Literature of Joy and Sorrow

A long while passed.

Zhang Ju wiped the cold sweat from his brow and let out a long breath. Claiming he wanted to check on the brewing tea, he left the guest room for some air, then sighed.

He had read "The Painted Skin" differently from the other three.

They had focused on the words, the mood, the story. Zhang Ju had done the same at first, but when he reached the part about the demon painting a skin, he somehow thought of himself.

Tao Jing had called it a tale of beauty beguiling the heart. What Zhang Ju saw instead was a painted skin draped over someone to conceal ulterior motives. It seemed to point straight at his own desire to borrow the power of Prince of Nankang's Residence, using kinship as a cover while pretending to be close. Uneasy and suspicious, how could he bring himself to chat with anyone?

If he had not feared giving himself away, he would have left earlier.

Standing outside now, he felt some of the pressure ease. Yet lines from "The Painted Skin" drifted through his mind, and a faint chill gradually crept over him.

Zhang Ju rubbed his hands together and came to his senses just as he heard his friends calling from inside.

When he returned, his three friends were still talking excitedly. The moment they saw him, they pulled him into their plans, wondering how they might befriend the marquis and seek his advice on writing if they had the chance to meet him.

Zhang Ju smiled and agreed on the surface, but with so much weighing on his mind, he could not give them his full attention. Even at dinner, he seemed distracted.

After dinner, Zhu Li said it was getting late and mentioned his wife's instructions before rising to take his leave. The other two followed suit. Zhang Ju saw them out in a daze, and only after they were gone did he suddenly remember!

I invited the three of them here to ask them to gather information, and I completely Oblivion! Regret struck at once, but he could hardly call them back. He could only look for another chance to ask in the next day or two.

Back in his room, Zhang Ju sat down and found himself thinking of "The Painted Skin" again. He had someone bring him the piece and read it over and over until deep into the night.

There were quite a few people like him in Jiankang City.

Just as Zhu Li had said, "The Painted Skin" dealt with ghosts and strange creatures, and word of it spread quickly through the streets and alleys. Within days, many had heard of it, and discussion was everywhere.

"'The Painted Skin' is a fascinating piece. That Marquis of Linru County is an interesting fellow. How did we never hear of him before?"

"The Teahouse is telling 'The Painted Skin' today. Come listen if you're interested."

"What's 'The Painted Skin'?"

"You haven't heard? Then let me tell you. You'll never guess who wrote it..."

"What? The Marquis of Linru County?"

Two more days passed, and half the city knew the story.

The Marquis's Residence's servants had done their share of running about and fanning the flames. Chen Cuo had also spent money to pave the way. When he saw interest growing, he personally visited taverns and teahouses to arrange for them to promote it.

And because the story came from a work that had endured for generations, its quality stood on its own. In just a few days, it had truly gathered momentum—and that momentum kept growing!

Even around the Marquis's Residence, more and more figures began to linger. Whether the story had drawn them there out of admiration or they had other intentions, no one could say.

Though Chen Cuo's residence stood in a corner of Jiankang, the banks of Qingxi Creek were no place ordinary people could afford to live. Even this out-of-the-way spot was, to common folk, the home of a powerful noble. Not just anyone could approach it, and the city guards and patrols kept a close watch.

Those lingering figures were soon driven away.

There were exceptions, however.

Monks and Daoists.

In the Southern Dynasty, both enjoyed a status far above the ordinary, all the more so since Emperor Wu of Liang's reign.

So when a street patrol drove off a few loiterers, then turned and spotted two Daoists lingering beside the Marquis's Residence, the officers hesitated. Rather than chase them off, they watched carefully, afraid the two might cause trouble.

After all, although the Marquis of Linru County was not well known, his elder brother was no ordinary man. They could not afford to be careless.

Fortunately, the two Daoists studied the Marquis's Residence for a few moments, then turned and left. The nearby officers breathed a sigh of relief and soon departed as well.

As soon as they were gone, the two Daoists came back.

"The guards here are strict. This is also the Southern Dynasty's capital, protected by the Five Elements Grand Array. The Marquis of Linru County is a member of the imperial clan, with the True Dragon Bloodline and purple qi shielding him. It won't be easy to investigate him."

The speaker was a young Daoist. Beside him stood a boy.

The boyish Daoist smiled. "The writing in 'The Painted Skin' is brilliant and speaks to the workings of the human heart. Its language is obscure, its deeper meaning concealed. It can stir hearts and shake convictions. It's plainly a work of the Incense Way, meant to gather thoughts. How could an ordinary imperial relative write such a thing? There must be more to it! We came here to find the Reincarnated Immortal. Naturally, we can't overlook this marquis."

