Chapter 38: The Song Before Sleep

Li Banfeng told the driver to take the cart to a desolate stretch beyond the outer ditch and unload the goods.

Chunsheng had already paid the full fare; the driver asked no questions, simply set the cargo beside the trees and drove off.

Li Banfeng glanced around to confirm no one was nearby, then strained his muscles and lifted the four-poster wooden bed.

Indeed, the cultivation base of a Traveling Cultivator was quite impressive—he could carry such a massive bed and still free a hand to pull out his keys.

This solid wood bed was genuinely heavy.

That fellow Chunsheng earlier had carried the entire bed onto the cart by himself—he clearly wasn’t ordinary.

Li Banfeng placed the bed inside his Personal Dwelling; the Dwelling itself was small, only six or seven square meters, and with a one-and-a-half-meter bed inside, the space felt slightly cramped.

Li Banfeng then brought in the phonograph, wondering where to place it.

Put it opposite the bed, so he could listen to music while lying down?

Enjoying the melody while watching steam puff out—quite comfortable indeed.

But after one song ended, he’d have to get up to change the record; after two cups of water boiled dry, he’d have to get up to refill them.

If he had to keep getting up while listening to music, it would lose its charm.

Li Banfeng placed the phonograph beside the bed, so he could lie down, reach out, and change records, refill water, extinguish the flame, or wind the spring—all without rising.

This idea was good—it was settled.

After moving in the phonograph and laying out the bedding, he dusted off the furniture with a feather duster, neatly folded the clothes the boss had given him, and placed them beside his backpack.

He still needed many things: a wardrobe, a storage cabinet, a set of table and chairs…

Li Banfeng’s eyelids felt heavy; he was tired.

After descending the mountain, he and Fatty had rested one day at the inn, then returned to Lǐgōu the next day; now, twilight had just passed and night had barely fallen—he shouldn’t be this exhausted.

Could it be residual poison still in his body?

That shouldn’t be it! Didn’t Estate Cultivators recover the fastest?

No matter how tired he was, he had to go see Fatty; after all this time in this place, if there was one person who counted as Li Banfeng’s friend, it had to be Qin Fatty.

At the street-corner bun shop, Qin Fatty was still devouring food, stacks of steamer baskets piled high beside his table.

“Why did you take so long?” Qin Fatty mumbled through a mouthful of buns.

“I negotiated the price with Manager Feng,” Li Banfeng pulled up a chair and told the shopkeeper to bring two more baskets of buns.

The bun shop was small, but the buns were exquisitely made—beef filling, bite in and gently suck, and your mouth filled with savory broth, paired with crushed garlic, a true local delicacy, simple and pure.

Li Banfeng ordered a pot of wine; he didn’t know which wine was good here, he’d never heard any of the names, so he simply told the server to bring the best.

Qin Fatty felt a pang of guilt—he hadn’t sold his pills yet, and even the wine here was a luxury for him.

“Brother Qin, don’t worry, this round’s on me,” Li Banfeng poured a cup, sipped, and the wine was strong—it lingered in his mouth for a long time before he swallowed.

Seeing Li Banfeng so generous, Qin Fatty lowered his voice: “What price did you sell it for?”

Li Banfeng held up six fingers: “Six thousand.”

There was no need to hide this from Qin Fatty—if he ever wanted to sell to Manager Feng, he’d likely get the same price.

Qin Fatty shook his head: “Brother Li, I’m not saying this to criticize you, but you sold it too cheap. This isn’t an ordinary item—you truly don’t understand the local market.”

“What do you mean?”

Night had fallen, and no one else remained in the bun shop; Qin Fatty whispered as low as he could: “Just now in this shop, I met an acquaintance and asked about the market—I actually found out something:

In Pulu Province, wealthy families buy thousands upon thousands of pills every year, and at year’s end, they award them to their sons and daughters who’ve earned merit.

A whole family works themselves to the bone all year, desperate to earn a few more pills to boost their cultivation, but what if you haven’t earned merit? You have to buy them on the open market at high prices.

