Bewildered and confused, Ding Songyan pointed toward the well at the entrance of the lane. "Miss Xiaoqing, did you see the mist rising over there just now, with figures moving through it?"
Xiaoqing and her maid followed his finger, but both shook their heads.
"No."
Pondering for a moment, Xiaoqing's eyes brightened with keen curiosity. "Tell me in detail. What did you see?"
Ding Songyan described how the dense fog seemed to meld into the night, and how the silhouettes were either clad in tattered rags or clad in sturdy armor clutching weapons. At last, he asked, "It wasn't an illusion, was it?"
A radiant, enchanting smile appeared on Xiaoqing's face. "No, no, no. What you saw was a scene of the Netherworld."
"A scene of the Netherworld?" Ding Songyan was taken aback.
A glimpse of the Underworld?
Xiaoqing nodded repeatedly. Circling Ding Songyan at an easy pace, she looked him up and down. "It should be. Then again, I can't say for sure. Once I manage to get my hands on some spiritual rhinoceros horn, I'll light it and take you to behold the Netherworld for yourself. Then you can see if it matches what you saw tonight.
"Turns out you were born with yin-yang eyes—yang eyes by day, and yin eyes by night."
Similar to Qu Sanlang, only both yin and yang are gathered in these eyes without being split? Ding Songyan glanced left and right, wondering if any solitary ghosts or wandering spirits were lingering nearby.
"No, that's not right either." Xiaoqing suddenly furrowed her brows and stopped in her tracks. "Once a natural pair of yin-yang eyes can see into the Netherworld, they should be able to see it constantly, unless someone proficient in the appropriate arts helped seal them. How could you see it one moment and not the next?"
"I have no idea either." Ding Songyan was just as bewildered.
He began to wonder if this stemmed from his resurrection, possessing qualities of both the living realm and the Netherworld—a peculiarity that might gradually fade as his soul bound more tightly to this body and he became more fully alive.
Xiaoqing muttered to herself, "If one is born with yin-yang eyes, practicing techniques that connect with the Netherworld or channel its power yields twice the result with half the effort. Sadly, there's no telling what your condition is. If I cross paths with people from those sects in the future, I'll ask around for you."
"Thank you, Miss Xiaoqing, but please don't go to any special trouble." Ding Songyan did not actually want Xiaoqing asking around sects tied to the Netherworld; that could very well expose his greatest secret.
Just as Xiaoqing was about to speak, the hollow clatter of night watchman's gongs echoed from the distant street.
"Midnight has arrived! The weather is dry, take care with lanterns and fires!"
"It's already midnight?" Xiaoqing was startled and hurriedly said to Ding Songyan, "Ding Erlang, you'd better enjoy the cool air in the courtyard. We have to rush back."
She muttered an almost inaudible addition:
"Or we'll be discovered..."
As Xiaoqing reached out her hand toward him, darkness flashed before Ding Songyan's eyes, followed by light. His body swayed slightly, and he was already back in the courtyard. He saw the elm tree in his yard, and the makeshift shed stacked with firewood and lumps of coal.
The mosquitoes and moths that usually swarmed with wild abandon were nowhere to be seen. Only moonlight flowed like water, dispelling the sultry summer night.
Brought on by Miss Xiaoqing? Having a snake demon around the house is actually pretty nice. No more worrying about mosquito bites... Do snake demons naturally repel mosquitoes? As Ding Songyan's gaze drifted, it suddenly froze.
Reflected in his eyes were the tightly shut doors of the main house, as well as the firmly closed wooden window of the west wing.
"..." The corner of his mouth twitched.
Doesn't this mean I still can't get back into my room to sleep?
I can't very well pound on the door and wake Eldest Brother, telling him I somehow ended up in the courtyard, can I?
Amidst his swirling thoughts, Ding Songyan reminded himself that thousands of years had passed since the severing of Earth from Heaven. Snake demons likely could no longer walk through walls or tear through space, so Miss Xiaoqing had probably entered the wing through a normal passage.
He walked over to the western wooden window and gave it a gentle push. It actually gave way, unlatched from the inside.
Phew... Ding Songyan let out a sigh of relief.
* * *
The next day, as Xu Chang'an had to deal with the estate of his master, Zhang Rui, Ding Songyan went alone outside Duokang Temple to tell stories on open ground.
Compared to previous days, the crowd gathered to hear him tell The Legend of the White Snake had multiplied several times over, packed three layers deep from inside out. As usual, Xiaoqing and her maid brought light embroidered stools and sat right at the front.
The episode of the Flooding of Jinshan Temple was filled with dramatic tension. It featured the wonder of magical combat alongside emotional explosions and human struggles, moving many women in the audience to tears, while quite a few men repeatedly rubbed the bags under their eyes and wiped their corners.
When he reached the point where the White Lady broke the laws of Heaven and was eternally suppressed beneath Leifeng Pagoda, Ding Songyan snapped his folding fan shut and clapped it firmly against his palm.
"As the saying goes: A thousand years of waiting, waiting this once, ah, ah... Just for these words, ah, ah, no regrets even if my heart is torn to shreds..."
As the singing rang out and the phrase 'a thousand years of waiting' settled into their minds, listener after listener broke down in tears.
Xiaoqing had assumed that since she already knew the plot and had been moved the previous night, she would not lose her composure today. But when he sang that line which had not been in the draft the night before, blending scene and sentiment straight into the heart, she still failed to control herself. Her eyes instantly rimmed with red, and tears trickled down unbidden.
Her maid had already pulled out a handkerchief earlier in the tale, sniffling softly.
After a moment, Ding Songyan—who could not remember the lines that followed—stopped there, announcing that there would be another installment. This put the audience's minds at ease, knowing that eternal imprisonment beneath Leifeng Pagoda was not the final end. Only then did they refrain from holding him back, allowing Ding Erlang to depart.
