The voice was clearly melodious, yet when it reached Ding Songyan's ears, it sounded like an Impermanence ghoul coming to claim his soul.
I'm done for. I forgot someone would come knocking to demand an update!
Ding Songyan snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright.
From the other side of the folding screen, Ding Qingyan asked drowsily, "Second Brother, why did you suddenly sit up?"
Ding Songyan had already turned his gaze toward the oilpaper window, where the young maiden Xiaoqing stood with a faint smile.
She wore a plain white, round-collared open-front jacket paired with a pale silk-yellow pleated skirt. Her hair was gathered loosely, cascading smoothly over her shoulders and adorned with a pearl-flower golden hair clasp that swayed with her movement.
Under the bright moonlight, she raised her right index finger vertically to her lips.
Ding Songyan easily caught her meaning and called across the screen to Ding Qingyan, "I got back late today and forgot I haven't written the storybook for tomorrow morning. I've got no choice but to get up and work."
Sigh. I had to stay up late working in my past life, and I still have to stay up late working in this one?
Ding Qingyan's tone relaxed, carrying a hint of amusement as she replied, "You're working hard, Second Brother. I'll be waiting to read it tomorrow morning, then."
She doesn't even feel for her brother or tell me not to burn the midnight oil... Ding Songyan draped some clothes over himself, moved a few wooden crates around, and fashioned a makeshift desk and chair.
Lighting the oil lamp and arranging the paper and inkstone, he glanced at Xiaoqing, who had already seated herself by the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face vigorously to chase away the last remnants of sleepiness.
The crux of this upcoming chapter was the flooding of Jinshan Temple, but he couldn't just write about clashes of magical arts; the characters' transformations and emotional outbursts were far more crucial.
Thus, he had Xu Xian witness Bai Suzhen braving hardship and defying death to rescue him, stirring memories of all their past love and devotion until he finally overcame his fear of the snake demon and chose to walk to his wife's side. And so he had the White Lady transform from "rain breaking the heart, wind shedding tears" to "for this one sentence alone, I bear no grief even if my heart is torn asunder."(Note 1)
Naturally, woven throughout the scene were elements like "Great Majestic Heavenly Dragon," "overturning rivers and seas," and "Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms," penned with lavish flair and thrilling spectacle.
The moment Ding Songyan finished a page and set it aside for the ink to dry, Xiaoqing took it straight into her hands to read closely, page after page after page.
"Hurry up," Xiaoqing urged, her voice slightly nasal.
Sensing that his sister was fast asleep on the other side, Ding Songyan finally dared to speak, replying helplessly, "Miss Xiaoqing, how could I possibly write as fast as you read?"
Ever since Xiaoqing revealed her snake tail, his form of address for the girl had quietly shifted back to "Miss" and "Miss Xiaoqing."
From "Miss" to "Heroine," and then from "Heroine" back to "Miss," they had grown considerably closer.
Xiaoqing was reasonable enough; sniffling slightly, she said, "I just can't wait to find out what happens next."
I'm worried you'll hit me later... Ding Songyan shook his head inwardly and turned the direction of his brush.
With Yan Nantian's initial assistance and the Green Snake's desperate efforts, Bai Suzhen successfully led Xu Xian out of Jinshan Temple. Yet because Fahai had previously provoked her into flooding the temple grounds, harming innocents and breaking heavenly laws, she met an end where husband and wife were torn apart, leaving her trapped forever beneath Leifeng Pagoda.
After reading this page, Xiaoqing remained silent for a long time.
Before she could speak, Ding Songyan took the initiative:
"The story that follows is roughly this: filled with guilt and self-reproach, Xu Xian retreats from the world to cultivate in a Daoist temple. Meanwhile, Xu Shilin, the reincarnation of the Martial Arts Star, is raised by his uncle and aunt. After stirring up trouble time and again, he eventually learns who his birth parents really are and where each of them is.
"He journeys far from home, enters a top sect, masters extraordinary divine arts, and finally cleaves open Mount Hua—no, Leifeng Pagoda—rescues the White Lady, brings Xu Xian back from the Daoist temple, and at long last reunites the entire family."
As he spun the tale, Ding Songyan realized he had nearly turned it into The Lotus Lantern, with Chenxiang cleaving the mountain to rescue his mother.
"Good, good, good!" Xiaoqing chimed in, her voice thick with a slight sob.
Seeing her composure steady, Ding Songyan decided to broach his real purpose:
"Miss Xiaoqing, what troubles me right now is which sect Xu Shilin ought to join and which divine art he should cultivate to stand against Fahai and break open Leifeng Pagoda..."
