Chapter 403: 377 Tracing the Source (Happy New Year, I

377 Tracing the Source (Happy New Year, I'm back!)

With no one to disturb him, Lao Xiazi sang until the next morning.

Tang Zhao hadn't expected this piece of music to be a serial, divided into three volumes: upper, middle, and lower. The upper volume told of how the protagonist accidentally climbed onto the Cloud City from a cloud, toured the city, and met a fairy. The second volume told their melodramatic love story—the back-and-forth, the misunderstandings, the confessions, and finally, the marriage. The third volume took a sharp turn for the worse, telling the story of how the fairy was inexplicably captured by a monster, sealed in a coffin, and about to be sunk into the depths of the Yunhai, after which the protagonist went to save her.

Like the novel *Yunmeng Immortal Capital*, this music was full of clichés and melodrama, with many contradictions throughout. Yet, the world-building was unexpectedly rich and realistic. Moreover, the music was indeed more authentic than the novel.

In the novel, this Cloud Immortal City had no name and was always just called "Xiancheng." But in the music, the city had a name: it was explicitly called "Tongtian White Jade Capital."

When Tang Zhao heard this name, he felt a jolt and a thought arose: either this name was real, or if it was made up, it certainly wasn't invented by the person who composed the music; there must be some other origin that the composer simply borrowed.

Furthermore, the world-building was much richer and more detailed.

For instance, in the original book, the descriptions of the Xiancheng were scattered here and there, lacking a cohesive system, giving the impression that the author wrote whatever came to mind. Some descriptions were detailed and vivid, while others were glossed over or inexplicably lost.

The String Song, however, systematically presented the "Five Immortal Towers and Twelve Scenes," seventeen scenes of the immortals. Each scene not only had its own setting but also a specific location; following the protagonist's path, one could even draw a credible map.

After the protagonist ascended to the Xiancheng, he first toured it at will, then met the fairy at the "Qiong Tower." He followed the fairy to tour the immortal scenes one by one. Each scene was described in detail, each with its own unique characteristics—some magnificent, some spectacular. Some of the immortal scenes even had their own Immortals, each with cleverly crafted settings and distinct personalities, as if they were living, breathing people.

The protagonist lived in the Xiancheng for two years, interacting with these Immortals to varying degrees—some close, some distant, some with gratitude, some with grudges. This part of the plot was also very vivid. Those Immortals above the clouds seemed to truly exist, each with their own unique words and actions, lacking that feeling of being mere plot devices.

Such abundant details and vivid characters split the story into two parts: one was a very routine and cliché hero-meets-beauty plot, but the other part, the description of daily life, was authentic, credible, warm, and beautiful, making one yearn for it.

It is worth mentioning that this music was a "bad ending."

The ending was a tragedy.

In the end, although the protagonist overcame all hardships to defeat the monster, he was too late to save the fairy. The fairy's coffin still fell into the depths of the Yunhai, buried by layers of mist. Half of the Xiancheng collapsed, and the other half was blown away by a gale. The protagonist landed on a mountaintop, watching his lover drift away with the wind, and could only weep bitterly on the mountain before returning to the Human World, never to forget her for the rest of his life.

Hearing this, Tang Zhao really wanted to flip the table.

Yes, he had gotten invested.

At first, because the lyrics were too watery and he had to keep an eye on Meng Huazhou, Tang Zhao hadn't been in the mood to listen carefully. But as Meng Huazhou gradually behaved himself, and the story improved, with its rich and realistic settings, he inevitably got drawn in.

Of course, Tang Zhao instinctively didn't think the story was good; he just thought it was exceptionally melodramatic. But melodrama didn't matter—it was engaging. Why else would the old tropes of melodrama be so enduring if not for their broad appeal? Tang Zhao's taste wasn't exactly highbrow; ever since he followed Chen Zong, he had loved all kinds of hot-blooded, satisfying stories. Otherwise, he wouldn't have lit a Lamp to finish reading the novel *Cloud Dream Immortal City* in one night.

However, he hadn't expected to be backstabbed at the very end.

How could it collapse at the end?

Although the ending of the previous *Cloud Dream Immortal City* also involved separation, it used the conventional ending where the protagonist wakes up from a big dream while still on the mountaintop. It gave the feeling that it had all been a dream—the Xiancheng might exist, or it might not; if it did, those fairies must still be living happily.

He hadn't expected the String Song to be a pure bad ending. It seemed the fairy was sealed forever, the Immortals above the clouds were either dead or scattered, most of the immortal scenes had collapsed, and the Xiancheng had become a dead zone. It was truly tragic to the core.

Moreover, although this final part was on the hero-meets-beauty track, the quality of the writing was exceptionally high, the atmosphere was perfectly rendered, and the tragic fates of the various characters were consistent with their personalities, carrying a sense of predestined desolation. The final description of the Xiancheng collapsing bit by bit was even more shocking, with a powerful sense of imagery.

"No, that's it? No one is going to save the fairy? She's asleep forever? Is that reasonable? There's no next volume? Write a next volume where a different protagonist saves her! Even an open ending would have been better."

When the Stringed Instrument plucked the final note, Tang Zhao was the first to call out.

Not to mention that Lao Xiazi was startled, even Meng Huazhou looked at him strangely—why are you so worked up? I didn't even have any real feelings about it, yet you've become so emotionally invested? No wonder you asked me to accompany you to listen to the music; it turns out you wanted to listen yourself?