Market prices differ from those at pharmacies: pharmacies sell for ten thousand, but on the open market, you’ll pay at least twelve thousand, fifteen, eighteen, even twenty thousand. You sold it for six thousand—you lost big.”

Li Banfeng shook his head: “If I can sell this pill, it’s money. If I can’t sell it, what good is it sitting with me? I don’t lack a few days of cultivation, and I don’t know any wealthy heirs.”

Qin Fatty sipped his wine: “How about this—after we rest a couple days, I’ll take you around Medicine King Ditch. We can’t reach the ultra-rich, but I know plenty of sons from modestly wealthy families.”

Li Banfeng ate a bun and smiled: “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m returning to Yuezhou tomorrow.”

“Yuezhou?” Qin Fatty had never heard the name.

“Yuezhou—it’s a place in the Outer Provinces. That’s where I’m from.”

“You’re leaving so soon?” Fatty felt disappointed, but after eating two more buns, he grew resigned.

“Then again, you’re from the Outer Provinces—you’ve seen the world, so of course you’d look down on Pulu Province.”

“One day, I’ll go to the Outer Provinces too. If I never see such a place, my whole life will have been wasted.”

Such a wonderful place?

Was Yuezhou really a wonderful place?

Li Banfeng thought Yuezhou was indeed wonderful, but if forced to say exactly why, he couldn’t articulate it.

They ate until the bun shop closed, then said their goodbyes.

Qin Fatty said: “You know where I live—when you come back to Pulu Province, be sure to find me.”

The alcohol began to take effect, and with his full-body fatigue, Li Banfeng lay down, about to fall asleep.

Yet going to sleep felt like something was missing.

Hadn’t he walked twenty li today?

He had.

Then what else needed doing?

Li Banfeng half-sat up, pulled out the winding key, inserted it into the phonograph, and wound it fully.

Ah—that was what was missing. He’d forgotten his bedtime music.

He’d specially chosen a record, wrapped in stiff paper with a colorful illustrated cover.

The cover showed red and yellow flowers, with a woman in a flowing gown dancing at the center.

Li Banfeng slid out the record, placed it on the phonograph’s turntable, flipped the switch—and amid crackling static, beautiful music began to play:

The southern wind brings coolness!

The nightingale sings its delicate tune!

Beneath the moon, all flowers dream—only the night-blooming cereus exhales its fragrance!

“Night-Blooming Cereus!”

He’d heard this tune before, but never had he liked it as much as tonight.

Before the song ended, Li Banfeng had already fallen asleep.

He used a wind-up spring, not a steam engine, because he feared he might fall asleep mid-use.

With the spring, he didn’t have to worry about extinguishing a flame—he could sleep soundly.

“I sing for you, I think of you, Night-Blooming Cereus~~”

The song ended.

The needle reached its end.

The spring fully unwound; the phonograph stopped.

In the pitch-black Personal Dwelling, only Li Banfeng’s deep, even breathing remained.

Splash splash splash~

The phonograph emitted a sound of water, as if someone were pouring water into its horn.

Fssss~

A match was struck, igniting the wick inside the oil tank.

Fssss~ fssss~ fssss~

A swirl of mist spewed from the right-hand speaker, and the turntable began to rotate slowly.

The needle returned to the start position, and amid crackling static, the phonograph played again:

“Across the horizon, beyond the sea~

Seeking, seeking a kindred soul~

Little sister sings, brother plays the lute~

Brother, we are one heart!”

The beautiful melody echoed endlessly through the Personal Dwelling.

Hiss hiss hiss~

The copper lotus petals slowly unfurled; within its center, a whirlwind stirred.

The whirlwind swept past the phonograph, slightly distorting the song.

After several seconds, the melody gradually stabilized.

The copper lotus petals trembled slightly, then closed again.

The phonograph resumed its sweet tune:

Life, ah~ who doesn’t cherish youth~

Little sister is thread, brother is needle~

Brother, we are woven together, never apart!

Amid the song, Li Banfeng slept deeply, his face glowing with a contented smile.

PS: You’ve all been asking if this novel has a female lead. Shala tells you: yes, she’s here! She’s here, puffing steam.

(End of Chapter)