Forgetting

Ding Songyan had barely finished sneering inwardly when a sudden twinge of fear struck him.

He was currently in his sea of consciousness, where thoughts converged. Although he seemed to need that "Seed" to communicate with Yan Changqing, with his spoken words separate from his private thoughts, he still knew too little about this miraculous technique and its particulars. What if Yan Changqing, who had given him that "Qi," could also listen to his thoughts as they arose?

Any uncharitable thoughts can wait until I leave the dungeon!

Pacing with his hands behind his back, the lean-faced Yan Changqing looked at Ding Songyan and spoke with an easy manner and an even voice:

"If you cannot make up your mind just yet, you may think it over for another two or three days. But remember, the longer you hesitate, the narrower the gap through which we can snatch life from death.

"What I told you yesterday was no lie. I am indeed skilled in the Art of Numerology, and I saw long ago that danger surrounded you on every side, not merely in the matter of the Zhen Family. Heh, that strand of Qi I gave you can pierce delusions. It should help you see your circumstances clearly and make your decision sooner."

The old man suddenly chuckled.

"Are you thinking of finding a chance to go to the County Yamen or the prefectural yamen and report this to the Yi clan or the Xiaoming Sect? You may try. Once you have, you will understand that only I can save you, and only you can save me."

I really do want to report this to the authorities... Surely the Zhen Estate would have precautions against me fighting until the fish dies and the net tears, spilling everything? What precautions would they take? Follow me and stop me? Or is Old Yan doing this deliberately-first giving what he intends to take? He says I can try reporting it, but is he actually using that to frighten me? Ding Songyan neither said he would report it nor said he would not.

Yan Changqing changed the subject and asked with a smile:

"Do you wish to learn martial arts?"

"Yes." Ding Songyan wanted to see how the man intended to "tempt" him.

To that end, he deliberately added:

"The Zhen Estate promised to find me a martial arts school and cover all the expenses."

"If you lend me a hand, I will consider taking you as my disciple. Even if you do not wish to become my disciple, I will still teach you a Secret Art." Yan Changqing's hoarse, aged voice slowly spread through the space. "You are no longer particularly young. Disciples of the great sects begin honing their bodies in childhood, though never beyond their limits. At sixteen or seventeen, they formally begin body tempering and qi training, and invariably achieve results within two years.

"I have calculated your age. You have just turned twenty. Starting body tempering and qi training at this age, even with superior martial arts, will take three to five years. Fall behind one step, and you fall behind at every step. 'Fail to become a Martial Grandmaster by forty, and hope is lost for life.' Though that saying is not absolute, it sums up the lot of most martial artists.

"My Secret Art can bring you success in body tempering within six months, and within a year, your Qi will flow throughout your body in an unceasing circuit."

That really is a tempting lure... The only problem is, who knows whether you're telling the truth, or whether that Secret Art is really so powerful? After all, if I agree and help you escape, I'll be lucky to survive six days. How would I ever see the results of six months of cultivation? Given the treacherous heart you showed earlier, you might well give me a fake Secret Art. Dead men can't verify whether something is real... Ding Songyan considered for a moment, then said:

"Allow me one day to consider."

"Good." Yan Changqing's figure gradually faded, and the pale, hazy light that had fallen into the sea of consciousness swiftly dispersed as well.

Silence returned to this mist-shrouded world, and the rift was gone.

Thanks to the "Seed," Ding Songyan could divide his attention whenever he wished. If he wanted to leave the sea of consciousness and reunite the two streams, a mere shift of thought sufficed.

Once he returned to normal, he earnestly told the story up to the point where Lady White revealed her true form and frightened Xu Xian to death, bringing that day's storytelling to a close.

After leaving the dungeon and returning to the small building, Ding Songyan had just removed the strip of black cloth from his face when he saw Mr. Yu waiting nearby.

As his heart tightened, Mr. Yu gave a slight nod and said:

"Over the next few days, you may visit the various martial arts schools and choose one you wish to attend. Once you finish telling the Legend of the White Snake to our honored guest, we will make the arrangements."

"I was still worrying about this last night, and today I already have an answer. I cannot thank you enough." Delight showed on Ding Songyan's face as he cupped his hands in salute.

Yet what flashed through his mind was a common saying:

Alive to earn it, dead before you can spend it.

A promise that will never be honored isn't worth a single coin!

Upon leaving the Zhen Estate, Ding Songyan immediately spotted Ren Youyang, dressed in blue with a small cap, waiting at the mouth of an alley diagonally opposite.

The bruising on his face had yet to fade completely, and the scab at the corner of his mouth was particularly conspicuous. Seeing Ding Songyan emerge, he smiled and let out a relieved breath.

The sight brought an inexplicable warmth to Ding Songyan's heart.

He and Ren Youyang had only shared one drinking session. Their relationship was barely closer than that of strangers, yet the man had gone so far to help him.

He truly has the spirit of the knight-errants of old!

"How did it go?" Ren Youyang asked with a smile as Ding Songyan approached.

Ding Songyan considered his words before answering:

"They didn't mention anything."

He did not know exactly how the True Spirit Sect and the Zhen Estate were connected, or what they were doing in secret. For now, he had no intention of telling Ren Youyang about Yan Changqing, lest he put the man in a difficult position.

Of course, if he truly found himself at the end of the road, he could no longer afford such considerations. He would beg even a passing dog for help.

"If they didn't mention it, that's good news." Ren Youyang waved a hand. "No need to thank me. Go about your business. I'm off to Beili Ward to watch a variety play."

After watching Ren Youyang leave and making his way out of North Water Street, Ding Songyan finally noticed his stomach rumbling like thunder. He was ravenous.

