Believing in Ningxiang

"Whew..."

Song You stood at the entrance of the Tile House, cupped his hands in front of his face, and breathed out a puff of white air.

Indeed, the weather was getting colder by the day.

Yet his garments were still unlined and thin.

Great Yan had long since possessed cotton and had begun using it to make clothes and quilts, but it was not yet widespread, and currently only high-ranking officials and nobles could afford it. Commoners mostly relied on paper clothes and paper quilts, having to find various ways to keep warm. The warmth retention of Song You's robe could not even match that of the mulberry-paper clothes worn by pedestrians on the street.

The Tile House had a heavy flow of people and was also a commercial gathering place.

Song You browsed several shops and bought a paper fur coat. This kind of clothing was cheap, warm, and had a very plain color—so plain that some literati would paint on it, rendering it into the style they liked.

Song You just liked plain clothes.

It was also time for the season of warming by the fire.

There was no need to buy a brazier, as he already had one at home.

Unwittingly, he had circled back to the entrance of the Tile House, where there was a shop on the opposite side specializing in the Four Treasures of the Study. Song You paused to think; the brush he had bought previously had become somewhat frayed by now, and since that brush was a large one, he actually wanted to buy another one for writing small characters, preferably of better quality.

Having been out for a long time, it was about time to write a letter back.

Thus, he stepped into this shop.

He didn't see any good brushes, but he did encounter fine ink.

This shop actually stocked Ningxiang ink produced in Yangzhou.

Ningxiang ink was one of the most prestigious inks in Great Yan, representing the highest pursuit of scholars and literati, and calling its price comparable to gold was no exaggeration.

Ink was mainly divided into two types: pine soot ink and oil soot ink.

Whichever the type, both were made by capturing soot from burning through smoking, boiling glue with medicinal herbs, and sometimes adding unique spices.

Pine soot ink used the soot captured from burning pine wood. Oil soot ink used the soot from oil lamps, with the oils including tung oil, sesame oil, rapeseed oil, soybean oil, and so on. Among them, tung oil produced the most soot upon burning, yielding an ink that was deep black and glossy, which grew darker over time after writing, allowing the handwriting to last for a millennium. Other oils produced less soot, yielding a pale and dim ink color that would fade over time, so tung oil soot ink was the most common and useful among oil soot inks.

Pine soot ink was black and dark with a slight bluish tint, while oil soot ink was black and bright with a slight purplish tint, each having its own uses in calligraphy and painting.

Ningxiang was a tung oil soot ink.

Extracting soot from tung oil, boiling glue with dozens of precious Chinese medicinal herbs, adding unique spices, beating the light glue a hundred thousand times, and air-drying it for several years finally yielded this jet-black and glossy Ningxiang ink, which would not fade for a millennium and left a pure fragrance upon the brush stroke.

This was the top luxury item of this era, the peak representative of traditional craftsmanship and the artisan spirit, and the ultimate representation of a culture and a skill.

A person like Song You, who was neither skilled at painting nor proficient in calligraphy, still held some interest in such items.

Pity that its status was extraordinary, costing ten thousand coins per stick.

Song You looked and looked, and could only bid it farewell.

Short of money today, there would be time in the future. Since he was traveling through the mortal world, he naturally had to witness the finest craftsmanship and works of this era.

In the end, he only bought a brush, spending two hundred coins.

Across the street, Prefect Yu sat in the shed for a while before walking out of the Tile House. He saw Song You again at the entrance, standing and watching for a moment while his attendant held the horse, also waiting quietly.

Until Song You left.

After pondering for a long time, he finally uttered:

"Go and ask."

An attendant immediately responded and walked over to inquire, returning a moment later to report that it was Ningxiang produced in Yangzhou.

"How much for a single piece?"

"The asking price is ten thousand."

"Buy one... two pieces, then."

"Yes."

Prefect Yu then mounted his horse and trotted away.

Strange to say—

When Song You returned home, he unexpectedly discovered that Three Flower Lady had somehow or other cleared the hurdle of human transformation.

