Chapter 8

What a rip-off!

Lu Fang stepped back, staring at the floating ink rod, ink line, and the fragrant bait, along with the three book-people frozen mid-air, chattering incessantly—he could only laugh and cry.

He’d only intended to test it first, but now he had no choice but to pick one from these three book-people.

“Wood and stone’s prior vow.”

Lu Fang was certain he had heard or read this phrase before.

He sat cross-legged on the ink-stained ground, closed his eyes, blocked out the noise, and used elimination in his mind to trace the origin of the phrase.

First, it definitely wasn’t from The Romance of the Western Chamber, nor from The Golden Lotus…

After mentally eliminating most of the books he’d read, he still couldn’t recall where the phrase came from.

He must have overlooked it.

Not only had he failed to recall the origin of this phrase—even the other two book-people’s lines eluded him too.

“I refuse to believe it!”

Lu Fang’s stubborn streak flared up; he applied elimination again, searching for the origins of these three lines, over and over again…

Perhaps because the bait was within reach but he couldn’t eat it, one of the book-people grew impatient and changed its line:

“Jia isn’t fake—jade halls, golden horses.”

“Dream of the Red Chamber!”

Almost the instant the book-person finished speaking, Lu Fang shouted out its source—anyone who had read the Four Great Classical Novels, especially Dream of the Red Chamber, would remember this line vividly.

At that moment, he also recalled the meaning of “wood and stone’s prior vow.”

“Wood and stone’s prior vow” referred to the fated bond between Lin Daiyu and Jia Baoyu—one was the Crimson Pearl Immortal Grass, the other the Divine Ying Attendant.

“You it is!”

Lu Fang adored this book so much he no longer cared about the other two book-people; he swung his ink rod to move the bait toward the book-person’s mouth.

The book-person savored the fragrant bait, then dissolved into a streak of light and vanished into his third eye.

Immediately, the full text of Dream of the Red Chamber appeared in his mind.

Lu Fang exited the Ink Brush Book Realm and entered the study of the triple-room, beginning to write Dream of the Red Chamber: “Chapter One: Zhen Shiyin Dreams of Recognizing the Spiritual Stone; Jia Yucun Yearns for a Beauty Amidst the Dust.”

“This is the first chapter of the book. The author himself says: ‘Having passed through a dreamlike experience, I have concealed the true events and composed this book, The Story of the Stone—hence the title: Zhen Shiyin Dreams of Recognizing the Spiritual Stone.’”

Dream of the Red Chamber primarily recounts the rise and fall of the Jia household, blending mythological elements, and stands as the foremost of the Four Great Classical Novels.

The reward for completing Dream of the Red Chamber would surely be no small thing.

The first chapter of Dream of the Red Chamber, the foremost of the Four Great Classical Novels, contained many fine poems; as Lu Fang wrote, his talent qi repeatedly condensed, and without realizing it, he became utterly absorbed…

“Young Master, I’ve brought back the osmanthus wine.”

Xiao Tao, carrying a “half-sized” wine jar in each arm, skipped to the desk and asked: “Young Master, why did you buy wine?”

Lu Fang didn’t lift his head. “Scholar Li likes osmanthus wine—I’ll deliver it to her later.”

Xiao Tao frowned. “Young Master, Miss Lu Ling told you not to bother Scholar Li. Let me take the wine to her instead.”

“Bother?” Lu Fang flicked his head with a flourish. “A graceful lady, a noble man—both unmarried. How is that bothering? Scholar Li is such a beautiful, virtuous lady…”

A graceful lady is the ideal match for a gentleman; if the man is unmarried and the woman is unwed, how can this be considered harassment? Such a beautiful and virtuous lady as Li Rushi...

A sudden cough echoed.

Lu Fang turned toward the sound and saw a beautiful woman in a Confucian robe standing at the door, her hand covering her mouth as she coughed lightly—it was the great female scholar Li Yu.

Speak of the devil—he’d just been talking about her, and she’d clearly heard every word.

In his past life, it wouldn’t have mattered.

But here in the Great Zhou Dynasty, it sounded rather frivolous.

Li Yu entered the study without a word, speaking coolly: “Thank you, Great Talent Lu, for your praise. I hope next time you’ll praise my literary skill instead.”

She paused, then added: “His Majesty has issued an imperial decree: you must hurry to the Capital. Prepare yourself—we depart at the hour of the Snake.”

“The hour of the Snake? Isn’t that too rushed?”

