Chapter 10: Where Is This Bridge?

Since Chen Guishuo said he would not understand, Niu Youdao simply pretended not to. Otherwise, it would be rather absurd for a wild mountain boy to show that he understood matters like these.

After chatting idly for a while longer, Niu Youdao returned to the courtyard.

He wandered around for a bit, then entered Peach Blossom Hall and sat down on a meditation cushion. Reaching out casually, he pulled over a small basket used for odds and ends. Inside were needles, thread, scissors, and two bronze mirrors, all of them looking like ordinary daily necessities with nothing conspicuous about them. One of the mirrors, however, was the very bronze mirror he had brought with him.

For something Dong Guo Haoran had entrusted to him so solemnly, leaving it lying around this casually was simply a matter of hiding it in plain sight. If he concealed it too carefully and someone searched the place and found it, that would only arouse suspicion.

He picked up the bronze mirror and turned it over in his hands, troubled by what he ought to do with it.

Dong Guo Haoran's dying instructions had clearly been no ordinary matter. The man had entrusted him with something at the cost of his life. Having come from the jianghu in his previous life and risen to the standing he once held there, Niu Youdao naturally had his own code of honor. Yet Tang Mu was dead, and Dong Guo Haoran had warned him in the strongest terms that the object could only be handed to Tang Mu and that no third person could be allowed to know of it. That left him in a difficult position.

He had considered whether to hand it over to the Shangqing Sect anyway. His hesitation came partly from Dong Guo Haoran's instructions and partly from the Shangqing Sect's treatment of him, which had been poor enough. They were still keeping him under house arrest. So he decided to study the mirror carefully and see whether he could uncover its secret. Once he knew more, he would decide according to circumstances whether to give it to the Shangqing Sect.

Yet up to now he had tried everything he could think of: heating it over fire, soaking it in water, exposing it to light, tapping it and listening to the sound. Nothing had revealed the slightest clue. The mirror seemed to be one solid piece. Judging by the sound it made when struck, there was no sign of any mechanism hidden inside.

He was beginning to suspect it might be some kind of token or credential.

He turned it this way and that again, but the result was the same. Unable to make anything of it, Niu Youdao bared his teeth in frustration and casually tossed it back into the little basket.

Then he went through his usual physical training: weighted splits, suspending himself from ropes and turning his body over, and similar exercises. He was not trying to cultivate mere brute courage or strength. His purpose was to improve his body's flexibility. From his experience in the jianghu, he knew how valuable it could be to unlock more angles of movement for fighting and self-defense. When the need arose, that extra range could save a life. Everything he had heard both in Small Temple Village and at the Shangqing Sect proved that this world was in an age of chaos. Whatever the future held, he intended to prepare for trouble before it arrived.

Training had its civil and martial sides. Besides cultivation methods and physical conditioning, he used his spare time to take out the brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone kept in the residence and practice the Small Seal Script commonly used in this world, copying characters from books. For a "veteran archaeologist" like him, recognizing Small Seal Script presented no difficulty at all. His brush calligraphy had also been quite good in his previous life. But he had never seriously used a brush to write Small Seal Script. The direction and handling of the strokes differed, so practice was necessary.

Fortunately, his foundation in brush calligraphy was already strong. Though his writing had looked distorted and awkward at first, after a little over a month it had become quite presentable.

A charcoal brazier stood beside the writing desk. Whenever he finished practicing, he burned his calligraphy.

The Shangqing Sect supplied all the writing materials he needed without complaint. That, at least, was one benefit of Song Yanqing being in a good mood.

With his present ability, he had no choice about being confined here. He simply arranged every day so fully that none of the time went to waste...

The next day, a brand-new reclining chair stood beneath the peach tree, still carrying the fresh scent of newly cut wood. One glance was enough to tell that it had just been made.

Chen Guishuo pointed at it and waggled his eyebrows at Niu Youdao. "Junior Brother, the reclining chair you wanted is here."