Lao Xiazi wasn't too afraid of him and explained patiently: "It really is the end. The three volumes I learned as a child end right here. If you don't like it, sir, shall I compose another volume for you? But you'll have to give me a few months to think of the lyrics."

Tang Zhao sighed and said, "Forget it. If you compose it now, it won't be the same story. It seems this is just a tragedy. I hate it when the protagonist is tortured, and tortured to the very end. Was all the 'satisfying' stuff at the beginning just to disgust me later?"

Meng Huazhou was even more confused. He had previously thought Tang Zhao looked extremely young, but intimidated by his aura, he had assumed he was a senior who maintained his youthful appearance well. Now it seemed he really wasn't that old, perhaps even younger than himself.

Wait... if someone so powerful was so young, wasn't that even more terrifying?

He glanced at the dejected Tang Zhao, wanting to speak but hesitating. He had some questions he wanted to ask Lao Xiazi, but he was afraid of offending this Sword Guest who was currently in a foul mood and being split in two by a single sword strike.

Tang Zhao had steeled himself, but he noticed Meng Huazhou's hesitation and said, "It's already this late, what are you mumbling about? If you have something to say, ask quickly. Once the Master of the room returns, there won't be any time left."

Meng Huazhou didn't understand where Tang Zhao's inexplicable concerns were coming from—the Master of the house? Wasn't that just a thug?

What if that thug returned? If he was sensible, it was his luck; if he wasn't, it would just be a matter of a single bolt of lightning, so what was there to care about?

To Meng Huazhou, who came from Jingzhe Villa, Tang Zhao's overly cautious nature was more bizarre than those murderous demons; it was a perverse quirk.

But having received Tang Zhao's permission, he relaxed a little and hurried to ask: "Old... old sir, who did you learn this String Song from? I've asked all the performers in Yuxia Jun, and they all say they've never heard of it. Only some knowledgeable old artists say that only you can sing it. This isn't a traditional inheritance of the music schools; where did you learn it?"

Lao Xiazi had almost forgotten this act, but having sung it again, it stirred up many memories. He said, "In reply to you, sir, this act was my very first. I learned it from my master who taught me the basics. He lived right next door to my house. He was a lonely old man with no children, who only knew how to sing and lived off the meager savings he'd scraped together from performances. Because I often went to his house to play, he saw I had talent and taught me the basics. Since my family had many children, my parents also wanted me to learn a trade to feed myself, so they let me become his apprentice."

Tang Zhao understood; this was almost the same pattern as how he and Chen Zong had met. You never know what your lonely, frail, mysterious neighbor next door might teach you.

Meng Huazhou continued to press: "What was your teacher's name? Where is he now?"

Lao Xiazi rolled his eyes as he recalled: "The old gentleman, his surname was Xu... his given name was Shangcai, and his courtesy name was Xiaode. He passed away when I was ten. He had no family after he died, so I was the one who buried him. He had no ancestral grave, so I found a patch of wild land to bury him in."

Meng Huazhou nodded: "Sure enough, the surname is Xu. Did you ever hear him talk about the past? Was this music a family heirloom, or did he compose it himself? Did he have any experiences when he was young?"

Lao Xiazi was in a difficult position: "I was only ten when my master died; I only remember learning the craft. I really don't remember my master's background. For us people in this business, no matter how much we might have traveled or how much money we earned when we were young, if we have no property and no children when we are old, it is bound to be desolate. My teacher didn't tell me, and I didn't ask."

Tang Zhao interjected: "Why are you pressing him on this? What do you mean 'sure enough, the surname is Xu'? What's wrong with the surname Xu? You mean... Xu Congsheng?"

He couldn't help but laugh: "You have too much imagination, don't you? If just having the surname Xu makes one the protagonist Xu Congsheng or his descendant, then your surname is Meng, why aren't you the descendant of the novel's protagonist, Meng Yun?"

As soon as these words were spoken, Meng Huazhou turned his head sharply to look at him.

Hmm...

"No way?" Tang Zhao was surprised. "It really is?"

Meng Huazhou didn't say it explicitly, but his meaning was a tacit admission.

Tang Zhao suddenly realized: so their family's ancestor really was Meng Yun?

Wait, didn't Meng Yun change his name from Xu Congsheng? How could the same protagonist have two different descendants with different surnames?

Could it be that although this book had the same framework, it was actually the similar experiences of two different people? Did they both ascend to the Xiancheng and then record their own stories in different media?

But that didn't seem right.

Tang Zhao compared the two works repeatedly and felt they were definitely adaptations of the same work. Otherwise, it wouldn't just be the trajectory and rhythm that were identical; even the cheesy Sword Law added by the male lead later was similar, and the details matched. How could it be such a coincidence?

Then, there is only one truth...

"Your ancestor accidentally heard this music, fell in love with it, and then adapted it, changing the protagonist to himself? And then published a book?"

Isn't that... a rather shameless act?

If it weren't for the fact that neither the music nor the novel was popular or made any money, and there were no copyright laws in this day and age, Tang Zhao would have suspected this was malicious plagiarism for profit.

Now it seemed that perhaps the Meng family ancestor had become obsessed with the book, unable to distinguish reality from fiction, and had projected himself into it.

However, judging from the adapted version, the Meng family ancestor clearly treated this story as an illusory world, letting himself have his fun in the book. Why did his descendants take it a step further and chase it into reality?

The degree of falling into demonic obsession has deepened further, hasn't it?

Meng Huazhou did not wish to explain, and continued to Ask: "What relics does your master have? Where was the person buried?"