He had followed Ren Youyang to the Zhen Estate before he had a chance to eat lunch. Afterward, his nerves had remained so tightly strung that he had noticed nothing amiss.

Walking around a wooden railing, Ding Songyan found a noodle stall and sat down.

"One bowl of plain noodles, with a piece of bazi pork."

Bazi pork was a delicacy brought from the north during the Dynasty's Southern Crossing.

"Coming right up!" the stallholder answered in a strong, hearty voice.

Before long, a bowl of plain noodles in soy-colored broth arrived, scattered with plenty of fresh green scallions and topped with a glossy, enticing piece of bazi pork, its fat interwoven with lean meat.

It had just been lifted from the pot.

"That'll be eleven copper coins." The stallholder smiled.

Ding Songyan took down his money pouch and paid with one five-value coin and six one-value copper coins. Then he picked up his bamboo chopsticks, lifted the piece of bazi pork, which weighed two or three taels, and took a gentle bite.

The sauce was rich, the fat was not greasy, and the lean meat was not dry. As he chewed, fragrance filled his mouth.

Savoring the food with care gradually settled Ding Songyan's thoughts and emotions, easing his tension.

As he drank the last few mouthfuls of noodle broth, he held the bowl and sank into thought.

He went over everything in his mind, sorting through all the possibilities. His eyes lost focus entirely, staring at he knew not what.

A long while passed before he finally wiped his mouth, set down his bowl and chopsticks, and stood.

He still intended to visit the County Yamen.

How could he know where the problem lay if he did not go?

What if there was no problem at all?

Asking directions along the way, Ding Songyan finally reached the Lingjiang County Yamen, also in the northern part of town, after a quarter of an hour.

A large spirit screen stood before the County Yamen's entrance, carved with the image of a deity with a beast's body and a human face, riding two dragons.

Zhurong, the fire god. Right, the Hong clan has always claimed descent from Zhurong... The relevant passage from the Secret Classic of Mountains and Seas naturally flashed through Ding Songyan's mind:

Zhurong, god of fire, essence of Xia, master of the hearth, aide to the Red Emperor, manifestation of the Fiery Star.

Reining in his thoughts, Ding Songyan cautiously surveyed his surroundings, trying to find anyone who might be following him or waiting to stop him. But most of the people coming and going were constables in red clothing with black patterns, or Xiaoming Sect disciples in fitted black outfits.

Nothing unusual... Ding Songyan withdrew his gaze, carefully walked around the spirit screen, and headed toward the County Yamen's main gate.

Along the way, people greeted him now and then, calling him Second Brother Ding or Brother Songyan.

Clearly, the former owner of his body had often come to the County Yamen to visit his father, Ding Shengyi.

"Second Brother, what brings you here?" Wearing a square, flat-topped headcloth, Ding Shengyi was chatting with someone in a side corridor.

"I happened to be passing by, so I came to see you, Father," Ding Songyan said with a smile.

The clerk opposite Ding Shengyi smiled at that.

"Brother Songyan is as filial as ever. Brother Shengyi, you're a fortunate man!"

Looking rather pleased with himself, Ding Shengyi waved a hand.

"He still needs discipline, still needs discipline."

Ding Songyan chatted with them for a little while, then took his leave and walked out through the County Yamen's main gate.

The scriptures inscribed on the back of the spirit screen outside came into view, and he suddenly froze.

"Wait. What did I come to the County Yamen for...?"

Ding Songyan's brows drew together.

He strained with all his might to remember, until sweat beaded on his forehead.

At last, he remembered:

He had come to the County Yamen to try reporting the matter to the authorities, to tell them that a suspicious, mysterious man was imprisoned in the Zhen Estate's dungeon!

Ding Songyan sucked in a breath. Sweat instantly drenched him, and terror seized his heart.

Someone quietly removed that portion of my thoughts after I entered the County Yamen?

This world has martial arts like that?

It's rather like the technique Yan Changqing used to affect my sea of consciousness and speak directly to my mind...

So, does the Zhen Estate have a hidden agent in the County Yamen who interferes with my thoughts whenever I come here, or is Yan Changqing staging the whole thing himself?

Was he the one who said there was something wrong with the County Yamen, and also the one using that "Seed" to control my thoughts and stop me from reporting this?

I can test that later. The Xiaoming Sect and the Yi clan have people outside the County Yamen too...

If Yan Changqing really did this, then the fact that the Zhen Estate didn't stop me from coming here suggests they have a rough idea of what their "honored guest" can do...

Ding Songyan found an excuse and returned to the County Yamen to look for Ding Shengyi.

This time, too, he merely chatted with his father before leaving the County Yamen without incident.

There really is something wrong... Standing beside the spirit screen, Ding Songyan silently murmured to himself.

The back of his clothes was soaked through.

Just then, a donkey cart arrived, carrying a corpse and two seated constables.

"Did something happen?" a passing Xiaoming Sect disciple asked.

Both constables swung themselves down from the cart. One spoke in a low voice:

"Looks like death from illness, but the body and organs are rotted as though he's been dead for two or three days, while the face looks no more than eight hours dead. Very strange."

"This... is very similar to what happened after Chen Yuliang of the Small Boat Gang died. Junior Sister Zheng has already reported it to the Sects, the prefectural city, and Flame Capital, but there's been no reply yet." Fighting his nausea, the Xiaoming Sect disciple examined the corpse for a while.

Nearby, hearing the name Chen Yuliang, Ding Songyan instinctively looked toward the donkey cart and the corpse upon it.

A moment later, he saw a familiar yet pale face, utterly ordinary and unremarkable.

It was the man who had followed him yesterday!

Ding Songyan was instantly stunned and alarmed.

The body and organs looked as though he had been dead for two or three days?