Chapter 127
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Morning light streamed through the lattice window, motes of dust dancing in its glow.
Madam Wang and the four scholars sat in quiet stillness, watching as Lu Liangsheng stood before the bookshelf, gently leafing through a tome.
Rustle~
With a flick of his finger, the page turned. Gazing at the content inscribed upon the first page, Lu Liangsheng confirmed that this was indeed a second, entirely different volume of the [Classic of Mountains and Seas].
“The one I possess speaks mostly of forest beasts and mountain spirits, or ghosts and monsters of the wild. This one begins with water creatures—fish, shrimp, and aquatic fiends. It matches perfectly with the ending of mine.”
…So by that reckoning, one is a Classic of Mountains, and this a Classic of Seas?
Lu Liangsheng closed the Classic of Mountains and Seas… Could there be a third volume?
“This young master too delights in these strange tales of the wild?”
A frail voice suddenly rose from the bed. Lu Liangsheng turned around—Wang Chongwen had already awakened, and Madam Wang quickly stepped forward to support him.
“Don’t get up, lie back down.”
“Help me sit up.”
Wang Chongwen weakly waved his hand and, taking his wife’s arm, straightened his body to sit upright against the bedframe. Though his face was pale as paper, he still forced a smile. His lips, dry and cracked, moved faintly.
“Though I was unconscious yesterday, I vaguely recall hearing your voice.”
As he spoke, he cupped his hands in a salute.
“Wang Chongwen offers heartfelt thanks for Young Master’s life-saving grace.”
Lu Liangsheng returned a warm smile. With the book in hand, he reached out and gently raised the offered hands, then pushed them back.
“No need for thanks. You once bought my painting, easing my hardship, and even paid eight wen more than asked—that alone was a kindness beyond measure. As of last night, we are even.”
“No, no…”
On the bed, Wang Chongwen threw aside the quilt, struggling to rise. Supported by his wife, he pushed against her hand and looked toward the scholar before him.
“Young Master healed my illness with his own hand—two acts of grace in one. How could a mere eight wen compare? If Young Master has need of anything, please speak it freely.”
“So fussy and long-winded…”
Lu Liangsheng clapped the book shut with a smile, then untied the gourd at his waist and tossed it to a nearby maidservant.
“Fill it.”
The maidservant held the gourd in her arms, glanced at Madam Wang, then looked back at Lu Liangsheng, utterly flustered. Her cheeks flushed bright red.
“This servant… I don’t…”
Madam Wang gave her a light push. “He means fill it with wine.”
At that, Wang Feng, Ma Liu, Zhang Ti, and Zhao Tang burst into raucous laughter.
Blushing furiously, the maid hugged the gourd and darted out past the laughing scholars like a frightened rabbit, vanishing in a flash.
The atmosphere in the room grew warm and congenial. Madam Wang, seeing this, tactfully took her leave. From the bed, Wang Chongwen naturally understood the scholar’s intent—one gourd of wine in return for a favor rendered.
“Young Master is a man of true refinement!”
He praised sincerely, then took note of the book in Lu Liangsheng’s hands, curiosity arising in his heart.
“I saw just now how intently you studied that book. If it pleases you, I would be honored to gift it to you.”
Lu Liangsheng accepted it gladly, cupping his hands with a smile. “Much obliged.” Then he sat down by the bedside and once more took Wang Chongwen’s pulse. After a moment, he asked about the origin of the [Classic of Mountains and Seas].
“How did Brother Chongwen come by this volume?”
The question made Wang Chongwen pause for a moment.
“Young Master Lu, give me a moment to recall.”
He had acquired the book some time ago, and after reading it once, left it on the bookshelf, nearly forgetting about it entirely.
After a brief spell of reflection, his furrowed brow slowly eased.
“…This [Classic of Mountains and Seas] was something I came across last year while returning from the Autumn Examination. I found it by chance on the road. It’s mostly filled with strange tales of water demons and sea creatures. In the past, I took it as idle reading for amusement. Sigh… not until last night did I find myself forced to believe in ghosts and spirits.”
Recalling the events of the previous night, Wang Chongwen still felt a lingering fear. Had he not steeled himself in time, he might have had his yang energy completely drained.
He once more gave his heartfelt thanks. Just then, the maidservant returned, clutching the gourd. Upon seeing the scholar before her, her face flushed anew as she whispered in a voice barely audible:
“Y-young Master… here…”
At that very moment, a sudden gust of wind kicked up outside, causing the lanterns under the eaves to sway violently.
The four scholars at the door instinctively stepped back into the room. From his bed, Wang Chongwen craned his neck to look out the window lattice, then turned back around.
“Young Master Lu, what’s going on?”
Lu Liangsheng gave a brief glance outside, then received the gourd and smiled. “It’s nothing—just someone throwing a bit of a tantrum.”
Those inside exchanged glances. If that was merely a tantrum, it was a truly unsettling one.
Before long, Lu Liangsheng took a sniff from the gourd’s mouth. The fragrance of the wine drifted out. “Excellent wine!” He pressed the stopper back in, then rose from the bed’s edge.
“All is done here. I shall take my leave.”
“Young Master Lu!” Wang Chongwen called out hastily.
At the doorway, Lu Liangsheng paused, half-turning his head back with a smile.
“Does Brother Chongwen have something more to say?”
“I merely feel that Young Master Lu is a man of noble character and likely no less gifted in learning. Why then do you not seek official rank, and instead wander the lands as you do? If my question is too forward, you needn’t answer—I simply think it a great pity.”
