Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Night of Frenzied Dance (IV)

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Lantern Festival night, the Old Rain Pavilion.

Four months ago, on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, a new composition of “Prelude to the Water Melody” astonished all of Jiangning. Some even claimed that after this masterpiece, there would be no better Mid-Autumn lyrics at any poetry gathering in Jiangning for years to come. Even now, this “When Will the Bright Moon Appear” is still sung in every gathering and banquet, its impact undiminished by the passage of four months. On the contrary, as time has gone by, its fame has only spread further, echoing even in places like the capital and Yangzhou. Yet as the days passed, the original discussions in Jiangning about the composer faded away. Too much time had gone by without news; even suspicions or accusations of plagiarism, voiced a few times, no longer stirred any real debate.

So even now, on the Lantern Festival night, when Puyang Yi and Su Chonghua brought up Ning Yi’s name, it was only a topic for a select few. To speak of it to all would be pointless—call him a recluse, a mad scholar if you like, but he spends his days teaching and cares nothing for idle chatter. For this reason, when these few went to the window to look outside, most people still had no idea what was happening. Over on the other side, Lady Qilan, having just performed a dance, was sitting and chatting with several scholars. She noticed the commotion and quietly asked those beside her about it.

The whole gathering was abuzz with whispers. After a while, someone made their way through the crowd: “It seems Ning Yi, Ning Liheng, is downstairs right now.”

“The one who wrote ‘Prelude to the Water Melody’?”

“Puyang’s family even invited him?”

“The Su family only runs a cloth business, but Puyang is the richest in Jiangning; how could he not show respect? Still... I’ve heard he seeks fame and fortune...”

“He truly never attends such gatherings, but I hear he’s quite impressive in conversation...”

As people whispered, Qilan only smiled and listened. She had sung “Prelude to the Water Melody” many times herself, but at such an occasion, she would never reveal any curiosity she felt. She merely joined in occasional banter, glancing at Puyang Yi now and then.

By the window, Su Chonghua and the others had already recognized Ning Yi below. Xue Jin laughed, “Isn’t that Xiao Chan? And that’s Liheng in front.” Puyang Yi glanced at Su Chonghua, who smiled, “Indeed, it’s Liheng and that little maid, Xiao Chan.”

Xue Jin craned his neck, “I wonder what they’re doing. Let’s call him up.” Wu Qihao said, “Looks like he’s busy.” As they spoke, Puyang Yi pondered for a moment. After a short pause, Su Chonghua said with a smile, “Since it’s such a coincidence, it does no harm to call him up. It’s Lantern Festival night, a time for wandering and leisure...”

Su Chonghua was Ning Yi’s superior, and with this, Puyang Yi made up his mind. Seeing that Xue Jin seemed about to call out, he quickly said, “That would be improper. With Ning’s talent, I should invite him myself. Please wait a moment, gentlemen.” Wu Qihao added, “I’ll go with you.”

The two excused themselves and went downstairs. The hall was soon filled with whispers about what would happen when Ning Yi arrived, speculations about his abilities once again rising to the surface. Xue Jin sneered, exchanged a few words with acquaintances, then glanced at Su Chonghua in puzzlement: “What’s that old fox up to...?” Su Chonghua, who had little affection for him, simply bowed and returned to his seat, chatting with the smiling Li Pin.

“Master’s lost! Couldn’t find Master!”

Downstairs in the courtyard, Xiao Chan sang out as if performing, her voice carrying a note of schadenfreude but mostly relief that Ning Yi hadn’t found the female thief. Along the way, her hair had come undone, so she let the other side’s silk ribbon fall, leaving two neat braids swinging with every step—a maid’s innocent, well-behaved image.

Ning Yi understood her thoughts and smiled. When he turned, Xiao Chan, thinking he was about to ruffle her hair again, pulled at her braids and hopped back, grinning, “Who says you didn’t lose track?”

“You did lose her,” she insisted, laughing. Ning rolled his eyes, “We’ll see about that.” He glanced ahead.

In truth, he really hadn’t lost the trail, but he understood Xiao Chan’s relief. Since she was happy to think he had, he let her believe it. The restaurant was abuzz with celebration, but many details escaped no notice from Ning Yi.

With some Wu Lie Army men following, and judging by the possible route the thief might have taken and the soldiers’ positions, he and Xiao Chan had kept close behind. Behind the old building, snow had oddly collapsed by the rear wall. At the main entrance, two Wu Lie soldiers were negotiating with the restaurant’s guards, just being allowed in. Earlier, Ning Yi and Xiao Chan had circled half the building and noticed a storeroom or rest room that had been forced open. Ning had quietly told a servant to keep an eye on it; now the servant, looking flustered, was speaking to a steward with something red in hand.

It could be a bloodstained cloth or an entire shirt removed, but in such cases, before things are clear, the restaurant won’t call the authorities or take other action—they fear unnecessary alarm might ruin business. Few here knew of the incidents on Vermilion Bird Avenue or at the Flying Swallow Pavilion, and even if they did, as long as it wasn’t their concern, they’d let the culprit leave. If officials or soldiers were summoned, not only would tonight’s business be ruined, but they might also be implicated or extorted. So for now, the restaurant handled it quietly, increasing vigilance.

