Chapter 3: Four Seasons of Plum Blossoms, Autumn Fruits Gradually Fall
In the eyes of the world, the Pope’s trust and affection for Chen Changsheng were beyond measure, even somewhat inexplicable. Logically, Chen Changsheng should naturally follow his will. Yet in truth, from the military camp to Xunyang City, Chen Changsheng had done many things that went against the Pope’s wishes. No matter how one looked at it, the Pope should have been quite disappointed, or at least asked for some reasons.
The Pope did not ask. He quietly looked at Chen Changsheng and said, “It’s truly hard to imagine that my senior brother would teach a student like you.”
Chen Changsheng was stunned. He suddenly realized that his impression of his master was actually very vague. What kind of person was his master, really? In the Pope’s view, what should a student taught by him be like? He didn’t know the answer, but he was very certain that the Pope’s words were correct, because he wasn’t actually taught by his master—he was taught by his senior brother…
Thinking of the old temple in Xining Town, the fog behind the mountain and the voices within it, as well as his senior brother and the wildflowers, he became somewhat lost in thought.
The Pope looked at him with a calm smile, thinking that at a time like this, anyone else would be nervous, yet this little fellow still had the leisure to think about other things. Truly remarkable.
“Sit down,” he said to Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng hummed in acknowledgment and obediently sat in the chair, not leaning against the backrest, nor deliberately perching on the edge. He was genuinely well-behaved, without any pretense.
The Pope pointed at the teapot.
Chen Changsheng understood. He picked up the teapot and filled the cup in front of the Pope, then, after a moment’s thought, filled his own cup as well, and then began to drift off again.
Because he recalled those two nights in the Herb Garden, the small table, and the woman who had sat across from him, drinking tea in silence.
The Pope set down his teacup and said casually, “Tell me about what happened in the Zhou Garden.”
He spoke casually, and what he wanted to hear was also casual, because one thing was certain: Su Li was not in the Zhou Garden.
“In the Zhou Garden… I met a girl,” Chen Changsheng said instinctively.
The Pope was slightly taken aback and asked, “Oh?”
Chen Changsheng snapped back to reality, feeling his face grow a bit hot. He quickly recounted everything that had happened in the Zhou Garden in detail, starting from when he obtained the yellow paper umbrella in the Wen Shui Tang family, all the way to Zhou Dufu’s tomb. He left out almost nothing, except for some details unrelated to major events—like the girl, which he naturally wouldn’t mention—and for some reason, he didn’t bring up the Two-Slash Sword Technique or the lost Heavenly Book steles in Zhou’s tomb…
Sunlight filtered through the eaves of the hall, falling onto the floor as smooth as jade, dividing the ground into many grids, like a chessboard.
The Pope sat in his chair, staring at the floor in silence for a long time.
Zhou’s tomb, the Sky-Covering Sword, the yellow paper umbrella, Li Mountain, the Sword Pond, the beast tide—this story spanning hundreds of years, the fate between two worlds, even he couldn’t help but feel moved after hearing it.
“So… the Sword Pond is the Sword Sea, the Never-Setting Sun Grassland, and that person’s tomb is also inside it.”
The Pope’s voice echoed in the quiet hall.
As the supreme sage of the human world, his grasp of this world far exceeded ordinary imagination, but only today did he learn that the grassland he had glimpsed many years ago concealed so many secrets.
“The obsidian coffin in Zhou’s tomb is empty,” Chen Changsheng said, naturally not forgetting this crucial detail.
The Pope smiled without speaking. That person’s life and death were a mystery to many, but time was ultimately the most powerful thing in the world. By now, he no longer cared much about it.
Relatively speaking, the Pope was more concerned about other matters: “So, those swords are all in your hands now?”
Without any hesitation, Chen Changsheng untied the short sword from his waist and offered it with both hands.
Back at the Plum Garden Inn, Tang Thirty-Six had wanted to take his sword, and he had refused. But now he couldn’t refuse, because the Pope was the Pope, and also his uncle.
The fact that the swords from the Sword Pond were in his possession couldn’t be hidden either. When he fought General Xue He in the wilderness, those swords had already revealed their traces.
“Do you know what this scabbard is?” the Pope asked, not taking the short sword, looking at him instead.
Chen Changsheng shook his head.
The Pope sighed with emotion and said, “This was the treasure of the National Academy back then. It disappeared during that bloody conflict, and it turns out your master took it away.”
Chen Changsheng didn’t know what to say.
“Your master and I were classmates, even fellow disciples. To be honest, his talent and wisdom in cultivation always far surpassed mine, yet in the end, I inherited the position of Pope, and he went to the National Academy as its dean.”
The Pope looked at the sky outside the hall, the ocean of stars in his eyes slowly flickering in and out of existence, like clouds and time: “Because his obsession was too strong. Don’t follow his example.”
Chen Changsheng still didn’t know what to say. About the events at the National Academy back then, even now he didn’t know the true inside story. Even if he did, he had no right to speak.
