Shen Hui had been busy in the kitchen for over an hour. At last, several dishes were neatly arranged on the stove.
At some point, Jinghui had moved from the threshold to the stove. She stared at the plates, muttering nonstop.
"Are they ready yet? Are they ready yet?"
"They are." Shen Hui wiped his hands. "Fourth Senior Sister, could you help carry them?"
Without a word, Jinghui picked up a plate in each hand and hurried toward the Dining Hall, her feet practically flying.
Shen Hui and Fifth Senior Brother carried the remaining dishes after her.
In the Dining Hall, Senior Brother, Second Senior Sister, and Third Senior Brother were already seated. Shen Hui set the dishes on the table and caught sight of someone entering from the corner of his eye.
Master.
Shen Hui froze and instinctively looked at his face.
His face, which had once been burned nearly beyond recognition, was still a sorry sight around the brows—there was hair on one side and none on the other. But a light dusting of white stubble had appeared on his chin, like a freshly reaped field of wheat.
It still looked a little strange, but it was much easier on the eyes than it had been that morning.
Shen Hui glanced once, then quickly lowered his head.
The others did the same. They should have greeted him, but now they all kept their heads down, pretending to study the dishes on the table.
The Old Taoist ambled to the seat of honor, gathered up his robe, and sat down. His gaze swept over everyone, then the dishes on the table, and finally settled on Shen Hui.
"Why are you standing there? Sit."
Shen Hui hurriedly sat down.
The meal passed in dead silence.
No one spoke. Even the clink of chopsticks against bowls was quieter than usual.
Shen Hui didn't dare look up. He stared only at the rice in his bowl, chewing each mouthful carefully.
The Old Taoist said nothing either. He picked up food slowly and ate slowly.
He took a piece of rabbit, chewed, and nodded. He picked up a slice of bamboo shoot, chewed, and nodded again. He took a sip of egg-drop soup, smacked his lips, and nodded once more.
When the meal was over, the Old Taoist put down his chopsticks.
The others followed suit.
"I hear you discussed the Dao with Jingming yesterday and said that the bustle of everyday life is also a great medicine?" the Old Daoist suddenly asked.
Shen Hui's heart gave a thump.
He looked up and met the Old Taoist's faintly amused eyes.
He remembered that Second Senior Sister hadn't eaten mushrooms at first yesterday, but after he'd talked her into it, she'd accidentally fallen for the same trick. He couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed.
He swallowed and chose his words carefully. "This disciple was only speaking off the cuff. It shouldn't be taken seriously..."
"Speaking off the cuff?"
The Old Taoist stroked his uneven beard. His tone gave nothing away.
"I, for one, thought your words made a good deal of sense."
Shen Hui didn't dare respond.
The Old Taoist shook his head as he rose and walked out. When he reached the doorway, he added without looking back:
"Starting today, I'm giving up fasting."
With that, his figure disappeared outside, leaving six disciples staring after him in bewilderment.
After the meal, Shen Hui suddenly remembered something and turned to Qingyi. "Third Senior Brother, I'd like to borrow a few books. Do you have any odds and ends about geography, local customs, strange tales, and the like?"
Qingyi nodded. "Quite a few. Would you like me to pick some out for you, or would you rather choose for yourself?"
Shen Hui was about to answer when Second Senior Sister abruptly spoke. "I have several Daoist scriptures. If you want to read, you can come see me."
Shen Hui was taken aback and hurriedly waved his hands. "Thank you for the kind offer, Second Senior Sister, but my Dao Xing is too shallow. Those Daoist scriptures are far too profound. They'd be wasted on me, and I don't dare spoil them."
Jingming furrowed her brow slightly. "Then what use are those miscellaneous books to you? Wouldn't they be a waste of time and a hindrance to your cultivation?"
At this, Third Senior Brother looked rather awkward.
Shen Hui merely smiled, unconcerned, and replied offhandedly, "You're mistaken, Senior Sister. As the saying goes, 'Within books lies a Golden House; within books lies a face like jade.'"
Qingyi's eyes lit up. "Well said, Junior Brother!"
Jingming furrowed her brow even more deeply. "A Golden House? A face like jade? Have you forgotten the sect rules? Wealth and women..."
Shen Hui explained, "You misunderstand, Senior Sister. The Golden House means that books contain a whole world and can broaden one's horizons; the face like jade means that books contain endless delights and can nurture one's character."
