Chapter 63: Just In Time
The black dragon thought, humans are all shameless liars; otherwise, it wouldn’t have suffered in this abyss-like hell for so many years. Though it was black, that didn’t mean it liked darkness. In those earliest nights, it was truly dark, mother…
No, where was I going with that?
Alright, the young man before it looked honest, smelled pleasant, and didn’t seem like a liar—just like that man surnamed Wang back then. But it still didn’t know if that Wang fellow’s words held true, let alone this youth’s.
You want to trick me into letting you leave, promising never to return, saying you’ll come chat with me after finishing your business? Do you think I can’t see it? You were tricked into this place yourself; once you escape, why would you ever come back? Besides, above is the imperial palace—do you think you can just return whenever you want? Saying you’ll come back is just to comfort me, no, it’s to deceive me. Yes, humans are all liars, all of you!
I’ve endured alone underground for so many years, seeing no living thing except that terrifying woman—and she doesn’t even count as human; meeting her is worse than not meeting her at all. Finally, I encounter someone I can talk to—how could I possibly let you leave?
If you leave, it will be a gloomy day!
“I understand your feelings, your unease, but you should trust me,” Chen Changsheng said, looking at it.
The black dragon’s gaze was cold, tinged with mockery, as if to say, you’re barely over ten years old—how could you know the torment time brings?
Chen Changsheng knew that the goodwill the black dragon had shown him earlier didn’t guarantee his safety. The dragons recorded in the Daoist scriptures, though powerful, were all capricious. This black dragon, imprisoned by humans for so many years, must harbor countless grudges.
“I truly do know, though certainly not as long as you’ve suffered. But as I said at the start, my fate isn’t good either. Alright, I know it’s hard for you to trust me, but consider it a gamble. Let me go, and I might keep my word, finding a way to visit you in the future. But if you kill me now, I doubt anyone else will ever appear before you. Either way, you should take this bet with me.”
Chen Changsheng looked at it earnestly and seriously. “This is your best choice.”
The black dragon was silent. Suddenly, it raised its head toward the dome, its gaze falling among the thousands of night pearls.
…
…
In Weiyang Palace, the Green Vine Banquet continued, yet in truth, it had already ended. The literary examination, originally scheduled for the final night, had been postponed, but no one cared about the outcome. In past years, the competition among the Green Vine academies could hardly compare to the grand event about to unfold.
Everyone was restrained and courteous, because what was about to happen was a good thing—a marriage. Even Li Shan Guan Feibai, the proudest and coldest of the Divine Kingdom’s Seven Laws, now wore a hint of a smile. He knew this was a major matter for his senior brother, for their sect, and for the entire south. Most importantly, even he felt that his senior brother marrying Junior Sister Xu was a cause for great pride and celebration.
Li Shan’s elder, Xiao Song Gong, had already stood up, saying something. The southern delegation formally proposed a marriage alliance to the Great Zhou Dynasty. Some procedures had begun; after a few more steps, this marriage, anticipated by the world, would shift from years of discussion into reality.
The Bishop closed his eyes, as if about to fall asleep again. Prince Chen Liu, with a gentle demeanor, chatted with Xiao Song Gong. Mo Yu, calm in expression, gazed at the night outside the hall. Luo Luo watched these people, her right hand tightly gripping the brocade pouch in her sleeve, deciding to open it.
…
…
Another long silence fell, the underground space as still as a tomb.
Chen Changsheng looked at the black dragon, nervously awaiting its decision.
The black dragon glanced at him, then suddenly flew backward slowly.
The thousands of night pearls on the dome went out simultaneously, leaving only a faint glow illuminating the dragon’s front half.
It gradually faded into the darkness.
Chen Changsheng understood the meaning in that glance: it wanted him to remember his promise, to visit diligently.
Entering the imperial palace was difficult, let alone breaking through Tong Palace and descending deep underground to see it again. But he didn’t hesitate; he nodded.
He was deeply grateful to this black dragon and wanted to say something more. It could understand human language, but he didn’t know how to address it.
Master? He already had a teacher. Senior? Too distant. You? Too disrespectful. Hey? Was he asking for death? …None seemed fitting.
Chen Changsheng thought for a moment, then called out to the dragon fading into the darkness, “Dragon… Uncle.”
The black dragon stiffened slightly, its gaze bewildered, clearly shaken by this address.
