Chapter 742: Night Watch
Senior Daoist Sun suddenly laughed heartily, "Excellent! So Liu Qi and that Cao Zu have also come. They never come unless it's together. Zhanran, go bring those two gentlemen over here. For White Immortal and Su Zi to have such a grand reception at my Xuan Du Temple... how does that saying go, Yan Ye?"
Yan Zhuo replied, "Three years with no business, then business that lasts three years."
The female Daoist Chunhui accepted the order and was about to take her leave when Dong Huafu suddenly spoke up, "Old Temple Master personally went out to welcome Master Su, but sent Sister Zhanran to welcome Liu and Cao. Scholars tend to have their thoughts—they walk in smiling and curse you on the way out."
Senior Daoist Sun stroked his beard in thought, feeling that the black charcoal Dong had a point. "Headache, truly a headache. My legs are feeling sore right now, I can't walk."
Chunhui hesitated. Liu Qi and Cao Zu—having both ascended together from Haoran World to travel afar in Qingming World—certainly deserved to be treated as honored guests of the Great Xuan Du Temple, whether in terms of realm or reputation.
According to what the black charcoal Dong said, if the patriarch treated them with partiality, it would indeed be inappropriate. Going by the temple master's usual approach, it would be simple: pretend to be absent and leave everything for his disciples and grand-disciples to worry about. But with Su Zi present today, the temple master seemed to be in an awkward position.
At this moment, outside the gate of the Great Xuan Du Temple, there stood a handsome young white-robed youth with a broken willow branch hanging at his waist, inscribed with countless lyrics using immortal magic on the slender twig.
It was none other than Liu Qi, who was equally renowned in the mortal world of Haoran World alongside the Celestial Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain.
Wherever demons and monsters caused trouble, there would be a peachwood sword; wherever there was well water, people would sing Liu Qi's lyrics.
In the fifth year of Huangyou era, Liu Qi of Haoran left the high and distant, sipped wine and sang softly, forgetting the rivers and lakes.
A guest among the flowers, leaning on red and embracing green, a white-robed minister and wanderer, Liu Qi the Seventh.
Beside Liu Qi stood a man in black, around thirty years old, tall and slender, equally elegant and dashing. He carried an oilpaper umbrella slanted on his back.
Cao Zu, courtesy name Yuanchong.
This man was also a common favorite among many women, both on the mountains and in the mortal world of Haoran.
In Haoran World, ci poetry was always regarded as a trivial offshoot of shi—simply put, the leftover remnants of poetry, unfit for the grand hall of refined literature. As for qu, it was even lower in status. That was why Liu Qi and Cao Zu, upon arriving in Qingming World, simply named the blessed land they had accidentally discovered the "Shiyu Blessed Land" (Poetry Surplus Blessed Land). Besides self-mockery, it also contained some pent-up frustration. This secret realm, also known as Cipai Blessed Land (Lyric Tune Blessed Land), had no human inhabitants when first opened. Though vast and scenic, it had not yet made it into the seventy-two blessed lands; it was a natural medium-grade blessed land. Yet even after many years, few cultivators had settled there. Liu and Cao treated the entire blessed land as a secluded private estate, which had become a curious tale among immortal circles. Their direct female disciple, who had leaped directly from the "Retaining Others" realm to the "Jade Pu" realm, aside from the two masters' teachings, also had some extraordinary innate fortune.
The Great Xuan Du Temple was unusually quiet today—there wasn't even a gatekeeper, leaving the two visitors from afar waiting outside on the street.
The white-robed youth smiled slightly. "Yuanchong, do you think the old temple master will show his face today? Or... will he plead illness and not come out?"
There were nearly nine hundred ci tune titles in the world, and the white-robed youth alone had created over one hundred and forty, opening many paths for later poets. In this regard, even Su Zi could not rival him.
The man in black joked, "Whether he sees us or not, I'm still going to greet the old temple master with some pleasantries."
For Cao Zu, the white-robed Liu Qi was both teacher and friend. Their relationship was similar to that of earlier times when Bai Ye and Liu Shiliu went into the mountains to seek immortals.