At the same time, he added silently to himself: I made all of that up, but monks aren't supposed to lie. Surely a Taoist can get away with a few little fibs now and then.
Besides, he wanted to learn about this world's local customs and all the different ways ordinary people lived, so he wouldn't be completely in the dark or make another blunder like last night's.
Jingming fell silent for a moment, then replied without a trace of emotion, "Suit yourself."
She turned to leave. At the doorway, she suddenly stopped and looked back.
"I wonder, though, where did this 'common saying' of yours about the 'Golden House' and the 'face like jade' come from? I've never heard it before."
Shen Hui froze, at a loss for words.
Seeing this, Jingming didn't press him. With a look of understanding, she turned and left, her figure disappearing into the night.
Qingyi came over, patted him on the shoulder, and said with a smile, "Junior Brother, come by my room later and pick out some books. I'll have to write down those two lines—'Within books lies a Golden House; within books lies a face like jade'—and include them in my collection."
Shen Hui gave a rueful smile. "Senior Brother, don't tease me."
"I'm not teasing you." Qingyi turned serious. "Don't worry. I'll credit the source."
Looking at his earnest expression, Shen Hui didn't know what to say.
Fifth Senior Brother volunteered to wash the dishes.
Shen Hui didn't object. He thanked him, left the Dining Hall, and headed for the West Courtyard.
Third Senior Brother Qingyi's room was on the south side of the West Courtyard, not far from Fourth Senior Sister's. Several clumps of bamboo had been planted by the door, though they grew thin and scraggly, nowhere near as neat as the ones in front of Second Senior Sister's room.
He knocked.
"Come in."
He pushed the door open, and a faint sandalwood fragrance greeted him. Shen Hui looked around and couldn't help pausing in surprise.
Third Senior Brother's room was quite a bit larger than his own. Apart from a wooden bed against the wall and a desk by the window, the most striking feature was the three bookcases lined up against the inner wall.
They were crudely made, with unrounded board edges and slightly crooked joints, but they were sturdy. Every shelf was packed full of books.
Qingyi sat at the desk with a sheet of paper spread before him, holding a brush as he wrote something.
When he saw Shen Hui, he looked up and smiled, pointing at the bookcases. "Pick whatever you like. Take any book that catches your eye."
Shen Hui nodded and went over to the shelves. First, he reached out and ran a hand over the wood.
The grain was fine, and the surface felt cool to the touch. When he leaned closer, he caught a faint, slightly bitter fragrance.
It was probably camphorwood, which could repel insects.
Still, he wasn't certain. For all he knew, this wood might be like those mushrooms—perhaps it only looked similar.
Shen Hui looked over the spines and began examining the books one by one.
The Romantic Scholar and the Pretty Female Ghost
The Tale of the Scholarly Wild Fox
Records of Brothel Romances
His eyelid twitched. He silently shifted his gaze to the next row.
The Legend of the Fox Immortal
The Tale of the Peony Lantern
Records of Ghosts and Monsters
He pulled one out at random and leafed through it. It was about a scholar who spent the night in an abandoned house, met a beautiful woman, exchanged poems with her, and fell in love—only to discover she was a fox spirit.
The writing wasn't bad, but the story... how should he put it? It was much like the kind of "urban encounter" stories he'd read online in his previous life: same old wine in a new bottle.
He put it back and took out a copy of Records of Ghosts and Monsters.
He skimmed through it. The stories were all about monsters and ghosts, but they were muddled and inconsistent. In many places, one thing didn't follow from another, as if the writer had recorded them after hearing only half the story. Reading them left him feeling that something was missing.
Shen Hui shook his head, returned the book to its place, and continued browsing.
At last, in a corner of the third bookcase, he spotted a few that looked more respectable.
Gazetteer of Qingzhou Prefecture
<Detailed Notes on the Mountains and Rivers of the Nine Provinces>
Biographies of Heroes of Great Shuo
Records of Strange Customs and Tales
Chronicles of Dynastic Rise and Fall
Shen Hui's eyes lit up. He pulled out all five and cradled them in his arms.
After a moment's thought, he took a copy of Resolving Doubts on Plants and Herbs from beside them too.
That one should come in handy.
"Picked out some?" Qingyi looked up. "All serious books? You don't want anything more entertaining?"
Shen Hui smiled. "Next time, for sure. Sooner or later, I'll read every book you have, Senior Brother."
