Chapter 87: The Broken Courtyard (Part 2)
The courtyard gate was knocked upon. Xuan Yuan Po went to inquire and returned shortly. Even the thick beard covering the young man’s face couldn’t fully hide the flush of red—a mix of nervousness and shyness—because a young girl holding an oilpaper umbrella followed him to the front of the Scripture Library.
Tang Thirty-Six looked at the elegant girl and said with slight surprise, “Where did this lilac-like maiden come from?”
Xuan Yuan Po rubbed his hands nervously and said, “I don’t know which family’s young lady she is. I asked, but she wouldn’t say.”
Tang Thirty-Six said, “And you just let her in? Even though last night was just the Qixi Festival, why are you so eager?”
Xuan Yuan Po quickly explained, “She said she knows Chen Changsheng.”
Chen Changsheng was reading. Hearing this, he put down his scroll and looked out beyond the threshold. He did recognize her—she wasn’t some noble lady, but Shuang’er, the head maid of the Eastern Divine General’s Mansion.
He naturally wouldn’t explain this to Xuan Yuan Po. Rising, he walked outside the Scripture Library and said to Shuang’er, “Long time no see.”
Indeed, it had been a long time. Months had passed since Shuang’er last came to the National Academy to find him.
Shuang’er folded her oilpaper umbrella and gestured for him to follow her to a more secluded corner.
“Is there something?” he asked.
Shuang’er looked at him, thinking of the rumors from last night’s Ivy Banquet, her expression complex. After a moment’s thought, she said, “I’ve heard about your affairs. I must admit you’ve surprised many people. My lady and I were wrong in our initial assessment of you.”
Chen Changsheng said, “You have your own position, so there’s no need to apologize.”
He spoke sincerely. He always spoke only the truth.
Shuang’er’s slender brows lifted slightly. “Don’t misunderstand. My opinion of you might be wrong, but that doesn’t mean I support you being with Miss. Even if you’re learned, you can’t cultivate, so in the end, you’re still a…”
Though she disliked Chen Changsheng, she had no ill intentions, so she held back the word “waste.”
But everyone knew what she meant.
Chen Changsheng said, “Whether you support it or not has no bearing on this marriage.”
Shuang’er grew a bit angry. “Miss and I are like sisters. I care about her happiness more than anyone. You flaunted the marriage contract at the Ivy Banquet and had your moment of triumph, but have you considered that Miss and Senior Brother Qiushan were a perfect match? Ruining that—how can you bear it?”
“So, you’ve come to defend Senior Brother Qiushan?”
Chen Changsheng looked at her and said, “You should know that at last night’s Ivy Banquet, your Miss had the white crane deliver a letter. In it, she acknowledged this marriage. And now you seem to hold a different view, even speaking up for another man?”
“Does your Miss know you’re doing this?”
Shuang’er was speechless. She didn’t know why her Miss had done that.
Chen Changsheng said, “Anything else?”
“That remark wasn’t mine to make.”
Shuang’er calmed down, raised her arm, and wiped the water droplets from her temples. “Miss asked me to pass on a message.”
“What message?”
“Don’t misunderstand.”
Hearing this, Chen Changsheng was silent for a long time. Shuang’er had said something similar earlier, and it was hurtful. What did Xu Yourong mean?
He asked, “Misunderstand what?”
“I don’t know.” Shuang’er looked at his face. “You should understand yourself.”
Last night, the white crane had flown ten thousand miles back to the capital with that letter. In it, Xu Yourong had made her stance clear. Though he knew she couldn’t truly want to marry him—she must have had some other reason—his dislike for her had lessened somewhat.
But hearing this message relayed by Shuang’er, his mood couldn’t be good.
“That’s all?” he asked, looking at her, a clear sign he was ready to see her out.
Shuang’er said, “Miss also said that if you have anything to say, you can write to her directly.”
A crane’s cry rang out. The white crane descended from the sky, flapping its wings, landing outside the Scripture Library. Water droplets slowly trickled from its feathers.
Chen Changsheng nodded at the white crane.
The crane paced over to him, lowered its slender neck, and touched his right arm, showing some affection.
“Have you been well all these years?” he asked the crane.
The crane chirped twice, as if in reply.
Seeing this scene, Shuang’er was very surprised.
When the white crane had flown away last night, Chen Changsheng had felt he’d forgotten something. At the time, he thought it was about the black dragon beneath the abandoned garden. Now he remembered—he should write a letter and ask the crane to take it to Xu Yourong. Many things were better communicated directly.
Shuang’er had always played the role of intermediary between him and Xu Yourong, and he didn’t like it.
Since arriving in the capital, Xu Yourong had only written him one personal letter. In that letter, there were only four words, as if she were stingy with her ink.
—Take care of yourself.
Chen Changsheng picked up his brush and thought for a while. What four words should he write—firm, profound, and aloof—to reply without losing face?
This would also be the first letter he’d written to her since he was ten.
But in the end, he simply wrote a plain letter, with ordinary words about ordinary matters.
He wasn’t inclined to sulk with a young girl.
Even if she was Xu Yourong, even if she was only three days younger than him, she was still a young girl.
Ten thousand miles south of the capital lay the Saintess Peak.
