Chapter 120: North New Bridge
The night wind pierced through the forest, brushing his face with a chill. He came to his senses and only then realized how reckless it had been to ask that woman about the black dragon earlier. A lingering fear crept into his heart. Just then, from the direction of the Autumn Forest, he vaguely heard Xuanyuan Po’s angry voice. It must have been that Tang Thirty-Six had secretly eaten the portion of supper meant for Chen Changsheng. He smiled and shook his head, setting aside those thoughts, and walked toward the National Academy.
The character for "ice" that the woman had left on the stone table was the only clue Chen Changsheng had to find the black dragon. It seemed to be a test of sorts—the black dragon was a Xuan Frost Dragon, after all, and was itself connected to ice and snow.
The problem was that ice was an extremely common thing. Especially in late autumn, on the cusp of winter, ice shards could occasionally be seen along the stone walls of Kyoto’s major canals. Farther north, ice blocks as large as millstones might already be floating on the river’s surface. Even in the height of summer, the mansions of nobles and officials had ice cellars stocked with plenty of ice.
For cultivators who followed the path of cold-based techniques, ice was even more ubiquitous. They could simply prepare a basin of water, plunge their hands into it, and soon the entire basin would be filled with ice. In places like the Li Palace, specialized formations constantly produced ice for the Pope and the high-ranking clergy to enjoy.
Chen Changsheng realized there was a problem: ice was far too common in Kyoto.
Back in Xining Town, during deep winter, he and his senior brother often went to the mountain stream to pick up ice chunks to play with. After arriving in Kyoto, his opportunities to come into contact with ice had been relatively fewer. Now that he thought about it, the most memorable close encounter with ice was when he and Luoluo had left the National Academy to go shopping, and the two of them had bought ice pops to eat.
He remembered it clearly. It was the height of summer, and the streets were crowded with people. Whether they were young ladies, young masters, peddlers, or laborers, almost everyone held an ice pop in their hand. This was a scene rarely seen in Xining Town or in other cities recorded in the Daoist Canon during summer.
Whether through cultivators or formations, ice could be produced easily, but it could never be made so cheaply. Even if all cultivators lowered their status and all formations operated at full capacity, it would be impossible to supply the entire population of Kyoto with ice for the entire summer.
He left the National Academy and went to the general store by the well at the entrance of Baihua Lane. He asked where they had sourced their ice pops during the summer. Following this lead, he traced it to a dessert shop in Xinchao Ward, and from there to an ice cellar strictly managed by the imperial court.
According to his investigation, all the ice used by Kyoto’s dessert shops in the summer came from this ice cellar.
This ice cellar was located in Xishi Hutong. The courtyard gate looked extremely small, making it hard to believe that the underground ice cellar within could store such a vast quantity of ice.
Chen Changsheng sent Tang Thirty-Six to investigate. He found that there were no hidden formations inside the ice cellar in Xishi Hutong. He also made inquiries and confirmed that this ice cellar was indeed a natural cold cellar. It was said to connect to an underground cold vein beneath Kyoto, which was why it could continuously supply ice.
After managing to send Tang Thirty-Six back to the National Academy by some means, Chen Changsheng found a simple eatery in Xishi Hutong and sat down. He took out a pen and paper and began to draw and calculate seriously.
He certainly didn’t believe in the so-called underground cold vein theory. Using knowledge from the *Water Classic Commentary*, relevant imperial regulations, and the approximate location of the ice cellar that Tang Thirty-Six had gathered, he spent about half an hour roughly calculating where the deepest part of the ice cellar was, whether there was an underground river there, and most crucially… the source of the cold.
Leaving Xishi Hutong, he walked forward, following the lines on his paper.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he noticed the noise around him had vanished. He looked up in surprise and saw a towering city wall before him. He had arrived in front of the imperial palace.
Indeed, he had reached the front of the palace.
Gazing at the faintly visible eaves within the palace walls, identifying the buildings, and using the location of the National Academy as a reference, he roughly found the position of Weiyang Palace. Then he closed his eyes. In his mind, he began to walk, just like on the night of the Green Vine Banquet. He walked to the abandoned garden, entered the cold pool, and started running. He ran all the way until he finally pushed open that door.
He opened his eyes, turned down a path to his left and rear, and stepped onto the golden fallen leaves covering the ground, arriving at his destination.
The golden autumn scenery before the palace, like the green vines of the Li Palace, was one of Kyoto’s famous sights. It was now the best and final time to view it. Although the weather was a bit cold, there were still many visitors.
He carefully avoided a child with mud on both hands, politely let an elderly man pass first, and circled around a few trees until he came to a well.
He knew this place was called North New Bridge, but this was the first time he had learned there was a well here.
