The morning light in West Market was like gold dust sifted through a sieve, evenly spreading across the bluestone pavement, polished to a shine by millennia of footsteps. Siyan held his newly purchased red sandalwood abacus, its beads gleaming a warm amber in the morning sun. He fiddled with it with his fingertips as he walked, the unique fragrance of sandalwood mingling with the scent of ink from his sleeves. "Mother," he said, "this abacus cost two taels of silver. At an annual interest rate of four percent, in three years I'll make a profit..."
"I know, I know, my little accountant." Su Jinli interrupted him with a smile, reaching out to straighten his crooked collar, her fingertips touching the child's warm neck beneath the fabric. Nianli held up the dragon-shaped sugar painting she had just bought from the sugar painting stall. The sugar threads stretched out transparent golden threads in the morning breeze, and the dragon's tail inadvertently swept across Siyan's abacus, making a small, crisp sound. "Look! My dragon is a hundred times more beautiful than the talisman paper drawn by that liar yesterday!"
Jiang Yan chuckled softly, reaching out to pull Nian Li to his side, shielding her from an oncoming oilcloth carriage. The sleeve of his moon-white gown brushed against her hair, which was still stained with crumbs from the candy cake she'd secretly eaten before bed the previous night. "Run slower," he said gently, "don't knock over the candy painting; the dragon's eyes are made of silver foil."
The bustle of West Market surged in like a tide: the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg from the spice shop next door mingled with the scent of paste from the silk shop; the clang of gongs from the acrobatic troupe clashed with the cries of "freshly brewed Mengding tea" from the tea stalls; and the creaking of porters' jujube wood shoulder poles, creating a rhythm of varying depths on the stone pavement. Su Jinli, holding Nianli's hand, surveyed the dazzling array of stalls—carpets embroidered with Persian patterns, fresh fruits and vegetables dripping with water, the jingling of bronzeware—but suddenly stopped at a fortune-telling stand beneath a locust tree ahead.
"No way?" Jiang Yan followed her gaze and was also slightly stunned.
A white-bearded old man sat in front of the fortune-telling stall, waving a folding fan and humming "Drunk in the Flower Shade." The four large characters "Iron Mouth Divination" on the blue cloth sign rustled in the wind, and the copper bells on the edge jingled. A wooden sign beside it, painted in red, read "Fortune Teller for Marriage and Wealth. No Money If Not Valid." Even the skewed handwriting matched the same as the stall of the thief on Suzaku Street yesterday.
Si Yan immediately clutched the brocade purse at her waist, her newly bought red sandalwood abacus jingling in her arms. Her brows knitted tightly together, "Mom! Another liar! Look at this stall, it's exactly the same as the one from yesterday!"
Su Jinli didn't approach immediately, but observed quietly. The old man's long blue cloth gown, though washed pale, was meticulously starched and ironed. His fingers were slender and clean, with not a speck of dirt between his nails, unlike the roughness of years of wielding weapons. His eyes were gentle, and when he smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes shone with kindness, a stark contrast to the ferocious fortune teller from yesterday.
"Young lady, do you want to have your fortune told?" The old man put down his folding fan, his voice as comfortable as a warm quilt, with the unique erhua tone of old Chang'an.
Su Jinli sat down at the stall, her fingertips tracing across the rough wooden surface, leaving several scratches of varying depths. "Let's see if I'll find any money today," she said deliberately, teasingly.
The old man took her hand and gently stroked the calluses on her palm from years of holding a pen and carrying a child. His cloudy eyes suddenly brightened: "Young lady, your forehead is shining. It's not just money you found. I'm afraid you've met an important person."
"Oh?" Su Jinli raised an eyebrow, catching a glimpse of Jiang Yan approaching from the corner of her eye. "How noble is he? Can he be more noble than the emperor in the Golden Palace?"
The old man laughed heartily upon hearing this, his white beard twitching as he pointed at Jiang Yan beside him. "Far away, yet so close at hand." He looked at Jiang Yan, a sharp glint in his eyes, unlike that of an ordinary old man. "This young man has a scholarly air between his brows, yet a chivalrous spirit. He is clearly the incarnation of the God of Literature. He will surely become a great man in the future."
Jiang Yan was slightly startled. Before he could speak, the old man turned to Su Jinli and tapped the lines on her palm with his fingertips. "Young lady, you are a lucky star. Although the wealth lines on your palm are shallow, they indicate that you will spend money and gather blessings. The more you are willing to spend, the greater your blessings will be." He then looked at Si Yan and Nian Li beside him and smiled even more kindly. "These two little kids, one is the reincarnation of the Fortune Boy, who can use an abacus better than a bank owner; the other is the Fairy of Blessings, who has descended to the earth and whose singing can attract hundreds of birds and phoenixes. Wherever this family goes, blessings will follow."
Si Yan curled his lips and muttered softly, "Slippery tongue, just like the trick that liar used yesterday."
Unexpectedly, the old man had very sharp ears and actually heard what he said. He stroked his beard and said with a smile: "Young master, were you cheated out of three taels of silver on Zhuque Street yesterday?"
"How do you know?" Si Yan jumped up in shock, and the abacus in his arms almost fell to the ground with a "clatter". "Are you in cahoots with that liar?"
The old man pulled an oil-paper package from under the table and opened it, revealing three taels of silver. Each coin had been polished to a shine, its edges still warm to the touch. "Those three good-for-nothings yesterday were my distant nephews," he sighed, his eyes filled with disappointment. "They relied on the few tricks they learned in their youth, but instead of working hard, they chose to follow in their footsteps and cheat, bringing shame to our Chen family."
Su Jinli and Jiang Yan looked at each other and saw surprise in each other's eyes - this reversal happened too quickly, it seemed like a plot in a storybook.
"Who is that old man?" Jiang Yan asked with a bow, his tone showing a bit more respect.
The old man straightened his collar, his formerly hunched back suddenly straightening. Though dressed in plain clothes, he exuded the dignity of someone long in high office. "I'm Chen Jingzhi, the retired commander of the Jinwu Guard." He pointed to the wrinkles on his face. "Since retirement, I've been restless. I can't stand these people corrupting the morals of Chang'an, so I've been keeping an eye on the West Market, exposing every swindler I see."
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