Wang Chongwen had spoken with sincerity, without the slightest trace of offense. Off to the side, however, the four scholars were all throwing glances and making faces.
Over there, Lu Liangsheng turned his head slightly to glance at them, only smiling faintly. After a moment, he swept his sleeve, the gourd swinging at his side as he turned and walked off, striding straight out of the main hall and across the courtyard bathed in morning light.
“Did I just now offend Young Master Lu with my words?”
Watching the silent figure leave without a word, Wang Chongwen asked the four scholars. Zhang Ti, one of the four, peeked out the window, then leaned in close.
“Brother Chongwen, didn’t we give you a look just now? Told you not to say anything. That Young Master Lu is none other than the Lu Lang we mentioned before—‘When things are urgent, Lu Lang lends aid.’ His full name is Lu Liangsheng. He once held the title of Gongshi Scholar.”
As Wang Chongwen was only of Juren rank, advising a Gongshi to pursue the civil examinations further was somewhat awkward. But at the time, he hadn’t thought about it. Now, gripping Zhang Ti’s arm, he got to his feet and looked out into the courtyard.
“He’s the one, the so-called demon who, in a fury, smashed the Southern Chen Emperor’s Golden Throne?”
A shaft of sunlight streamed through the lattice window. As he uttered those words in astonishment, Lu Liangsheng’s footsteps were already fading into the distance.
“Spring dawn breaks, fine rain on the bridge.
One gourd of cloudy wine, a donkey beneath me, wandering afar.
Clear breeze and bright moon, indifferent to the official path.
A mountain song sung in passing, living life unfettered.”
Wang Chongwen furrowed his brow at the voice drifting faintly from afar—then suddenly broke into hearty laughter. His face flushed, and with a wave of his hand, he ordered ink and brush brought to him.
“The foolish ruler of Chen misjudged a national talent. This is fortune for our northern lands! I must write a letter at once to an acquaintance in the court.”
Sunlight spilled through the gaps in the trees.
In the front courtyard, Lu Liangsheng exited through the main gate, led the old donkey over, and mounted it sideways. Uncorking the gourd, he took a small sip, then patted the donkey’s rump.
“Let’s go.”
Clip-clop…
The donkey’s hooves rose and fell lightly. The copper bell hanging at its neck jingled merrily as it trotted along the riverside, crossing a small bridge. A gentle morning breeze greeted him as the path opened into the wide fields beyond the city. A red dress flew into the air. A pair of embroidered shoes landed among the dewy grass. Her skirts fluttering, Nie Honglian picked a wild chrysanthemum by the roadside and held it beneath her nose for a delicate sniff. After a moment, her eyes opened and sparkled with delight. With a bright smile, she ran ahead of the old donkey.
She liked to be close to the real thing.
The bookshelf swayed lightly on the donkey’s rump. In the small compartment it revealed, the Toad Daoist pulled out a short robe, flipped open a map, then set it aside and picked up a recipe book, leafing through it for a while. Propping his chin on one hand, he gazed outside, the boundless colors of spring passing through his eyes.
“Still two months to summer, old me’s going to starve from craving at this rate…”
Flocks of birds wheeled in the morning light, alighting on branches with flapping wings. Hopping and fluttering, they shook the leaves, some tilting their heads to peer at the old donkey trudging beneath the shade. On the donkey’s back, the scholar with a gourd hanging at his waist held an open book, basking in the glow of dawn. From not far off, a girl’s voice drifted through the air.
“Young Master!”
Lu Liangsheng lifted his face from the page and looked across the wildflowers and spring grass. Amid the fluttering red skirt of the dancing girl, a smile rose on his lips.
“Play a while longer, and we’ll be on our way!”
Nie Honglian spun around, dimples blooming in her cheeks. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called out:
“Got it!”
The scholar smiled again, then dropped his gaze back to the book. This accidental detour through Shunyuan County had brought quite the unexpected harvest.
Spring light stretched southward, slicing through clouds, crossing over rivers and streams. In Heliang Prefecture, a family caravan returning home from visiting relatives encountered misfortune on the road.
Boom!
The axle spun madly. The cart hit a raised stone, the shaft snapping with a crack and crashing to the ground, skidding forward. “Protect the Lady and the Young Master!”
Cries from the guards echoed. The sound of tearing flesh gradually faded.
A figure spewed blood as he was sent flying, crashing beneath the fallen carriage. More than a dozen masked men with black scarves silently surrounded the wreckage. They picked up scattered bundles, looted the corpses of coin and valuables. One of them turned to glance at a crack in the overturned cart, then quickly spun back and fled with his companions.
Crack…
From the remains of the carriage, a pair of brown-and-blue eyes blinked open. A small figure cautiously crawled out.
“Mama… Papa…”
The child softly called to the woman lying on the ground, tears welling and slowly trailing down his cheeks. Not far away, lay his father’s body, and the fallen guards who had escorted them all the way.
“My Buddha…has mercy!”
A Buddha’s chant resounded. The child clenched his fists and turned his tear-stained gaze toward a portly monk, broad-faced and round-bellied, standing there like a Maitreya.
“Little benefactor, come with this poor monk. Let us leave this place.”
The sun leaned westward. The broken carriage still lay on the ground. A horse not fully dead let out a mournful whinny as it struggled. Not long after, a figure sped through the sky, descending from midair, gaze sweeping the scene below.
“Where are the bodies?”
The elder strode forward and waved his sleeve toward the carriage—boom!—it exploded apart with a thunderous shatter, splinters flying in all directions. But it did not match his expectations. There was nothing inside.
“Where is Yuwen Tuo?!!”
The roar echoed across the open plain.