“What should be done with the swords from the Sword Pond?”
“The Li Palace will issue a decree to the world. Sects that still have descendants will register first, and then the swords will be returned to them. As for sects whose lineages have been broken, you will keep those swords yourself.”
Chen Changsheng understood. With such an arrangement, after the Star-Gazing Heavenly Book Mausoleum incident, he would have rendered another great service to the human world. The criticism caused by the deaths of Liang Xiaoxiao and Zhuang Huanyu would be greatly alleviated. He said, “I’ll follow your arrangements.”
He didn’t use the respectful title “Your Holiness,” nor did he tug at his sleeve and call him “Uncle.” He simply said “you” softly—that was already a kind of progress, a step back into the natural closeness of the sect.
The Pope was satisfied and said to him, “Go on, get some good rest.”
Seeing his expression, the Pope understood what he was worried about and said, “Zhe Xiu will be out soon.”
From start to finish, the Pope never asked him a single question about Su Li.
Having just returned to the capital, how could he rest properly? After leaving the Li Palace, he couldn’t go back to the National Academy, nor could he visit Zhe Xiu. Chen Changsheng was taken by Deacon Xin to the Ecclesiastical Office.
A row of red maples should have been like fire, but in the late spring and early summer, they were a deep green, surpassing emerald, just like the building behind the maples, which held the dual identity of the imperial educational institution and the National Church’s Hall of Culture.
In the deepest room of the hall, filled with plum blossoms everywhere, Merisara sat behind a desk, eyes closed, seemingly asleep yet not, the age spots on his face growing clearer, like the rouge plums on the table. Chen Changsheng stood before the desk, looking at the Cardinal across the rouge plums, his feelings complicated.
Compared to the Pope, Cardinal Merisara had no direct connection to him. Logically, he should feel more distant, but for some reason, he had always felt that the Cardinal was genuinely good to him. Whether during the Grand Examination or the Zhou Garden expedition, Cardinal Merisara had provided him with too much convenience and help. Although sometimes those things made him feel pressured, the real reason for his complicated feelings wasn’t that—it was that the Cardinal was growing old.
Chen Changsheng didn’t know Merisara’s level of cultivation, but given his seniority and influence within the National Church, which rivaled the Pope’s, and the attitude of people like Zhu Luo toward him, he could guess that the Cardinal wasn’t far from the Divine Domain. Clerics at this level, like other cultivators, often lived over eight hundred years. In that long span of time, even as powerful experts aged, they only showed signs in their hair, brows, and a few wrinkles—never the weakness of decrepitude. Only in the final stage of life would they consider the issue of descendants, leave behind bloodlines, and then age rapidly at an unimaginable speed.
Death like the quiet beauty of autumn leaves? No, more like fruits falling in a fierce wind.
Over the past year, the entire continent knew that Cardinal Merisara was aging.
This meant that the Cardinal’s days in the world were numbered; he could return to the Starry Sea at any time.
The rouge plums were so vibrant, the plum blossoms in the room blooming as if it weren’t late spring, but any season—spring, summer, autumn, winter—whenever plum blossoms were meant to flourish.
Compared to the room full of floral colors, the Cardinal’s aging was all the more striking.
Chen Changsheng felt a pang of sadness.
Just then, the Cardinal opened his eyes, looked at him, smiled, and said, “Come here.”
Chen Changsheng walked over to him as instructed.
Merisara looked at him with emotion and said, “Knowing you’re still alive brings me great joy, yet also some sadness.”
Chen Changsheng didn’t understand these words, but for some reason, a sense of unease, even fear, rose in his heart.
“Since Su Li isn’t dead, we still need to pull our focus back and land it on the capital, just as you ultimately had to return to the capital.”
Merisara said, “The Stone-Boiling Conference is next year. I don’t know if I’ll still be able to see it, but at least I can see out this year of yours.”
Chen Changsheng wanted to offer some words of comfort, but found he wasn’t good at it, and lowered his head in self-reproach.
Merisara looked at him calmly and said, “This year is very important to you.”
Chen Changsheng said, “I don’t understand.”
“You need to mature as quickly as possible.”
After saying this, Merisara’s expression grew heavy, his eyes dimmed, but then brightened again: “Trust me, in the end, you and we will win.”
Chen Changsheng truly didn’t understand. He wondered, who was this battle against? The Empress? Even if so, what power did he have to participate in a conflict of that level?
“The issue between the National Church and Her Majesty still comes down to that position in the palace.”
Merisara stood up with some difficulty, led Chen Changsheng to the window, and looked toward the palace not far away, saying, “In this struggle, you will play a very important role.”
Chen Changsheng said, “Just because I am… the teacher’s student? Representing the stance of supporting the royal family?”
Merisara said with emotion, “It’s far more than that.”
The Cardinal didn’t explain further, because this matter was hard to explain, even impossible to explain, and also because at that moment, the door was knocked on at just the right time.
When the door was pushed open, a figure appeared that Chen Changsheng had never expected.
(Next chapter before eight o’clock.)