His earlier decision to frame Xu Shilin as the Martial Arts Star served two purposes: first, in this world martial prowess was clearly valued above literary scholarship, and the common folk preferred hearing about martial cultivation; second, it planted a pretext for probing Xiaoqing for information later, letting things fall naturally into place.
Xiaoqing rubbed the corners of her eyes and looked at Ding Songyan, waiting for him to continue.
Ding Songyan chattered on, "As you know, I've forgotten a great deal. My knowledge of the jianghu is currently limited to the lore and anecdotes recounted by storytellers; beyond that, I know nothing at all."
Having arrived at this point, he finally revealed his dagger from the scroll:
"Could I perhaps ask you for some guidance?"
"Oh?" Xiaoqing was taken aback at first, then sat straight up in delight, assuming the air of an esteemed teacher.
She had never imagined she would get to take part in the creation of the tale and give pointers to Ding Erlang.
Clearing her throat, she nodded and said in a measured voice, "I do know a bit about the affairs of the jianghu.
"Well, the martial arts of the Heaven-Toppling Way originate from Gonggong, who vied for the seat of the Heavenly Emperor before the severing of Earth from Heaven. It is titled the Scripture of Collapsing Mountains and Toppling Heaven. In antiquity, this art was capable of breaking Mount Buzhou in two, to say nothing of a mere Leifeng Pagoda reinforced by formation arrays. Even in this day and age, once cultivated to an advanced realm, sundering it shouldn't be much trouble at all."
Gonggong? Sovereign of myriad waters, crusher of a thousand peaks, master of wrath, shatterer of heaven and earth, destroyer of law and order... Ding Songyan pondered this and asked, "Where is this Heaven-Toppling Way located nowadays?"
"Nowadays, it is one of the upper nine of the Twenty-One Ways of Demons. As for where it is located, I don't know either," Xiaoqing answered truthfully.
Ding Songyan let out an "er."
"That's hardly suitable, is it? Wouldn't that turn Xu Shilin into a demonic heretic?"
"There are righteous legacies among Gonggong's inheritances too, like the Commentary on Water Virtue," Xiaoqing argued, though she also recognized the sense in Ding Songyan's words. "Let's pick another one then. The Nine Heavens Sect's Record of Cleaving Chaos to Open Heaven originates from the Torch Dragon, and its foundational technique, the Heaven-Opening Art, is plenty enough to blast open Leifeng Pagoda."
A Torch Dragon inheritance... the Heaven-Opening Art... isn't that giving Leifeng Pagoda a bit too much credit? Ding Songyan pressed curiously, "Which country is the Nine Heavens Sect in?"
"Yu," Xiaoqing said, maintaining her dignified teacherly poise.
"That... isn't very suitable either, is it?" Ding Songyan hesitated. "Yu is an enemy state. How could I have Xu Shilin learn the martial arts of an enemy nation?"
Amused and exasperated, Xiaoqing asked, "Where did you get so many taboos?"
"It's not that I have taboos; the audience wouldn't like it," Ding Songyan said with a forced smile. "Most of the folks listening to my storytelling are from Zhao State. I can't go rubbing them the wrong way."
Xiaoqing exhaled in exasperation. "Then the Xingtian Clan's Precious Record of Heaven Sunderance."
"The Xingtian Clan..." Ding Songyan pointed to his head. "Wouldn't their appearance be far too frightening? Xu Shilin is supposed to be an elegant, handsome young gentleman."
Xiaoqing could not help glancing up at the roof beam. "Let me think, let me think some more... How about the Shenxiao Sect? The Shenxiao Sect of your Great Zhao. Whether it is the Collection of Administering Heaven's Punishments or the Nine Mansions of Shenxiao, both possess a fierce, relentless nature capable of destroying mountains and leveling cities. Once one reaches the corresponding realm, snapping Leifeng Pagoda in half wouldn't be terribly difficult."
"This is good, this is good." Ding Songyan stopped nitpicking.
This suited Xu Shilin very well.
Moreover, in the earlier part of the story, the White Lady was sealed under Leifeng Pagoda for breaking heavenly laws; if Xu Shilin cultivated the Collection of Administering Heaven's Punishments, the two would form a perfect correspondence—every sip and bite preordained by destiny.
Xiaoqing beamed at first, but soon furrowed her brows slightly. "You cannot use the real names of these two cultivation arts when you narrate, though. Otherwise, before you even finish telling this chapter, you'll find yourself locked in the prefectural yamen's jail.
"You have to change them."