After the two Wu Lie soldiers, another pair entered. They watched warily; meanwhile, the steward summoned more staff, who dispersed to investigate discreetly. Like a mantis stalking a cicada unaware of the oriole behind, Ning Yi simply followed and observed the situation, content to be the quiet oriole.

Ever since he’d heard tales of the wonders of internal martial arts, Ning Yi had wanted to witness them for himself. For over half a year, this was the first time he’d seen someone who seemed genuinely skilled—he had no intention of letting this chance slip by. What would happen next was hard to say, but he believed in seizing opportunity and adapting as needed. He hadn’t expected, however, that as he climbed from the first to the second floor, he, the self-styled oriole, would be cornered by two hunters he hadn’t accounted for.

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“Ning, Xiao Chan, what a coincidence.” Coming down the stairs, Wu Qihao—whom they’d met once before—greeted them at the landing. Another young man, polite and elegant, bowed, “Liheng, I’ve long admired you. I am Puyang Yi.” It was their first meeting, but the name was well-known—the Puyang heir.

After Wu Qihao’s introductions and small talk, Ning Yi learned there was another poetry gathering upstairs. He had no intention of joining. “Apologies, I have urgent matters. I’m afraid I can’t attend the poetry meet, but thank you...” Before he could finish, Wu Qihao warmly took his arm, feigning camaraderie. “Since you’re here, you must come up and join us. Are you not heading upstairs? Perhaps you have an invitation there too? Ha, that’s no matter—if you’re delayed, Puyang can send word. Besides, Su Shanchang, Li Pin, and Li Dexin are all present, all eager to meet you. If you come and don’t greet your friends, is that proper? Just show your face, and if you truly must leave, everyone will understand. Honestly, Puyang’s been hoping for this for a while!”

Wu Qihao led Ning Yi upstairs; Puyang Yi was gracious and courteous. The poetry gathering was on one side of the second floor, and now that Ning Yi was there, he could hardly refuse. A glance back showed Xiao Chan skipping along happily. When he looked her way, she instantly reined in her excitement, demurely pressing her lips together and blinking her innocent eyes.

This girl...

Her thoughts were plain as day. Turning to peer into the hall, he saw Xue Jin’s smiling face among the crowd. After months of mingling with Elder Qin and others, Ning Yi had grown used to such scenes—a minor occasion would not have fazed him. But now was truly not the right time. He checked the positions of the blue-clad Wu Lie soldiers and the scattered staff, frowning slightly.

Then came the rounds of greetings and introductions. Of the dozens of scholars present, few left an impression; the only ones he truly knew were Li Pin, Xue Jin, and Su Chonghua. When Puyang Yi introduced him, the famed courtesan Qilan also rose to greet him, “Honored to meet you, sir.” She was in her late teens, beautiful, but Ning Yi only returned the bow. “A pleasure.”

“I truly have urgent matters and cannot stay today, everyone...”

Opportunity is fleeting... Though perhaps this wasn’t even a real opportunity, to Ning Yi, chatting and politicking with these scholars was far less appealing than martial arts. He wasn’t a romantic dreaming of transcending human limits; if he truly sought strength, he’d long since learned of special forces training—he could throw himself into hardening his body, if that were his goal. He’d seen much already; what existed in this ancient world, he knew would exist a thousand years later. The only thing he hadn’t seen was true internal martial arts. So he directly excused himself, but before he could finish, others cut in.

“Master Ning, your talent dazzled everyone at the last Puyang poetry meet with ‘Prelude to the Water Melody.’ Tonight, at another Puyang gathering on the Lantern Festival, why not leave us another masterpiece, so we may boast of it in future?”

“Yes, if Master Ning writes another, it will become a celebrated tale.”

It was a naked challenge. Ning Yi frowned slightly. “Another time—truly, I have urgent business today.”

“If it’s urgent, tell us. Perhaps we can help.”

“Yes, if it’s truly urgent, say so. A gentleman is forthright.”

Then someone muttered, “Does he look down on us...?”

“Too arrogant...”

“Afraid the rumors are true...”

The voices were low, but carried to everyone’s ears. At the head table, Qilan watched as an observer. She understood Puyang’s eagerness to recruit talent. Ning Yi’s reputation had always been ambiguous, but Puyang Yi still hoped for the best. After all, there were too many pretenders among the idle rich; if the man was truly talented, it would be a great prize. But judging by the current scene, it seemed unlikely. Looking at Ning Yi, she frowned slightly, a little disappointed.

Ning Yi glanced out the window. The two blue-clad soldiers were crossing the opposite corridor, not yet returning. Xue Jin suddenly stepped forward, blocking his view.

