The Next Installment

The next morning. Ding Songyan and Xu Chang'an walked out of Chengyu Lane together, heading toward Duokang Temple. As they crossed a stone bridge, Xu Chang'an suddenly halted, cupped his hands to Ding Songyan, and said, "Second Brother Ding, I'm heading off." Beneath the swaying shade of a locust tree, Ding Songyan asked in confusion, "Where are you going?" "Did you forget?" Xu Chang'an looked surprised. Shifty-eyed, he glanced left and right before lowering his voice. "To my master's. I have to be tested once every five days." *Then why did you bother coming to walk with me for less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea? Ah, right—you weren't coming to find me at all. You just wanted an excuse to catch a glimpse of Qingyan...* Ding Songyan scoffed inwardly. Watching Xu Chang'an turn onto the road beside the stone bridge and disappear down a nearby street, Ding Songyan carried his bamboo basket—packed with his teapot, folding fan, and other items—along with a folding stool and folding table, and continued on his way. These were the tools of his trade. His original set had vanished without a trace the day before yesterday, so he had only managed to scrape together these pieces from home, and a few were still missing. By the time Ding Songyan arrived at Duokang Temple, with its yellow walls and brown-tiled roofs, the area was already bustling. A chorus of hawkers' cries filled his ears: "Crisp hawthorn pear sticks for sale! Fresh hawthorn pear sticks!" "Songyang persimmons, sweet and rare, clear the lungs and soothe with care! Wuping jujubes take the prize, chewed fine they calm the belly's cries! For lonely maidens and pining men, one sweet bite pairs you up again!" (Note 1) "Woven bamboo winnowing baskets, tight and seamless! Iron-hooked shoulder poles, forged in Lu Workshop!" ... Before Ding Songyan even reached his designated patch of open ground, he spotted his "God of Wealth" from afar. The young woman had changed her attire today. Her dark hair was simply gathered up with a jade hairpin, and she wore a light-purple wrap skirt paired with a dark-purple, center-fastening jacket embroidered with floral patterns running in vertical stripes. The outfit gave her an air of slender delicacy, presenting an entirely different charm from the day before. "Ding Erlang!" She raised her right hand and waved. Her upturned eyes curved into sweet crescents as she smiled, drawing the lingering gazes of passersby, young and old, male and female alike. *Coming early to wait for me? That's a good sign—it means my storytelling yesterday wasn't half bad...* Feeling somewhat relieved, Ding Songyan stepped forward amidst the envious, jealous stares around him. The young woman and her maid were well-prepared as well; having brought along two woven bamboo embroidery stools, they took their places right in the front row without the slightest hesitation. Beneath the dense tree shade, Ding Songyan set up his small table, arranged his teapot, and sat down. He picked up his folding fan, snapped it open with a flourish, and began without waiting for other spectators to gather: "To resume where we left off..." With a detailed outline prepared, his narration this time was far smoother and more confident. He wove in many vivid details, and during breaks he didn't solicit tips, merely sipping water to wet his throat. More and more listeners gathered, drawn in by a tale distinctly different from the usual dramatized legends. Resting her chin on one hand, the young woman in the purple silk jacket listened with rapt attention, her expressions shifting with the twists of the plot. When Lady White used minor magic to induce mild ailments so the apothecary's business would flourish, her delicate brows knitted slightly; when Xu Xian's kindness moved Lady White to develop a "human heart," she clasped her hands in heartfelt relief; and when Lady White and Xiaoqing used their demon powers to punish evil, reward good, and aid the poor, her right arm twitched, as though she wished she could take their place... When Fahai made his return, tempting Xu Xian to test Lady White with realgar wine, the sixteen-or-seventeen-year-old girl, her maid, and the surrounding spectators alike wore expressions of tense anxiety mingled with indignation. Ding Songyan did not waver in the slightest. He narrated how Xu Xian, after agonizing internal turmoil, finally handed the cup of realgar wine to Lady White. Blinded by love and with the heavenly secrets clouded by Fahai, Lady White failed to realize anything was wrong with the wine. Only after drinking it did she sense the danger, rushing into the inner room in an attempt to isolate herself, but it was already too late. Xu Xian, half out of concern and half to verify the truth, followed her inside—only to witness her reveal her true serpentine form, and he was scared to death on the spot. Once the drug's effects subsided, Lady White regained her senses. Looking upon Xu Xian's lifeless corpse, grief surged from within, leaving her stunned and despairing. There was the agony of