Chapter 588

Epilogue · The Dragon and Phoenix Posture (Part Three)

This encounter with an old friend took place in a town far from the core regions.

The western town had its own unique charm; the sky was bluer than in the Central Plains or the Jiangnan region, clouds churned and rolled, and in the distance, shadows of mountain ranges and gorges could faintly be seen. The townsfolk filled wooden baskets with dried fruits and jujubes, hawking them; the scent of grease and mutton mingled with the faint crackling of charcoal, stirring the hunger in every stomach.

Around the marketplace where people from all over gathered, a large circle had formed.

More and more people kept converging.

In the past, crowds had gathered for Central Plains merchant caravans carrying silk and porcelain, for masters of hidden arts performing tricks, or for freshly grilled meat skewers still sizzling with oil—but today was different.

At the center of the crowd lay a worn felt cloth, its edges curled, upon which sat an elderly man from the Central Plains, a western Hu Qin resting on his knees. He played the Hu Qin with a lively, rhythmic tune, then suddenly moved his fingers, snatched up a black wooden block beside him, and slammed it down on the table.

Crack! —like a thunderclap.

The crowd, previously lost in the melody, jolted awake, their attention snapping to the old man, who spoke loudly in fluent western dialect: "A few days ago, we spoke of the free-spirited heroes of the Jianghu, of the western poison master who burned cities with fire—you all listened with great enthusiasm. Today, we shall set those tales aside."

"Today, we tell a tale full of thrills and intensity!"

The storyteller raised his eyebrows, utterly radiant with vigor, and declared:

"The Sword Madman Changsheng battled across ten thousand li of the western lands, fought the Crimson Dragon, and returned victorious; the Qin Huang's Duke stood shoulder to shoulder with the Tian Kehan, defeating the steppe tribes and returning in triumph!"

A roar of excitement erupted from the crowd.

More people surged forward to gather around.

The old man was brilliant—his voice spanned heaven and earth, recounting the great battle of years past with vivid, detailed precision, drawing ever more listeners. Coins piled higher and higher on the felt cloth before him.

On a nearby western-style stone tower, Shi Yisong sat cross-legged.

Watching Tu Shengyuan tell his tale with such confidence, like a swordsman walking his own world, Shi Yisong smiled—then his gaze suddenly sharpened.

That was!!!

Tu Shengyuan was at the peak of his story, eyes gleaming, utterly captivating the crowd, when someone suddenly asked: "If the Qin Huang and the Duke share such deep bonds, why, after five years of founding the empire, has the Duke never gone to Jingcheng to pay homage to Your Majesty?"

"Even if not for official duties, couldn't it be a meeting between old friends? Is there some hidden reason?"

Tu Shengyuan nearly choked on his own tongue.

Brilliant question. Perfect prompt.

Storytellers need someone to feed them lines—if they spoke alone, it would grow dull; if the audience were lifeless, it would be agony. This question came at the perfect moment, like swallowing a chilled plum soup on the hottest day of summer, hitting Tu Shengyuan right where it itched.

Tu Shengyuan had planned to invite the questioner to witness the next part—but his eyes swept the crowd, and perhaps because there were too many people, he couldn't spot the speaker. Worse, his temperament was too impulsive to pause and think.

Crack! —he slammed the wooden gavel onto the table, drawing all eyes. Tu Shengyuan stroked his beard and declared loudly:

"Excellent question. Excellent."

"Once, sovereign and minister pledged their lives to each other—why do they never meet? Once, young friends bound by unbreakable trust—why have they grown so distant? Alas, no, no, no! Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

Tu Shengyuan put on a grand show, ensuring all eyes were fixed on him, then asked: "Do you all know why? What force has kept this legendary sovereign and minister apart for five years? What has turned two childhood friends, once inseparable, into such strangers?"

"Is it hatred? Enmity? Or betrayal?"

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

Tu Shengyuan raised his white eyebrows, scanned the curious crowd, and grinned: "It is only one word: love."

The word "love" dropped like a boulder into a stream—ripples exploded, crowds leaned in, whispering, eyes gleaming. Merchants, laborers, women, young ladies, wandering martial artists selling pills, even the white-haired village elders with nimble legs, and children playing nearby—all rushed closer.

Since ancient times, all people have had a taste for gossip.

Gossip about emperors and generals is even more irresistible.

Especially now, when the founding sovereign's prestige shines brighter than the midday sun?

The weight of those stares, the murmur of whispers, filled Tu Shengyuan with delight. He glanced around, smiling faintly:

"Yes. Just one word: 【love】."