The patriarch of the Great Xuan Du Temple, Sun Huaizhong, had traveled to Haoran World twice—once to lend his sword to Bai Ye, and once simply because he was bored in Qingming World and wanted a trip, and also to settle an old grudge in Beiju Luzhou. During his travels in foreign lands, the old Daoist's admiration for Su Zi of Meishan was heartfelt. But for the other two literary giants who were also masters of ci, his regard was average, very average. So even though Liu Qi and Cao Zu had lived in his world for many years, Senior Daoist Sun never "disturbed their quiet cultivation." If it were Su Zi, the old temple master would have visited the Cipai Blessed Land a dozen times—and that was when Su Zi had closed his door to visitors! In fact, during his travels in Haoran World, the old temple master had taken a dislike to Liu Qi and Cao Zu: dawdling, hesitating, rolling around in rouge piles. What "white-robed minister and wanderer Liu Qi" and "every boudoir has Cao Yuanchong"—the old temple master found these the most annoying.
Don't be fooled by Senior Daoist Sun's usual "approachable" speech; he had once made a rather elegant and sharp comment: "In the realm of literature, shi is the head of the wealthy and noble household. By the time we get to ci, the family fortune has declined, but it's still a comfortably well-off family. When it comes to qu, it has completely fallen to the level of the rural poor. Fortunately, ci has Su Zi—magnificent and open, a wonder of heaven and earth, immortal style and divine spirit, directly catching up to Bai Ye. As for the likes of Liu Qi the Seventh and Yuanchong, they are merely grandchildren on the path who stoop to grind ink for White Immortal and bow to pass wine to Su Zi."
Once such harsh words were spoken, they could not be taken back. So how could Senior Daoist Sun go to welcome Liu and Cao? The old temple master was unusually embarrassed for the first time. Previously, Senior Daoist Sun thought that the two sides would never interact again. Who would have thought that Bai Ye would come to the temple first, then Su Zi would visit, and Liu and Cao would follow to settle accounts?
Dong Huafu threw a glance at the fat Yan.
Yan Zhuo immediately tried to make amends and said to the old temple master, "When Chen Ping'an used to carve seals and write inscriptions on fan faces, he happened to mention the ci poetry of Masters Liu and Cao to me. He said that while Liu Qi's ci may not reach the heights of Meishan Su, they can still be hailed as the 'source and flow of the ci lineage.' They should never be dismissed as mere drunken ramblings among the red and green. Master Liu's intentions are painstaking; he sincerely wishes that all lovers in the world may be united, that the moon is full and flowers bloom, and that people live long lives. Hence, the implied meaning is extremely beautiful. As for Yuanchong's ci, they break new ground, being sensual without being vulgar. His greatest skill is no longer in polishing words but in deep emotion. He embodies the refined charm of a great lady and the loveliness of a gentle maiden. The line 'The cricket's sound startles a courtyard of flower shadows' is truly a flight of fancy that no one before him had imagined—fresh, meaningful, tender, moving—worthy of being called the 'flower garden of ci.'"
The old temple master stroked his beard and smiled, nodding gently. "Excellent, excellent. 'Source of ci' and 'flower garden'—these descriptions are wonderfully subtle and resonate deeply with me. Fellow Daoist Chen's profound insight truly coincides with my own, without any prior consultation, without any prior consultation!"
The old temple master soon coughed a few times and changed his tune, "To tell you the truth, those were actually my own words. When I met Fellow Daoist Chen in Beiju Luzhou, we traveled together and regretted not meeting earlier. As we boiled wine and discussed literary giants, I was the first to have that insight. It just so happened that the Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall borrowed it. Ah, this Fellow Daoist Chen—wherever he passes, nothing grows. But enough, I won't quibble with Fellow Daoist Chen over such trivial matters. Whether one says it or another says it, it's all the same, and fussing over it would only harm our friendship as fellow Daoists."
Dong Huafu rolled his eyes.
Chunhui asked, "Temple Master, what should we do?"
Should she go to entertain Liu and Cao, or would the temple master personally welcome them?
The old temple master glared. "Zhanran, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and come with me to welcome the two great masters of ci, Liu and Cao! To neglect honored guests—is that the way of our temple's gatekeepers? Who taught you that? Your master, right? Tell him to copy the Yellow Court Classic in his signature 'Flower-Adorned Small Regular Script' a hundred times, and then personally deliver it to the Suichu Palace. We seem to have lost an inkstone in the temple; we need some token of apology."