betrayal, alongside the sorrow of parting from her beloved by death. At that very moment, Ding Songyan snapped his folding fan shut and tapped it against his palm: "As the verse goes: Beneath Mount Qingcheng, Bai Suzhen dwells; a thousand years in the cave, her cultivation swells... In diligent training the Dao she attained, shedding mortal coils, a human form gained..." (Note 2) The song rang out, telling of a heart dedicated wholly to the Dao with no earthly distractions, of taking refuge in the Three Jewels to attain a golden body. It stood in stark contrast to Bai Suzhen's present plight and tempestuous emotions, lending the grief a lingering resonance and making the emptiness and despair feel all the more poignant. The sharp-chinned young woman and the listeners around her were utterly entranced, completely absorbed in the artistic mood Ding Songyan sought to convey. None of them found this unfamiliar melody and style of singing unorthodox. At this moment, their emotions were overwhelmingly complex. Not quite weeping, yet their hearts ached with a dull, poignant throb, overcome with a deep sense of loss. Ding Songyan observed their reactions with great satisfaction. His only regret was that the song truly sounded best sung by a woman, and it required a clear, ethereal, and utterly transcendent voice. Having finished "Bai Suzhen Beneath Mount Qingcheng," Ding Songyan set down his folding fan, rose to his feet, and cupped his hands to the crowd. "Honored listeners, if you wish to know what follows, please listen to the next installment. "Yesterday I asked for no tips, but today I humbly beg you all to grant me a meal." The young woman immediately tossed a silver ingot into Ding Songyan's bamboo basket. Ding Songyan weighed it slightly in his mind, judging it was likely worth an entire tael. Although he had not told The Legend of the White Snake merely for money, pocketing silver was certainly a welcome bonus—when he sought a master to learn martial arts in the future, he might need tuition gifts, so saving up in advance was never a bad idea. "A generous lady indeed!" Ding Songyan praised his "God of Wealth," adhering to the storyteller's trade customs. With the young woman taking the lead, the other spectators also tossed copper coins into the bamboo basket, amounting to fifty or sixty coins in total. Ding Songyan set down the basket and began packing up his stall, only to see that the young woman, her maid, and the rest of the onlookers remained in place, unwilling to disperse. *It's already noon...* He cupped his hands again. "Please return early tomorrow, everyone." "You aren't telling any more today?" The young woman in the purple silk jacket wore a look that asked, *How can you do this?* "Not even this afternoon?" Ding Songyan replied earnestly, "I need to review the storybook again. I haven't thoroughly mastered the subsequent chapters yet." *My pace is already blistering. If this were a television drama, what I told today would have lasted you an entire week!* *I even cut quite a few subplots just to rush to the cliffhanger of the Dragon Boat Festival realgar wine incident and keep you hooked. How could I spoil it now?* *If I don't leave you tossing and turning tonight, unable to fall asleep, how will I leave a deep impression?* The remaining onlookers departed one after another in disappointment, leaving only the young woman and her maid glaring indignantly at Ding Songyan. *She actually has quite a good temper, not as overbearing as I imagined...* Ding Songyan made a mental assessment. "You... what happened with the difficult trouble you mentioned yesterday?" After pondering for a long while, the young woman decided to offer her help in exchange for the rest of the story. Talking about money was far too vulgar! "Thank you for your concern, heroine. It has already been resolved." Noticing that the nearby plaster peddlers and other storytellers were paying attention to their exchange, Ding Songyan said deliberately, "It's just that my head was injured, and I've forgotten many things. I can't even remember who harmed me, and I have to rely on others to investigate. Heroine, it's really not that I'm unwilling to tell the story—I truly don't remember it! I have to go back and leaf through the book. It took all the strength of nine bulls and two tigers just to memorize today's portion yesterday." He seized this chance to spread the word about his "soul-departing illness," so that whoever had truly provided The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas would have no further worries about him and wouldn't come looking for more trouble. Seeing Ding Songyan speak with such sincerity, the purple-clad young woman waved her hand in helpless disappointment. "Then hurry home and rest. Over the next couple of days, I'll ask around to see who can treat this sort of ailment." *I'd rather you didn't cure it—if I'm cured, I won't be me anymore...