He leaned over and looked into the well. It was so deep he couldn’t see the bottom, but there wasn’t a trace of moisture. It must have been an abandoned well.
He looked up at the high, distant autumn sky and then at the people enjoying themselves nearby. His emotions were deeply shaken and quite complex.
That black dragon was actually imprisoned underground here? And the entrance was right out in the open?
North New Bridge wasn’t a bridge; it was a place name.
Why was it called North New Bridge when there was clearly no bridge here?
There was a very famous legend about this in Kyoto.
It was said that many years ago, when the allied forces of humans and demons were locked in bloody battle with the demon race on the Central Plains, a powerful evil dragon took advantage of the chaos to come to Kyoto and wreak havoc, slaughtering the innocent. No one could stop it. Just as Kyoto was descending into chaos, no one expected that Wang Zhice would secretly return from the front lines. Leading the generals stationed in Kyoto, he joined forces to defeat the evil dragon.
The evil dragon was also a member of the dragon race, one of the highest divine beings in the world. Killing it completely was extremely difficult. Moreover, it was said that this evil dragon carried the blood of the Dragon King. Even a legendary figure like Wang Zhice feared that killing it might anger the long-secluded dragon race, or that the dragon, in its death throes, might bring great disaster to Kyoto. So he decided to leave it a way out. Wang Zhice demanded that the evil dragon accept imprisonment by humans as atonement, and then promised the dragon that he would build a new bridge on the ground above its prison. As soon as this bridge became old or was submerged by the Luo River, it would be released.
The lifespan of dragons was unimaginably long. The evil dragon thought that a new bridge becoming old would take at most a few decades, maybe a hundred years. Moreover, based on its knowledge of Kyoto’s water systems and its innate abilities, it was certain that the Luo River experienced a major flood every sixty years. Severely wounded and on the verge of death, it agreed to the terms.
The evil dragon surrendered. The Great Zhou court set up an extremely powerful seal outside the imperial palace and imprisoned it underground. But… they never built a bridge on the surface.
The Luo River circled the imperial city but did not flow through this area. The so-called bridge was nothing more than a fake bridge.
Wang Zhice did one more thing: he directly renamed the place North New Bridge.
This bridge would never be submerged by the Luo River.
This bridge would forever be new.
That evil dragon would never be able to come out again.
Ning Que sat under a tree, his eyes on a book, but he couldn’t focus at all.
Behind the tree, a father was telling this legend to his child.
The father praised the divine calculations of the Immortal Wang, and the children clapped their hands happily. One child asked if that meant the evil dragon was right beneath their feet. The other children were a bit scared, but the adults laughed and said it was just a story—could it possibly be true?
Chen Changsheng had also heard this legend, but he had never thought it might actually be true.
He looked at the abandoned well not far away, his emotions growing more and more complex.
Anyone who had heard the legend of North New Bridge would hate the evil dragon’s cruelty and praise Wang Zhice’s wisdom. But Chen Changsheng felt that the dragon was pitiful.
Of course, if the legend might be true, then the dragon might have indeed killed many innocent people, which was why Wang Zhice had trapped it like this. He knew that having such feelings meant his stance was unstable. But having seen the dragon’s miserable state, especially looking at the beautiful autumn scenery on the surface while thinking of the cold stone cave underground, he couldn’t help but feel some sympathy.
During the day, there were still many people at North New Bridge. Imperial guards patrolled beneath the palace walls. Above the walls, flying chariots landed at intervals. Occasionally, he could even see a flash of fire in the distance—likely Xue Xingchuan’s mount, the Fire Cloud Qilin. He knew he couldn’t go underground now; he had to wait a while longer.
He lowered his head and continued reading.
Leaves left their branches and fell onto his shoulders, gleaming like golden leaves.
He didn’t know how much time had passed. The sounds around him gradually faded. Dusk faded, and night fell. He looked up, confirmed that no one was watching, and walked to the abandoned well.
He knew he couldn’t hesitate or pause, or he would surely attract someone’s attention.
So he leaped straight down. That golden leaf fluttered up and then fell, landing on the edge of the well.
The abandoned well had no bottom, and naturally no mud, as if it led straight into the void. There was no light here, only darkness. Chen Changsheng fell faster and faster through the dark void. When he jumped into the well, he wrapped his arms around his head. His bones and sinews, tempered since childhood by his master and senior brother with medicinal soups and beatings, ensured that the collision with the well wall earlier hadn’t caused him any harm.
After passing through the well bottom into this darkness, the wind whistled past his face. He wasn’t worried about falling to his death, because he knew the black dragon must have sensed his arrival. And for some reason, the closer he got to the black dragon, the more he seemed to approach the emotions of that night at the Green Vine Banquet. He no longer feared many things, not even death.