I was almost mobbed. Storytelling really does carry some occupational hazards... Ding Songyan waved to Miss Xiaoqing, who had once again tipped him generously, and turned toward Beishui Street.
Having heard his general outline of what came next, Xiaoqing did not press him further. Holding a green silk handkerchief, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes while looking around for a restaurant.
* * *
After finishing a pork-stuffed bun, a vegetable-stuffed bun, and a red-bean-stuffed bun, Ding Songyan made his unhurried way to the Zhen household.
In this world, at least around Dingjiang Prefecture, baozi and mantou were not distinguished; both were called mantou. Unfilled ones were plain white mantou, while filled ones were called such-and-such-stuffed mantou.
Ding Songyan had opted for a balance of meat and vegetables, sweet and savory.
Upon entering Zhen Manor, he did not visit his cousin Qin Nuansheng. Instead, he met Mr. Yu at Tingshui Pavilion, noticing the man's long arms and legs and the faint white edges along his ears.
"Have you made up your mind?" Mr. Yu asked.
"In response to Mr. Yu, I have. I would like to tell stories for that esteemed guest," Ding Songyan replied with a bow.
A rare trace of a smile surfaced on Mr. Yu's face.
"You have courage."
He gestured for Ding Songyan to follow him. Through the sprawling Zhen Manor, they navigated covered walkways and passed towering pavilions, heading deeper into the grounds.
Ding Songyan kept silent, observing his surroundings as he walked. He committed to memory the colors of flowers, the contours of rockeries, the couplets on pillars, the bracket sets beneath eaves, the mica windows, and anything else that could serve as a landmark.
The further they went, the quieter it became, until even the male servants and maidservants vanished from sight.
At last, Mr. Yu halted before a two-story wooden building nestled among flowering trees.
Two men with sabers stood guard at the entrance, both clad in dark blue martial attire.
They looked straight ahead, making no move to stop Mr. Yu and Ding Songyan from entering.
Mr. Yu stopped in the main hall and drew out a thick strip of black cloth. "You must be blindfolded for what comes next," he said to Ding Songyan.
That esteemed guest won't even let people see his face? That's far too suspicious. Without asking questions, Ding Songyan let Mr. Yu wrap the black cloth twice around his eyes and knot it tightly.
His vision plunged into total darkness.
Then, he felt someone take hold of each of his arms, supporting him as they guided him through twists and turns within the wooden building, climbing up and down stairs.
Gradually, the air grew distinctly cooler.
They were descending a stone staircase.
Before long, Ding Songyan heard the groan of a heavy iron door swinging open.
He was led inside.
This doesn't look like a place for an esteemed guest... If you ask me, isn't this more like a secret dungeon? Ding Songyan mused as he was seated on a wooden chair.
Once the heavy iron door slammed shut, an aged voice like sand scraping across iron rasped by his ear.
"A newcomer?"
One of the men who had escorted Ding Songyan spoke in a low voice. "Elder, this is Ding Erlang. He tells stories outside Duokang Temple and recently composed a tale called The Legend of the White Snake, which has drawn quite a following. The Old Master thought you had not heard it, so he specifically sent him over."
That jarring, unpleasant voice sounded again.
"Ding Erlang, what is your relation to the Zhen family?"
"To answer the elder, my maternal cousin is a concubine to the Zhen family's Second Lord. I consider myself half a member of the Zhen household," Ding Songyan answered, elevating his status slightly.
"No wonder." The aged, raspy voice softened. "Go ahead and begin."
Ding Songyan pulled himself together, starting from the ancient times, in the southwestern lands, beneath Mount Qingcheng.
Compared to his first performance outside Duokang Temple, he wove in richer details, pacing the story with measured tension and release.
Though he could not see his listener's expression, that 'esteemed guest' would chime in from time to time with 'intriguing' or 'not bad at all,' giving him feedback that allowed his telling to flow ever more smoothly.
Just as Fahai entered the stage and Ding Songyan was preparing to wrap up for the day, an odd sensation washed over him.
The fontanelle atop his skull seemed to crack open, and a chill sank inward, reverberating as an aged, gravelly voice in his mind:
*Did you recently read The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas?*
Ding Songyan's gaze instantly froze.
How does he know?
I haven't told a soul about that lethal secret!
Can he read minds?
I wasn't even thinking about The Esoteric Classic of Mountains and Seas just now!
*Do not speak. Zhen Qianfan can hear us,* the voice continued to echo within his mind.
It carried a hint of amusement.
*All my life, I have excelled most in divination and numerology. Naturally, I can divine your secrets.*
He doesn't seem to be blackmailing me or planning to expose my secret for the moment... Is this secret voice transmission, or some other technique? And he seems exceedingly wary of Old Master Zhen? Steeling himself, Ding Songyan reached out, took the teacup handed to him from the side, and took a sip.
*Well done, young friend. You have composure in your chest. To grasp the situation so swiftly and conceal your oddity—impressive,* the aged voice praised.
By the time Ding Songyan handed back the teacup, his emotions had largely settled. Acting as though nothing had occurred, he brought the day's storytelling session to a close.
The voice continued to echo in his mind:
*If you doubt my skill in divination, wait near the Xiangshui Guild on Hongxiu Street in Beili Ward before the hour of the Rooster today. If you wait until the second quarter of the Rooster hour, a stroke of fortune will surely be yours.*
Giving me guidance out of pure goodwill? What does he want from me later? Pity that I couldn't even pin down a goose, yet trouble keeps finding me... Underneath the black cloth, Ding Songyan's eyebrows twitched.
Chapter 21