Beneath Saintess Peak was all forbidden ground, until three hundred miles out, where a small town stood. The townsfolk were ordinary people. There was a blacksmith’s shop, a tavern, a butcher’s, and a gambling den. The den usually dealt in dominoes and dice, but at its deepest part was a simply decorated room with a table.
They played mahjong at this table.
Seated at the east position was a beautiful young girl.
She was fourteen or fifteen, with brows like paintings and eyes like lacquer dots, so lovely she seemed otherworldly.
The three at the table knew she was certainly no mortal.
Two years ago, when the gambling den’s owner had tried to lay hands on her—younger then, more timid-looking, more likely to provoke human criminal urges—he had died very horribly. The dealer had taken the owner’s place, and he was the middle-aged man now sitting at the west position.
From that day on, every so often, this young girl would come to the town, play mahjong, and stay at the table for two days and one night without leaving.
That simply decorated room opened only once every few months. The ones who played with her were the original three, never replaced. They were ordinary people, truly ordinary—how could they have expected to encounter such an extraordinary thing?
From initial fear and unease to being able to stack tiles without trembling hands, it took them a long time. But now, they could naturally get along with this little fairy maiden. At the table, they didn’t go easy on her but competed fiercely for wins and losses, sometimes even daring to complain.
To play cards with such a beautiful little fairy maiden—what great fortune was that?
And sometimes, they really could win money.
A crane’s cry came from outside the window. The young girl said, “Something’s come up tonight. No more playing.”
The three were astonished. What had happened that she was ending so early this time? What about the two-day-one-night rule?
The girl took out a few gold leaves and placed them on the table as compensation, then turned and left.
The three exchanged glances. One middle-aged woman said worriedly, “The young lady seems to have encountered something. She didn’t seem very cheerful.”
On a wild cliff by the town, Xu Yourong untied the letter from the white crane’s leg and casually opened it.
Under the starry sky, the paper was clearly illuminated. The words were ordinary, the handwriting clean, the length not long, yet she read it for a very long time.
In those words and strokes, she saw restraint but no resentment, not even a hint of negative emotion.
She found it hard to imagine how a young man, after enduring so many difficult days in the capital, could remain so calm.
If it were her, she certainly couldn’t.
She remembered he was only three days older than her.
She looked toward the direction of the capital and said, “If this isn’t pretense, then this fellow is either a gentleman or a true sage.”
The white crane let out a loud cry, clearly disagreeing with her. The disagreement was about the word “pretense.”
Xu Yourong sighed helplessly. “Why do you like that fellow so much? I don’t remember what kind of person he is, what’s worth liking about him.”
The crane chirped twice softly, reminding her of her earlier remark about gentlemen and sages.
“Whether a gentleman or a sage, neither is someone you can spend long years of cultivation with. That would be too dull.”
She looked at the crane and said, “I don’t want to live a boring life.”
The crane tilted its neck slightly, looking puzzled. If Miss didn’t want to marry Chen Changsheng, why had she written that letter, acknowledging the marriage before the world?
Xu Yourong didn’t explain. She had her own thoughts, known to no one—not her parents, not her teachers, not the Pope, not the Holy Empress.
Then she opened Shuang’er’s letter and began reading. She learned what had happened at last night’s Ivy Banquet.
She raised an eyebrow slightly, somewhat surprised.
Now that the marriage contract had been proclaimed to the world, at least there would be a period of peace, wouldn’t there?
But that fellow really was somewhat surprising.
Then she read the conversation Shuang’er had relayed between herself and Chen Changsheng.
She clasped her hands behind her back and once again looked toward the capital, silent for a long time.
“I suddenly remember… when I was eleven, I once secretly wrote a letter and had you take it to the west.”
The white crane lightly tapped its beak. That was its last trip to Xining. No one in the entire Eastern Divine General’s Mansion knew.
“In that letter, I think I said I wouldn’t marry him.”
“He didn’t write back to object. So what is he insisting on now?”
What Chen Changsheng insisted on was never this marriage. Besides his master and senior brother in the old temple at Xining Town, the only one in the world who knew now was the black dragon beneath the palace. Of course, he didn’t know that the middle-aged woman he’d met by the pond also knew.
For that matter, he had even given up his habit of early to bed and early to rise. He spent the entire night in meditation, drawing starlight to cleanse his marrow. Though it seemed to make no progress, he would never stop trying until that final moment arrived.
At dawn, he woke in the Scripture Library.
As yesterday, he was woken by noise.
From the front of the National Academy came a terrifying crash.
He pushed open the library door and walked over with Tang Thirty-Six and Xuan Yuan Po.
The gate of the National Academy was broken.
Someone had broken through the gate of the National Academy.
The gate, which had been repaired less than a few months ago, had been collapsed by a carriage.
The ground was littered with gravel and wood, looking pitiful.
A horse lay on the damp ground, its eyes vacant, its hooves twitching slightly.
The dust gradually cleared.
More than ten riders appeared outside the gate of the National Academy.
Dressed in fine clothes, riding fine horses.
The horses were no ordinary breed.
The knights’ brows were cold, clearly not ordinary people either.
A young knight looked at the broken gate and said expressionlessly, “Does this broken courtyard still need to exist?”
(A bit late, because it was somewhat difficult to write. Late, but still, I wish everyone a happy Qixi Festival.)