“I think…” Li Chi unhurriedly set down his tea bowl. “When resentment and anger bind the heart, one fears losing one’s true nature and destroying one’s own dao. That would not be worthwhile.”
As soon as he spoke, nearly everyone in the tea pavilion was startled. After the brocade-robed man entered, his commanding presence naturally drew everyone’s attention. Li Chi, however, was the complete opposite. He had walked in with a group of eye-catching Disciplinary Bureau members, dressed entirely differently from them, and sat beside a seven-patterned officer of the Disciplinary Bureau. He should have been remarkably conspicuous, making everyone curious about his identity and background, yet not a single person in the tea pavilion had noticed him. It wasn’t until the brocade-robed man looked up and inquired that they suddenly realized how unusual this qin-carrying guest was.
The people in the tea pavilion had not failed to see Li Chi—they simply felt he naturally belonged there, just as people overlook wild grass on the ground or the grain of tree bark. Things too natural are inevitably overlooked, so people had unconsciously ignored him as they would such things.
The great dao is simple; it nourishes all things silently. Anyone who could achieve this was certainly no ordinary person. Everyone in the tea pavilion began paying attention to Li Chi. Though he suddenly transformed from invisible to the center of attention, he appeared perfectly at ease. However, his answer to the brocade-robed man’s question left people puzzled.
The identities of the Disciplinary Bureau members went without saying. Though the brocade-robed man’s identity couldn’t be confirmed, one could tell he must be connected to the Xuanqing Sect. That he could expose the qin-carrier’s existence with a single phrase when no one else had noticed meant his cultivation was certainly formidable. Since arriving at the tea pavilion, all the brocade-robed man’s words had targeted the Disciplinary Bureau regarding the Xuanqing Sect’s relief of disaster victims. His question pointing out the qin-carrier was also about this matter, yet this qin-carrier’s answer seemed completely unrelated.
After hearing this, the brocade-robed man’s expression remained unchanged as he directly asked in return, “What do you mean by this?”
Tao Xi knew the most among these people and reacted the fastest. Though he couldn’t understand what riddle these two were speaking, he vaguely guessed something.
Given the brocade-robed man’s displayed temperament, if Senior Li Quan’s baffling answer was nonsense, he would have already mocked him in return.
The brocade-robed man’s counter-question “What do you mean by this?” revealed no information, yet contained a hint of seriousness. Senior Li Quan’s words had probably hit the mark. Only, the brocade-robed man had asked about Xuanqing Sect matters, while Senior Li Quan answered… what must be the brocade-robed man’s inner knot.
Resentment and anger binding the heart… Tao Xi openly observed the brocade-robed man’s expression. Since entering, he had been mocking the Disciplinary Bureau, appearing unrestrained, yet showed no sign of harboring resentment or anger—he too was someone with deep thoughts.
The brocade-robed man’s fingertips rubbed against the rough porcelain bowl, making his ice-white fingers look even more like carved jade, lacking much vitality.
When everyone kept one ear ready to hear what he would say next, the two-patterned officer who had gone to get number tokens returned. His cultivation was slightly lower; only when he drew near did he notice the unusual atmosphere in the tea pavilion, but it was too late to do anything else. He glanced at Tao Xi, and seeing no instruction, walked over as usual.
The two-patterned officer first handed two tokens to Tao Xi, then went to distribute number tokens to the other colleagues. Tao Xi immediately passed one to Li Chi, saying, “Senior, this…” His words were only half-spoken when interrupted by a cold laugh.
“Since when does the Disciplinary Bureau follow Xuanqing Sect rules?” the brocade-robed man sneered.
He was perceptive and meticulous. Though he had been watching Li Chi during their previous exchanges, he hadn’t neglected the subtle reactions of the Disciplinary Bureau members. He had already deduced that Li Chi’s connection with them wasn’t close, and now openly tried to recruit him, saying to Li Chi, “Since you’re not one of the Disciplinary Bureau, why wait here with them? Why not enter Gannan City with me and see what it looks like under Xuanqing Sect’s control?”
Tao Xi’s expression turned slightly cold. Though steady by nature, he wasn’t someone who only retreated. “So you established rules just so you could exercise special privileges?”
Li Chi’s hand suddenly rested lightly on his shoulder, and Tao Xi heard a voice transmission only he could hear. “Entangling yourself in chaos is meaningless. Only by finding the thread’s end can you unravel it piece by piece. In the northern borderlands, the Divine Tree Village isn’t the only place worth attention.”
With one hand on Tao Xi’s shoulder, Li Chi stood from his seat, his dark eyes looking at the brocade-robed man. “Then let’s go take a look.”
The corner of the brocade-robed man’s mouth lifted. Without responding to Tao Xi’s words, he was first to walk out of the tea pavilion.
Tao Xi remained silent throughout. What Senior Li Quan chose to do wasn’t for him to decide. That the brocade-robed man could bring someone directly into Gannan City without a token clearly meant he held high rank in the Xuanqing Sect. But Tao Xi would simply remember this matter—no need to get involved hastily. They weren’t the only team handling Xuanqing Sect issues, nor had they just begun taking action. For Liang Kingdom’s current situation, the Xuanqing Sect wasn’t the most urgent problem to address.
