It was also high summer when Ding Hanbai returned from studying abroad; in the blink of an eye, a year had already passed.

The streets in high summer were unbearable; the mix of heat and clamor was enough to make one's mind fray. The Cultural Relics Bureau, however, was cool. The old, smoke-gray building was concealed beneath lush maple vines, its walls almost completely hidden, revealing only rows of paned glass windows.

The office air conditioner ran from morning till night. The female and older colleagues couldn't stand the cold draft; only the young men in their early twenties sat comfortably in the seats directly facing the air vent.

"Little Ding, I hear you want to go to Fujian on a business trip?" Team Leader Shi suddenly asked. "Did you submit an application to Director Zhang?"

Team Leader Shi was close to retirement. He had the most seniority and was the best at coasting; otherwise, he wouldn't still be a mere team leader at his age. He didn't ask out of curiosity, but simply to kill the last ten-odd minutes before the end of the workday.

"I handed it in the day before yesterday. Director Zhang still hasn't looked at it. Probably has bad eyesight."

The one who answered was Ding Hanbai, a young man who had just turned twenty. He'd been working at the Cultural Relics Bureau for over half a year, was fond of arriving late, but rarely left early. He spent more than he earned; his seat cushion had to be of satin with flat embroidery, and his pen holder had to be a square one with a fish-roe pattern. His typical posture was to sit with his long legs bent, his gaze lowered, contemplating where to go and have fun after work.

Team Leader Shi knew Ding Hanbai and Director Zhang didn't get along. He said, "Fujian is so far away. It's fine if you don't go."

Ding Hanbai nodded, accepting the consolation, and offered no further opinion. He wanted to go, not because he was particularly passionate about his work, but because there was a batch of marine-salvaged artifacts in Fujian that he was very interested in. He purely wanted to satisfy a personal whim.

As soon as work was over, Ding Hanbai grabbed his bag and left. He rode a bicycle with a high crossbar, unhurried and unflustered, slowly dawdling his way back home. The summer days were long, and dinner was never ready when he got home. He would have to listen to his mother's nagging either way, so he might as well waste his time on the vibrant streets.

Halfway there, he turned the handlebars, swerving onto Yingchun Avenue and speeding up. The wind puffed up his shirt. He only braked to a stop when he passed an old, well-known restaurant in the city. Ding Hanbai got off his bike, bought a portion of butter chicken wings, and hung it on the handlebars. As he left, he slowly turned his head to glance at the "Jade Pavilion" across the street.

It was the city's most prestigious time-honored jade carving shop. Its doors were always deserted, yet it wasn't just a single shop—there were three of them in total.

Ding Hanbai headed home, smelling the aroma of chicken wings. As he rode into Sha'er Street, he saw a figure from behind. She was graceful and elegant, her long hair covering her shoulder blades, her shoulders level and her legs straight. Her white pleated skirt added a touch of coolness to the scorching summer day.

Ding Hanbai furiously rang his bell, zipping up behind her as if his life depended on it, and yelled, "Whose lovely daughter is this, so eye-catching?"

The other person turned around and feigned a slap. "No respect for your elders all day long. I'm going to tell your mom."

"Aiyo, so it's my little aunt." One of Ding Hanbai's greatest pleasures in life was to tease his mother's side of the family. For instance, his maternal grandparents had had another daughter in their old age, and after they passed away a few years ago, this little aunt, who was only three years older than him, was taken in and cared for by his family, just like an older sister.

Jiang Caiwei stepped over the high threshold of the main gate, taking his bag for him. She asked, "Took a detour to buy food again? How's business at the shop?"

Ding Hanbai carried his bicycle into the courtyard. "Same as always. I only took a glance."

Their Ding Family had an ancestral craft, jade and stone carving, a technique unique in the city. Jade Pavilion had been open for several generations. It had been closed during the 'special period' and, after several evolutions, three shops remained. Their ancestors had established a rule: shares were earned through skill. To put it crudely, whoever was the most skilled was the boss. This was to ensure the craft would only advance and never regress.

Currently, the most skilled was Ding Hanbai's father—Ding Yanshou; his uncle, Ding Houkang, was a bit weaker in comparison.

