift three li and make people's eyes water so they can't open them."
The porters were just about to move the tree when a whistle echoed from the forest. A dozen masked men brandishing sabers rushed out, only to be choked into violent coughing by the oncoming wave of spicy heat. Seizing the moment, Zhang Yifan flicked his abacus beads. With two sharp cracks, the wrists of the two lead men went instantly numb, and their sabers clattered to the ground. "Good heroes," he said, shaking the pendant at his waist, "men of the Taiji Commercial Alliance passing through, just asking for safe passage. If you want to spar, how about we meet another day at Huyu Workshop in the West Market?"
The men looked at each other in dismay until one of them cried out in alarm, "It's the Taiji Pendant!" They cupped their fists and retreated. Old Man Wang seized the moment to crack his whip, and the oxcart clattered through the pass. Zhang Yifan watched the receding backs of the men and suddenly asked in a low voice, "Old man, is the Taiji Commercial Alliance really that famous among foreign merchants?" The old man nodded: "Back then, the grand leader established the Nine Rules of the Merchant Path. What foreign merchants fear most isn't official taxes, but being listed as 'faithless' by the Alliance—once on that list, even merchant ships in the Persian Gulf will refuse to carry them."
As twilight crept into the mountain hollow, the caravan rested at a post station. Zhang Yifan sat by the fire pit, sketching the Chang'an Market Map on the station wall with a piece of charcoal, when he overheard Old Man Wang chatting with a station guard: "I hear a foreign curiosity expert recently arrived in the West Market, able to blow glass into roses and sell them for ten strings of cash each." The youth's pen tip paused, and he chuckled softly—his Cyan Ox Seven seeds, paired with Xiaoxiu's embroidered Cyan Ox pouch, would likely suit the nobles' tastes far better than glass roses.
Late at night, in the quiet darkness, Zhang Yifan stroked the Cyan Ox Abacus Beads, recalling his master's words before departure: "Entering the Mortal World to cultivate focuses on 'observing people.' Foreign merchants value profit, Han merchants value reputation, nobles value novelty, and commoners value practicality. Allowing all four to take what they need is the true Great Dao." Outside the window came the rustle of snowflakes falling on bamboo tubes, sounding much like the irrigation ditches of Cyan Ox Village singing, yet vaster and more distant than in memory.
When the first star lit up, Old Man Wang suddenly handed over half a hard flatbread, inside of which was tucked a yellowed slip of paper—none other than a fragment of the Taiji Commercial Alliance's Nine Rules of the Merchant Path. By the firelight, Zhang Yifan looked, and the very first rule read: "Profit is like Taiji, it must divide Yin and Yang." Suddenly, he remembered Huwa's mother speaking of Ziwei Star moving, the old village chief's joined jade pendants, and the osmanthus sugar cake Xiaoxiu had stuffed into his travel pack.
The charcoal fire crackled and spat sparks, reflecting the light in the youth's eyes. That night, an unfinished painting grew on the station wall: a cyan ox pulling a Wooden Ox Pestle, followed by a youth carrying an abacus, and right beneath the ox's hooves was the Chang'an Market Map. And a legend concerning the merchant path, concerning the Mortal World, was quietly planting the seeds to sprout in this wind and snow of the flourishing Tang, right along with this seed from Cyan Ox Village.