Chunhui unhesitatingly agreed on behalf of her master. After all, it was her master who would have to toil, not her.
The old temple master, now fully confident and without any sign of difficulty, moved swiftly. With a single earth-shrinking technique, he took Chunhui to the gate. He then delivered a sincere speech to the two literary masters, word for word, exactly as Dong Huafu had said. The white-robed Liu Qi smiled without comment, while Cao Zu could not help but laugh.
The Heavenly Water White Immortal would never have said such a thing. And Su Zi of Meishan had already met the two in the Shiyu Blessed Land, where they had exchanged many poems and songs—Su Zi played the flute, drank wine, and returned home under the moonlight. It was unlikely he would have spoken such words either. Could it be that they had truly "misunderstood" Senior Daoist Sun?
Beside the pond near the thatched cottage, Su Zi found the earlier commentary quite interesting and asked with a smile, "Mr. Bai, do you know who this Chen Ping'an is?"
To be addressed as "Fellow Daoist Chen" by the old temple master—could it be some reclusive master from their homeland of Haoran?
Bai Ye habitually tugged at his hat ribbon and replied, "He's the closed-door disciple of Old Scholar's literary lineage. Very young and a good person. Though I've never met Chen Ping'an, Old Scholar kept talking about him in the Fifth World."
Su Zi nodded. "Then I should go see this young man after I return home."
Bai Ye shook his head. "If nothing unexpected happens, he's still at the Sword Qi Great Wall. It won't be easy for you to meet him."
Su Zi frowned slightly, puzzled. "Is there still someone holding the Sword Qi Great Wall? Didn't all those sword cultivators ascend with the entire city to the new world?"
Bai Ye nodded. "Only Chen Ping'an remains. He serves as the Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall and has been staying there all these years."
Su Zi smiled. "A young outsider serving as the Hidden Official at the most xenophobic Sword Qi Great Wall? Just being the closed-door disciple of the Literary Sage's lineage wouldn't be enough to accomplish that."
Dong Huafu said casually, "Chen Ping'an has a treasured 'Xiaoshu Coin' (Minor Heat Coin) that he particularly likes. The seal script on it reads something like 'Su Zi's poetry is like a painting'? Chen Ping'an once swore it would be a family heirloom."
Bai Ye sighed. Some of the tendencies in Old Scholar's lineage—the closed-door disciple Chen Ping'an had truly perfected them, improving upon the master without any awkwardness.
Su Zi was slightly surprised. He hadn't expected such a thing. In truth, his relationship with the Literary Sage's lineage was lukewarm, with few interactions. He himself didn't mind certain matters, but among his disciples, quite a few had complaints because the Embroidery Tiger had once commented on the calligraphers of the world but omitted their teacher. And the Embroidery Tiger's cursive and regular scripts were both exquisite. So, over time, it became like the poetry dispute between White Immortal and Su Zi—quite annoying for this Meishan Su. So Su Zi genuinely hadn't expected that among the direct disciples of the Literary Sage's lineage, there would be someone who truly admired his poetry.
The fat Yan quietly gave Dong Huafu a thumbs-up. This black charcoal Dong never wasted words; he only added the finishing touch.
Bai Ye asked telepathically, "Is Su Zi planning to return home with Liu and Cao?"
Su Zi nodded. "We all have that intention. In times of peace, thousands of poems and songs are just frosting on the cake. But in this chaotic era, the younger generation should learn from Mr. Bai. We've agreed to go together to Fuyao Continent."
When he said "younger generation," the great-bearded Su Zi in his blue scholar's robe, bamboo staff and straw sandals, looked at the tiger-head-hatted child beside him with an undisguised smile.
Bai Ye nodded. "A little Haoran Qi, a thousand miles of swift wind. Su Zi's return home this time is truly a fine essay."
After Liu Qi and Cao Zu appeared, they immediately bowed to Bai Ye together. The tiger-head-hatted child's appearance did not detract from their genuine respect for the White Immortal.
Bai Ye returned the bow. In Bai Ye's heart, on the path of ci, both Liu Qi and Cao Zu were a step below Su Zi.
In fact, Cao Zu held Bai Ye in the highest esteem, almost to an extreme degree. Cao Zu had even carved a personal book seal with the words "White Immortal's Poetry Surplus" and solemnly stamped it on the title page of his own poetry collection.