While he was still in midair, he heard that long, deep breathing, and then a slight pause in the sound.
Two faint, ghostly flames appeared in the darkness—its eyes.
The black dragon had awakened.
A dense, almost solid cushion of air appeared beneath Chen Changsheng, helping him land easily on the ground.
A massive shadow, like a mountain range, moved terrifyingly slowly toward him. The air in the vast underground space let out an unpleasant tearing sound from the pressure.
An unimaginable chill instantly enveloped his entire body. Frost formed on his eyelashes, threatening to fall at any moment.
“It’s me,” he said, taking out a night pearl to illuminate his face.
As he brought out the night pearl, the thousands of night pearls embedded in the dome of the dark underground space lit up simultaneously.
The black dragon appeared before him again. Its body rose and fell like a mountain range, its end invisible. Its head was like a palace. Its scales were like mirrors, with frost hidden between them, covered in dust, exuding an indescribable sense of age. Its gently drifting whiskers were like real, frozen lightning.
This was Chen Changsheng’s second time seeing the black dragon’s true form, and he was still awestruck. It took him a long time to snap out of it.
He put away the night pearl and bowed to the black dragon. Considering the dragon’s age, he naturally performed the courtesy of a junior. “Dragon Uncle, I’ve come to see you.”
When the black dragon saw that Chen Changsheng had actually come, the ghostly flames burning in its eyes flickered wildly, as if dancing, showing great joy. But upon hearing the address, those two flames instantly froze solid, turning into ice and snow.
That terrifying dragon might appeared again in the underground space.
Chen Changsheng felt extremely uncomfortable and quickly raised his right hand. “I understand!”
The dragon might subsided slightly. The black dragon looked at him coldly, waiting for him to greet it properly.
Chen Changsheng figured it out. The term “Uncle” must have been too familiar. And considering the lifespan of dragons, even if this black dragon had been imprisoned for centuries, it might still be a youth, at most a young adult. Just like the women in Xining Town, it probably didn’t like being called “Auntie” but preferred “Sister-in-law.”
He bowed to the black dragon again, this time warmly. “Dragon Brother, long time no see.”
With a dull *crack*, the black dragon released an extremely terrifying dragon might. Chen Changsheng was slammed heavily to the ground, sending up countless ice shards.
The black dragon slowly flew above him, its whiskers dancing in the air like tentacles reaching out from an abyss. It was clearly furious beyond measure.
Chen Changsheng lay on the ground, struggling to raise his right hand. “Senior, Senior, please don’t be angry!”
The title “Senior” wasn’t necessarily perfect either, but the black dragon grudgingly accepted it. As Chen Changsheng sat on the ground amidst the remnants of snow, thinking back to that scene, his lingering fear refused to fade. He wondered if he had blurted out “Squeaky,” would he have been instantly blown into ice shards by the terrifying dragon breath?
According to his promise that night, Chen Changsheng had come to see the black dragon, presumably to keep it company and talk. But now, man and dragon sat facing each other in silence. The atmosphere was oppressive and awkward. The black dragon could understand human speech, and Chen Changsheng knew some dragon-language sounds, but not the language itself. How could they communicate?
Suddenly, Chen Changsheng remembered when he had jumped into the abandoned well at North New Bridge. He pointed at the faintly visible small black spot on the dome and asked, “Has it always been like this? Over so many years, people must have accidentally fallen into the well. Did they all die? Or did you save them? If you saved them, where did they go?”
This was indeed the question that concerned him most. Although, after hearing the legend, he felt some sympathy for this black dragon and was grateful that it had let him leave alive last time, if… those who fell into the underground space had all become its food, he certainly couldn’t continue sitting before it.
It wasn’t that he was afraid of being eaten by this black dragon, but that he couldn’t accept conversing with a man-eating dragon.
(It must have been around May? In Beijing, I was sitting in a car chatting with a friend named Lu Wen. He asked about my new book, *Ze Tian Ji*. I said I had it all figured out. I wanted to write about a dragon—a dragon in the imperial palace, a real dragon. I really wanted to write about a dragon. We were probably on Zhang Zizhong Road. Lu Wen looked at me mysteriously and said, “Actually, there’s a dragon under North New Bridge…” In Beijing, because of meals and such—you know how it is—I often passed by North New Bridge, but I never knew where the bridge was. Then he told me a story, a story about North New Bridge. It turned out there was no bridge there, or rather, only a dry bridge, and a well. It was an old Beijing tale. When I heard it, I was like—wow—isn’t this exactly what I wanted? Well, I finally got it into the book. I’m very happy.)