Seeing Li Yu’s unyielding expression, Lu Fang hurriedly told Xiao Tao: “Go find Ling’er—tell her there’s an emergency. We leave for the Capital in one hour.”

“Yes, yes, Young Master, I’ll go find Miss right away!” Xiao Tao set down the two jars of osmanthus wine and rushed out.

Lu Fang hesitated, then decided to finish the remaining few hundred characters of the first chapter of Dream of the Red Chamber.

Li Yu was about to leave when she noticed pale green talent qi swirling above Lu Fang’s head; she paused briefly, waiting until the qi fully entered his body, then stepped beside him.

On the lower right corner of the desk lay a neat stack of paper, densely covered in handwriting.

“Dream of the Red Chamber!”

Li Yu read the title at the top of the first page. After a moment’s thought, she couldn’t recall which ancient sage had written this refined text. “Who is the author of this refined work?”

Any book capable of summoning talent qi was a refined text; she assumed instinctively that Lu Fang had just summoned talent qi by copying an ancient classic.

Lu Fang continued writing, answering casually: “I, unworthy as I am, intend to compose a long, leisurely tale.”

“He wrote this himself? Another refined text!”

Li Yu fell silent for a long while, then exhaled slowly, picked up the paper covered in writing, and read each word, each line, carefully.

To compose a Vision-level poem was genius. To summon a Book Spirit was genius. To write one refined text was genius. To write a second refined text? That was genius among geniuses.

If all these feats belonged to one person, only the word “monster” could describe him.

“No talent to mend the heavens, vainly entering the mortal world for so many years. This tale of past and future—whose hand will record it as a marvel?”

Li Yu recited the “Verse of the Unrefined Stone at Qinggen Peak” from the first chapter of Dream of the Red Chamber, silently murmured “Excellent,” and hurried to read on.

“Later, Cao Xueqin, in the Hall of Mourning Red, spent ten years reviewing and revising it five times, compiled the table of contents, divided it into chapters and sections, and titled it The Twelve Beauties of Jinling. He also composed a quatrain:

“A page full of absurd words, a handful of bitter tears.

All say the author is obsessed—who understands the meaning within?”

Li Yu savored the poem, nodding slightly: “This poem is perfectly placed.”

Li Yu savored the poem again and again, nodding slightly: “This poem is perfectly suited here.”

Lu Fang waved his hand lightly, his tone and gesture humble, yet his expression beamed with smugness.

If he had a tail, it would’ve been wagging so fast it’d blur into a phantom.

When Li Yu read about Yinglian’s disappearance, she frowned; when she heard the crippled Taoist chant the “Goodbye Song,” she couldn’t help but recite it again:

“All know that immortals are good, yet none forget fame and glory. Where are the generals and ministers of old and new? Only mounds of grass remain. All know that immortals are good, yet none forget gold and silver. All day they lament not gathering enough—yet when they’ve gathered much, their eyes close…”

“Scholar Li, what do you think of this ‘Goodbye Song’?”

Lu Fang asked with a smile.

Li Yu pondered. “Every word and line invites deep reflection. This ‘Goodbye Song’ is superb.”

“Then Scholar Li, please read the commentary that follows the ‘Goodbye Song,’” Lu Fang beamed.

Li Yu took several deep breaths, preparing to read the commentary.

But Lu Fang suddenly grew solemn, his voice low and grave:

“The humble room stands empty, once filled with court tablets. Withered grass and dead willows—once a stage for song and dance. Spiderwebs cling to carved beams; green gauze now covers the thatched windows.”

“What of the rosy cheeks, the fragrant powder? How have both temples turned white? Yesterday, yellow earth buried white bones; tonight, red lanterns shelter mandarin ducks. Chests overflow with gold, jars brim with silver—yet in a blink, beggars are mocked by all.”

“We sigh at others’ short lives, yet fail to see our own end coming! Teachings may be sound, yet who can guarantee the child won’t become a bandit? Choose a noble spouse—yet who expects them to end up in the brothels?”

“They despised their small official caps, until shackles weighed them down. Yesterday they pitied their tattered coats for the cold; today they resent their purple python robes as too long. Chaos reigns—you finish your song, I take the stage. Mistaking a foreign land for home. How absurd! In the end, all we do is sew clothes for others.”

Lu Fang looked at Li Yu, utterly stunned, and smiled lightly: “Scholar Li, what do you think of this ‘commentary’?”

Lu Fang looked at Li Yu, utterly stunned, and smiled lightly: “Master Li, what do you think of this ‘annotation’?”