The great calamity had begun long ago, and these evil cults taking advantage of the chaos hadn’t just started causing trouble today. But previously, the Disciplinary Bureau hadn’t been like now, sending even seven-patterned officers like him—who normally resided in the Liang capital—running around everywhere as ordinary team leaders.
Tao Xi knew far more about Liang Kingdom’s internal affairs than others. For instance, this time, many teams like his spread out by the Disciplinary Bureau ostensibly had similar purposes—targeting forces taking advantage of the great calamity—but secretly had another mission: a true mission known only to team leaders of at least six patterns or above.
The current ruler of Liang Kingdom was named Xu Chang. He had only one son and one daughter. Though Xu Chang was getting on in years, he had long ago established Prince Kang as his heir. Xu Kang was in the prime of youth, appearing benevolent and wise. Several months ago, Prince Kang fell ill from worry over the great calamity and withdrew to recuperate, not appearing since.
This news had come from the palace. Tao Xi initially hadn’t doubted it, until his superior told him: Prince Kang had disappeared.
This was already an extremely serious matter, and even more serious was that Prince Kang’s disappearance was discovered privately by the Disciplinary Bureau’s commander. Before he discovered something was wrong, everyone believed Prince Kang simply hadn’t appeared due to illness.
News from the royal palace had been concealed.
What kind of person could accomplish such a thing—concealing information from the Disciplinary Bureau’s eyes and ears in a palace that required Disciplinary Bureau protection everywhere?
The more one thought about this matter, the more alarming it became. But whatever upheaval had occurred in the palace, Tao Xi was no longer part of it—others were handling that. His mission was to find the missing Prince Kang as quickly as possible. After leaving the Liang capital, Tao Xi had found no leads. Senior Li Quan’s vague hint seemed unrelated to his mission, yet after hearing the hint, Tao Xi had a faint premonition that he would find a breakthrough there. At his level of cultivation, premonitions were no longer just random feelings—they carried genuine portents.
Once he had this premonition, the Xuanqing Sect was no longer the priority.
Find the thread’s end?
But how did Senior Li Quan perceive he had other troubles? He could see the brocade-robed man harbored resentment and anger, and could see Tao Xi’s hidden concerns. He seemed to have goodwill toward him, yet agreed to accompany the brocade-robed man. Who exactly was he? What did he want to do in Liang Kingdom?
The people in the tea pavilion, having watched an exchange with no conclusion, secretly observed the remaining Disciplinary Bureau members. Their seemingly secretive gazes were as obvious as lanterns in the night to Tao Xi’s senses.
Tao Xi lightly rubbed the number token in his hand, his face so calm no emotion could be read.
…..
Inside Gannan City.
This had originally been an unremarkable small city, located neither at any strategic point nor possessing any special products. But now, on the land of Liang Kingdom, Gannan City had become an exceptionally conspicuous place.
For no other reason than this: on Liang Kingdom’s oppressive, desolate, barren, and sorrowful land, any place with life and vitality would become extremely conspicuous.
In Liang Kingdom’s northern borderlands, the county cities under Marquis Wu’s protection were similarly prosperous and vital, but the life force in Gannan City differed from Marquis Wu’s protected lands. The prosperity and vitality of Marquis Wu’s domain was a rolling mortal world, noisy and complex. There were newborns’ cries and sighs from sickbeds; whispers of mutual affection and neighbors’ quarrels; the sound of reading from academies and ruffians’ laughter by the roadside… These chaotic joys and sorrows together formed the flavor of the mortal realm.
But in Gannan City… a place mostly composed of refugees, naturally differed from people long accustomed to peace.
Nearly everyone here was busy, including young children gathered by the canals. Clear river water drawn from outside the city flowed quietly through the canals, reflecting rippling light—precisely the kind of place children most loved to play. Yet these children surrounded a thick, shallow wooden tub. One crouched by the canal using a ladle to scoop the clear water into the tub, creating crystalline splashes, while others wore crude multi-toothed wooden clogs and trampled in the tub.
Inside the tub were washed tree bark, vines, grass roots, and such. They vigorously pounded these things into pulp to make clothes. These extracted fibers and wood pulp would later be steamed thoroughly in large pots, then spread flat and dried in the shade to become thick, flexible paper—quite durable. Made into paper robes, they could serve as winter clothes and blankets.
As the weather grew cold, more and more refugees arrived in Gannan City. Cloth garments required spinning thread and weaving fabric, taking far more time and effort than paper clothes, and the mulberry and hemp needed were far harder to obtain than the materials for paper clothes.
These children pounded very earnestly and industriously. Though their strength was small, this was because they were small, not because they hadn’t eaten their fill. Their eyes were bright.
