Chapter 842: The One Who Doesn't Speak in the Ancestral Hall
When facing Old Man Lin in the National Academy, or even when facing his own master Shang Xingzhou, or on the Snow Ridge, elsewhere, or even last night in the Dao Hall facing Second Master Tang, whenever he encountered those oppressive great figures and elders, Chen Changsheng would always think of that friend.
That friend was the first person he met after arriving in the capital from Xining Town, and could be said to be the first friend in his life.
The way he and that friend became acquainted was actually somewhat inexplicable. It was during the Heavenly Dao Academy's enrollment period, when many students who had successfully undergone marrow cleansing, or even reached the Meditation realm, were lined up waiting to be tested. He, who still didn't understand what cultivation was, saw a youth dressed in blue robes, and that youth, clearly a prodigy in cultivation, declared that he too was a genius. That youth went to the Plum Garden Inn, found Chen Changsheng, shared a meal, and then the two became friends. It was that simple.
That friend was called Tang Tang.
At the time, he was ranked thirty-sixth on the Azure Cloud List, so he changed his name to Tang Thirty-Six.
From then until now, the Azure Cloud List and the Star Point List had changed countless times, and his ranking naturally shifted constantly, but he never changed his name again. Perhaps it was because during his favorite youthful years, he had always lived under the name Tang Thirty-Six.
The reason Chen Changsheng often thought of Tang Thirty-Six, missed Tang Thirty-Six, was not only because he was his friend, but also because Tang Thirty-Six had always played a very important role for him and the National Academy. The things he, Su Moyu, Zhe Xiu, and Xuan Yuan Po weren't good at, Tang Thirty-Six excelled at. The words they couldn't speak, Tang Thirty-Six could say easily. The things they were too embarrassed to do, Tang Thirty-Six never knew what shame meant.
In other words, precisely because of Tang Thirty-Six's existence, his and the National Academy's years in the capital had been so relaxed and smooth.
Tang Thirty-Six was the kind of person who could best please his own people and torment his opponents.
Because he was the only grandson of the Tang family, extremely wealthy, and utterly uninhibited. Especially after joining the National Academy, he never again played the role of a graceful noble son. He was utterly unrestrained, arrogantly domineering, incomparably reckless. On the Divine Path, he had scolded a young girl until she cried. In Hundred Flowers Alley, he had kicked a cripple. There was nothing he dared not do.
His body possessed everything Chen Changsheng lacked most.
That was the true passion, youth, and self hidden beneath the arrogance, domineering, and recklessness.
During the upheaval at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, Tang Thirty-Six was forcibly taken from the capital back to Wenshui. It had been three years since then.
Aside from two and a half years in the old mansion, he had been imprisoned in the ancestral hall for half a year.
Those qualities of arrogance, domineering, and recklessness seemed to have vanished.
That passion, youth, and self were even more lost without a trace.
His hair was disheveled, his appearance unkempt, his clothes filthy, his gaze wooden as if dead, his lips sealed as if mute.
On him, one could only see numbness and lifelessness, signifying surrender and despair.
Anyone who saw him now would probably think he was a beggar or an ascetic monk.
No one could connect him with that noble son who once stood among flowers, receiving the adoring gazes of countless capital maidens.
But Chen Changsheng wouldn't. Because he understood this friend better than anyone, believed in this friend more than anyone.
He believed that even if he discovered the sun had fallen into the abyss, unable to rise again, and the world was about to be destroyed, Tang Thirty-Six wouldn't crawl into bed and cry. Instead, he would summon all the courtesans of the capital for a wild, uncovered gathering, then lead the young people he deemed worthy to struggle alongside him, carrying unimaginable amounts of gold, silver, and jewels, along with several carts of blue lobsters, riding the fastest horses in pursuit of where the sun had set, all while cursing the sky with the filthiest words and singing the stupidest songs.
If Chen Changsheng had seen the scene in the ancestral hall, he would have known his thoughts were correct, and his worries were unnecessary. Last night in the Dao Hall, he had told Second Master Tang that he was worried whether Tang Thirty-Six had a good cushion in the ancestral hall, whether kneeling too long had hurt his knees.
Tang Thirty-Six wasn't kneeling at all.
No matter how lonely his figure seemed, how disheveled his appearance, how lifeless his demeanor, he simply wasn't kneeling.
He wasn't kneeling on the cushion; he was sitting on it.
And sitting with his legs spread out.
That was the most indecent sitting posture.
His legs were open, his crotch facing the countless… memorial tablets ahead.
Those tablets were the ancestors of the Tang family, his own ancestors.
So what?
If you want to imprison me, don't expect me to still respect you.
……
……
Tang Thirty-Six, of course, was still the same Tang Thirty-Six as before.
Yes, after being locked in the ancestral hall, he was completely cut off from the outside world. Not only could he no longer write to Chen Changsheng, but there was no one to talk to him either.
According to Old Master Tang's orders, no one was allowed to speak to him. Apart from a mute servant responsible for sweeping the courtyard, there was no one else in the ancestral hall.
From that day on, Tang Thirty-Six stopped speaking.
As for silent resistance, no one could do it more thoroughly than him.
Unable to learn news from the outside world, not knowing how his father's illness was, or how his mother was—these were certainly anxiety-inducing matters.
But it also gave Tang Thirty-Six enough time to think and cultivate.
Perhaps because the ancestral hall was too quiet, with no one to disturb him, or because his father's condition had worsened, seemingly incurable, it took him only half a day to figure out something he hadn't understood in the previous two years—the reason behind Old Master Tang's actions.
During the centuries Old Master Tang had been in charge, what was he most famous for?
His vision.
Whether it was Su Li back then or Wang Po later, both had proven that Old Master Tang possessed a keen eye for recognizing talent.
Later, when Old Master Tang gave the yellow paper umbrella to Chen Changsheng, who was about to enter the Zhou Garden, it naturally wasn't just because of the friendship between Chen Changsheng and Tang Thirty-Six. It was because Old Master Tang valued Chen Changsheng as much as he valued Su Li and Wang Po, and this investment would greatly benefit the relationship between the Tang family and the National Religion.
Why did he suddenly change his mind?
First, Old Master Tang and Shang Xingzhou were true kindred spirits, sharing a secret friendship that had lasted for centuries.
Initially, he tacitly allowed Tang Thirty-Six to befriend Chen Changsheng and secretly help the National Academy, largely because Chen Changsheng was Shang Xingzhou's student.
Now that Chen Changsheng and Shang Xingzhou had become estranged as master and disciple, Old Master Tang naturally had to consider which side to support.
From within the Tang family, the problem Old Master Tang had to solve was the inheritance of succession.
Shang Xingzhou and the imperial court supported the second branch.
Chen Changsheng and the National Religion undoubtedly supported the first branch.
During the upheaval at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, Second Master Tang's performance was outstanding. Moreover, Tang Thirty-Six knew clearly that his second uncle's coldness and toughness were far more appreciated by Old Master Tang than his father's former gentle approach. More crucially, his father was gravely ill, beyond cure. If the first branch were chosen, it would be equivalent to choosing Tang Thirty-Six.
A son in his prime with strong methods, or a grandson with potential but not yet fully fledged—how to choose?
Looking back at past history, casually glancing at old records, one would know how to decide.