Chapter 337: Wenju Brother, Poisoned by Jin Yong's Novels

When I and Yao Wenju came out of the room, the police had already cleaned up the corpses in the house.

Originally according to regulations, I and Pangzi should have gone to the police station to make statements. However, Yao Wenju mediated the relations, letting me and Pangzi avoid this cumbersome procedure.

As for how the case would be characterized, that's the police's business; it's not up to us to worry. The only thing that makes me feel a bit regretful is that this ordinary gathering, including Qingqing, was mercilessly deprived of several lives.

What surprised me was Yao Yirong; after this ordeal, her temperament became much more mature, no longer as willful and capricious as before. She removed all the ancient paintings from the house, saying she worried they still hid something, but to me and Pangzi, this was just another act of squandering the family fortune.

That night, I, Pangzi, Yao Yirong and her brother, four people, stayed overnight in the ancient castle, preparing to take a vehicle back to Guangdong the next day.

That night, taking advantage of their sleep, I quietly came to the basement of the ancient castle; in the basement of the ancient castle, I saw the small bronze door that Murong Jiaojia had described.

After opening it, the inside was pitch black, with not a glimmer of light.

I recalled Murong Jiaojia's admonition: one must walk the Eight Trigrams numbers in reverse to find the way out.

The Eight Trigrams have eight numbers: Qian is one, Dui is two, Li is three, Zhen is four, Xun is five, Kan is six, Gen is seven, Kun is eight. Each trigram represents a number and a direction. For example, Qian as one corresponds to the northwest; Dui as two corresponds to the west; from Qian one should step northwest, then upon reaching Dui continue west two steps.

What I need to do now is to walk the directions of the Eight Trigrams in reverse, once again.

Ahead was total darkness, practically unable to see one's own hand; forced by circumstance, I closed my eyes and mentally rehearsed the vigorous step.

After finishing, I lightly stepped out with the first step, beginning to walk along the reverse Eight Trigrams route. When I finished the last step, my vision suddenly brightened, as if approaching another heavenly passage. Immediately, I saw Murong Jiaojia sitting before the dressing table, smiling at me.

She said to me, "You've come." Her smile remained as captivating, making it impossible not to have a momentary loss of self.

I lightly sat beside her, and after a long while I asked, "Can you tell me why you stay here?"

Murong Jiaojia only answered me with four words: "Wait for someone, wait for him."

Wait for whom, and who is he?

Murong Jiaojia shook her head and said, I forgot, but I know he will someday come back to find me.

I asked her again, how long have you been waiting here. But when I uttered that question, I also laughed—what difference does this question make from an idiot's? That night, hearing her recollections, she had at least stayed in this ancient castle for over a hundred years.

"You've waited so long, yet you haven't waited for him and never thought of going out to look for him? Waiting like this isn't a solution." After a moment, I said softly.

Murong Jiaojia laughed and said, "Yes, so I'm leaving now."

I stared at her in astonishment and asked, "You... you're leaving now?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, waiting for you to take me out."

I wondered and asked, "How do you know I will take you out?"

She chuckled mischievously and said, "Because I know you want to."

Her words made me lower my head, anxiously scratching the back of my head; a thought suddenly being seen through produces a psychological reaction, which affects thinking, and under the control of thought, one naturally makes some movements.

For example, a boy who has secretly loved a girl for a long time, just as he is gathering courage to confess, the girl anticipates his feelings. At that moment, his mind goes blank, forgetting all his prior preparations. He is dazed, at a loss, unsure what to do.

I am now in this psychological state; Murong Jiaojia is correct—before coming to see her, I had already decided to take her away.

There are two reasons. First, she gives me a very warm feeling, similar to that of my sister who was reborn; I don't feel at ease leaving her alone in this ancient castle, although she seems mysterious and well-versed in Daoist Sect's Qimen Dunjia. But what if someday a half-dead old Daoist rushes into a coffin? Or what if one day this so-called formation is broken by someone else? Who can guarantee future affairs? So-called orthodox sects take in ghosts regardless, they won't care whether you are good or evil.

The second reason is that I want to help her, help her find the person she is waiting for; this is hardly a reason, just a feeling in my heart acting up. Or perhaps it's because I feel she is too pitiful—waiting for a person in this lightless basement for hundreds of years, my heart involuntarily feels sympathy.

"Idiot, shall we go? After we go out, you must help me find the person I am waiting for." When I was at a loss because my little secret was exposed, Murong Jiaojia's laughter rang again, gentle with a hint of mischief.

I scratched my forehead and asked, "Um, how do I take you out? Tonight is fine to say, but if it were daytime, going outside would cause your soul to scatter."