Such scenes were everywhere in Gannan City. Almost every visible person was busy. Their spirits were high; they cherished their current lives deeply, so they also lived very earnestly, sparing no effort, like drowning people who had finally grasped a piece of driftwood. They worked hard because of hope, and fear of losing it. And this extreme hope could make people fanatical.
The brocade-robed man walked alongside Li Chi, hands in his sleeves, his gaze falling on the city with satisfaction and pleasure.
The children pounding hemp grew tired, straightened up to rest their backs, and couldn’t help but look twice with curiosity when they saw these two obviously different people.
The brocade-robed man noticed the children’s gazes, smiled gently, and asked Li Chi, “Is this city not good?” At this moment, he seemed like an entirely different person from when he had mocked the Disciplinary Bureau in the tea pavilion outside the city.
“Saving people is naturally very good,” Li Chi answered. His tone was very peaceful, showing neither joy at people’s salvation nor cold indifference—peaceful like one who had seen white clouds and grey dogs, wild horses and dust, and thus could no longer be stirred by anything.
His reaction made the brocade-robed man seem to suddenly think of something. The smile at the corner of his mouth faded, as if he had lost interest in continuing to tour the city with Li Chi.
“You and the Disciplinary Bureau aren’t on the same path,” he asked. “How did you come together?”
“I stopped along the way to pluck my strings. They heard my qin music, sought me out, and invited me to travel together,” Li Chi answered.
The brocade-robed man couldn’t help but pause, his gaze slightly odd as he glanced at him.
Li Chi calmly allowed him to look.
What he said was true, yet the omissions were… too perfunctory.
The brocade-robed man looked away and continued walking forward, asking, “Since that’s the case, might I have the honor of hearing a piece?”
The brocade-robed man naturally led Li Chi onto another path. After the smile faded from his face, he revealed the noble bearing of one long in high position. Previously, curious people occasionally let their gazes linger, but now they glanced once and dared not look again.
Li Chi suddenly smiled, completely unaffected, gentle as spring wind and rain. “Why not?”
They walked to a high platform. This was the tallest structure in Gannan City, with cultivators of considerable skill guarding it on both sides. Yet the brocade-robed man led Li Chi directly up without encountering any obstruction.
Atop the platform, the sky was high and the wind broad; overlooking the city, it was imposing with people like ants. The brocade-robed man stood on the high platform, one hand concealed in his sleeve, the other ice-white hand resting on the railing carved from white jade—at first glance, it looked almost carved there.
If Tao Xi was steady enough to remain unmoved even if Mount Tai collapsed before him, the brocade-robed man was one whose playful smiles and angry curses all concealed his true thoughts. No one could see that his heart harbored deep resentment and anger, nor could anyone see that he was in confusion and difficulty.
He invited Li Chi to tour the city together—naturally not because they hit it off at first sight, nor because he suddenly felt he’d met a kindred spirit after hearing Li Chi’s words. He had no need to specifically enter that tea pavilion just to mock the Disciplinary Bureau. From the beginning, he had only stepped into that tea pavilion after noticing Li Chi. He mocked the Disciplinary Bureau in every way, but his true purpose was to probe Li Chi, who sat among them.
Only, he hadn’t expected that this qin-carrying man who concealed himself so quietly would see through his inner knot at a glance.
They had toured a city together but weren’t yet friends—they hadn’t even exchanged names. Nor would they necessarily become enemies; that depended on what came next.
The brocade-robed man leaned on the railing, his face like translucent white jade gradually shedding all expression, almost like a statue carved from white jade, lacking much vitality. He turned his head, his gaze moving from the city below to Li Chi’s face. Even his two black pupils seemed carved from agate. His bloodless lips parted, his voice cool as water droplets shattering on rock. “You said ‘resentment and anger bind the heart, fearing one will lose one’s true nature.’ I don’t quite understand. I’d like to seek instruction on this.”
“What is there to seek instruction about? One’s own knots can only be untied by oneself,” Li Chi raised his eyes, speaking languidly.
The end of this brocade-robed man’s karma had also been concealed. That he was deeply entangled with the current false Xuanqing Sect, and that his own karma and fate were concealed, was nothing strange. But in this world, not everything required examining karma to understand.
What Li Chi said was originally simple in meaning, but his tone had its own rhythm. The brocade-robed man, being someone who thought deeply, was momentarily distracted. Then he saw Li Chi sweep his sleeves, sit cross-legged, settle the qin on his lap, and with a pluck of his fingertips, the qin music already rose leisurely.
The brocade-robed man was in no hurry to ask again. He stood on the high platform, eyes half-closed.
It was indeed good qin music—long and light, like soft fragrant grass under sunlight, like layered ripples from stones skipping across water. No matter what kind of person, hearing such qin music, they would naturally relax.
The sunlight became hazy and soft, the qin music wound around the open wind. A small child stood on tiptoe to secretly taste wine on the table, only to be gathered into a soft embrace by his mother and given a sweet, glutinous osmanthus cake…
The brocade-robed man’s eyes had fully closed. Eyes could reveal one’s thoughts.
Zheng—
A sustained note fell long, like flowers dropping to the ground, sorrow quietly arising.