The first snow in Cyan Ox Village always carried a crisp fragrance of pine. Zhang Yifan squatted at the entrance of the food storage cellar, watching the villagers spread dried mugwort into pottery urns. Suddenly, he frowned—last year's millet had molded just like this. Mugwort could repel insects, but it couldn't stop the dampness rising from the earth.
"Brother Fan, what are you daydreaming about?" Huwa trotted over wrapped in a sheepskin jacket, the tip of his nose frozen bright red. "Uncle Wang said your 'insect-repellent sachets' from last year drove all the mice right into our kang flue!" The boy suddenly turned his head, his eyes flashing with cleverness. "Just in time, I was looking to 'borrow' something from the mice in your kang flue—the clay they dug out while tunneling is even more moisture-proof than lime!"
Three days later, a strange wooden rack appeared in the cellar: seven layers of pine boards arranged in a spiral, with dried Granary-Guard Beetle Shells embedded along the edges of each layer (Zhang Yifan claimed their carapaces could absorb moisture). At the very bottom lay the clay bricks Huwa had dug from the kang flue, with cotton threads soaked in pine resin wedged between the brick gaps. Most ingeniously, a "ventilation fan" made from a bamboo tube hung from the ceiling of the cellar, driven by the heat of a brazier on the floor. Carved on the mouth of the bamboo tube was a Cyan Ox rolling its eyes—Huwa said this would scare away gluttonous mountain mice.
"Open the cellar to test the grain!" Zhang Yifan tugged at Huwa's sleeve as they squeezed into the cellar. The sheepskin jacket brushed against the wooden rack with a creaking sound, startling the Granary-Guard Beetle Shells into a rustling cascade. Huwa held a pine torch, suddenly pointing at the carved marks on the wooden boards with a laugh. "Brother Fan is drawing random things again! These 'Heaven, Earth, and Man' sections almost look like the Eight Trigrams Formation you draw!"
"This is called the 'Three-Talent Grain Storage Method'!" Zhang Yifan tapped the "Man" section in the middle, which was stacked with the most precious purple rice. "The 'Heaven' section holds moisture-sensitive medicinal herbs and gets blown by the ventilation fan; the 'Earth' section holds durable millet, relying on the clay bricks to absorb moisture; and as for 'Man'..." He suddenly grinned mischievously, pulling an oiled paper parcel from his tunic. "If 'Man' wants to sneak a taste of freshly roasted chestnuts, they have to hide them in the most conspicuous place—like Huwa's jacket pocket!"
Huwa cried out in surprise and jumped back, the torch nearly scorching the resin-soaked cotton thread. At that moment, the cellar door creaked open, and Old Daoist's pipe poked down the ladder. "Still using my chestnuts to trick Huwa? Watch out he doesn't dismantle your ventilation fan to make a kite!" Zhang Yifan stuck out his tongue, then suddenly noticed a half-old cloth pouch hanging from his master's waist—it was the exact fragment of swaddling cloth from when he was found ten years ago.
At dusk, after the grain storage was finished, Zhang Zhenzhen sat on the millstone tapping his pipe, watching his disciple carve insect-repellent runes onto the cellar door. He suddenly spoke up, "Yifan, how does the Dao of grain storage compare to the Wooden Ox Pestle?" The boy wiped the wood chips from his brow and gazed at the gradually freezing stream. "Grain storage is like governing the world; you have to understand 'weights and measures.' As Guanzi says, 'When granaries are full, people know etiquette.' When the villagers see the millet neatly stacked in the cellar, their hearts settle—and this steadfastness is more precious than anything."
The Old Daoist chuckled softly, his pipe tapping three crisp times against the millstone. "You've truly grasped Guanzi's teachings, knowing how to start from 'human desires.' But..." He suddenly pointed at the ventilation fan on the cellar ceiling. "Why carve the Cyan Ox with its eyes rolling back?"
"That way it looks just like you when you scold me!" Zhang Yifan laughed and ran off, his robe hem brushing against the icicle-laden bamboo tube. "Besides, when the mountain mice see the Cyan Ox rolling its eyes, they'll surely think the Mountain God Grandpa is staring right at them!" The Old Daoist laughed and scolded as he swung his cane, but as it reached the boy's shoulder, he gently deflected it, his gaze falling on the insect-repellent runes on the cellar door—they were clearly carved according to Guiguzi's "Art of Opening and Closing," with the airflow currents subtly hidden between the openings and closings.
That night, Xiaoxiu brought a newly sewn cotton door curtain into the cellar. Seeing Zhang Yifan squatting beside the clay bricks observing the Granary-Guard Beetle Shells, she pointed at the cotton threads in the brick gaps and laughed with a giggle, "Brother Fan is up to no good again! With these cotton threads soaked in chili water, even Huwa's slugs wouldn't dare crawl over them!" The boy blinked. "I need to let the mice know this cellar isn't their granary—just like I have to let Huwa know that sneaking my purple-backed tiankui will get him chased by a hedgehog."
Before his voice had even faded, a "thud" came from the cellar ceiling, followed by Huwa's startled cry: "Brother Fan! Your ventilation fan leaked snow inside!" Zhang Yifan rushed out to find Huwa staring blankly at the bamboo ventilation fan, its blades jammed with half a frozen persimmon cake—this little rascal had shoved his snack into the mechanism again.
"No matter, it's a good test for the moisture-proofing of the clay bricks." The boy smiled and picked up the cake, then suddenly noticed the Old Daoist standing at the entrance of the Medicine Cottage. In the moonlight, the half-piece of Taiji Jade Pendant gleamed faintly at his waist. A mountain breeze swept past the frozen bamboo tube, making a crisp sound like wind chimes, as if urging something onward—urging the boy who had awakened in the snowy swaddling clothes to eventually follow this clear chime into the broader world.
When the first lamp flickered to life in the Medicine Cottage, Zhang Yifan suddenly heard his master calling him: "Put the 'Book of Mechanisms' and the 'Classic of Hundred Insects' into the camphorwood chest. Tomorrow, accompany me to town to trade for some tung oil—if your cellar leaks snow again, Huwa's slugs might just spend the winter right in the middle of the millet pile." The boy acknowledged the order, but as he turned around, he saw Xiaoxiu hanging the newly sewn cotton curtain over the cellar door. Embroidered on the corner of the curtain was a comical Cyan Ox, its eyes made of two shiny mica flakes.
Snow pellets pattered against the bamboo tube, and the Granary-Guard Beetle Shells in the cellar shimmered in the firelight, looking remarkably like scattered stars. Zhang Yifan suddenly understood that the so-called "Dao" was always hidden within these trivial calculations—calculating how to keep the grain from molding, the mice from stealing, Huwa from making trouble, and every single day standing firm and steady through wind and snow. And the Dao that belonged to him was perhaps hidden within the profound mysteries of this cellar, within every burst of laughter in Cyan Ox Village, waiting for him to take these calculations and venture out into the Mortal World.