Chapter 204: The Sky Cools, Wang Breaks
Xun Mei looked at Chen Changsheng and shook his head. “But your true essence is so weak, yet you managed to take first place? Truly, each generation is worse than the last.”
Everyone knew that this year’s Grand Examination was a major one, far more competitive than those of previous years. Chen Changsheng showed no reaction, but Tang Thirty-Six was not about to let it slide.
“Even if the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion were to judge, this year’s Grand Examination would still be stronger than the one in your year, Senior,” he said.
Xun Mei’s expression suddenly turned somewhat desolate. “I don’t know who participated this year, but in my year… two people did not take part.”
Tang Thirty-Six paused, recalling the two names that had once been mentioned alongside Xun Mei’s. He had to admit there was some truth to that statement.
If those two had participated in that year’s Grand Examination, then even with the Autumn Mountain Lord and Xu Yourong present, this year’s Grand Examination could not compare to that one.
After saying this, Xun Mei’s emotions were clearly stirred. He ignored the three youths, walked over to a stone in the courtyard, sat down, and began staring blankly at the Mausoleum of Books.
Chen Changsheng looked at the back of this senior, feeling a touch of melancholy. During the day, Tang Thirty-Six had told him that some cultivators would spend many years observing the steles in the Mausoleum of Books. He hadn’t expected to see one so soon, but this man had spent thirty-seven years observing the steles without leaving a single step—there must be some hidden reason behind it.
Thinking this, he felt the senior’s figure seemed even more forlorn. Unwilling to disturb him further, he reached out to stop Tang Thirty-Six, who was about to ask more questions.
Tang Thirty-Six raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
Chen Changsheng looked at him seriously and asked, “Have you eaten?”
Tang Thirty-Six suddenly remembered this most important matter. Hunger surged over him like a tidal wave. He clutched his stomach weakly and said, “No.”
Chen Changsheng led him inside, brought out the leftover salted fish, and used hot tea to soak a bowl of leftover rice. “There’s no greens left. You’ll have to make do.”
“Can this be eaten? Can this be eaten? What do you mean ‘make do’? No greens, so you expect me to pretend tea leaves are vegetables? Do they taste the same?”
Tang Thirty-Six picked out a piece of tea leaf that had turned black from soaking, speaking with irritation.
Chen Changsheng ignored him. Using the starlight, he found an oil lamp, carefully wiped it clean, and lit the wick. The dim yellow light illuminated the room.
The table was also lit up. Tang Thirty-Six had his head buried in the bowl, eating nonstop, with a pile of fish bones already accumulating in front of him.
Seeing this scene, Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but wonder what the girls in the Kyoto Academy who admired Tang Thirty-Six would think if they saw him eating like this.
Zhe Xiu naturally wasn’t watching Tang Thirty-Six eat. He looked at Xun Mei sitting on the stone outside and said, “I didn’t expect the rumors to be true.”
Chen Changsheng said, “Tang Thirty-Six told me there should be quite a few people like this in the Mausoleum of Books.”
Tang Thirty-Six took a break from eating, lifted his head, and said, “But not many are as famous as Xun Mei.”
Zhe Xiu said, “Many people thought he was long dead… Spending over thirty years observing steles in the Mausoleum of Books—it’s hard to imagine.”
Under Chen Changsheng’s gaze, Tang Thirty-Six awkwardly pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, carefully wiped his mouth, and said, “He can’t bear to leave.”
Zhe Xiu thought of the stories from back then and shook his head. “I think he doesn’t dare to leave.”
Tang Thirty-Six paused, then shook his head. “That’s not quite right. At most, he’s too embarrassed to leave.”
Can’t bear to leave, doesn’t dare to leave, too embarrassed to leave—none of these were pleasant terms.
Chen Changsheng was somewhat surprised. He thought that since the senior named Xun Mei had been the top-ranked first-place winner of the Grand Examination thirty-seven years ago, he must be extraordinary. Why would he receive such evaluations?
“Senior Xun Mei is most famous for his extremely firm will in cultivation. When he was seven years old, he stood in the snow outside Master Yunshan’s door for three days and three nights before being accepted as a disciple.”
Tang Thirty-Six said, “That’s how the phrase ‘Treading Snow Xun Mei’ came about.”
Chen Changsheng asked, “Master Yunshan?”
“Master Yunshan was the teacher of Dean Mao Qiuyu.”
Tang Thirty-Six looked at Chen Changsheng and said, “You didn’t miscalculate. Xun Mei is Dean Mao’s junior brother.”
Mao Qiuyu was one of the strongest figures on the continent. His junior brother could be imagined to be at a high level. Moreover, the word “junior” in “junior brother” itself carried a certain meaning—the junior brother was always the last disciple, and only those with exceptional talent would be taken as the last disciple by a sect or academy faction.
For example, the legendary junior uncle of Lishan, or the current Qijian.
“Xun Mei was the most outstanding student of the Heavenly Dao Academy back then, far surpassing Zhuang Huanyu’s current status there. Ah, speaking of which, should we go into the Mausoleum of Books and call Zhuang Huanyu over? Xun Mei is his great senior from the Heavenly Dao Academy. Watching him kowtow to Xun Mei would be a wonderful thing. And come to think of it, if I hadn’t joined the National Academy, wouldn’t I have had to kowtow just now? That was a close call!” Tang Thirty-Six laughed, but found that Chen Changsheng and Zhe Xiu had no intention of responding. He grew slightly annoyed. “Boring people like you—one is already stifling enough, but why are there two? And why did you two have to meet? How infuriating!”
