Great Xiangguo Temple was first built during the Northern Qi, rose to prominence in the Tang, and reached its peak under the Northern Song, becoming the greatest royal temple in the land.
In terms of the splendor of its pagodas and temples, it had reached the pinnacle.
Compared with its dazzling gold and jade, Shaolin Temple was nothing but a shabby country shrine.
Of course, more people knew Great Xiangguo Temple for Lu Zhishen's feat of uprooting a weeping willow in Water Margin.
Who knew whether Lin Daiyu had later traveled here too, and gained her inheritance as a result.
When Huang Shang reached the back gate of Great Xiangguo Temple, it was already a sea of people.
Without experiencing it firsthand, it was hard to imagine that these people weren't here to burn incense, but to buy things.
If Sang Family Bazaar was an entertainment district, Great Xiangguo Temple was a small-goods market.
Five Ten Thousand Surname Fairs were held here each month. "Ten Thousand Surnames" was naturally an exaggeration, but the number of people who came here was still astonishing. All kinds of little trinkets were for sale.
Today wasn't even a Ten Thousand Surname Fair, yet the crowds were already overwhelming. Huang Shang caught whiffs of genuine sweat as he turned to the horse renter walking beside him and asked, "Is it always this crowded here? Which days are quieter?"
The horse renter smiled. "It's quieter in the days after the Ten Thousand Surname Fair."
Huang Shang understood and nodded.
It was just like the day after Double Eleven, when online shopping volumes plunged off a cliff.
After impulse spending came the chopping off of hands. Once the severed limbs grew back, they'd give in to temptation again the next year, then chop them off all over again.
Unbothered by the stench of sweat, he pushed his way inside.
From the gate to the main hall, all kinds of goods were laid out in neat rows.
There were household furnishings, flowers, birds, insects, and beasts, food and tea, books and curios.
Huang Shang looked them over one by one, and soon his eyes lit up.
There was a striking sight over there.
A row of stalls run by nuns.
Nuns selling things in a monks' temple sounded unbelievable, but it was actually quite normal.
Everyone had to eat.
There were plenty of nunneries and Taoist temples in Dongjing City, and they struggled to make ends meet. When they had nothing to do, the nuns and Taoist priestesses didn't spend all day praying to Buddha and chanting scriptures. They did needlework instead, then took it to the stalls to sell.
They were all part of the Buddhist faith, so Great Xiangguo Temple had arranged permanent stalls for them and offered whatever help it could.
Huang Shang stepped closer, straining to make out the goods. "Embroidery, collars and bibs, pearls and kingfisher-feather ornaments, headdresses..."
As someone from the entertainment industry, he knew a thing or two about cosmetics. Unfortunately, this was a different era, and Huang Shang was a textbook straight man; his memories held none of this.
So among the dazzling array of women's wares, he recognized only a handful. All he could do was smile.
When he smiled, the nun at the stall smiled back at him, her eyes curving into crescents.
But when another woman, dressed in bright finery, came up, the pretty nun's smile quickly vanished.
"Excellent!"
Huang Shang watched closely, thoroughly enjoying the contrast.
In places like inns, the attendants might flatter a woman for her beauty and tell tales about her; they could easily give away his whereabouts.
But here, these nuns and Taoist priestesses would hardly gossip with a beautiful stranger.
Women were rivals to one another.
Of course, nothing in this world was absolute. There was no need to worry about the tiniest possibility, or nothing one did would ever work.
After looking around, Huang Shang had what he needed. He left Great Xiangguo Temple, returned home, and began to paint.
After that, he made a point of avoiding the Ten Thousand Surname Fairs and visiting Great Xiangguo Temple when it was quieter.
He came at different times of day, recording the changes in the crowds each time. He also lingered by the book and needlework stalls, until the nuns grew familiar with him.
Getting too close to the nuns was risky. Some jealous soul might be hiding in the shadows, waiting to catch him in a mistake.
