Many years later, standing before the Investiture Altar, Shen Gongbao would surely remember that distant evening when the First Emperor of Shang took him to the banquet at the Star-Plucking Tower.
Back then, there had been only a few dozen immortals atop the Star-Plucking Tower, including attendant boys who did not even rank among them. When they heard the First Emperor speak of investing gods, the disdain on their faces was unmistakable. He could still dimly remember that night: the moon had been bright, the stars sparse.
Meng Jiangnü appeared before them just like that, without the slightest warning, without a moment to prepare.
Yun Zhongzi calculated on his fingers, and a sweet taste rose in his throat.
He understood.
Meng Jiangnü was indeed a deity, just as Wang Chan had said-and one brought into being by humans.
Yun Zhongzi spoke hoarsely. "The Great Wall..."
Everything made sense.
Apart from the mortal Civil and Martial officials, who were still lost in the clouds, every immortal understood.
Meng Jiangnü was not a real person, but a deity born of faith and incense offerings.
The Great Wall had first served its purpose by hemming in the Tu Fang forces advancing south. But at the time, the Tu Fang People had not inflicted much damage on the Central Plains, so few had paid it any attention.
The second time had been just recently.
The Qiang had swept south, plundering the people of Xiqi and leaving them in utter misery, while those protected by the Great Wall had escaped disaster.
How many had fled east because of that? How many had praised King Zhou's wisdom and martial prowess, and the Great Wall's service to generations yet to come?
People knew gratitude.
Later, the opera Meng Jiangnü Weeps at the Great Wall had appeared, giving