Chapter 27: Chapter Twenty-Seven: Old Dreams

Pei Ye entered Lin Jue’s room.

The girl’s boudoir had changed greatly from the way he remembered it in childhood.

The room now felt “full”—delicate flowers and plants, books of all sizes, intricate little trinkets, and a variety of wall hangings created a dazzling yet orderly chaos.

Because she could not go out easily, she poured all her thoughts into this small world of hers.

The first thing he saw upon entering was a delicate little brazier, atop which sat a slightly crooked teapot, its side painted with a clumsy little dog.

Pei Ye picked it up; the girl’s hands, covered in clay, her pale face speckled with mud, rose from his memory. He couldn’t help smiling, and placed it on the table beside him.

He pulled open another drawer and pulled out a yellow jade seal carved with a tiny rabbit.

As he took out the seal, he noticed over a dozen rough jade scraps scattered in the drawer. He picked up a few at random and froze—their surfaces were covered in dense, crooked little characters. Frowning, he saw that the characters “De,” “Cang,” and “He” appeared most frequently.

Pei Ye suddenly understood.

These were the traces of the girl practicing, character by character, before carving the small green jade pillar for him.

The room fell silent. Pei Ye had thought his heart had cleared after severing that head, but now he felt struck anew—he realized then that hatred could be washed clean by sword and blood, but sorrow was a lasting, invisible haze.

“Never fall from the azure clouds…” Pei Ye murmured into the silent room.

In all those past moments of comfort, though Pei Ye had been warmed by the girl’s encouragement, it was not the words themselves that moved him—but their sincerity.

Because he had never truly been discouraged.

Unlike how others saw him, Pei Ye had never felt he suffered an unbearable setback, nor had he felt he had plunged into life’s lowest point.

For martial arts had always been his passion, not the sole Jituo of his life.

Though his dantian seed was damaged, it had saddened and frustrated him—but not to the point of world-shattering collapse; the life of effort, progress, and victory brought him joy, but so did running along mountain streams, fishing, and shaking down locust blossoms.

To others, the ten years seemed wasted; to Pei Ye, they were merely a different way of living.

And deep within his heart, there had always been a pride he had never voiced, not even to himself—so what if I wasted five, ten, fifteen years?

From the moment I could cultivate again, as long as I still wished to claim first place in every martial trial, who could stop me?

Even Yan Feiqing, whom he deeply admired, in Pei Ye’s imagined meetings, was never a spectator cheering from below—but a swordsman standing opposite him.

The boy’s confidence had not waned one bit; he still believed he could win countless first places—in Fenghuai, in Bowang Province, even in the dazzling capital of Shenjing—but the voice that had once loudly cheered his crude, childish fist forms was gone forever.

The boy shifted his throat, unconsciously glancing out the window, then lowered his head, returned the jade scraps to the drawer, and closed it.

Next, he pulled out the birdcage and the hand-drawn sketches; beside the sketchbook was a thick stack of familiar papers, neatly bound together with thread and paste. Pei Ye picked one up and flipped through—it was the later pages of past issues of the official bulletin. The front was covered with a cover bearing three regular-script characters: “Xia Gu Can.” The back still awaited binding.

This was truly a treasure. Pei Ye unhesitatingly slipped it into his robe and smiled softly: “You made it so well—lend it to me for a look.”

…

After shoveling the final spadeful of yellow earth onto the grave, Pei Ye returned the iron spade, bid farewell to the others, and returned home.

Though the calamity had eased, he was not entirely at ease.

First, the blue substance on his body remained unexplained—he must wait for the emissaries from Shenjing.

Second, the black dragon’s fate, tied to his own, hung in the balance—he might soar to glory or plunge into the abyss at any moment.

Third, his dantian seed was still missing; though currently no great harm was evident, it bore lifelong consequences. The black dragon suspected the Candle World Sect held the promised seed, but where could he find the sect’s traces?

Lastly, the only matter he could control himself was the autumn martial competition at month’s end—an open trial with no age limit, where everyone gave their all. Many who broke through to cultivate meridians competed. Though he had slain a seven-meridian martialist, on the arena, opponents of three or four meridians remained formidable threats—he must train harder in these days.

Pei Ye practiced sword for an hour as usual, then added half an hour of fistwork, planning to return to the martial hall tomorrow to spar with his masters.

As the sun grew fiercer, Pei Ye picked up the kitten, lay beneath the tree’s shade, and opened the bulletin he had taken from Lin Jue’s room.

“Xia Gu Can.”

The first page opened with a setting poem.

It read:

From the sword’s curve and straight, justice is sought;

I do not trust Heaven to judge love and hate.

Through cracks, I wrestle ghosts, borrowing life;

In jade towers, I trade furs for wine.

Only because I heard weeping at a feast,

I set down my cup, unbridled, and lingered.

Heroes need not save the world,

The first chapter tells of a scholar from Bianzhou, diligent and studious, filial and fraternal, honest and upright, but his family was poor, forcing him to split his time between farming and reading, making life exceedingly hard. Fortunately, heaven smiled upon him: one day while plowing, he unearthed a miraculous pearl. When placed in a dark room, it glowed brilliantly. The scholar was overjoyed and hurriedly took it home.

Pei Ye perked up, adjusted his posture, propped his head on his hands, and read closely.

The previous tale of “Mirror’s Azure Phoenix” told of a poor scholar and a noble maiden; Pei Ye had never missed an issue, but at thirteen or fourteen, he had not yet grasped its essence.

This story, however, was clearly about righteous heroism—the very genre a boy loved most.

The first chapter told of a scholar from the border province, diligent and studious, filial and fraternal, upright and honest, yet impoverished, barely managing half-farming, half-studying. Fortunately, Heaven smiled: one day while plowing, he unearthed a miraculous pearl, glowing brilliantly in darkness. Overjoyed, he hurried home with it.

The daughter of the tailor shop in the western town, named Wanxiu, was exceptionally beautiful and had grown up with the scholar; affection gradually bloomed between them. But his poverty made marriage impossible.

Now that he had found the pearl, he discussed selling it to raise a bride-price, buy a house, and marry her in splendor. Yet Wanxiu glared at him:

“I chose you because I love your resilience, your lofty ambition. With such character, even without a single coin, I would elope with you; without it, even ten thousand taels of gold would not make me speak a word to you. Now that you have wealth, you do not use it to study and take the exams—you wish to spend it all to marry me? Where is your character now?”

The scholar broke into a cold sweat, immediately reflected, took the pearl to a pawnshop, and devoted himself entirely to study. Half a year later, he passed the county examination. His father-in-law had already relented, but the scholar aimed for the provincial exam, intending to return and celebrate grandly. Wanxiu supported him, telling her father: “He will wait as many years as he needs to pass—I will wait as many years. He does not fear my aging; I do not fear it either.”

Finally, the provincial exam neared. The scholar bought a pearl hairpin for his beloved; they agreed to marry upon his return. Full of confidence, he set off.

[55] Three days of hardship turned him to a ghost. Under the August sun, the cooking fire scorched him, until the results were posted. He stepped out of the exam hall wearing a long robe soaked and dried countless times, his expression hopeful yet slightly anxious.

[56] Eager to share his three-day ordeal with his beloved, he packed his things, mounted his small donkey, and rode toward town.

[57] The first chapter ended here.

[58] Pei Ye was about to turn to the next chapter when the courtyard gate suddenly banged: “Young Master Pei, a squad of riders from the county office has arrived—Magistrate Chang asks you to come quickly.”