Chapter 21#
Romance#
The market at the foot of the mountain was as lively as ever, bustling with traffic, the road lined with vendors, and the cries of hawkers unending.
Feng Xianyu followed for a while and figured it out: this Xiang Wan’s companion was surnamed Meng. Though they had entered the sect at different times, they were about the same age and usually got along well. This time down the mountain, they had no idea what they wanted to do; they were just following their hearts, wandering aimlessly. One moment they’d look at this stall and buy some snacks, the next they’d go watch street performances.
As they walked, they suddenly turned into an unremarkable storefront on a street corner.
Feng Xianyu curiously poked his head out and looked closely — it turned out to be a bookshop, filled with shelves crammed full of books.
After all this, they were buying books?
Feng Xianyu was greatly surprised. Although he loved to have fun, he was naturally at odds with written words; he got dizzy at the sight of them. Occasionally he’d crack sunflower seeds and listen to storytelling, but only for the entertainment, never paying real attention, let alone seriously reading characters.
This kind of shop was completely outside Feng Xianyu’s experience.
Through the half-open shop door, Feng Xianyu saw from a distance the bookshop owner greeting them enthusiastically: “What kind of stories would you two young gentlemen like to see? We have a full stock, covering everything. If you can think of it, we’ve got it.”
As he spoke, Meng Zi’an pulled out a slip of paper, solemnly unfolded it, and lowered his head to study it carefully.
Xiang Wan seemed to be here for the first time too. He looked around, couldn’t contain his curiosity, and asked cheerfully: “Shopkeeper, do you have any recommendations?”
The shopkeeper’s eyes swept over them, and he asked: “Are you looking for the proper kind, the improper kind, or the half-proper, half-improper kind?”
Feng Xianyu thought to himself: There are distinctions like that?
Xiang Wan thought the same, and even asked: “What’s the difference? Which sells better?”
“That’s hard to say,” the shopkeeper waved his hand. “Different flowers please different eyes. Some like stories of fighting and killing, some like tales of love and romance, some like both fighting and romance, and some like jokes. But…”
Feng Xianyu was completely baffled — he felt like he couldn’t quite understand.
The shopkeeper paused for effect. Seeing the two young gentlemen both looking eager to listen, his vanity fully satisfied, he lowered his voice and said: “What people love to read these days are those tangled, passionate, sea-of-love, sky-of-hate stories. For example, a disciple falls for their cold and heartless master, loves but cannot have, and falls into demonic possession; or the reverse is also popular. Another is about brothers who grew up together, unable to control themselves in a cave one day. Or the monk from the east falls in love with the demon lord from the west. Or some young master roams the martial world, and the sword cultivator loves him, the demon cultivator also loves him, everyone loves him, he can’t choose his favorite, and in the end he brings back a bunch of men, almost driving his father to illness…”
The shopkeeper spoke with great enthusiasm, completely unaware that the two in front of him had already turned pale, their pupils twitching.
“Did I say something wrong??” the shopkeeper asked cautiously.
“Am I hearing this wrong?” Xiang Wan said with difficulty, his eyes wandering. “It sounds like they’re all… men?”
The shopkeeper’s expression was as if they had asked a stupid question: “What else would they be?”
“And they’re all cultivators?” Meng Zi’an asked.
“Cultivators have long lives! And they have power!” the shopkeeper said matter-of-factly. “How else would such people spend their long lives if not playing with romance and passion?”
In an instant, including Xiang Wan, Meng Zi’an, and Feng Xianyu in the distance, all three were petrified like statues, their mouths hanging open. Xiang Wan’s grip on the paper slip loosened, and it fluttered gracefully to the ground.
Feng Xianyu roared in his heart: Who’s spreading rumors! We still have to cultivate! Go into seclusion! Deal with demons and monsters!
After what felt like half a lifetime, Xiang Wan turned his head as if it were rusted, trembling, and asked Meng Zi’an: “Did we… get the right place?”
Meng Zi’an upon hearing this ran out the door to look at the signboard, then ran back: “No mistake, this is the one the senior and junior sisters mentioned.”
Feng Xianyu almost choked on his own saliva.
Men forming bonds wasn’t unheard of, but having it written into romantic tales and circulated everywhere was completely beyond his imagination.
Did mortals have that much free time?
And why were the female cultivators of Qingdu Mountain reading this stuff too!
Over there, Meng Zi’an, holding onto his last thread of hope, turned his head and asked the shopkeeper: “Do you have any other books besides these?”
“What books?” the shopkeeper asked curiously.
Xiang Wan said: “Classics and such…”
The shopkeeper slapped his thigh: “Who would come to me for that? Those books are easy to find. What I sell here is truly novel and rare. As the saying goes, ‘paper becomes expensive in Luoyang, rare goods are worth hoarding,’ right?”
Xiang Wan: “…”
Meng Zi’an: “…”
Feng Xianyu in the distance: “…”
The scene fell into silence again. The three stared at each other with wide eyes. Soon, the shopkeeper lost patience and said displeasedly: “Are you two gentlemen buying or not? If not, I’ll go attend to others.”
“…Buy!” Meng Zi’an steeled himself. He bent down to pick up the paper slip Xiang Wan had dropped, and solemnly handed it to the shopkeeper: “Just according to the list on this paper. All of them. Money is no object.”