"Do you know that when Your Majesty was young, he was a guest minister of the Xue family? Back then, he exchanged letters with the Duke. In those days, the great Chen sacrifice was not meant to be attended by the current Duke."

"Though young, the Duke had foresight—he saw the coming chaos, the storm rising. Now, I ask you: in such times, why did the Duke abandon comfort and venture into the heart of the chaos?"

He had practically handed them the opening.

The crowd answered: "To see Your Majesty!"

"Yes, yes!"

The crowd's eager chatter thrilled Tu Shengyuan. His gaze swept over them.

Suddenly, his Wudao Sect master's spiritual sense—the famed "gaze like a god"—twitched. A surge of intuition made him look up—and he noticed the dual-sword wanderer on the stone tower frantically waving his arms, as if trying to say something but holding back.

He was desperately signaling him.

The Jianghu Sect master's spiritual core pulsed faintly at his brow.

Tu Shengyuan's spiritual form appeared beside him—a white divine beast—pulling at him fiercely, as if trying to clamp a hand over his mouth. Tu Shengyuan's storytelling fervor cooled slightly.

Huh? Strange… I feel as if countless eyes are watching me.

Yet I can't find them.

Never mind.

I should stop here.

This is enough. Just enough.

Tu Shengyuan was about to close his tale when that voice spoke again:

"So that's why. What a pity. When the world was in chaos, storms rising, you traveled ten thousand li to go—yet now, the realm is at peace, the four seas united, a day's journey away, you refuse to go. Why?"

The voice carried sincerity, innocence, simplicity, and a tone of heartfelt admiration and regret.

Perfectly timed.

Tu Shengyuan felt as if someone had scratched his itch—he blinked wide-eyed, shook off the spiritual form pressing on his shoulder that seemed to whisper, "Don't say it, don't say it," and slammed the gavel down with a crack:

"Excellent question! Excellent!"

"To answer this, only one word is needed."

All eyes turned to the old man. Tu Shengyuan smiled and declared decisively:

"Vinegar."

Sssss!!!

Tu Shengyuan's Dharma Form, the Bai Ze's painted eye from legend, went blank, then stepped back with heavy thuds, beginning to consider asking that old Master Siming to sever him from this damned chatterbox.

Shi Yisong, seated in meditation atop the stone tower, observing the scenery all around, felt his eyelid twitch violently.

In the instant he heard that one word.

His vision went black.

Suddenly, applause broke out among the crowd; the same voice that had asked twice before said: "Excellent answer, excellent tongue—let the old master have a drink!" A wine flask suddenly flew through the air, its aroma sharp and rich.

Tu Shengyuan bowed to all sides, caught the flask, tilted his head back, and drained the entire thing in one gulp—his bearing carried a certain calm magnanimity. After drinking, he turned the flask upside down, not a single drop spilled, to show his openness.

Then he saw the crowd, moments ago alive with energy, fall utterly silent.

Like ripples on water, they parted to either side.

The sound of hooves struck the ground, unhurried and steady.

Only now did the distant banners unfurl, spreading like clouds laid across the mortal world, all of it radiating a stately, expansive grace.

Tu Shengyuan's eyes went vacant, staring at the faintly stirring Qilin pattern in the wind.

At the base of the great banner, a young man with a golden-threaded crown tying his hair.

The surrounding civilians instinctively bowed.

"Your Majesty..."

That voice, like a pine wind, made Tu Shengyuan spring up, stammering: "Your Majesty, the Qin Huang..."

Why hadn't he seen him before?

Wait—Wu Gong's legendary power...

You, the number one under heaven, why are you using such Wu Gong for this?

Tu Shengyuan's face nearly crumpled into a sob; he bowed, stammering: "This, Your Majesty, my mouth has no handle, so I just blabbered nonsense—Your Majesty, forgive me, forgive me..."

The more he spoke, the less he could continue; he gritted his teeth, decided to turn and flee.

Surely, with the Qin Huang's broad-mindedness and easygoing grace, he wouldn't hold a grudge against someone like him.

Running now would give him a face-saving exit—and give the Qin Huang one too.

But as he turned, he suddenly felt dizzy.

A Qizhongtian Sect Master's realm—yet now he felt like an ordinary old man, legs weak and slipping, stumbling, nearly falling to the ground—until a hand reached out and steadied him.

A simple, gentle voice said: "Old man, are you alright?"