Yet contrary to what he had imagined—he had originally thought that Three Flower Lady was already a grown cat, and even if she had long resided in a rural temple with a pure mind, after transforming she should have been an adult woman—she turned out to be merely a young child of a few years old.

When he pushed open the bedroom door, the female child was wearing his long robe. The entire person was not even as tall as his long robe, looking as if she were wearing a floor-length skirt that hung loosely, and she sat in the middle of the bed, staring blankly at him.

"Has Three Flower Lady successfully transformed?"

"Three Flower Lady has successfully transformed."

The female child sat in the duck-sitting position in the middle of the bed, tilting her head up to stare at him and reply, answering very earnestly.

After her transformation, her voice had indeed changed somewhat, making it easier to hear that it was a human voice and also revealing her gender, but her tone and wording remained the same: earnest yet rigid, not the way ordinary people usually spoke, sounding somewhat unintelligent to say the least.

"How did you succeed in the transformation?"

"She transformed successfully by herself."

"Tell me in detail."

"It's just..."

The female child stammered and could not explain anything.

"Fine..."

Song You had no choice but to drop the matter and asked instead, "Isn't Three Flower Lady a large cat? How did you transform into a female child?"

"She transformed into a female child by herself."

"Then how did Three Flower Lady know to wear clothes?"

"Three Flower Lady saw you wearing them too." The female child stared at him without blinking, her expression serious. "People whose bodies don't grow fur all need to wear clothes."

"I see."

"I see..."

"I should buy you some clothes that suit you."

"I want to wear the same as you."

"That won't do."

"Why?"

"Because..."

Song You spent a long time before making her understand.

Thus, he went out again to buy clothes for her.

When Three Flower Lady put on the well-fitting clothes, she looked much more pleasing to the eye at last, though she still retained some feline habits, and her every move inevitably looked somewhat strange.

Later in the evening, there was suddenly a knock at the door outside.

"Knock, knock, knock..."

"Since Three Flower Lady has already taken human form, help me open the door." Song You glanced at Three Flower Lady. "If it's someone you recognize, invite them in. If you don't recognize them, ask whom they are looking for."

"Okay."

The little sprite hopped and skipped toward the entrance.

"Creeak."

Three Flower Lady looked up.

"Looking for who?"

Not a single superfluous word.

"Might Mister Menglai reside here?" A retinue stood outside the door, cupping their hands in salute with utmost respect.

"Don't know."

"Hm? The mister doesn't live here?"

"Which mister?"

"Mister Song Menglai."

Three Flower Lady abruptly stopped talking.

She knew Mister Song, but Mister Song had not taught her what to do next. It wasn't that she was troubled or didn't know what to do; she simply didn't feel like doing anything at all, so she just stared straight at him like that.

Observe this person first.

Until Song You walked over from behind.

"I am Song You."

"Greetings, Mister." The attendant immediately bowed, respectfully holding up a small wooden box with both hands. "This humble person comes from the estate of Prefect Yu Jianbai, sent by my master to deliver a modest gift and a message. He thanks the mister for the conversation with my master at the Tile House this afternoon, and hopes there will be another opportunity for a pure discourse with the mister. Please, Mister, be sure to accept it."

Song You had already caught the scent of ink.

So it was Lord Prefect.

"This afternoon was merely a spontaneous conversation. Not only did Lord Yu enjoy it thoroughly, but this Song also gained from it. Why did Lord Yu go out of his way to send someone with a gift?" Song You said. "Besides, the gift is precious; how could this Song accept it?"

"It is merely a humble gift. No matter how precious, it is still a mortal object, whereas the conversation between my master and the mister is a rarity in this world." The attendant paused. "Moreover, exchanging cultural artifacts among scholars is an elegant affair, not reckoned as vulgar social pleasantries. We ask the mister not to refuse."

units of a talented speaker."

"Please, Mister, do not make it difficult for this humble person." The attendant immediately wore a troubled expression. "If the mister does not accept, even if the Prefect does not punish me, I fear my heart would not be at ease."

"..."

Song You smiled, thought for a moment, and accepted it after all.

"Thank you to the Prefect on my behalf."

"This humble person takes his leave."