Ding Hanbai was the eldest son of the eldest son. He was learning to hold a knife on his father's lap before he could even walk. His talent grew as fast as his height. His height eventually stopped growing, but he always stood tall, never stooping. His talent peaked, and he completely forgot the meaning of the word 'humility.' Furthermore, at his most reckless and frivolous age, Ding Hanbai chose to study abroad, ultimately learning little but squandering a great deal of money.

He unbuttoned his shirt as he entered his room, which was filled with evidence of his squandered money: a white-glazed porcelain plate for Eight Treasures Candy, a double-dragon-handle eight-trigram censer scented with perfume, and a pair of gilt-bronze-framed hanging mirrors with painted silk figures on his nightstand.

After changing his clothes and washing his face, Ding Hanbai went to the large living room in the Front Courtyard to eat. His ancestors had been extremely wealthy, with a large mansion and courtyard. Every room was filled with the clinking and clanking of jade ornaments. Yuan Datou silver dollars were tossed around for fun, and even the jars for oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar were made of seed material carved with dragons and phoenixes.

Nowadays, people live in apartments or villas, but the Ding Family still lived together in a Three-courtyard Residence. Ding Hanbai's parents and his little aunt lived in the Front Courtyard, his uncle's family lived in the East Courtyard, and Ding Hanbai lived alone in another Small Courtyard. Moreover, the Dings were too fond of making changes. On a whim, they'd knock down a wall; when the fancy passed, they'd build an archway, plant grass and flowers, wishing they could have carved beams and painted rafters.

But in his heart, Ding Hanbai looked down on it all. No matter how big or beautiful the courtyard was, it was nothing like it had been generations ago. The more they tinkered, the more face they seemed to lose, as if they were unable to face their downward trend and were trying to recreate past glory. In truth, it was all just self-deception.

He wanted to change this, and he understood that working at the Cultural Relics Bureau would be of no help.

The living room was brightly lit. Four cold and three hot dishes were already on the large round table, and the kitchen was still busy. Ding Houkang was at his seat, pouring himself some baijiu. He usually had a small cup a day, but with the recent heat, he only drank half a cup.

Ding Hanbai sauntered to the kitchen doorway, sniffed, and asked, "Mom, where are my butter chicken wings?"

Jiang Shuliu stirred the vegetable soup in the pot and turned to ask, "Caiwei, where are his chicken wings?"

"They're probably burnt, I wasn't paying attention." Jiang Caiwei gloatingly lifted the pot lid and picked out six messy, burnt chicken wings. "The meager salary you earn isn't even enough for a decent treat. The International Hotel, Zhuifeng Tower, that Peter's Western Restaurant... you always pick the most expensive places to eat."

Ding Hanbai took them, annoyed to death by the two sisters' nagging. Every year since he turned eighteen, his birthday wish had been the same: for Jiang Caiwei to get married off as soon as possible.

The dinner table was set, and the two families began to eat. Ding Houkang's family of three was also present; his two sons, Ding Erhe and Ding Keyu, were Ding Hanbai's paternal cousins. Ding Hanbai was an only child and often angered Ding Yanshou so much that he couldn't sleep.

"By the way, it's been a full six days since Eldest Uncle left, right?"

The head seat was empty. Ding Yanshou had gone to Yangzhou to mourn his deceased friend, Ji Fangxu. But even with a three-day wake, he should have been back by now. Ding Hanbai chuckled while gnawing on a chicken wing and said, "Master Ji must be buried by now. My dad's probably started touring Yangzhou."

Jiang Shuliu shot him a warning look. "What tour? After the funeral, you're supposed to console the family and see if Fang Xu's family needs help settling anything."

Ding Hanbai retorted, "What could they need? Don't they have relatives and friends in Yangzhou? Besides, at Master Ji's age, didn't he have any children? Even if not, he must have had apprentices, right? What are apprentices for? They learn the craft and serve you while you're alive, and they take care of your family when you're dead. Unless the apprentice has no conscience."

Jiang Shuliu couldn't win the argument, so she filled his bowl with more rice to shut him up.

When it cooled down a bit in the evening, Ding Hanbai shut himself in the machine room to clean. He never did any housework; if a chair fell over, he'd walk around it rather than lift his 'precious' hand to right it. But the machine room was an exception. He never let anyone else touch it, cleaning it personally. He usually kept it locked and carried the key with him.

Jiang Caiwei often joked that hundreds of thousands of yuan worth of fine materials were hidden inside. Ding Keyu, curious, had broken in once, just wanting to feast his eyes. As a result, Ding Hanbai kicked him into the pool in front of the screen wall, causing him to catch a cold that lasted nearly a month in the dead of winter.