Tu Shengyuan, a storyteller who had heard thousands of voices, remembered them all—this voice, he recognized at once: the one who had asked those two questions, each perfectly hitting his sweet spot.

Though his loose tongue this time was tied to those two questions.

Yet Tu Shengyuan felt no resentment.

It was his own fault for talking too much.

It had nothing to do with the one who asked.

But when he was helped up, looked up, and saw the face before him—simple, gentle, utterly sincere—the question froze inside him. The man's brows were warm and kind, his lips curved in a smile.

It was none other than Master Wen Qingyu, the court's most notorious poison-tongued strategist.

Fuck!

It was no accident!

Tu Shengyuan tried to pull away, but Wen Qingyu's hand clamped down on his wrist's Mingmen point—yet this boy was merely a civil official, though somehow he'd cultivated five-realm internal Qi, hardened his body, trained Wu Gong strong enough to fight armored on horseback, and possessed a lightness skill ranking among the top ten of the age—but Tu Shengyuan was a Master!

He surged his internal Qi—yet received no reaction.

Tu Shengyuan's smile froze.

He stared at Wen Qingyu.

Realization dawned: "The wine."

Wen Qingyu smiled: "Thousand-Day Drunk."

Tu Shengyuan: "You put a drug in the wine?"

Wen Qingyu shook his head: "I put wine into the drug."

Tu Shengyuan: "…………"

His lip twitched; helplessly, he let out a great sigh:

"I fuck your grandpa."

Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed backward, dizzy and blurred—Wen Qingyu flicked his robe and smiled: "My clan's grandpa occupies my ancestral land. Don't worry—I happened to be passing by, so I'll dig him out for you."

Tu Shengyuan knew the boy was just talking nonsense—but he had no strength left.

Wen Qingyu called out to Ling Pingyang.

Ling Pingyang drew a rope from his waist, bound Tu Shengyuan tight, and tied him to the horse. Li Guanyi said: "Long time no see, old master. Last time we met, we hadn't even exchanged two words before you ran off—what a pity."

"To meet again today is quite interesting."

Tu Shengyuan's face was a grimace: "Don't hit my mouth."

Li Guanyi, seeing he'd gotten his lesson, chuckled: "I'm not so petty as to lack even this much tolerance."

"Qingyu, Pingyang, stop fooling around—untie the master."

"Yes."

Ling Pingyang said, "Forgive me," and began untying Tu Shengyuan. Tu Shengyuan exhaled in relief, then praised: "Your Majesty's imperial treasury may be empty, but your magnanimity is vast—you possess all under heaven!"

Ling Pingyang's hand paused. Wen Qingyu glanced at the flask, where he'd placed the 【Truth-Revealing Pill】 developed by Fan Qing and others from Hou Zhongyu's leftover pharmacopoeia. He pondered silently, then stepped back among the crowd.

The Qin Huang's tone paused slightly, then he took the rope himself.

"I shall do it myself."

Tu Shengyuan's face turned pale with shock.

"Alas, alas, in those years the Emperor's spirit was grand and great, but his heart and mind were… wuwuwu…"

Tu Shengyuan's mouth was stuffed shut.

Master Wen Qingyu sighed with feeling: "Peace and quiet at last."

At this moment Shi Yisong leapt down from the stone pagoda, hurrying over, parting the crowd with a body of gentle qi, rushing to Li Guanyi's front and bowing in salute. Over there, Tu Shengyuan was making muffled grunting noises. Shi Yisong, quite at a loss whether to laugh or cry, saluted Li Guanyi and still pleaded on his behalf:

"Your Majesty, this old man is merely a storyteller who talks nonsense and makes things up; I daresay he harbors no ill intent, but he has after all spread false rumors. I boldly beg Your Majesty to mete out some punishment."

Punishment?

Tu Shengyuan's eyes went wide.

Little Stone, what are you doing?!

That is Yan Daiqing of the Western Regions!

A light punishment?

Over there, however, Qin Huang knew that Shi Yisong was in fact pleading for clemency, and said: "Set your mind at ease. I and this storyteller are old acquaintances of sorts—over ten years of friendship—so I won't get angry over this. However, there is one point where you are mistaken."

Shi Yisong was slightly taken aback; the common folk around them also unconsciously drew closer, puzzled.

Qin Huang gazed at the Western Regions' sky, his eyes slightly narrowed, and said:

"It was no rumor."

When these words fell, the crowd did not yet react much.

Only after several breaths did they suddenly grasp the weight of those four characters. Qin Huang tightened the reins, and the crimson Fire Qilin imperial banner fluttered gently beneath the Western Regions' vast sky.