Only then did Song You turn around, rubbing the head of the female child beside him: "From now on, when you take human form, I will tell outsiders that you are my child servant."

"Why?"

"To find an explanation."

"Child servant."

"Mng."

Song You closed the courtyard gate and walked into the house.

Opening the carved small wooden box, inside was a small strip wrapped in red cloth. Unwrapping the red cloth as well, it was precisely the Ningxiang ink he had seen in the afternoon—two taels in specification, with patterns printed on it.

Three Flower Lady stretched out her neck and stared.

"It's burned firewood!"

"It's ink."

"Oh."

"Since Three Flower Lady has already turned into a human, help me grind the ink." Song You said to the female child again.

"What is grinding ink?"

"It's just like when I occasionally write: adding water to the inkstone, grinding the ink with this ink stick, and turning the water black."

"What is an inkstone?"

"It's the thing that holds water."

"Oh."

"Can you do it, Three Flower Lady?"

"Why?"

"I'm asking a favor of you."

"Then alright."

Although Three Flower Lady did not understand why this needed to be done, nor why she had to do it herself, she still walked over with puzzlement, took this piece of burned firewood from Song You's hand, and obediently stood in place while waiting for Song You to roll up her sleeves to her elbow joints, revealing a slender, fair, and tender section of her small arm.

She looked at her clothes, then looked at her arm, and then looked at the ink stick held in her hand, as if her hand were not her own hand, and the world was not the world she originally saw in her eyes.

The newly transformed little demon was filled with curiosity about everything.

"Should I add water first?"

"How did Three Flower Lady know?"

"Three Flower Lady saw you do it like this."

"I see."

"Like this, turning in circles?"

"Three Flower Lady's wisdom is extraordinary."

"Three Flower Lady has seen you use it."

"To have mastered it thoroughly after merely seeing it a few times—such wisdom is truly rare, and this Song admires it endlessly."

"..."

Three Flower Lady stopped talking, grinding more and more earnestly.

The Ningxiang ink had no ink skin and produced ink very quickly; once ground, a fragrance diffused—a wonderful medicinal herb scent, neither strong nor faint, possessing a charm of its own.

Song You, meanwhile, spread out the paper beside them.

"Done."

"Is it ready?"

"Thank you, Three Flower Lady."

"You're welcome."

The new brush dipped into the ink, scraping back and forth on the inkstone.

Song You thought again and again before raising his brush to write.

"Seeing your writing is like meeting you face-to-face; unfolding this letter smooths the brow."

The ink fragrance was delightful, the wet characters reflected light, and every single stroke that fell was exceedingly exquisite.

The ancient cypress trees of Jinyang Road, the potholes on the bluestone slabs, the mortal bustling life of Yidu City, the rolling and unspooling clouds of Laoying Mountain, monks who could not resist greed, and masters whose skills reached the divine—Song You used very ordinary brush and ink to recount his experiences, insights, and cultivation gains since descending the mountain to his master.

He also spoke of Three Flower Lady.

Strange to say, keeping company with Three Flower Lady in the beginning had merely been a momentary impulse to fend off the loneliness of the long road, yet he had unexpectedly reaped an unexpected harvest. Now, simply being accompanied by her had added no small amount of joy to this journey.

He could not forget the Prefect who yearned for longevity.

This ink was the finest in the world; he wondered if that old Daoist priest had ever witnessed it before, and he must remind her to take a whiff of it.

As he wrote, a fluffy cat's paw suddenly reached over, hooking and pulling at the dangling rope swaying incessantly on the brush. The little cat's claws had a glaze-like texture.

Song You stopped writing and turned his head.

He saw the Three Flower Cat looking completely earnest, her paw hooking one way and another.

Then he searched around the room.

The newly bought clothes of today had already fallen to the floor.

"Three Flower Lady, what are you doing?"

"Mh?"

The Three Flower Cat looked as if she had only just noticed he had stopped his brush, turning her head to stare at him, pondering for a few seconds, and actually saying in dead earnest, "You write your things, I play my things."

Song You therefore continued writing.

Three Flower Lady continued playing.

The scene was harmonious and quiet, with the sound of the bamboo forest's wind coming in through the window.