Only then did the shopkeeper’s face light up with joy. He scanned it in a flash and praised: “Young master has good taste. These are all the best sellers.”
Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an both waved weakly at the shopkeeper to shoo him away. The shopkeeper bowed and cheerfully went to prepare the goods, leaving Meng Zi’an and Xiang Wan exchanging awkward glances. After a moment, they looked away in unison, their ears slightly red.
Half an hour later, they had reaped a great harvest. A big box of books was all put into a qiankun pouch. They staggered out with light steps, clearly quite shaken. Feng Xianyu was also a bit dazed. For a moment off guard, he almost walked right up to them, but quickly turned and hid in a corner, pricking up his ears. Through the little flying insect spell, he heard Xiang Wan say doubtfully: “I think I saw Little Senior Brother.”
Meng Zi’an was startled: “What? How is that possible?”
The two seemed to simultaneously imagine some terrible scene. They both got goosebumps and immediately began looking around for that red figure, spinning like tops. Still finding nothing, Xiang Wan said: “I must have seen wrong.”
“If it really was Little Senior Brother, he’d have caught us and taken us back. Since he didn’t, either you saw wrong or he didn’t see us. Don’t scare yourself,” Meng Zi’an comforted him, and added, “Let’s hurry back, before more trouble comes.”
The two left even more sneakily than they had arrived, like thieves. In a flash, they were gone.
At the street corner, Feng Xianyu had already forgotten about the two little disciples who had run off. He pressed his back against the wall, looked up at the approaching figure, and felt his scalp tingle. After a moment, he squeezed out a bright, radiant smile: “Senior brother, why have you come down the mountain!”
The moment he turned back to the street corner, this white-robed sword cultivator who had appeared out of nowhere, radiating cold air…
Was none other than Zhuoyu, the one he had just fought with in the heart demon realm.
Zhuoyu stood quietly in the sunlight, his robes snow-white, bathed in light, yet the tone seemed even colder.
Feng Xianyu observed for a while and could tell that this person had returned to his normal state, otherwise why wouldn’t he say a word?
But…
Feng Xianyu’s mind wandered inappropriately. He felt that compared to the Zhuoyu in the heart demon realm, who would kill without a word and spoke incomprehensibly, the Zhuoyu in front of him was much easier to get along with. So his smile grew even bigger.
Although the sect’s discipline was in charge of Elder Xu, Zhuoyu’s icy face was quite intimidating, and he was often called upon to oversee “punishments.” His authority in the mountain was built up that way.
Feng Xianyu coughed twice, and without waiting for Zhuoyu to speak, he voluntarily confessed: “I didn’t come down the mountain to play.”
“Oh,” said Zhuoyu, seemingly without a trace of doubt, asking flatly, “Then why?”
Feng Xianyu’s features immediately scrunched up. It wasn’t that he hesitated to turn in Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an as accomplices, but rather he didn’t want to get caught with the loot in that qiankun pouch!
Before he could speak, a commotion suddenly came from the little flying insect Feng Xianyu had enchanted. He immediately spun around, dropped a “Wait, something’s happened,” and leaped into action, scrambling out of his hiding spot in a flash.
Not far away, at the city gate, Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an were surrounded by a crowd of gossiping commoners. Feng Xianyu caught a glimpse of the city lord’s soldiers arriving as well, sensing great trouble. He quickly pushed through the crowd, squeezing in: “Excuse me, let me through, let me through.”
There lay a young man dressed like a scholar, stiff and straight, his face pale and bluish.
Xiang Wan stood there flustered, his face red with panic, completely at a loss. The moment he saw Feng Xianyu, tears of joy nearly came. He looked as if he’d seen a lifeline, wishing he could rush over and hug Feng Xianyu’s thigh crying: “Little Senior Brother!”
Beside him, Meng Zi’an’s gaze passed over the crowd, landing on that white-robed cultivator. He immediately bowed: “Senior Brother.”
Zhuoyu gave a slight nod.
Both senior brothers had come. Xiang Wan had completely forgotten his offense of sneaking down the mountain, and also forgot the box of books in his qiankun pouch. He only hoped these two great gods could save his sorry life.
As soon as Feng Xianyu and Zhuoyu appeared, both dashing and otherworldly, and upon hearing they were cultivators, the crowd was immediately awed and backed away several steps in unison. Even the soldiers who had arrived did not dare act rashly, cautiously stopping at the periphery. In his urgency, Feng Xianyu ignored them. He flicked open his robe, knelt on one knee, leaned down to check with a finger, then turned back and shook his head. Xiang Wan and the other’s faces instantly went white.
At once, the soldiers’ expressions changed drastically, and the onlooking commoners exploded in uproar:
“Someone’s dead! Someone’s dead!”
“Cultivators killing people in the street too! Are these immortals or evil spirits?”
“Looking all refined, yet capable of such a thing. Truly you can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“What do we do now?”
“What do you mean, what do we do? Have you ever heard of a cultivator paying with his life for a mortal? They’re above the rest, we’re just ants!”
Feng Xianyu turned his head, his gaze unhurriedly sweeping over each person, finally resting on Xiang Wan and Meng Zi’an. He asked in a calm voice: “What happened?”