On a summer's moonlit night, the light in the courtyard was soft and bright. Ding Hanbai emerged from the machine room drenched in sweat, carrying a Red Sandalwood tray in his left palm, on which lay a piece of Lychee Jetstone. After a shower, he sat down in a wicker chair and began to carve by the light of the moon and a small lamp. He used the smallest knife, following the fine radish-thread patterns. Once a cut was made, there was no turning back; this was a task that tolerated not the slightest mistake.

Ding Hanbai was carving a palm-sized Ruyi-holding Guanyin, but he grew sleepy before he could refine the details. Yawning, he looked at the moon and thought with some self-mockery, 'What's the rush? It's not like it'll necessarily sell even when it's finished.'

So he went back to his room to sleep.

There usually wasn't much going on at the Cultural Relics Bureau. Ding Hanbai arrived early, just in time to see them receiving the vice-curator of the City Museum. They were discussing the registration status of a recent batch of artifacts for display and also setting a date for an inspection by the Cultural Relics Bureau.

Just as the leadership from the Museum left, Zhang Yin arrived. Ding Hanbai immediately shot up with feigned enthusiasm. "Director Zhang, the material of your shirt is quite nice."

Zhang Yin gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I've been wearing this one all week."

Ding Hanbai's pleasantries didn't last beyond that one sentence. "You're a desk-bound director, how can you be so careless about your appearance?"

He followed the other man into the director's office. Zhang Yin sat down, and Ding Hanbai simultaneously sat across the desk, making it clear he had something to say, a favor to ask. Zhang Yin pushed his teacup forward, his posture also quite open. He was calculating; in the whole office, Ding Hanbai, the youngest, was the only one who had never made tea for him.

Ding Hanbai had money and a temper, but he lacked the tact to flatter people. His gaze swept from the bottom of the cup to its rim, and he tutted in exclamation, "Counter merchandise from the department store. Inferior. You should go to our family's shop and pick one out. My treat."

Zhang Yin was thoroughly incensed. It was bad enough that the kid wouldn't pour him tea, but he even looked down on his belongings. He leaned back in his chair, his face long, and asked, "What do you want?"

Ding Hanbai lifted the stack of documents on the corner of the desk and pulled out the paper at the very bottom. "I submitted my business trip application on Monday. Today is Friday."

"What about Friday?" Zhang Yin didn't take the form, resting his elbows on the armrests and lacing his fingers. "It's not approved. I'm taking Old Shi."

Ding Hanbai clutched the application form. "Team Leader Shi is in his fifties. You're going to make him travel all that way? Besides, this trip is to look at that batch of artifacts. I know about that stuff; I'd be the most help."

One corner of Zhang Yin's mouth lifted. "It's not for you to say if you know your stuff. Don't put on airs in front of me. At the end of the day, your family are just a bunch of stone carvers. Do you really see yourself as part of the circle?"

By this time, other colleagues had arrived one after another. They couldn't help but glance into the office. The warm-hearted ones worried that Ding Hanbai was getting into trouble, while the cold-hearted ones were simply enjoying the show. Ding Hanbai lived up to expectations, satisfying both types of onlookers. He replied calmly, "I'll be the judge of that. Whether I know my stuff or not, I know more than you, the director. And our family doesn't need to turn the heavens upside down. Even if only one Jade Pavilion remains, it's still the leader in the industry."

"Stone carvers? You couldn't even afford the stones I've ruined while carving." Ding Hanbai leaned against the back of his chair, as relaxed as if he were cooling off in a wicker chair in his courtyard. "You're quite a joke, though. Don't tell me you think being a director at the Cultural Relics Bureau makes you an expert? Outside this office, who the hell gives a damn about you?"

Ding Hanbai's few words completely shut Zhang Yin down. His humble, submissive demeanor from earlier had vanished. He could tolerate many things, but he absolutely could not stand anyone disparaging the skill and status of the Ding Family. Scholars were known to be pedantic and arrogant; someone like him, whose skill made him bold, wasn't just arrogant—he was wildly so.

Zhang Yin suppressed a bellyful of rage. He couldn't lash out due to his position. He had long found Ding Hanbai an eyesore and had picked plenty of faults with him over the past six months, but this was the first time they had argued so openly.

