Chapter 551: Before the Broken Stele, Continuing the Past
Popular recommendations: , , , , , ,
Ji Jin, from the Southern Locust Academy, had sworn a blood oath to become a Stele Attendant, bound for life never to leave the Mausoleum of Books.
Last year, this man had attempted to help Locust Academy disciple Zhong Hui surpass Chen Changsheng and Gou Hanshi in their comprehension of the steles during the viewing process. He had issued many sharp mockeries and reprimands regarding Chen Changsheng and Gou Hanshi’s methods of interpreting the steles, only to be silently humiliated by them through the facts themselves.
Ji Jin stared at Chen Changsheng, his eyes harboring hidden hostility and resentment.
Though as a Stele Attendant he could never leave the Mausoleum of Books for life, he was not completely cut off from the world. News from outside the mausoleum had gradually reached his ears.
Chen Changsheng had viewed all the front mausoleum steles in a single day; he had become the youngest dean of the National Academy; he had gone to the Zhou Garden; he might have died but then lived again; he had traveled south with Su Li; his sword cultivation had advanced by leaps and bounds, breaking through realms to defeat a Star Condensation expert, and on the Bridge of Helplessness he had triumphed over the generation’s prodigy Xu Yourong; he had finally been confirmed as the successor of the National Church…
The Locust Academy disciple Zhong Hui, whom he had placed great hopes in, had taken third place in the Grand Examination last year, below Chen Changsheng and Gou Hanshi. In the short span of a little over a year since, he had made tremendous progress, shocking the entire southern region—but how could he compare to Chen Changsheng?
More crucially, this was the Mausoleum of Books, the place for which he had been willing to sacrifice his life and freedom to remain!
What right did you have to come and go so casually!
Xu Yourong did not know Ji Jin, but she could sense that this high-level Stele Attendant clearly bore hostility toward Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng roughly understood the source of Ji Jin’s anger. He inclined his body slightly but said nothing.
By propriety, Ji Jin should have bowed to him, but thinking that the man’s age and seniority warranted respect, Chen Changsheng offered his greeting first.
Yet Ji Jin still showed no intention of returning the bow, merely staring fixedly at him.
Xu Yourong’s expression was very calm, but as she looked at Ji Jin, her eyes gradually grew bright.
Chen Changsheng shook his head and led her away along the other side of the mountain path.
Ji Jin’s hands, hidden within his sleeves, trembled slightly. Especially when Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong brushed past him, the veins on his hands bulged visibly.
In the end, he did nothing, because he dared not.
These years had been bitter and stifling for him. He longed to vent his frustration, and Chen Changsheng was naturally the best target.
But he was inside the Mausoleum of Books, while his family and the Locust Academy remained outside.
If he did not want his family and the Locust Academy to be burned to ashes by the raging flames of the National Church, he could do nothing.
He could refuse to bow to Chen Changsheng, but he could not lay a hand on him.
…
…
The sun was rising, the snow clouds had dispersed. The winter capital possessed a unique, expansive beauty.
Standing beside the forest within the mausoleum, gazing at the distant streets and alleys of the capital, Chen Changsheng recalled the time when he and Luoluo had stood on the banyan tree at the National Academy, looking down at the streets. He said, “I once asked Luoluo to help investigate news of you. Since… I’ve found you now, I thought I should let her know, so I mentioned it briefly in my letter to her.”
Xu Yourong said softly, “Back on the Li Mountain, I initially thought you were dead. I told my senior brother about what happened in the Zhou Garden. He was a bit worried about me. A few days ago, after eating the beef bone hotpot, I wrote him a letter.”
That day on the Bridge of Helplessness, they had met, then shared a beef bone hotpot, confirming certain things. So it was only right to clarify other matters as well—this was a very responsible attitude. Though neither of them had experience in such things, nor had they thought through the specifics, they both did so.
Mentioning these two letters now was naturally another way of expressing their feelings.
From the Zhou Garden to now, they had expressed their feelings many times, but the methods were always somewhat unusual—like brushing off snow, like touching a shoulder, like writing letters to others.
Chen Changsheng’s eyes were clear, like a small stream, making it easy to see the joy swimming within like fish.
Xu Yourong said softly, “Asking you to come to the Mausoleum of Books wasn’t for… it’s about serious matters.”
There was an unspoken implication—the phrase “wasn’t for” in this sentence actually meant “wasn’t only for.”
Meeting in the Mausoleum of Books—what serious matters could there be? Naturally, it was about the Heavenly Book Steles.
Behind them stood the Zhaojing Stele Pavilion. On the black stone stele, the poetic lines were so clear, yet those lines and curves remained as difficult to understand as ever.
Chen Changsheng walked to the stele pavilion, recalling the time he had viewed the stele here last year, and felt a touch of emotion.
“At that time, I was cooking in the thatched hut. I saw the light fall on the fence…”
He recounted his experiences, insights, and several methods of comprehending the stele without holding anything back.
Xu Yourong listened quietly, her hands clasped behind her back trembling slightly in the breeze, as if she were pushing the Destiny Star Disk, continuously performing deductions based on his words.
When Chen Changsheng finished, she began to share her own initial experiences and gains from viewing the Zhaojing Stele: “…So, in essence, what we call density and lightness is also a change in light.”
Chen Changsheng was somewhat uncertain and asked, “The ink density of rubbings is inherently uneven. Could the form cause us to lose the meaning?”
Xu Yourong said, “The rubbings of the Heavenly Book Steles preserved by the Southern Creek Nunnery were imprinted by the first Saintess onto her own soul using the Heavenly Heart Seal, then reflected back onto the stone. Two or three parts of the true meaning can be preserved.”
Upon hearing this, Chen Changsheng felt boundless awe and reverence for that Saintess who had founded the Southern Sect of the National Church.
“Two or three parts of the true meaning”—that sounded like a rather meager proportion, but one had to understand that the “true meaning” here referred to the true essence of the Heavenly Book Steles. For that first Saintess to be able to directly copy those true meanings into her own soul and then reinterpret them into lines and shapes—truly, it was a great divine power.
Such rubbings of the Heavenly Book Steles were naturally completely different from those sold by the street vendors in front of the Plum Garden Inn.
“And what I just mentioned wasn’t about rubbings,” Xu Yourong said. “The density and lightness I spoke of refer to the actual brushstroke density and lightness on the Heavenly Book Stele itself.”
Chen Changsheng was momentarily taken aback and asked, “You’ve come to the Mausoleum of Books to view the steles before?”
Xu Yourong looked a bit embarrassed and said, “When I was five, Her Majesty carried me in here.”
Chen Changsheng fell silent, thinking to himself, truly, she is someone who leaves others speechless.
After viewing the Zhaojing Stele, they went to the second Heavenly Book Stele. Occasionally, they saw some stele viewers, but not many. Those people had stayed in the Mausoleum of Books for years; their Dao hearts had long since grown still, their attention fixed solely on the stone steles, and they did not notice the pair’s arrival.
The two wandered freely through the mausoleum, exchanging their experiences and insights from when they had first viewed the steles, comparing notes and gaining new benefits.
When they arrived before that broken stele, the winter sun had already reached its zenith.
The Broken Stele Pavilion was empty. Chen Changsheng walked inside and stood before the broken stele, lost in thought.
Xu Yourong came to his side, looked at him, shook her head, and said softly but firmly, “Don’t.”
…
…
(To thank a certain reader, and also because… unable to bear solitude, unable to pretend to be aloof, unable to save up drafts, there will be another chapter at eight in the evening.)