Guangyi kept his eyes on his nose, his nose on his heart, silently reciting the Great Sun Universal Illumination Sutra, his face betraying not the slightest ripple.
He was only joking with himself. An ordinary monk of middling talent, every single person here outclassed him in cultivation. If he dared show the least bit of strange emotion, these female spirits would probably devour him on the spot.
Amitabha!
“Darling Lu, Masters, please take a seat. Little Cui, hurry and brew some tea.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Little Cui answered, a swirl of smoke rose around her, and she vanished in an instant.
Great… even the only ghost on my level has disappeared…
Hang on, there was a faint scent of incense?
Guangyi blinked, quietly circulated his energy, and carefully sensed it. Only then did he notice the thick, almost tangible incense power radiating from the lady of the house.
Good heavens! An incense deity?
Guangyi’s eyes nearly popped out. An incense deity with such abundant worship, beautiful as peach blossoms yet dignified in bearing, the two qualities perfectly blended. Could this be the City God of Lingbei Circuit in the flesh?
Guangyue tugged at Guangyi. “This is the court-enregistered Peach Blossom Fairy.”
Only then did Guangyi snap back to reality and hurriedly press his palms together in salute. “Greetings, Peach Blossom Fairy!”
“No need for formalities, Master. Please, have some tea.”
Shen Ying gave a faint smile, took the cup from Little Cui, and handed it to Guangyi.
…
Once everyone was seated and learned that Guangyue and Guangyi were only passing through, Shen Ying turned to Lu Zheng. “Darling, you’ve only just returned?”
“Exactly.” Lu Zheng nodded.
“You have such a cruel heart. You told us such a heartbreaking story, then walked away as if nothing happened, leaving the rest of us grieving and sighing.” Shen Ying spoke softly, her tone wistful.
“Ha?” Lu Zheng’s eyes widened.
“For the past few days we’ve done nothing but copy that book,” Shen Ying said, shaking her head.
He blinked, took in the resentful looks the ladies were giving him, and instantly realised Liu Qingyan had recommended the story to everyone.
“You’ve all read it?”
“We have, we have. Such a moving tale. Who would have thought Master Lu had another story like that?”
Bi Xinyu swayed forward, her snake-like waist moving with boneless grace. “This concubine was so touched she cried several times.”
Tsk, tsk. That sultry expression, that seductive tone…
Cried several times? I’ll believe it when pigs fly!
Bai Ting’er bounced over. “And that music is so beautiful. Did you compose it, Master Lu?”
“No, no, it already existed in my hometown.” Lu Zheng hurriedly waved his hands.
“Are there any lyrics?” Yu Mingxin asked expectantly.
Lu Zheng shook his head. “No lyrics.”
“What a shame… a peerless melody with no words to match it.” Yu Mingxin sounded genuinely regretful.
Hu Caini said, “Why not write some yourself?”
Yu Mingxin rolled her eyes at her. She had nothing to say to this fox spirit who only knew how to dance, play, and toy with men.
If Big Sister hadn’t forced her, Hu Caini probably wouldn’t even recognise all the characters. An illiterate!
Hu Caini clearly understood the look and bristled with anger. “I wasn’t talking to you. You may sing beautifully, but what do you know about lyrics? I meant Master Lu. He wrote the poem ‘Peach Blossoms Are in Bloom’, so surely he can manage a set of lyrics?”
Yu Mingxin: ???
Hu Caini: (｀^′)
The next moment, Hua Yixing grabbed one in each hand and hauled the pair aside. “Sit down!”
“Oh~”
“Yes~”
…
Watching the ladies interact with Lu Zheng left Guangyue and Guangyi utterly bewildered, though they didn’t dare ask questions.
It was Shen Ying, as the hostess, who quietly explained everything to the two monks.
“Amitabha!”
“Who would have thought Daoist brother could write stories too?” Guangyue exclaimed in surprise.
Lu Zheng was speechless. “I didn’t write it, it’s from my home…”
“Where exactly is Daoist brother’s homeland?” Guangyue asked.
Lu Zheng blinked, barely suppressing the urge to punch him, simply took a sip of tea, sighed, and put on a regretful expression.
There was clearly a story there!
“Amitabha!”
His little performance worked. Guangyue decided not to pry further, only proclaimed a Buddhist phrase and said earnestly, “Daoist brother, an unresolved heart demon hinders cultivation!”
Lu Zheng nodded and silently released a trace of extraordinarily pure White Cloud true qi.
Guangyue, “…”
…
Everyone drank tea and chatted, and the topic was almost entirely Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai.
One moment they pitied Liang Shanbo, the next they pitied Zhu Yingtai.
Sometimes they cursed Ma Wencai, sometimes they called Lord Zhu an old fossil.
Of course they also talked about the joys of academy life, the humour in the Grass Hut Oath, and the misunderstandings during the eighteen-li farewell.
While chatting, Guangyue and Guangyi finished reading the copy of Liang Zhu that Peach Blossom Manor had transcribed.
“A fine story, quite unlike most picture books on the market.”
“No adepts appear throughout, yet the grave opening and butterfly transformation at the end are clearly the work of an adept.”
“Surely some adept took pity and secretly used divine powers to attach Liang and Zhu’s souls to butterflies.”
“But why butterflies? And why not help openly? I think their longing to grow old together was so strong that their souls refused to scatter and attached themselves to weak butterfly spirits.”
“Even so, they wouldn’t live long…”
“Still, a few days of flying wing to wing would be worth it!”
“Waaah… it’s too sad…”
“Did an adept really appear? Can they go on living?”
All eyes turned to Lu Zheng, faintly accusing, making him feel more uncomfortable than staring down dozens of gun barrels.
*Ahem.* “Well… that’s for you to imagine…”
*Cough.* “By the way, I have another story. Would you like to hear it?”
The best way to shift attention from one story is, of course, to tell another.
“What story?”
“A love story between a scholar and a female ghost,” Lu Zheng said.
“Yes, yes, tell us!” The ladies nodded eagerly in unison.
So Lu Zheng told the tale of Ning Caichen, Nie Xiaoqian, and Yan Chixia, the story known as A Chinese Ghost Story.
He did not follow Pu Songling’s original Liaozhai tale, but based it mainly on the Hong Kong film version: a timid yet resolute scholar, a kind and sorrowful female ghost, and a bold, unconventional Daoist swordsman.
He left the ending open as well. Ning Caichen carries Nie Xiaoqian’s ashes away. Whether he lives with her or helps her reincarnate is left to the reader’s imagination.
Though it still left a lingering aftertaste, it was far easier to accept than the tragic double death of Liang Zhu.
The ladies listened spellbound. Shen Ying, however, looked at Lu Zheng very strangely.
“What is it?” Lu Zheng sent her a private sound transmission.
“If Sister Yan Hongxia comes back and discovers you turned her into a bearded, scruffy, free-spirited Daoist swordsman, do you think she’ll be happy?”
Lu Zheng: (′°Δ°`)
“It’s just a story!” Lu Zheng protested desperately.
“This story is based on what you told us last time, about that incident you encountered on the road, isn’t it?” Shen Ying transmitted back, her tone unreadable. “Scholar Ning, Miss Qianqian… you barely changed the names.”
Lu Zheng, “…”
“You’re very good to Sister Hongxia, combining the roles of Daoist Rong Song and that Hero Zhang and giving them all to her.”
Shen Ying sighed. “This concubine feels rather pitiful. Who would have thought you’d cast me as the villain? Boo-hoo… I’m so hurt…”
Lu Zheng, “…”
I’m so bloody wronged!