Ding Hanbai knew perfectly well what was going on. One of his pen holders was worth three years of Zhang Yin's salary. Whenever the Bureau Chief saw him, he would ask about new items at Jade Pavilion. This wouldn't normally be a problem, but Zhang Yin was petty and greedy, and so it became one.

Most importantly, both he and Zhang Yin were interested in antiques. And in the antiques circle, there were no simpletons. Those with a half-baked understanding looked down on novices, while the true connoisseurs respected no one but themselves.

Having vented his anger and feeling relieved, Ding Hanbai rose leisurely. He paused at the door. "If you won't approve my business trip application, will you approve a leave of absence?"

Zhang Yin didn't want to see his face. "Get the hell out of here!"

Ding Hanbai left. If he went home now, he would surely get an earful from Jiang Shuliu, so he got on his bike and headed for the Material Market. The Material Market started getting lively on Thursdays. It was filled with buyers, some selecting goods in bulk, others picking and choosing with great care.

Buyers were haggling at every jade stall. Ding Hanbai hadn't brought much money, so after a casual stroll, he entered a wood material shop. He wanted to select a piece of sandalwood to carve characters into. The shop owner saw he was young and cleanly dressed, not looking like a typical bargain hunter, and so ignored him.

"Boss, is this zitan wood?" a middle-aged woman standing at the counter asked.

The owner replied, "Genuine small-leaf zitan. Look at this grain. I'll put some star-revealing liquid on a sample piece to show you the gold flecks."

The woman knew a little. "A lot of small-leaf zitan is fake these days. I'm not so sure."

"This shop guarantees authenticity, even more authentic than Jade Pavilion." The owner flipped through his samples. "Ma'am, are you picking material for beads or something else? Making beads and bracelets from small-leaf zitan is popular right now."

The woman immediately forgot about authenticity. "I was just planning to take it to Jade Pavilion to have beads made. The finished products are too expensive, so it's cheaper to buy the material myself."

Ding Hanbai had intended to browse in peace, but the owner kept getting on his nerves. He leaned against the counter, hands in his pockets, and listened openly. The owner said, "Of course. The material here is better than Jade Pavilion's. To be honest, the things at Jade Pavilion are ridiculously expensive, and who knows if they're real or fake?"

Ding Hanbai interjected nonchalantly, "Better than you disrupting the market by passing off Blood Sandalwood as small-leaf zitan."

He said to the woman, "At Jade Pavilion, agate is agate, and zitan is zitan. You could take it anywhere in the Pacific Rim for appraisal and it would check out. And although it's expensive, looking at market trends, the price of a zitan bracelet is bound to go up. You'd actually make a profit."

As soon as he finished speaking, Ding Hanbai left, slipping away before the owner could lose his temper.

In truth, Jade Pavilion was indeed formidable; otherwise, people wouldn't disparage it to elevate their own standing. But why had it gone from being sought after by all to being denigrated? In the end, it was because business had declined. The shops had been repeatedly downsized. A reputation built over nearly a century could be diminished in just a year or two.

But what made Ding Hanbai most indignant was that Jade Pavilion's decline wasn't because its products were inferior. It was because the industry had developed rapidly in recent years. More people entered the circle, and more substandard materials appeared. Abundance leads to mediocrity. But Jade Pavilion refused to lower its standards, and thus became too high-brow to be popular.

His interest waned. He picked out a piece of wood and headed home.

Weekends were always lively. His brothers were all there, and Jiang Ting'en, the youngest son of Ding Hanbai's maternal uncle, had also come over. They were all seventeen or eighteen-year-old boys who loved chasing trends and trying new things. But hearing that Ding Yanshou was flying in today, they had no choice but to stay cooped up at home, pretending to study hard.

Ding Hanbai was carving characters at his desk. Layers of Xuan paper were placed under the cut piece of wood. He wrote the characters with a brush pen, then prepared to make the cut. His three 'brothers' crowded around him, blocking all the light. He looked up, annoyed. "Are we at the zoo watching a monkey?"

Ding Erhe, who was the same age as him, urged, "Stop dawdling. How about the monkey watches you instead?"

Ding Hanbai brought his knife down. His wrist angle didn't change; he applied and shifted force using only his fingers. The horizontal, turning, left-falling, and right-falling strokes were all completed in one smooth motion. Dots were dots, and hooks were hooks. The marks were deep, and his speed was steady. After carving three characters, he blew the wood shavings away, right into the faces of the other three.