The young Daoist nodded. "You're right, senior brother. The master of this residence belongs to Prince of Nankang's line. I've heard that Daoist Half-Heart of the Dingxin Sect used a visit as his pretext to come here a few days ago, though he isn't staying in the residence. We mustn't let down our guard."

The boyish Daoist nodded. "And we can't let him get ahead of us, or we'll lose this opportunity!"

As they spoke, both looked toward the Marquis's Residence again.

The young Daoist said wistfully, "Human thoughts are surging, and the foundation of the Dao has begun to take shape. Its source must already have condensed, and it's hovering nearby. Swallow it, and one could at least complete the first step. Stepping straight onto the Second Step of the Dao-Seeking Path might not be impossible!"

"Have you all heard? Our marquis's story is spreading throughout Jiankang! Everyone's talking about it!"

Early on the fifth day, the servants of the Marquis's Residence gathered before starting work and began discussing it, each as astonished as the next.

A few days earlier, Chen Cuo had told them to distribute the story. They had not dared disobey, but privately they had thought the marquis was indulging in a fantasy. Who could have imagined it would cause such a sensation once it spread?

"What's there to discuss? Is our master's business yours to chatter about? Off with you! Get to work!"

They had barely exchanged a few words before the steward, Chen Hai, dispersed them and sent them to their tasks.

Once they were gone, Chen Hai thought, It really has caught on. Could our marquis be deeper than he seems? That would be bad! Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his unease grew.

As the excitement over "The Painted Skin" grew, Chen Hai's initial doubt had turned to surprise, and finally to regret.

If I'd known our master had this kind of ability—that one story of his could nearly match the sensation caused by that talented young man from the Lu Household—why did I defy him? I should have been eager to serve someone like him!

I need to change my thinking! He gritted his teeth and made up his mind. The marquis may have taken a dislike to us before, but this could still be an opportunity. I just need to seize the chance to show my loyalty!

He looked up and saw a forlorn figure not far away. He sneered inwardly. At least he was not the worst off.

The figure ahead was Cui Ju.

The head maid was not attending Chen Cuo as she usually did. Instead, she led the other maids in carrying platters of fruit. Chen Cuo was entertaining friends in the front courtyard.

When they reached the front hall, Cui Ju assigned the tasks with her usual efficiency. But her gaze kept drifting toward Chen Cuo. When he did not so much as look at her, panic and regret welled up inside her.

As an attendant trusted by the old madam, Cui Ju had learned to read and write from childhood and enjoyed literature. Reading "The Painted Skin" had struck her like lightning.

Cui Ju had known of the marquis's former affection for her. But she had ambitions of her own and had not returned it. At the old madam's instruction, she had even treated him coldly.

Then, a few days ago, the marquis had flown into a rage. After reprimanding her, he had shown her no further warmth.

When Cui Ju read "The Painted Skin" afterward, she felt as though the demon wearing a beautiful woman's skin was meant to represent her. Terror and regret filled her, along with an even deeper sorrow. She could only hope the marquis's anger would fade and things would return to how they had been.

But over the following days, Chen Cuo had only grown colder, making her anguish worse.

The more she suffered, the more she thought of the demon in "The Painted Skin." Her unease, wavering, and regret grew like venomous snakes, gnawing at her mind.

Gradually, the words of the story seemed to come alive and swim through her thoughts. Over the past two days, she would sometimes be in the middle of a task when the lines seemed to float before her eyes, each one more glaring than the last.

After seeing his friends off, Chen Cuo went straight back to his study without sparing Cui Ju a glance.

Cui Ju clenched her fists. Her body trembled slightly, and her face went pale. The shadow at her feet twisted sharply for an instant.

No one else noticed.

Chen Cuo intended to strike while the iron was hot.

That day in Dream Marsh, after weighing his options, he had chosen a short tale from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio to open the door to fame.

Now that "The Painted Skin" had swept through half the city, he had gained confidence.

The Painted Skin's popularity proves the book is real. But this business of Public Esteem is too elusive to measure. Today is the last day. The safer course is to release another story, take things a step further, and secure the foundation!

He already had a second story in mind.

Before he could put pen to paper, however, Chen Hai hurried in, saying he had urgent news.

"What is it?" Chen Cuo frowned, making no attempt to hide his dislike.

Chen Hai regretted his past behavior all the more at the sight, but he became even more deferential. Bowing with clasped hands, he said, "My lord, an urgent report just arrived. A thief broke into Prince of Nankang's Residence and stole the box containing the pills!"

"What?" Chen Cuo sprang to his feet.