It was hard to imagine that Cao Zu, upon meeting someone, could become so reserved and even unable to hide his shyness. As Cao Zu looked at the immortal poet Bai Ye, whom he had always admired, his face actually flushed. He tried to speak several times but hesitated, bewildering both the fat Yan and the black charcoal Dong. Meeting Mr. Bai—was it really that emotionally overwhelming for this fellow?
Thus it is with scholars like Bai Ye: wherever they go, they are free, they are elegant. Whether Bai Ye meets the ancients and sages, or the ancient sages and later generations meet him, Bai Ye is still the unique White Immortal through the ages.
Senior Daoist Sun looked at the four of them and sighed with emotion, "Today's Peach Grove Elegant Gathering at the Great Xuan Du Temple—White Immortal and Su Zi, Liu the Source of Ci and Cao the Flower Garden. Having the four of them together is no less remarkable than the gathering of the four immortal swords. It's even more extraordinary. It is a blessing for the temple and even more so for the people of the world. If I, this old Daoist, don't preserve this eternal elegant scene using my inscription-rubbing technique for later generations, I would be a sinner through the ages..."
Bai Ye turned to look, and the old Daoist immediately laughed loudly, "Brother Bai, rest assured a thousand times. It will be exactly the fourteen-realm Bai Ye of Haoran—no need for you to say more. I, this old Daoist, am most experienced in these matters. We'll wait over a hundred years before telling outsiders about this."
The great-bearded Su Zi, Liu Qi, and Cao Zu almost simultaneously reminded the old temple master telepathically: "One copy for each of us."
The old temple master complained to them, "Do you take me for a fool? I wouldn't make such a blunder."
Yan Zhuo said telepathically to Dong Huafu, "What if Chen Ping'an were here?"
Dong Huafu thought for a moment. "Flattery would fly everywhere, and the key is sincerity. Mr. Bai's poetry, Liu Qi's ci, Cao Zu's paintings, Su Zi's calligraphy, the old temple master's seals—none would escape."
---
At the Yang Family Medicine Shop.
Li Liu had left the Lushui Pit's Green Bell Madam at sea, having this flying-ascension-level great demon continue to guard the bridge connecting the two continents. Li Liu herself had returned alone to her hometown to find Old Man Yang.
The old man was puffing heavily on his tobacco pipe, his brow deeply furrowed. His aged face was covered in wrinkles, as if they held too many stories that he had never intended to share with anyone.
Mist swirled thickly, enveloping the entire shop, so dense that even Cui Can could not spy on this place.
Li Liu asked, "Madame Gui came here?"
Old Man Yang nodded.
Madame Gui of Old Dragon City was an old friend from the Moon Palace. She was different from those reincarnated gods. As the purest Moon Palace seed to fall into the mortal world, thanks to the intercession of Ritual Sage in her early years, she had not been trapped like the ancient gods of Zhenwu Mountain, nor confined by the Central Land Military Family Ancestral Hall. So for ten thousand years, Madame Gui had watched the rise and fall of the world with cold detachment, indifferent to the state of the world. However, when Madame Gui last visited, she had brought along an old boatman—that unregistered great disciple of Lu Chen. This old boatman, in the capital region of Great Li, had encountered a scholar in blue named Bai Mang and inexplicably received a sound beating. The old boatman had probably recognized the other's true identity and cursed him plenty, showing no fear—"If you have the guts, kill me!" The old boatman still adhered to the old rule that had once shaken the world: only use words, never fists; if you use fists, I lose.
Li Liu asked again, "And her?"
Old Man Yang said, "Ruan Xiu is different from you. Whether she comes or not, it's the same."
Li Liu changed the subject. "You never seem to leave this place. Won't you make an exception for Li Huai? At least see him one last time."
Her younger brother Li Huai and Li Liu's mother were both ordinary mortals. But while the mother gave the old man headaches, the old man doted on Li Huai. So when it came to certain intangible fortunes, the old man had tossed them all to that little brat Li Huai—just as Li Huai had joked about "coffin lid" being thrown away. The old man treated Li Huai like a junior in his own family, like an old man in the marketplace who knew his time was limited. Even Li Er, Zheng Dafeng, his newly accepted disciples Su Dian and Shi Lingshan, and even the earlier batch of disciples (like the ancestors of the Cao and Yuan clans, who had become ministers of Great Li's restoration), even Ruan Xiu, Li Liu, and Ma Kuxuan—none of them compared to Li Huai in the old man's heart. Precisely because Li Huai was not part of the game, Old Man Yang gave him opportunities and fortune without any burden. Since some people are destined for good fortune, others are destined for misfortune. This has always been the case from ancient times, and it will remain so for thousands of years.