So righteous orthodox sects only broadcast the foundational arts of demonic heretics while keeping their own strictly secret? Ding Songyan thought for a moment, recalling a martial art with a rather comical name that he could no longer recite in full.
"How about changing it to... the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths Bodhisattvas-Tremble Thunderbolt Lightning Palm?"
"Drop 'Bodhisattvas-Tremble'—that's far too frivolous," Xiaoqing criticized. "Mm, 'Nine Heavens and Ten Earths Thunderbolt Lightning Palm' sounds good."
Taking advantage of the momentum, Ding Songyan asked, "Miss Xiaoqing, do you know anything about the Xiaoming Sect?"
"Do you want to write the Xiaoming Sect into your storybook as righteous heroes to curry favor with them?" Xiaoqing thought she had seen right through Ding Erlang's motives.
Reflecting for a moment, she said, "The Xiaoming Sect's lineage traces back to the two goddesses, Xiaoming and Zhuguang. Each left behind a foundational supreme art: one is the Book of Universal Stars, and the other is the Scripture of Candle Illuminating the Long Night. Unfortunately, both divine arts lost their contents spanning from the final portion of the Dharma Realm to the Heaven-Man Realm long ago.
"You shouldn't mention those two foundational supreme arts directly either. What the martial world knows are the various arts derived from them, such as the Bi Moon Phantom Form movement technique, the Southern Dipper Calamity-Averting Steps, the Northern Dipper Slaying Sword, and the Seven Swords of Candlelit Night."
The Book of Universal Stars? Ding Songyan raised an eyebrow. "Is there a Universal Stars Grand Array?"
"Its essential parts were lost long ago; it can't be deployed at all," Xiaoqing answered casually.
Suddenly, she froze and looked at Ding Songyan with suspicion. "How do you know about the Universal Stars Grand Array?"
"The Book of Universal Stars naturally corresponds to the stars across the heavens, and that sounds like the perfect name for a formation array," Ding Songyan quickly fabricated an excuse.
Xiaoqing thought nothing more of it, the golden hair clasp atop her head swaying back and forth. "Right now, there's only a seven-person Northern Dipper Sword Formation and a thirty-six-person Heavenly Dipper Sword Formation."
Ding Songyan was itching to ask whether the Xiaoming Sect possessed a complete copy of The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas, but he felt the timing was wrong—he wasn't supposed to know about The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas right now. He had no choice but to suppress the urge for the time being, asking hesitantly instead:
"Do you know what the Xiaoming Sect values most when taking in disciples?"
Xiaoqing glanced at him. "How would I know?
"Who would care about something like that?"
I would... Ding Songyan felt a twinge of disappointment.
Still, the matter had now been broached out in the open, and he could inquire about it through Zhen Manor later.
Xiaoqing set the sheet of paper back onto the wooden crate, stood up, and waved with a beaming smile. "Ding Erlang, get some good rest. You'll need to muster your spirits to tell this chapter well tomorrow."
Wasn't it you who disturbed my rest in the first place? Ding Songyan turned and walked toward the door.
"What are you doing?" Xiaoqing asked curiously just as she was about to leave.
Ding Songyan sighed. "It's the height of summer and stifling in here, but if I open the window I'll let the mosquitoes in. I want to enjoy the cool air in the courtyard for a bit before going back to sleep."
The weather was sweltering, and after writing the storybook for so long, he was drenched in sweat.
"Oh, I see," Xiaoqing said with an amicable smile. "Then let me help you."
She raised her hand and pressed it onto Ding Songyan's shoulder.
Ding Songyan's vision went dark at first, and he felt his body sway. Next, he found himself looking at the courtyard wall and the front gate of his own home—from the outside.
"I think the stretch from your Chengyu Lane to Fengshui Bridge is cool and comfortable. You can give that a try." Xiaoqing appeared before Ding Songyan alongside her maidservant, clapped her hands together, and said with a laugh, "We'll be taking our leave now."
Ding Songyan looked at the tightly shut gate and the rather tall courtyard wall. "Miss Xiaoqing, how am I supposed to get back into my room to sleep after this?"
Xiaoqing blinked, offering no answer for the moment.
Just as Ding Songyan was about to speak again, the corner of his eye caught a faint mist blending into the night at the entrance of the lane. Vague figures moved within it—some in tattered rags, others clad in sturdy armor and clutching sharp weapons.
In merely the blink of an eye, it all vanished without a trace.
Note 1: Quoted from "Waiting a Thousand Years for This Moment," the theme song of the television series New Legend of Madame White Snake.
Chapter 20