Niu Youdao had not expected him to handle the matter so efficiently. Presumably it had something to do with the chair actually being intended for Chen Guishuo's own use. He cupped his hands and smiled. "Thank you, Senior Brother Chen."

Song Yanqing, whom he had not seen for quite some time, had come with him. Song seemed to be in an excellent mood. The moment he saw Niu Youdao, his face broke into a broad smile. There was undisguised amusement in it, tinged with the malicious pleasure of someone enjoying a private joke. He patted Niu Youdao on the shoulder. "Junior Brother, how are you finding life here?"

"Not bad, not bad. The food is ten thousand times better than what I ate in the village. It's just a little stifling being penned up here with nowhere to go."

Song Yanqing laughed. "How long have you even been here? Settle your mind first. If you can't quiet your heart, how are you supposed to cultivate? Don't worry. You'll have plenty of chances to go places later."

With that, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the edge of the cliff. Gazing toward Shangqing Palace on the opposite side, he wore an expression full of pleasant anticipation. Now and then, however, his brows drew together in thought. At last he sighed. "A pity we're not in the capital!"

Niu Youdao came over curiously. "Senior Brother Song, what's so special about the capital?"

Song Yanqing sighed dreamily. "A wild place in the mountains like this can hardly compare with the capital, where poetry, song, and literary arts flourish."

Niu Youdao was instantly baffled. Poetry and song? What did it mean for a cultivator like you to stand here sighing over poetry and song?

The corner of Chen Guishuo's mouth twitched upward as he secretly found the whole thing amusing. He and Xu Yitian were basically Song Yanqing's attendants and knew exactly what was going on. Song Yanqing had liked Tang Yi for many years, while Tang Yi enjoyed poetry and literary arts. To please her, whenever a good new poem or lyric appeared in the capital, someone would immediately send it to Song Yanqing, who would then present it to Tang Yi for her appreciation.

This time, for some reason, perhaps because nothing worthwhile had come from the capital lately, Song Yanqing had gotten the itch to try his own hand. He wrote a poem himself and asked Chen Guishuo and Xu Yitian what they thought. How could the two of them possibly tell him it was bad? Naturally they praised it. Song Yanqing then happily carried it off to Tang Yi. Chen Guishuo did not know exactly what happened there, but when Song returned his expression had been distinctly ugly, and he had even cursed the two of them to vent his frustration. It was not hard to guess what had happened.

Chen Guishuo therefore understood Song Yanqing's mood perfectly. If they were in the capital, where poetry and literary culture flourished, the Song clan's influence would make it easy to find a talented writer to ghostwrite good verse that Song could pass off as his own and use to please Tang Yi. In a secluded cultivation retreat like this, that was much harder. His momentary urge to compose something himself had evidently left him embarrassed before her.

Coming back to himself, Song Yanqing seemed unwilling to discuss the subject further. He turned and went into the courtyard, making a circuit to inspect the place.

He was responsible for keeping watch over Niu Youdao. Naturally, he could not simply ignore him. Coming by every so often to inspect the place and make sure nothing had gone wrong was perfectly reasonable.

Still outside the courtyard, Niu Youdao asked Chen Guishuo, "Why has Senior Brother Song suddenly become so preoccupied with poetry and literary arts?"

Chen Guishuo had an itch to gossip. Lowering his voice, he gave a hint. "Our sect once produced a figure of astonishing talent. His cultivation shook the cultivation world, and he was also brilliantly gifted in poetry, song, and every kind of literary art. Senior Sister Tang spent time by his side from childhood and could be considered his student. She picked up his refined tastes and came to love poetry and literature as well."

Niu Youdao understood at once. So Song Yanqing was trying to win a beauty's favor. At the same time, he became curious about the person Chen Guishuo had mentioned. "Which senior was Senior Sister Tang studying under?"

At the question, Chen Guishuo froze for a moment. A clear trace of wariness flashed through his eyes, as though he had suddenly realized he had already said too much. He glared at Niu Youdao, plainly warning him not to ask what he should not ask, then shut his mouth and hurried into the courtyard.

Niu Youdao's eyes turned thoughtfully. He followed at once.