Murong Jiaojia pointed with her hand, indicating a corner of the wall.

When I looked in the direction she pointed, I suddenly realized. In that corner of the wall lay an oil-paper umbrella with plum blossom pattern. The umbrella's age appears older than my grandmother's, yet it is as smooth as if brand new.

Murong Jiaojia's meaning is naturally that she is hidden in this umbrella, letting me take her out.

"My soul has lingered here a long time; after going out I will surely be weak… after going out you must buy a piece of Kunlun jade for me; only after refining it can I nourish my spirit." Murong Jiaojia said softly.

I kept all this in mind, then opened the umbrella and let Murong Jiaojia crawl inside.

As I closed my eyes and stepped out with the first step following the reverse Eight Trigrams route, Murong Jiaojia's voice came from inside the umbrella.

"Idiot, you took the wrong step; to go out you must walk the proper Eight Trigrams, the first step should follow the direction of Qian palace."

"How troublesome." I rolled my eyes, muttered softly, then readjusted my steps and walked out.

However, when I finished the last step and opened my eyes, I was startled.

I saw someone who shouldn't be here—Yao Yirong's brother, Yao Wenju.

One hand propped on the doorframe, the other hand holding a cigar, he looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"What are you doing?" We stared at each other, both asking puzzledly.

"Nothing, just wandering about." Another utterance in unison.

"Really nothing, I was just wandering about, happened to see a basement here, happened to see a small bronze door, couldn't resist curiosity and went in." I tried to cover up, while also quietly slipping the umbrella behind me, trying not to draw his attention.

"Oh, I see." Yao Wenju continued puffing his cigar, walked to a small stool in the basement and sat down. After sitting, he puffed on the cigar nonstop, as if he had some worries.

I had intended to take this opportunity to go out and hide the umbrella, but seeing his gloomy demeanor, I couldn't help but run over and sit beside him.

I nudged him with my elbow and asked curiously, "Brother Wen, how did you end up here? Are you troubled by something?"

He chuckled and said, "When I'm annoyed, I like to find a deserted place to be quiet."

Given his ambiguous answer and this evasive demeanor, I mentally listed three multiple-choice options for him: A, B, C.

A, he was dumped.

B, he was dumped by his girlfriend of ten years.

C, he was dumped by his wife.

To verify my guess, I reached out and nudged him again, asking curiously, "You wouldn't be heartbroken, would you?"

He stared blankly for a moment, then looked at me with a mixture of laughter and tears, retorting, "Do you think that's possible?"

I shook my head; indeed impossible. Given the Yao family's status—money and power available. In this modern age where one would rather cry in a BMW than laugh on a bicycle, even if he looked as awkward as the Second Senior Brother from Journey to the West, women would still throw themselves at him. Moreover, he isn't that awkward.

Since that's not possible, I can't think of any other explanation; having none, there's nothing to say. The atmosphere in the basement grew gloomy; just as I was about to grab the umbrella and flee back to the room, Yao Wenju suddenly asked me this:

"Do you know Yue Fei?"

I looked at him like an idiot. Yue Fei, King Yue, the greatest loyal minister of the Great Song, a god of war. Skilled in martial arts, full of ambition, yet born in an era plagued by incurable illness, he was executed under a false charge—truly the most wronged among loyal ministers and martyrs throughout history.

I thought, as a Chinese person, who wouldn't know Yue Fei? Just why did Yao Wenju suddenly ask this? Is he treating me like an idiot?

"Do you know the Wu Mu Legacy?" Yao Wenju asked again

I hesitated then, not knowing how to answer. According to rumor, the Wu Mu Legacy is a book left by King Yue, recording King Yue's tactics for deploying troops and formations. Whoever obtains this book will surely win every battle in military campaigns. In Jin Yong's The Legend of the Condor Heroes, there is also mention of such a book.

However, after reviewing the entire official history, there is no record of this Wu Mu Legacy in that classic. Some merely exist in the wild histories circulated among the folk, and their authenticity remains to be verified.

Unable to suppress my doubts, I blurted out, "Does this book really exist?"

After hearing my doubts, Yao Wenju paused for a moment, then inexplicably stood up and burst into loud laughter, laughing all the way as he walked out toward the stairs of the aboveground room, leaving me sitting alone in the chair, completely baffled.

Watching him slowly walk away, out of my sight, I came to a conclusion about him, which remained a multiple-choice question.

A: He was poisoned by novels.

B: He was poisoned by Jin Yong's novels.

C: He was poisoned by a novel called The Legend of the Condor Heroes.

This poor kid...

Volume Four Returns