Qingyi smiled, said he'd be happy to have him anytime, then lowered his head and continued writing.
Carrying the books, Shen Hui came over to the desk and craned his neck to look at the sheet of paper.
Neat lines of small regular script covered the page. They were the two lines from earlier: "Within books lies a Golden House; within books lies a face like jade."
A few small characters had been added beside them: "Words of Junior Brother Qingxuan. Excellent. Worth including in the collection."
"Senior Brother, you write a collection?" Shen Hui asked.
"I do." Qingyi looked up with a gentle smile. "Poems, songs, curious tales—anything interesting, I write it down. Once I've filled enough pages, perhaps I can have it printed as a book and pass it down to future generations."
Shen Hui watched him, deep in thought. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Senior Brother, actually, that poem has more than two lines."
The tip of Qingyi's brush paused. He looked up. "Oh? I'd be glad to hear it."
Shen Hui set down the books in his hands, cleared his throat, and recited:
"A rich man need not buy good farmland; within books lie a thousand bushels of grain.
"To dwell in comfort, no need to build a lofty hall; within books lies a Golden House.
"Go out without lamenting that no one follows; within books, carriages and horses crowd like a grove.
"Marry without lamenting the lack of a good matchmaker; within books lies a face like jade.
"If a man would fulfill the aspirations of his life, let him diligently read the Five Classics by the window."
Qingyi listened, utterly absorbed. When Shen Hui finished, he let out a long breath, his eyes shining.
"Brilliant! Truly brilliant!"
He clasped his hands, overwhelmed. "The 'thousand bushels of grain,' the 'Golden House,' the 'face like jade'—each line builds on the last, and each is more wonderful than the one before it! Junior Brother, did you write this?"
Shen Hui hurriedly shook his head with a smile. "I couldn't write something like that. I heard it was written by an old scholar to encourage people to study, but it's been so long that his name has been lost." (The original poem was Song Emperor Zhenzong Zhao Heng's Encouragement to Study.)
"Lost?" Qingyi looked regretful. "Such a fine poem, and even the author's name didn't survive?"
Shen Hui nodded. After thinking for a moment, he added, "There's also a story behind the poem."
"What story?"
Qingyi immediately perked up. He set his brush down on the inkstone, pulled over a stool, and said, "Tell me, Junior Brother!"
Seeing how impatient he looked, Shen Hui couldn't help smiling. He sat down on the stool and began telling the story he'd read in his previous life.
"Once upon a time, there was a scholar named Lang Yuzhu. His father had been an official, and after he died, he left his son a roomful of books. Everyone urged Lang Yuzhu to study and pursue an official career, but he didn't take them seriously. He said, 'Within books lie a thousand bushels of grain, a Golden House, and a face like jade. Why seek them elsewhere?'"
Qingyi listened intently and nodded.
"Lang Yuzhu did nothing but read. He didn't work or marry. When people asked him about it, he'd say, 'Within books lies a face like jade. Sooner or later, I'll read a wife right out of a book.'"
Qingyi couldn't help laughing. "What a fool."
"Wasn't he just?" Shen Hui continued. "One day, as he was reading, a woman suddenly stepped out from between the pages. She introduced herself as Yan Ruyu and said she had come to grant his wish for a 'face like jade' within books."
Qingyi's eyes lit up. "That really happened?"
"It did in the story."
Shen Hui smiled. "Yan Ruyu was as beautiful as a celestial maiden and excelled at the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. She taught him to play chess, and his skill improved greatly; she taught him the zither, and he became a master; she taught him to read, and he never forgot anything he saw. Everyone in the neighborhood envied him."
Qingyi listened, utterly absorbed, nodding again and again.
"But what happened next?" he asked.
Shen Hui paused, his tone turning somber.
"Later, a corrupt official in the area heard about this strange affair. He wanted to take Yan Ruyu for himself, so he accused Lang Yuzhu of spreading heretical nonsense and brought soldiers to arrest him."
"With no other choice, Yan Ruyu slipped back into the book. When the official couldn't find her, he burned all of Lang Yuzhu's books in a fit of rage, then confiscated his family's property and imprisoned him for 'spreading heretical nonsense.' Lang Yuzhu was eventually released, but his family fell into ruin, and he hated Magistrate Shi with all his heart."
The smile froze on Qingyi's face.