Old Man Yang shook his head. "What's there to say? I've already said everything that needed to be said."
He said this, but Li Liu could clearly feel the old man's sadness. It was like the regret of the most ordinary old man in a small household who never got to see his grandson succeed. But the old man was maintaining his dignity and didn't want to say more.
Li Liu sat on a bench placed outside the side-room door, trying to keep the old man company as long as she could.
Old Man Yang chuckled. "Finally showing a bit of human warmth."
Li Liu interlaced her fingers and looked up at the sky.
At the ancestral mountain of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, Sect Leader Ruan Qiong had personally cooked a large table of food today. His daughter Ruan Xiu, his disciples Dong Gu, Xu Xiaoqiao, Xie Ling, and Liu Xianyang were all present.
Since the sect had established its mountain peaks and caves in the old mountain range, there had rarely been such a gathering opportunity.
Liu Xianyang busily served dishes to Master Ruan and then turned to Ruan Xiu with a smile. "Miss Xiu, food is the first priority."
Ruan Xiu smiled faintly and ate with unhurried speed.
Dong Gu and the others actually admired Liu Xianyang, this "junior brother" on the sect's roster, who dared to say anything to their master and do anything. He even joked about Master Ruan with the woman who sold wine in the town. Dong Gu and Xu Xiaoqiao wouldn't dare to be so presumptuous even with ten times the courage. In truth, in terms of seniority of entering the sect, Liu Xianyang, who had been lent out to the Chen Clan of Pure Confucianism in South Po Suo Zhou in his early years, should be their senior brother. But this lazy fellow Liu genuinely didn't care about such things, so they didn't have much to say about it.
This Liu Xianyang was left alone to guard the blacksmith shop outside the mountain. He was truly idle. Besides dozing in the bamboo chair under the eaves, he often squatted by the Dragon Beard River, stuffing a pocket full of leaves and tossing them one by one into the water, watching them drift away like tiny boats. Sometimes he would stand alone on the bank, first throwing a series of fierce "turtle punches," then shouting loudly, stomping his feet, babbling nonsense like "a thunderclap under the foot sends rain flying across the river," pretending to form a sword seal with one hand while grasping his wrist with the other, solemnly muttering "urgent as the law commands," making the leaves floating on the water stand upright one by one, and spouting bookish lines like "a leaf flies over, waves grow fine."
After eating on the mountain, Liu Xianyang belched all the way down. By the time he returned to the riverside shop, it was already night. Passing through town, he heard the sound of the night watch. The night had five watches; what Liu Xianyang heard was the first watch of the hour of xu.
The watchman patrolled the night, reminding people to work at sunrise and rest at sunset. In fact, in the old town of Pearly Pearl Grotto-Heaven, there had been no such custom.
Then he saw a friend sitting in the bamboo chair, drinking wine. It was the Superintendent of Kiln Affairs, Cao Gengxin, from Chi'er Street in the Great Li capital. Among the friends Liu Xianyang had made, Cao held the highest official position.
Liu Xianyang trotted over excitedly. Superintendent Cao bent down and picked up a wine flask that had been placed at his feet, intended for Liu Xianyang. He gently tossed it over, saying with a smile, "If you had appeared a quarter of an hour later, I would have left without saying goodbye."
Liu Xianyang caught the wine, sat down beside him, and laughed, "Got a promotion?"
Cao Gengxin nodded, rubbing his face in exasperation. "I suppose so. Still neighbors with that Yuan guy. Just thinking about that poker face of his from childhood—never showing joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness—gives me a headache."
For all these years, Superintendent Cao had always been Superintendent Cao. But that fellow who started as Magistrate Yuan and became Prefect Yuan had been promoted last year, leaving Dragon Prefecture's officialdom to serve as a Vice Minister of Revenue in the six ministries of the Great Li auxiliary capital.
