Chapter 47: Life Between Heaven and Earth

Some forms of knowledge, if left unrevealed, might never be grasped despite your greatest efforts; yet once they are pointed out, they are nothing extraordinary. Take, for example, the formula for gunpowder.

Using the simplest mnemonic, "One part saltpeter, two parts sulfur, three parts charcoal, add a bit of sugar for a grand show," one would mix saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal in a ratio of 16:2:3, using the era's copper scales where sixteen taels make one jin.

The addition of sugar is to increase the gas yield during combustion. If this gunpowder ratio explodes in a confined space, it is comparable to a miniature indoor nuclear bomb; even high-ranking officials like Yun Yang or Si Cao would likely be unable to withstand it.

Sulfur can be found at the medical clinic.

Charcoal is also easy to make.

The so-called saltpeter, known scientifically as potassium nitrate, is actually the efflorescence found on the surface of earthen walls. In ancient times, people obtained saltpeter for making fireworks and firecrackers by "digging at the roots of the walls."

Currently, in Luocheng, there are still many buildings constructed of mixed brick and earth; in Chen Ji's memory, wall efflorescence is everywhere.

The secret formula for firearms that the Jing Dynasty's Military Intelligence Bureau has been searching for with such difficulty would be better found by looking for Chen Ji rather than the Liu family!

Even various blueprints for muzzle-loading firearms would pose no difficulty for Chen Ji. Muzzle-loaders consist of the muzzle, the powder chamber, and the breech. From small hand cannons to large gate cannons, Chen Ji possessed a working knowledge of them all...

But the most critical issue was that since arriving here, whenever Chen Ji encountered figures like Yun Yang, Jiao Tu, or Si Cao, he was constantly constrained by others, simply because he lacked the power to resist.

But now, he had it.

A moment later, someone interrupted Chen Ji's thoughts: "May I ask the three of you, do you have any works to present? Why have you fallen silent?"

Liu Quxing and She Dengke looked at each other, unsure of what to do. After all, this was a literary gathering; it was indeed improper to come along just to eat and drink without having any works of their own.

However, Chen Ji suddenly broke into a smile. "We only took the invitations sent from the Prince's Mansion to the medical clinic to enjoy the food and drink; we are not skilled in this field. Please, everyone, enjoy yourselves. We shall take our leave. Senior Brother She, Senior Brother Liu, I heard from Xiao Zhang, the waiter at the eatery opposite the clinic, that there is a place called Mu Xin Zhai on the neighboring Zhenghe Street that makes excellent sliced noodles. Let me treat you."

With that, he turned and left, showing no sign of embarrassment. A gathering is a gathering, and if one lacks skill, one lacks it; there is no need to force it for the sake of face.

Everyone has their own specialties. You understand art, and I understand art... though perhaps my "art" might just drive your "art" away.

Chen Wenzong and Chen Wenxiao watched Chen Ji's retreating figure, which appeared calm and composed. Chatting with his friends, he seemed completely unaffected by the literary gathering and did not take the recent incident to heart.

He suddenly felt that Chen Ji was not speaking out of anger, but truly had no intention of returning to the Chen family.

But wasn't the grand and illustrious prestige of the Chen family something everyone yearned for? How could someone choose to walk away from it?

During the meal, Princess Baili looked toward the Heir: "Brother, did you invite him?"

"No," the Heir shook his head. "I don't remember sending any invitations to the clinic... but it doesn't matter!"

Princess Baili pondered for a moment, then suddenly stood up. "This is boring. I'm going out for a walk!"

The Heir watched his sister's back, wanting to say something but hesitating. "You..."

...

...

On the way back.

"Senior Brother She, why did you stick up for me?" Chen Ji asked curiously.

She Dengke walked along, his tall and sturdy figure appearing less imposing because his head was bowed. He said in a low voice, "I almost caused you harm yesterday. I'm sorry; I lost my head in the moment. I've ruined our two years of friendship. I truly deserve to die."

Chen Ji asked again, "Were you only doing it to save Chunhua's life?"

"There was some selfishness involved. Chunhua said that if this matter succeeded, she would ask Consort Jing to betroth her to me, so we could live our lives in peace together."

Liu Quxing mocked, "You believe everything Chunhua says? Your family is so poor; how could she abandon the wealth and glory of the Prince's Mansion to be with you?"

She Dengke retorted, "She isn't that kind of person... Chen Ji, please don't tell my brother or my father about this. If they find out, they'll definitely beat me to death."

"Don't worry, I won't," Chen Ji smiled.

Beside them, Liu Quxing felt somewhat vexed. "I don't know what my father was thinking when he gave me this name. And I am truly useless; even with the Wenchun Star descending to earth, how can I not understand those classics? Now, when I introduce myself in public, I'm almost too embarrassed to mention my own name."

To rise from a peasant in the morning to the halls of the Emperor by evening—this was the greatest dream of the scholars of the Ning Dynasty.

But this was not Chen Ji's dream.