Jiang Ting'en said unhappily, "Big Brother, you're so deft, we can't learn like this."

Ding Hanbai glanced at the watermelon on a small table. "Go to the kitchen and get a plate of ice cubes. I want to chill this watermelon."

Jiang Ting'en ran out. Ding Keyu picked up the piece of wood and examined it. "'Wuyun.' Big Brother, your original name sounds like a joke. I didn't expect you to still be so attached to it."

With the knife still between his fingers, Ding Hanbai didn't wait for the ice. He got up, picked up the watermelon, and left the room. He sat down under the eaves of the corridor and started eating. After finishing, he carved a few auspicious clouds on the watermelon rind. His birth name was Ding Wuyun. He was born on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, and 'yun' (cloud) symbolized auspiciousness. But ever since his carving talent became apparent, his father had given him the name 'Hanbai.' It was just a nickname at first, but it was officially changed on his school records when he entered middle school.

Whether in antiques or carving, jade was the most sought-after and highest-grade material. Ding Yanshou had been a humble man his entire life, but he made one high-profile statement with his son.

Ding Keyu and Ding Erhe came out of the room. Ding Erhe said deliberately, "Hanbai, we're waiting for you to teach us how to carve. Hurry up."

Having eaten the watermelon, Ding Hanbai was in a good mood. He tossed the knife aside and played along. "What a crappy name!"

Ding Yanshou had given all the 'martial brothers' names based on materials, but it was just talk, forgotten as soon as it was said. Only Ding Hanbai's was official. Ding Hanbai had actually accepted it; his only dissatisfaction was that jade was too fragile.

After a few sentences of laughter and banter, Jiang Ting'en, who had gone to find ice, finally ran back, but he was empty-handed. "Master is back! And he brought someone back with him!"

Attending a funeral was inauspicious enough, and he brought someone back? Brought what back? Ding Hanbai cursed. Jiang Ting'en stood aggrievedly beside a pot of Lucky Bamboo. "It's true! He's in the front hall!"

Ding Hanbai's long legs strode down the steps. He ran out of the Small Courtyard to the Front Courtyard to see. The door to the large living room was open. The thick carpet seemed stuffy in the summer, but the newly replaced white jade ornaments exuded a sense of coolness.

Ding Yanshou was talking to Jiang Shuliu and didn't notice his son run in. Ding Hanbai didn't greet anyone; his eyes immediately fell on a boy standing in the center of the living room.

The boy was also sizing him up, his gaze timid.

Ding Hanbai felt a headache coming on. How could he have really brought someone back? The family was already quite large, and now his father had gone and brought back a person from Yangzhou. A 'southern barbarian' in a northern courtyard—completely out of place.

He walked up to the boy and asked, "And you are?"

Ding Yanshou finally looked up. "This is Master Ji's apprentice. He'll be staying with our family from now on. All of you, rein in your rowdy and stubborn behavior. Don't let me see you bullying him."

Ding Hanbai's expression didn't change. "What's your name?"

The boy was stared at so intensely he didn't dare to blink. "Ji Shenyu. The 'Shenyu' from 'jin yan shen yu'—to speak cautiously."

An outsider had arrived out of the blue. Was he to be an apprentice or a son? The brothers each had their own speculations but didn't dare show their dissatisfaction in front of Ding Yanshou. Ding Hanbai, who was best at stirring up trouble, directly said the boy's name was awful, then asked, "Dad, have you taken him on as an apprentice?"

Ding Yanshou nodded. "Yes. From now on, Shenyu will be number five. He's your junior apprentice."

Ji Shenyu hesitated, wondering if he should call him "Senior Apprentice."

Unexpectedly, Ding Hanbai looked at him and said, "Little Ji, apprentices are all given a separate name. It's my first time seeing a face as fair and translucent as yours. Why don't we just call you... Ji Zhenzhu*?"

*T/N: Calling him a Pearl, it's also quite a feminine name.

Ji Shenyu had just lost his beloved master and had just acknowledged a new one. Standing in an unfamiliar house, facing a group of strangers, he couldn't tell if they were happy to see him or disgusted by his presence.

The sunlight was scorching, and Ding Hanbai's smile was blinding. He nodded; he had no choice but to agree.