Instantly, the young man snapped his attention to the stranger. His eyes were as tranquil as pools of mountain springs.

The stranger wondered where this feeling of nostalgia came from. Familiar, melancholic, and bittersweet already, like a song that one could never forget when viewing the moon, while sipping wine.

No. More likely, today was a fateful but once-in-a-lifetime encounter. Chengxiu Village served as a good stopping point before the royal capital. It would not be surprising if the young man was full of energy and excitement to pursue some fantasy of prophecies, power, and wealth. Wuxia novels were wildly popular in the Mortal Realm. Many boys hoped to one day grow up and become a hero.

“I’m not a murderer.” The young man’s response was not an answer to the question. “I only meant to scare the storyteller and his granddaughter.”

Then, he revealed a pair of daggers from his sleeves. “I was going to deflect the first dagger away with the second one, which I have practiced and succeeded a thousand times behind my shīfù’s back. I had hoped that those two would change to a different story. I’d rather listen to any other but that one.”

The stranger moved closer to get a better look at the weapons. Then, with a wave of his hands, the young man removed them from sight. The stranger wanted to scold the young man with: ‘Maybe your shīfù has every right to be afraid of your potentially disturbed mind, ah! But they didn’t!’

Advising another was never among the stranger’s best strengths, especially hot-headed youths like him. But their feelings toward the young man grew soft. Hence, the stranger was more careful with their next words.

They sat down next to the young man and began, “I’m glad that you’re a good person, but the way of ‘might is right’ isn’t always going to move mountains.”

“How do you win someone over then?” asked the young man.

Overhead, branches swayed in the cool wind. Bit by bit, came a light sprinkle of red maple leaves that scattered across the two and the ground around them. To those passing by, the scenery resembled a painting of spring with crimson petals raining upon a pair.

A gentle sunray shone across the stranger’s eyes.

“You win someone over with…not power.” The stranger motioned toward their lower abdomen where the Jīn Dān would be, then gestured at their chest. “But with love.”

The stranger flipped their hand. From that palm was a flower so golden, it was as radiant as the sun.

The young man’s eyes widened.

Pleased by his reaction, the stranger stifled a laugh and added, “Love. That’s what you’d use on the person whom you’d want to persuade, to compromise with, and to win over. Whether it's an acquaintance, friend, or beloved.”

Silently, the young man accepted the gift and stared at it for a long time, studying the flower’s petals, stem, and all. He looked back at the stranger.

The stranger said, “Cultivation is not a path that solely relies on physical strength. It also means cultivating one’s mind and one’s heart, which is why you should return to your shīfù.” A curtain of unease came over the stranger, and they rose to their feet. “Ah, it’s getting late. So, you should head out.”

“Will I see you again?”

One by one, the screen doors around them closed. Papered windows were locked. The young man was trying to slow time, like a scene of a suitor’s pending confession. All the while, the last of the sunlight faded behind the foggy mountains of the west.

The stranger averted their gaze. Their long white robe whirled, and so did the veil. A red hue outlined their figure, creating an ethereal glow against their beautiful face as seen by the young man.

“There’s no reason for us to meet again,” said the stranger. They refused to face the young man. “I only interfered because you were scaring Yéye and his granddaughter. After all, they were just earning coin for a children’s fairy tale.”

There was silence. An uncomfortable one.

The stranger started to walk, and the gap between them grew.

“It’s not a fairy tale,” said the young man. His voice was hoarse and low. He cradled the flower close. “They’re real. Celestial fairies are real!”

So, there were grown men who still dared to believe. The stranger’s lips curved into a wistful smile, with eyes that reflected pools of gold. Yet they continued to walk forward, going the opposite way from the young man.

“My name is Yue Liang!”

Upon hearing it, the stranger’s steps nearly faltered. ‘Moon.’ That name was somewhat nostalgic, tapping into what felt like a mist of dreams. They narrowed their brows.

Yue Liang, Yue Liang, Yue Liang… Where had they heard that name before?

“What is yours?” Yue Liang continued, watching the other’s retreating back. Their white-robed figure grew smaller and smaller. Like a flower, wilting into winter.

No good.

With a flick of their wrist, the stranger’s sword flew out of the scabbard at their hip. It flipped over to the flat side, and they hopped onto the weapon. A breeze whipped through their white robe and the bamboo hat’s veil.

They, however, froze in the air. For a while, the stranger was quiet. An ambiguous wave of emotions rippled across their face, changing from confusion to, finally, defeat.

“I am…trouble.”

Soon, the stranger zipped off, keeping a perfect balance on their sword. Yet, the other could still hear it.

“Then…” A single red leaf fell across Yue Liang’s boot. Even though the stranger did not see, his impish grin could be felt. “Trouble should expect to see me more often!”

How unlucky.

***

Beneath the gold-lavender skies, a rooster greeted the rise of morning. Silhouettes of birds soared across the treetops as a butterfly flitted past the white-clad person. On their head was a wide bamboo hat, with a veil that stretched past their shoulders. They yawned while dragging their feet against the dirt road.

A crunch from beneath their boots startled them awake.

Red maple…

“Good morning, Doctor!”

“Mm…” The stranger nodded to acknowledge a passing farmer. There was a hearty laugh from the other. And a smile crept into the stranger’s lips. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Doctor!” greeted another person.

“Huh? Oh, good morning!”

“Good morning, Doctor!” said one more.

“Ah, good morning!”

The exchange of too-early greetings continued back and forth as the stranger walked down the street, around the bending curve, and past many more businesses with papered windows and clay tile roofs. They eventually reached a small, humble pharmacy.

“Why do humans bother with repetitive greetings?” The stranger mumbled, entering the building.

Quickly, they closed the door behind them.

In one swoop, the bamboo hat was removed. The stranger sighed. They hurriedly wrapped it up with the veil and tucked it onto a shelf overhead. A hairpin fell and rolled across the floor. The stranger cursed as their long hair swept across their waist.

Oh well. A ponytail would do.

The stranger went into the bamboo-matted kitchen. A bright spark of fire blew from their fingertips and onto the wood pieces.

Now, the various clay pots of liquids and different types of barks would heat up. Today’s batches of medicine need to get done.

“Aiya.” Slowly, the stranger inhaled the bitter aroma from the air and exhaled. “I’ll need to grind some more herbs.”

Maybe that Nǎinai was right. The old woman always complained that with all that time running around—checking the boiling pots and mashing the herbs—could have been well spent on making ready-to-order pills for the customers. An assistant would certainly make work easier for a doctor.

Tomorrow, the stranger should prepare flyers and start putting them up. Hopefully, someone good would come along.

As golden dawn peeked through the windows, there was already noisy pounding from the mortar and pestle bowl of dry leaves. Silver smoke trickled from the kitchen and out through the opened windows. Combined with streams of sunlight, the smoke appeared quite heavenly.

This morning, there was a soft cloud of cold air. For every ashen second of a burning incense stick, the stranger could see their breath. It was the beginning of the chilly season.

They thought: Given how cold the recent weather had gotten, the demand for cough medicine would go up. That, and the one for flu. More Jade Windscreen should be prepared too.

Fingers blurred as the stranger made up a square paper package of cinnamon, white peony roots, ginger, and jujube fruits. They tossed a handful of licorice root into the mixture. Quickly, the package was wrapped with string and placed on top of a mountain of similar products.

Before they knew it, the stranger was already weighing ginseng root on the scale’s metal pan. They sighed. The building was beginning to feel warm, almost. At last, the scale displayed perfection.

Then, a voice boomed out, “Bastard of the Chuánqí Teahouse!”