What was his dream? His former dream was to be a diplomatic military officer, but neither the Ning nor the Jing Dynasty was worth dying for, so he no longer had a dream.

With no one to protect and no place to defend, he could only struggle to survive, pushed along by the torrents of this era.

Today, the words "gunpowder" and "the seed of the sword" held a fatal attraction for him.

When these two things were placed on a scale—perhaps representing the scales of fate—the balance might finally tilt in his favor.

As he was reflecting, someone called out from behind, "Chen Ji!"

Chen Ji turned around to see Princess Baili catching up. She was still dressed in her valiant attire, her white clothes and red tassels unchanged.

However, today her hair was styled in a silver-threaded cloud bun, adorned with a ring of pearl tassels beneath it, which swayed as she walked.

Chen Ji asked in confusion, "Is something the matter, Princess?"

Baili didn't explain her reasons; she simply waved her hand grandly. "Come! I'm treating you all to dinner on Zhenghe Street. We're having that sliced noodle place you mentioned!"

With that, Baili led the way with her hands behind her back, her steps bouncy and triumphant. Looking at her, Chen Ji felt she was like a free antelope.

The three fellow disciples exchanged glances. Chen Ji suddenly said, "You guys go ahead. I'll head back to the clinic to call Liang Mao'er..."

Two quarters of an hour later, in the sliced noodle shop, Princess Baili sat with her arms on the table, chin in her hands, staring wide-eyed at the towering stack of bowls in front of Liang Mao'er. "Five bowls, six bowls, seven bowls... Chen Ji, you are truly something else!"

Chen Ji looked at Liang Mao'er with a smile. "If you eat this much tonight, don't go eating so much tomorrow morning."

Liang Mao'er looked cautiously at Baili. "Princess... am I eating too much?"

Chen Ji said seriously, "The Princess has a chivalrous heart. We are all children of the martial world; why would she mind how much you eat?"

"It's fine, it's fine! How much can a bowl of noodles cost!" Baili said with a pout as she pulled out her purse. "But you really do eat too much... no wonder everyone was drinking last night while you were just sitting there stuffing your face."

Liang Mao'er explained awkwardly, "I don't know why, but I've been able to eat a lot since I was a child. When my brother was ten, I was only three, and yet I ate more than him."

Baili stopped dwelling on it. Since she was treating, she would treat generously.

After settling the bill, she turned to Chen Ji and asked curiously, "Earlier, when they were saying those things about you at the literary gathering, why didn't you get angry?"

"There's nothing to be angry about."

"Then I'll speak up for you. In the future, can you stop charging me passage fees?"

"No."

Baili grew angry. "Fine, I won't speak up for you ever again. Let them insult you until you're stinking!"

Chen Ji laughed. "They can say whatever they want, but time will prove everything."

Beside them, Liu Quxing suddenly said, "Chen Ji, actually, you can write poetry. I've seen it."

"Hmm?" Chen Ji was momentarily stunned.

Liu Quxing whispered, "I saw you secretly studying in the middle of the night, making transcriptions on the back of medical prescriptions. So, while you were sleeping, I snuck a look to see what you had written. I ended up seeing half a line of poetry."

Baili asked in confusion, "What did it say?"

"Life between heaven and earth, is like a traveler on a long journey."

Baili felt as if reciting that half-line of poetry placed her alone in a vast, snowy mountain range, shrouded in twilight, profoundly lonely.

That day, Chen Ji had woken from the twilight; people were coming and going in the streets, yet he had not found his family. In the night, he had casually scribbled a line of rough poetry, only for it to be seen by Liu Quxing.

Baili slowly looked at Chen Ji. "Is this yours..."

Before she could finish, a head popped out from behind, exclaiming in surprise, "Chen Ji, is this your poem? If you can write, why didn't you say anything at the gathering just now?"

Chen Ji was also stunned. He saw the Heir and the little monk standing right behind him. This protagonist of the literary gathering had somehow snuck out as well—was it really this casual?!

Furthermore, it was strange; did this line of poetry not exist in this world? The allusion to the Double Ninth Festival was exactly the same.

He composed himself and replied with thick-skinned nonchalance, "That half-line was a sudden inspiration; I don't have the full poem. Besides, I have no intention of pursuing this path. Poetry and literature are not my ambition."

The Heir hesitated for a long time before suddenly rubbing his hands together sheepishly and smiling. "Um... weren't you looking to make some money? Could you sell that half-line of poetry to me?"

Chen Ji: *Huh?*

The Heir explained, "In these three years at Donglin Academy, I've been stifled to death. Those literati write a poem every single day—one for a lotus, one for the moonlight—while I can't even produce a fart. I know many of them call me a 'straw-bale Heir' behind my back, so I've always wanted to write a poem to impress them, but I simply can't... How about this: that half-line of yours is quite impressive. Sell it to me for ten taels of silver. I get face, and you get silver. How about it?"

"Deal!"

There was no need to write poetry, but if it was selling half a line... that was acceptable.