But since Reincarnators could enter the world at any moment, he couldn't afford to be too cautious.
Fortunately, the sacrifices were worth it.
One afternoon, twenty days later, Huang Shang was returning from a lesson with Zhang Zai when he passed Great Xiangguo Temple and went inside.
Today, the crowds were thinner than they'd been any other day in recent weeks. The smell of sweat had mostly faded, replaced by incense. Groups of women walked by, and now and then a faint, delicate fragrance drifted past. It was quite pleasant.
Huang Shang went first to the bookstalls, pretending to browse, then glanced toward the needlework stalls.
Suddenly, his gaze sharpened. He saw a beautiful profile.
He had looked at the portraits of the male and female Reincarnators countless times, memorizing their appearances until they were etched deep into his mind.
Only after he was sure he'd recognize them even reduced to ashes had he burned the portraits.
So now, even though he saw only a profile and the woman's clothes had changed, he recognized her at a glance. She was the female Reincarnator.
Finally! Finally!
At that moment, the woman stood before a stall, looking at a set of ornaments for the head.
The set wasn't a single piece, but a complete array of hair ornaments: a forehead ornament, a crown pin, a side ornament, temple decorations, and hairpins.
The Song Dynasty's aesthetic sense really was extraordinary. Even Huang Shang thought they were beautiful.
And the more the woman looked, the more she liked them. She had already begun asking the price, preparing to buy them.
That was the difference between men and women.
When male Reincarnators entered the Heavens, all they thought about was what divine skill they could learn in this world, what magical treasure they could obtain, and how much stronger they could become.
Female Reincarnators, on the other hand, went shopping, snacking, and shopping some more, looking for the unique makeup techniques of the era. Their interests tended toward everyday life.
Of course, that was an exaggeration. There were plenty of female Reincarnators who fought even more brutally than men.
But compared with men, they really did have a different attitude toward enjoying life.
My turn!
Huang Shang steadied his nerves and walked over.
As soon as he appeared, the little nun running the stall curtsied and said in a clear, melodious voice, "May good fortune be upon you, young master!"
They said a clever mind made for nimble hands. Of all the stalls in this row, the little nun's needlework was the prettiest, and she was also the loveliest. Huang Shang returned her bow and began looking over the flowers on the stall.
When the woman saw Huang Shang come over, she glanced at him briefly, then quickly turned back to focus on comparing the headdresses.
Although the headdresses were more profitable, the little nun was friendlier to Huang Shang and even took the initiative to recommend something. "Young master, you should buy a silk flower. It's woven with gold thread and decorated with tiny pearls. Compared with a real flower, it has a touch more elegance!"
Huang Shang took the flower, fought down his discomfort, and put it on his head. He thought that girls could be basketball brand ambassadors too, and felt better about it. After paying, he took a rolled-up painting from his bag. "Could you take a look at this painting for me?"
The little nun brightened. "Would you like to consign it?"
Consignment meant acting as a broker and earning the difference as a middleman. The profit was substantial.
When Huang Shang unrolled his painting, the little nun's eyes lit up even more.
The painting had something of the grand scale of Along the River During the Qingming Festival. It depicted Great Xiangguo Temple, rendered with remarkable vividness.
The literary arts flourished throughout the land. The earliest of the Song Dynasty's four great female poets, Li Qingzhao, wouldn't be born for another twenty years, but women's painting skills were already generally quite good. Nuns and Taoist priestesses had their own works too, but compared with Huang Shang's painting, the difference in skill was plain.
What a pity it feels a little rushed. Otherwise, it would be even more perfect.
The little nun felt a pang of regret, but her spoken praise came one compliment after another.
Her admiration caught the woman's attention, and she unconsciously took a few more looks.
One of those glances fell on the signature. She saw a familiar name.
Huang Shang!
The woman paused slightly, her eyes flickering.
A moment later, she abruptly turned to look at Huang Shang, as if she'd discovered a priceless treasure. She studied him carefully from head to toe.
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