"Later, Lang Yuzhu went to live with relatives, applied himself to his studies, and passed the highest imperial examination. Once he became a censor, the first thing he did upon returning home was settle accounts with that magistrate."
"He trumped up charges, confiscated Magistrate Shi's property, and avenged the burning of his books and the theft of his wife. In the end, he became an official who was shrewd and unscrupulous, stopping at nothing to get what he wanted."
Qingyi was silent for a long time before sighing. "What a pity... What a pity that the story had to end like that."
But Shen Hui shook his head.
"I think the ending is pretty good."
Qingyi stared at him. "Pretty good? One dead and one driven mad—how is that a good ending?"
Cradling the books, Shen Hui stood and walked to the doorway. He looked back.
"Think about it, Senior Brother. What was Yan Ruyu? A spirit who stepped out of a book. Lang Yuzhu believed in books, and books gave him a wife. Later, when he lost his wife, he believed in books again, and books gave him an official career and the means to take revenge."
He paused, his tone even.
"Lang Yuzhu didn't become good, and he didn't become evil. He was simply pickled by the times he lived in. Studying might not turn a poor man into a good person, but at least when he's bullied, it gives him one more way to strike back."
He sighed. "There might not be a woman named Yan Ruyu in this world, but there are surely plenty of magistrates who seize what they want by force."
"And that's what a poem meant to 'encourage learning' should be like."
With that, he opened the door and left, his figure disappearing into the night.
Qingyi sat at the desk, staring at the closed door. For a long time, he didn't move.
The lamplight on the table flickered, throwing shifting shadows across his face.
Shen Hui carried the books back to his little room and set them on the table. As usual, he first sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed and began his evening meditation.
An hour later, he opened his eyes and glanced at the interface. Once he was sure that continuing to meditate would bring him only half the results for twice the effort, he stood and loosened up.
He walked over to the table and looked at the stack of books. With his right hand, he formed a spell seal, and a puff of flame appeared out of thin air.
The flame danced before him, gradually gathering together until it finally took the shape of a fist-sized ghostly head.
Wick Sha Ghost.
It hovered in midair, its features blurred, its shape no more than a rough outline, like a fearsome ghost head shrunk countless times over.
Shen Hui focused his thoughts again. The flames around the ghostly head brightened, illuminating the entire room.
This was a rudimentary application of fire magic. Using it for light saved quite a bit of lamp oil.
Shen Hui nodded in satisfaction and tried shaping the flames into other forms.
Fireballs, fire knives, fire swords, fire snakes... The flames changed with each thought, quite nimbly.
But after a few tries, he realized there was little point in making fireballs.
The most natural use for these flames wasn't to shape them into a big ball and hurl it. It was to condense them into a single point and send them shooting out.
The spark swelled as it met the wind. By the time it struck an enemy, it had become a raging blaze, catching them completely off guard.
Of course, he could also shape the flames into a line and sweep it across.
The Control Fire Chapter had a saying: "Ordinary fire has shape; true fire has none. What has shape is easy to evade; what has none is hard to guard against."
That was precisely the principle.
Of course, besides these ordinary methods of controlling flames, he had a more powerful move: sending the Wick Sha Ghost out of his body to pounce on its prey.
It just took a little while to prepare, since he had to form a spell seal and recite an incantation.
To be precise, he had to fully connect his mind with the Ghost Fiend and recite the incantation.
With every line he recited, the Ghost Fiend would gain a little more power. At a thought, it could then leave his body and pounce on its prey.
Besides that, he could also enhance the flames by feeding his seven emotions and six desires into the Heart Lamp.
The stronger the emotions, the fiercer the flames.
Shen Hui gave it a try. The ancient lamp in his chest did indeed glow a little brighter, and the flames in his palm suddenly surged, their heat noticeably higher.
He gathered his thoughts, and the flames returned to normal.
He fixed the ghostly head above his own, adjusted it to a comfortable brightness, then picked up Detailed Notes on the Mountains and Rivers of the Nine Provinces and opened it to the first page.
The flickering firelight glimmered across the yellowed pages.
Leaning against the headboard, Shen Hui read by the light of the ghostly head hovering in midair, turning the pages slowly, one by one.
From Lingzhou, to Luanzhou, to Cangzhou, then Chenzhou... One mountain range after another, one river after another, one city after another, and countless unfamiliar place names gradually unfolded before his eyes.