* Ding Songyan muttered under his breath as he bid farewell to the young woman and her maid. After asking someone to keep an eye on his storytelling gear, he spent six copper coins to buy a flatbread with a crispy crust stuffed with minced pork. Munching on it as he walked, he made his way toward Zhen Manor on Beishui Street. "There's still meat juice left inside, and they even added a bit of dried plum greens... Not bad, not bad at all..." Ding Songyan was quite pleased with today's meal. Upon entering Zhen Manor and arriving at the Lotus Pond Courtyard, he not only saw his cousin Nuansheng and her maid Cuihe, but also his nominal cousin-in-law, Zhen Quanwang. Zhen Quanwang was in his thirties, dressed in a dark, plain zhiduo robe and wearing a Daoist-style Chunyang cap. His upper body leaned slightly forward. His face was clean-shaven, though fine hairs were visible to the naked eye, and his ears resembled those of a macaque. Ding Songyan conveyed his family's gratitude for the recent assistance to Qin Nuansheng and Zhen Quanwang, and then produced two items from his robe. One was a hand-transcribed Buddhist sutra, and the other was a folded yellow talisman. "Brother-in-law, Sister Nuansheng, we know Zhen Manor possesses immense wealth and influence and lacks for nothing. Therefore, Mother personally copied a volume of scriptures in our shrine, hoping it will bless you with peace and prosperity. And this amulet was requested by my father from Songfeng Abbey outside the city, meant to bring many sons and bountiful blessings." According to Ding Shengyi and Liu Yuzao, although Qin Nuansheng was deeply favored by Zhen Quanwang, she had been in the manor for over two years without bearing any children, which caused her great worry. Zhen Quanwang and Qin Nuansheng accepted the gifts with great satisfaction. Just as Ding Songyan had said, what could the Zhen family possibly lack? What mattered most was the sincerity. After chatting politely for a while, Zhen Quanwang excused himself from the Lotus Pond Courtyard to entertain an important guest. Ding Songyan, cooled by the water-powered fan and feeling the late-autumn-like chill in the room, finally had the opportunity to recount the general course of events to Qin Nuansheng. However, he made no mention of The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas, as he was unsure whether that was also a secret from her. Toward the end, he asked, "Sister Nuansheng, do you know where Mr. Yu is? I'd like to thank him in person and offer a modest gift." Qin Nuansheng thought for a moment before replying, "Mr. Yu has been very busy these past few days. When he has some free time, I'll send someone to let you know." Unable to meet Mr. Yu to glean more information, Ding Songyan pondered for a moment and took the initiative to say, "Sister Nuansheng, after going through this ordeal, I feel... I feel that a man in this world must learn some martial arts. Otherwise, he can neither ensure his parents' peace of mind nor protect himself. Do... do you have any connections?" With the thick skin he had honed from years of entrepreneurship and dozens of debates with investors, his stammer was clearly an act. Qin Nuansheng listened with knitted brows, then said slowly, "Brother Yan, I understand your thinking. But when it comes to learning martial arts, if no one sees promise in you, the expense is enormous. You must be prepared for that. "Don't be in a rush. I'll ask around for you. If you can enter Zhen Manor's service or study martial arts under one of our retained experts like Mr. Yu, it would be far better than going to a martial arts hall." "Would Xiaoming Sect not work?" Ding Songyan did not conceal his ambition, showing no trace of embarrassment. *I supposedly have a 'soul-departing illness' anyway, so how would I know any better?* Qin Nuansheng broke into an amused chuckle. "Xiaoming Sect only recruits disciples once a year, at year's end. Normally, unless an expert from Xiaoming Sect happens to take a liking to you and wants to accept you as an apprentice, you shouldn't even dream of it. Furthermore, even at year's end, their selection is exceptionally strict. At your age, without innate talent, it would be difficult in the extreme." *Must it be at year's end? Luckily, I have The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas. Perhaps I can use it as a bargaining chip...* Ding Songyan pondered for a few breaths and asked, "Just what age am I?" Qin Nuansheng froze for a moment, then gave a rueful smile. "You were born in the nineteenth year of Xingping, so you've just turned twenty. For cultivating the martial path, this actually isn't considered late. Disciples of major sects only complete body tempering and qi refinement after turning eighteen, so as not to stunt their physical development, before they begin aperture refinement." "What rank would that be considered?" Ding Songyan asked curiously. Qin Nuansheng could not help but laugh. "It doesn't even rank." *** Note 1: Adapted from lyrics in the Yuan Dynasty zaju drama Wang Huan Flaunts His Romance at the Hundred Flowers Pavilion. The play was so popular at the time that this verse became a standard cry among peddlers. Note 2: Quoted from the song "Bai Suzhen Beneath Mount Qingcheng".