“Ning, let me be frank. If you act like this, you’re in the wrong.” Xue Jin grinned, “On Mid-Autumn, your ‘Prelude to the Water Melody’ proved your talent. Tonight, everyone just mentioned your name with sincere admiration. Though some outside say you seek fame—that you plagiarized—I never believed it. And now, when we speak of you, you appear—this is fate! I know, too, that great poetry isn’t made at a word, but you could wait here a bit, see if inspiration comes—no need to match ‘Prelude to the Water Melody.’ Any poem will do! If I hear anyone slander you again, I’ll slap them myself! I’ll bring a dozen servants, beat him, drag him to the yamen, sue him for defamation, make the magistrate torment him! Wouldn’t that be satisfying!”

Xue Jin gestured theatrically. Ning Yi smiled at his antics.

“In short, we are at an age for pleasure and festivity. With so many friends and Miss Qilan here, what urgent matter could there be? If there is, I’ll take responsibility for any loss! If you must apologize, I’ll go with you, bare my back for the rod, all right?”

When he finished, another voice rose above the whispers, “Liheng, since everyone says so, don’t refuse. It’s good for a young man to be prudent, but sometimes you must show your edge. Let yourself go a bit tonight—show your skills, how about it?”

Ning Yi turned.

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The slow, measured words came from Su Chonghua, his face glowing with warmth, as if he was genuinely proud to see such a young talent from Yushan Academy. Ning Yi’s gaze swept over him, his face suddenly cooling, then curving into a smile. To Su Chonghua, that smile carried a strange authority, almost like old Master Su when angered, yet tinged with something uncanny. Su Chonghua couldn’t make sense of it at all.

He struggled to maintain his smile. Fortunately, Xue Jin continued, “Ning, what do you mean by this? To be honest, I’ve heard a rumor spreading everywhere lately, that you yourself told the Su elders that your ‘Prelude to the Water Melody’ was something you heard as a child from a wandering Taoist. I never believed it—your character is too noble for that! But there’s no stopping gossip. Ning, if that’s true, I’ve misjudged you. If you insist on leaving today, just walk past me—I won’t stop you! I’ll consider you unworthy of my trust!”

It was logically unsound but delivered with righteous fervor. If Ning Yi left now, he’d be cementing the accusation of plagiarism. At these words, the hall quieted; everyone watched for his reaction. Puyang Yi wanted to intervene, but at this moment, nothing could be said.

Ning Yi turned and walked right past Xue Jin, saying lightly, “Very well.”

Xue Jin turned to speak, but saw Ning Yi stride to a low table and pick up a brush. This was, after all, a poetry gathering; brush and ink were everywhere. The man beside the table, who had been watching with a gloating grin, suddenly froze. Ning Yi dipped the brush in ink, pausing for a second.

His gaze swept the room, coming to rest on Su Chonghua. Not far from Su, at a nearby table, a serving maid in blue was pouring wine. Though dressed warmly against the cold, Ning Yi recognized something in her silhouette.

So—he really hadn’t lost the trail...

Xiao Chan, who had been angered by Xue Jin’s words, now looked delighted and came closer. Li Pin and others also gathered round. After soaking the brush in ink, Ning Yi brought it to the paper: “Very well. Since tonight is the Lantern Festival, and you are all so eager, I shall not hide my meager skill—please forgive my presumption!”

With his eyes following the maid’s figure, the brush danced across the paper. It wasn’t a pen, after all, and even with wild cursive strokes, he did not write fast. Li Pin, standing by, began reading the words as they appeared.

“Green Jade Table... Lantern Night...”

His voice was clear, carrying through the hall. Moments later, his demeanor grew solemn as he continued, “East wind at night... a thousand trees in bloom—”

The opening line of “Green Jade Table” unfolded with grandeur!

In an instant, Xue Jin and Su Chonghua’s faces changed...

Some additional remarks: The latter part of “Hidden Kill” totals eighty-five thousand words and has just been completed in Taiwan. Next month, it will be released on Qidian. At noon today, I reviewed the manuscript and added a final three-thousand-word fragment. To be honest, when I finished the main story two years ago, I had promised a sequel, as there were still many ideas left. It was not until this March that I completed it. Whether two years ago or now, I never truly felt the story had ended. The characters remained in my mind, living on, until today, with the completion of that final three thousand words, I suddenly felt... it’s like a child who can now be let go. They will continue living in their world, no longer needing me to carry them further. There is a sense of melancholy and loss, as well as the relief that comes with finishing a story. In short, next month, the entire “Hidden Kill” will be complete. The sequel is eighty-five thousand words plus a three-thousand-word fragment, and there will also be a twenty-thousand-word side story, recounting the tales of the old world—of Gu Jiaming, once codenamed White Night, Yuan Lai Chuang, the gods Wu Nian, and the conflicts with Li Mingdao Xu. This was once included at the end of the first traditional edition and will all be released.

Most veteran readers have likely read it already, but for new ones, please give it a try—perhaps you’ll enjoy it.

And... please support the original edition ^_^

I ask for your votes and recommendations.

And a recommendation for a friend’s novel: “Branded by Heaven,” book number 1974713

Summary: Branded by heaven, no tribulation required for ascension!