“Dragon Uncle,” Chen Changsheng said, unsure what else to say—words of gratitude would seem too trivial. Suddenly remembering something, he pointed at the dome. “I need to take that night pearl up there…”
The black dragon let out a low roar, clearly furious. It hadn’t expected this brat to push his luck.
Chen Changsheng insisted, “Uncle, that belongs to a little girl. I have to return it to her someday.”
…
…
In a side hall of the palace, there was a tiny pond in the garden.
The night was deep, the hall’s lights extinguished. By the pond stood a middle-aged woman. Her features were ordinary, her clothes simple—clearly not one of those imperial consorts who spent all their time on makeup and finery, nor a young palace maid.
She stood by the pond, unsure if she was about to wash her hands or her clothes.
Just then, the pond water splashed loudly, surging up like an inverted waterfall, and a youth was flung out, drenched and disheveled.
It was Chen Changsheng.
In the underground space, his clothes had been covered in frost, but now the pond water had washed it all away. He was soaking wet, looking utterly bedraggled.
The middle-aged woman, never expecting someone to appear in the dead of night, seemed startled and stepped back.
She wore wooden clogs, and her retreating foot landed on the blue stone by the pond with a soft clap.
In the grove by the pond, a squirrel was eating its nightly meal. Startled by the sound, it dropped the fruit it held in its forepaws, leaped from the tree onto the second-floor railing of the side hall, and scurried quickly toward the courtyard, its fluffy tail flailing wildly, just brushing against a potted flower on the railing.
The flowerpot tilted, about to fall off the railing.
Just in time, the middle-aged woman stood below.
If the pot fell, it would hit her, causing injury or even worse danger.
Chen Changsheng, having emerged from the underground space and landed in the pond, wiped the water from his face. When he could see, the first scene before him was this—a coincidence so perfect, yet so unfortunate.
Without a second thought, he lunged toward the middle-aged woman.
He knew this was deep within the palace, filled with countless experts. If he alerted them, he might never reach Weiyang Palace.
Still, he rushed over—not because he feared the flowerpot hitting the ground and causing a commotion, but because the woman was in danger.
If he had thought it through, he might have found a better way to leave and reach Weiyang Palace in time. But he didn’t think.
He wrapped his arms around the middle-aged woman, turning half a circle.
If the flowerpot fell, it would land on his back.
But it didn’t fall.
And so the scene became awkward, hard to explain.
Hearing no expected crash, feeling no pain on his back, Chen Changsheng looked up at the railing. The flowerpot sat there perfectly.
He didn’t see the middle-aged woman withdraw a finger.
Chen Changsheng looked at the woman, flustered… If she screamed, trouble would follow. And in the dead of night, being embraced by a youth who suddenly emerged from a pond—who wouldn’t scream?
At such a moment, he should knock her unconscious, like in those storybooks.
But there was a problem—he didn’t know how to knock someone out.
So now he faced a very troublesome issue.
Under the night sky, the palace pond’s ripples and the railing’s flowerpot stared at each other.
He and the middle-aged woman stared at each other.
Speechless.
Silent.
He was a young man.
She was a middle-aged woman.
No awkwardness between man and woman.
Only awkwardness.
The middle-aged woman frowned slightly, opened her mouth a little, but said nothing, then closed her lips again.
Chen Changsheng was momentarily stunned, thinking, no way?
He released her, bowed in apology first, then began gesturing with his hands, his movements very practiced.
The middle-aged woman looked at him and gestured back. Chen Changsheng thought, just as I suspected, and apologized again with hand signs. Seeing she didn’t intend to pursue the matter, though he didn’t understand why, time was tight, so he hurriedly left.
…
…
“Dragon language, sign language—he knows quite a lot.”
Watching Chen Changsheng’s retreating figure vanish into the night, the middle-aged woman smiled.
She wasn’t actually mute. Speaking into the darkness, she said, “Weiyang Palace is far. See him off.”
“What a good child.”
Her smile gradually faded, and she said indifferently, “If he weren’t surnamed Chen, that would be even better.”
With that, she turned and walked into the hall.
The side hall, which had been pitch black and seemingly deserted, suddenly blazed with light.
Dozens of eunuchs and palace maids, along with several imperial attendants, knelt on both sides to welcome her. No one dared lift their heads, holding their breath in silence.