After making a full inspection, Song Yanqing gave Chen Guishuo a few instructions and was about to leave with his hands behind his back when Niu Youdao hurried after him. "Senior Brother Song! Back in the village, my teacher often wrote poems too. I remember some of them, but I have no idea whether they're any good. Why don't you help me judge them?"

Song Yanqing did not even bother looking back. He kept walking and replied casually, "What could some down-and-out scholar from the countryside possibly write that's worth reading?" He gave a disdainful snort, contempt filling his voice.

A down-and-out scholar from the countryside? Niu Youdao's heart tightened. So the Shangqing Sect had already investigated his background thoroughly. The fact that he had once had such a scholar as a teacher was something Niu Youdao himself had only learned in Small Temple Village by drawing information about his own past from the villagers.

But what had he endured all that hardship to come here for? Dong Guo Haoran's terrifying abilities. He had not made this journey merely to be shut up here wasting time. He desperately wanted access to the Shangqing Sect's cultivation methods. Yet since being confined, he had never found an opening. Now that one had finally appeared, how could he let it slip past?

He raised his voice. "My teacher said he'd traveled in the capital before. Some of the love poems he wrote won the hearts of quite a few women."

At those words, Song Yanqing slowly stopped just before leaving the courtyard and turned around.

Chen Guishuo quickly glanced at Niu Youdao, surprise flashing through his eyes. The boy had obviously followed the hint he had just been given and improvised on the spot. Little as he was, this Junior Brother did not seem simple at all.

"Oh?" Song Yanqing turned fully around, now showing some interest. "Then let's hear what sort of poetry your teacher wrote. We can judge it together."

Niu Youdao immediately returned to Peach Blossom Hall and knelt beside the writing desk. He dripped water onto the inkstone and ground the ink, pulled out a sheet of paper, set paperweights at both sides, dipped his brush, and began writing one Small Seal character after another.

"You really have read books and learned your characters. Your handwriting is fairly presentable." Standing beside the desk, Song Yanqing offered a mild compliment, then followed the lines of writing and slowly read aloud:

"Fine clouds weave their delicate forms,
Shooting stars carry secret sorrow,
Across the distant Silver River they cross unseen.
When golden wind and jade dew meet but once,
That meeting surpasses countless ones in the mortal world..."

By the time he reached this point, his eyes had suddenly begun to shine. He might not have been able to compose fine poetry himself, but he possessed at least some ability to appreciate it. At the very least, he could tell good verse from bad.

When Niu Youdao finally stopped writing, Song Yanqing could no longer restrain himself. He quickly swept aside the paperweights, lifted the still-wet sheet in both hands, blew gently on the ink, and eagerly continued reading:

"Tenderness flows like water,
The blessed meeting is dreamlike;
How can one bear to look back toward the Magpie Bridge?
If love between two hearts is meant to last,
Why need they be together morning and night?"

"If love between two hearts is meant to last, why need they be together morning and night..." He repeated the final line over and over. At last, wearing a wistful expression of perfect satisfaction, he shook his head and sighed. "A fine lyric! A truly fine lyric!"

To him, the words could hardly have been more fitting.

Niu Youdao laughed inwardly. He set the brush aside, rose, and pretended not to understand. "It's good?"

Song Yanqing nodded, his eyes still traveling repeatedly over the writing. Suddenly, puzzlement appeared in his gaze. He looked at Niu Youdao. "What does 'Magpie Bridge' mean? Where is this bridge?"

"Uh..." Niu Youdao was momentarily speechless. It seemed this world had no tale of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl. He put on a blank look. "My teacher wrote it. I don't know where the Magpie Bridge is either."

Song Yanqing thought about it and decided that made sense. He tipped his head toward the dumbstruck Chen Guishuo and signaled for him to leave.

Once no one else was present, Song Yanqing smiled at Niu Youdao. "You said your teacher often wrote poetry like this?"

Niu Youdao thought, I've got a whole bellyful of it. You can have as much as you want. Outwardly, he merely nodded. "I think so."

[End of Chapter 10]