………………

"This man is an old friend of mine; I shall take him away for a few days. Set your mind at ease—I will not make things difficult for him. If anyone comes looking for me, just pass along a word for me…"

After leaving behind these words, Qin Huang's carriage departed. Shi Yisong looked at the old man bound to the horse's back, with even his mouth stuffed, and could only sigh helplessly: "Your Majesty's spirit is grand and mighty; he surely will not break his word for gain."

"Old man, just take it as a lesson for that mouth of yours."

So he stayed in this place doing some business. Because of the storytelling just now, there were no few customers here, and business went smoothly. Shi Yisong rested his hand on his sword, but before long he heard the sound of hoofbeats again.

He raised his eyes and saw another great banner racing over from that direction.

This time the great banner flew like a phoenix.

Black-armored heavy cavalry escorted a woman with a spirited brow and bearing as they arrived. Shi Yisong froze—this was…

The dragon-steed came to a halt; the woman on horseback sensed that the aura had been severed here.

So she summoned the local administrator and asked: "The Emperor was here just now—where has he gone now?"

The local city commandant answered: "Straight north, but as for where His Majesty's dragon-traces lie, this humble general truly does not know." Li Zhaowen bit her lip lightly, when suddenly a clear, bright voice was heard: "Might I ask if this is the Duke before me? I am Shi Yisong, a wandering man of the jianghu, here to deliver a message on His Majesty's behalf."

"Do you still remember, the things of our first meeting in our youth?"

……………………

Li Zhaowen abandoned her mount and, relying on her martial skill, took to the air.

In those years the Tuyuhun were destroyed—the beginning of the wars that ravaged the world. Now, upon the old Tuyuhun site, many cities had been built. Among them was one place, especially splendid, where the last Tuyuhun king had been slain by Duke Li, and his seal taken.

The people lived and worked in peace and contentment; the land was rich in large dates and melons.

The Western Regions were the first place Great Qin pacified; the period of peace here was even longer than in the Central Plains. The surroundings, still under the guidance of the Farming and Mohist schools, had undergone plant cultivation. Later, as the cultivated crops grew ever more numerous, the old site could no longer store them all, so they were moved elsewhere, and this original place became a spot for leisure.

One thought after another stirred within Li Zhaowen, rising and falling in turn—wondering where he was, wondering whether her own guess was right or wrong. Troubled for a long while, her gaze swept through the crowd, and suddenly she caught sight of a back. Her eyes abruptly focused, then softened at once.

Many common folk, when leisure came, would come here to see the scenery and relax.

Because of this, quite a few people who made a living from it had gathered—some selling small fruits, some dried nuts, others performing tricks or telling fortunes. In the Western Regions, the daytime was more than a full hour longer than in the Central Plains.

Because the time drew near to Qixi, the woods here were thick with growth, and many young men and women came to see the scenery. With men and women together beneath flowers and moonlight, there were often fortune-tellers speaking auspicious words, hoping for a tip of joy-money.

In the midst of that crowd, in front of a table, an old man was telling a young man's fortune.

But this young man's fate seemed hard to divine, difficult to read. The old man scratched his head and ears, at a loss.

On the table lay six copper coins, all snapped clean through the middle.

The old man said, head aching: "I-I don't know how to put it."

"Your fate, sir, I truly am…"

Suddenly a clear, pleasant voice: "Such bearing, such洒脱"

"must be 【the bearing of dragon and phoenix, the countenance of heaven and sun】."

The old man rejoiced greatly: "Ah, yes, yes, yes! That's exactly it…"

The words had already been spoken before his mind caught up, and he realized what he had just said.

"Ah, no, no, no."

He raised his head and saw a tall, jade-standing woman with her hands clasped behind her back, pacing over. The youth before her turned slightly to the side. About the woman's body faint ripples spread, and a golden phoenix reappeared; beside the youth, a blue luan-bird surged.

The fortune-telling old man nearly thought his eyes were deceiving him. He rubbed them hard, then stared wide, and saw that pair of luan and phoenix spiraling, crying out together, clustering about that pair of man and woman—truly magnificent.

The youth's eyes lowered slightly as he looked at the woman with the golden vertical mark between her brows, and said:

"At last."

"Are you willing to come see me now?"

?? Beijing Film Academy · Online Literature Derivative Co-Creation Competition Outstanding Work · "Wen He" · Author Wang Zixuan, thanks to the artist teacher~