Chen Changsheng ignored him and asked Zhe Xiu, “Why doesn’t Xun Mei dare to leave the Mausoleum of Books?”
Before Zhe Xiu could speak, Tang Thirty-Six cut in, “You’ve come to the right person with that question. After all, I spent half a year at the Heavenly Dao Academy, so I know this story best. Back then, Xun Mei was the pride of the Heavenly Dao Academy, with astonishing talent. But unfortunately, among his peers, there was someone even more talented and outstanding.”
Tang Thirty-Six’s expression suddenly turned serious. “The greatest misfortune of Xun Mei’s life was living in the same era as Wang Po of Tianliang. Starting from the age of twelve, they often met at various sect gatherings, sparring no fewer than a hundred times, and every time Xun Mei lost. In a certain year’s Stone-Boiling Assembly, Xun Mei even lost three matches in a row.”
After a year of life in Kyoto, Chen Changsheng was still somewhat ignorant, but he knew this name because it was simply too famous.
Before the Autumn Mountain Lord, it was the most famous name on the entire continent. Even now, this name still sat high on the Carefree List.
Wang Po of Tianliang Prefecture.
Then he noticed that when Tang Thirty-Six mentioned this name, his expression was very solemn and wary. He didn’t understand. Even if the Autumn Mountain Lord was now at the top of the Golden List, he was still far from someone like Wang Po, who had long been famous on the Carefree List. How could Tang Thirty-Six possibly have any issue with Wang Po?
“Someone like Xun Mei, with exceptional talent, firm will, and bearing the heavy expectations of the Heavenly Dao Academy—how could he be content to live in Wang Po’s shadow his whole life? He entered the Mausoleum of Books to observe steles and comprehend the Dao for thirty-seven years, refusing to leave, precisely because he wanted to understand the true meaning of the Heavenly Dao here and then defeat Wang Po.”
Tang Thirty-Six glanced outside and said, “Now it seems that Wang Po of Tianliang has become his mental obstacle. As long as he isn’t certain he can defeat his opponent, he won’t leave the Mausoleum of Books. Can’t bear to, doesn’t dare, too embarrassed—all are correct, because he knows very well that the day he steps out of the Mausoleum of Books, Wang Po will definitely be waiting outside.”
Chen Changsheng stood up, walked to the door, and looked at the disheveled middle-aged man under the starlight, his feelings complicated.
Unable to leave the Mausoleum of Books—was it because he lacked the courage to face the world outside, or that person? He didn’t think so. The once-proud youth of the Heavenly Dao Academy couldn’t lack courage, at least not when facing his lifelong rival Wang Po. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have fought over a hundred matches back then. So why didn’t he dare to leave the Mausoleum of Books?
Leaving sometimes meant eternal farewell. Xun Mei didn’t dare to leave the Mausoleum of Books because he feared losing it. From his prime youth to his down-and-out state, thirty-seven whole years had been devoted to this place. The Mausoleum of Books had made him stronger, and the stronger he became, the more he feared leaving.
As Tang Thirty-Six had said during the day, for cultivators, the Mausoleum of Books was like a fine wine—the more you drank, the drunker you got; the drunker you got, the more you wanted to drink. Facing such a fine wine, how much to drink—whether to stay drunk and never wake, or to take only a sip—was a test for everyone. For Xun Mei, because of that shadow from Tianliang Prefecture, this choice was even harder.
But Xun Mei had exceptional talent and had spent thirty-seven years observing steles in the Mausoleum of Books. How powerful must he be now? Yet even at this level, he still lacked the confidence to defeat his opponent outside the Mausoleum of Books. So how powerful was Wang Po of Tianliang?
Still, this was a problem that had to be solved. Tang Thirty-Six said that when he stepped out of the Mausoleum of Books, Wang Po would definitely be waiting outside. He didn’t mean that Wang Po would literally be waiting for him at the entrance, but that once he left the Mausoleum of Books, he would have to seek out Wang Po to give his life and these thirty-seven years of stele-observing some closure.
A clear wind rose from the forest outside the Mausoleum of Books, sweeping up grass clippings from the ground and rustling the tender green leaves on the trees, making a sound like rain. Though it was just a clear wind, it came from two directions. Those grass clippings and tender leaves were swept into the forest, spiraling upward like an inverted waterfall, cutting the starlight descending from the night sky into countless fragments.
Mao Qiuyu, with his two sleeves of clear wind, appeared on the scene. He looked toward a locust tree, his expression complicated. “Twenty years ago, I once asked you to come and persuade him to leave, but you didn’t come.”
Under the locust tree stood a man. He looked quite young, but there was a frosty air between his brows. His clothes were washed clean, and his black hair was tied tightly, yet for some reason, he gave off a shabby impression—like a once-young master who, after his family’s decline, had worked as an accountant in an inn for three years.
“If he doesn’t want to come out himself, no one can persuade him,” the man said, looking at the Mausoleum of Books in the night.
Mao Qiuyu asked, “Then why have you come today?”
The man said, “I don’t know why, but I feel he will come out tonight. So I’m here to wait for him.”
(This name was chosen when I started writing the book, hehe…)