Many large dynasties often set up auxiliary capitals. The official ranks in the auxiliary capital's ministries were at most one rank lower, and sometimes the titles were the same as in the main capital. They were mostly places for aging nobles to retire, dismissed from the main capital to serve in the auxiliary capital in honorary or sinecure positions, or as demotions for some capital officials, with the court trying to preserve their dignity as much as possible.
But the Great Li dynasty was different. Both the geographic location of the auxiliary capital and the allocation of officials showed that the Great Li Song clan placed great importance on this auxiliary capital.
In the six ministries of the auxiliary capital, while the ministers were still appointed from steady old-timers, all the vice ministers were young officials like Yuan Zhengding.
Moreover, the various departments in the auxiliary capital wielded great power. In particular, the Minister of War of the auxiliary capital was concurrently held by the main capital's Minister of War—contrary to what court ministers had expected, that some newly promoted Patrolling Envoy general would take the post. It was said that the authority of the Ministry of War's memorials and selections had actually been moved south from the Great Li main capital to the auxiliary capital. The first Chancellor of the National Academy in the auxiliary capital was appointed by the head of the Linlu Academy, built on the North Peak Piyun Mountain.
Cao Gengxin said telepathically, "There are some new developments regarding the destiny porcelain for you and your friend."
Liu Xianyang nodded, taking a sip of wine. "I owe you one."
At the Yasui Shop on Qilong Lane, Shi Rou was humming a fragmentary song passed down from the ancient Shu Kingdom.
White clouds in the sky, hills rise of their own, roads stretch far and wide, mountains and rivers between. May you not die, so you can come again.
Now there was a little helper in the shop—a child who could speak but didn't like to, almost like a mute. When there were no customers, the child liked to sit on the threshold and daydream. Shi Rou liked that too; she never disturbed him.
Every day, besides practicing his boxing and stance work on schedule, the child seemed to follow the half-teacher Pei Qian's example and also needed to copy texts. But the child was stubborn—he would never throw an extra punch, take an extra step, or write an extra word when copying. It was pure perfunctory work. After Pei Qian returned, he would exchange his boxing and stance exercises and copied paper for money. The child, nicknamed Aman, would throw the copied papers into a bamboo basket every day. When the basket was full, he moved them all to a large bamboo crate in the corner. When Shi Rou cleaned the room, she glanced at the basket a few times—the characters were like earthworms crawling, crooked and twisted, far worse than Pei Qian's when she was young.
Shi Rou loved this kind of peaceful, tranquil life. In the past, when she ran the shop alone, she sometimes felt it was too quiet. With little Aman around, it was just right. The shop had a bit more liveliness but remained calm.
Now the town was becoming more prosperous with merchants. Shi Rou liked to buy literary notes and weird tales to pass the time, stacking them neatly inside the counter. Occasionally, little Aman would flip through a few pages.
Today, business was moderate. Shi Rou and Aman were each reading their own books. The child stood on a small stool, needing to stand on tiptoes to reach.
Suddenly, the child shifted a literary note a few inches sideways, pressing his hand against the page. Shi Rou turned to look—it was a line from a sage in the book.
At the beginning of man, heaven and earth were connected, and man could reach heaven. In the morning, he ascended to heaven; in the evening, he ascended to heaven. Heaven and man spoke in the morning and spoke in the evening.
Shi Rou smiled, but then realized that she now had a certain appearance and demeanor—she was well aware of what she looked like now. She quickly composed herself and explained softly to the child, "Those immortal masters who go to the mountains to cultivate immortal arts all believe that long, long ago, heaven and earth were connected, and gods and humans lived together. How should I put it... For example, it's like the common folk visiting each other's homes today. But some doors have high thresholds—like Fulu Street and Taoye Lane in the town. Ordinary people can't easily go there, and even if you knock, no one will answer. But here on Qilong Lane, the threshold is naturally not high. As for where those pathways between heaven and man actually are—it's all mysterious in the books. Some say it's a flying-ascension platform, some say it's a great tree, some say it's a mountain range. No one knows for sure."
The child nodded, seeming to understand.
Atop the mountain of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect.
Ruan Xiu walked alone to the cliff's edge. She leaned backward and fell off the cliff, looking one by one at the characters carved on the cliff face: "Heaven opens divine beauty."