Day and night tour

Chapter 379 Mingjiang Zoroastrian Fire Record

In the Sea of ​​Destiny, those souls filled with torment resonated with Zhou Xuan's emotions.

Amidst those mournful and furious cries, Zhou Xuan realized—the timing was wrong.

When was the last time he gave a lecture?
Although Mingjiang Prefecture at that time had also suffered from the devastation of the flood.

However, the main area affected by that disaster was the western district of Ming, while the more densely populated and economically prosperous eastern district of Ming did not suffer much impact.

The economy of Mingjiang Prefecture was not greatly affected.

Therefore, social unrest was not significant, and the vast majority of people continued to live peaceful and orderly lives.

Order and prosperity were not far removed from the people of Mingjiang Prefecture at that time; they could still fully immerse themselves in entertainment during their leisure time.

But it's different now.

A bonfire, burning indiscriminately, reduced Mingjiang Prefecture to ashes, and those once prosperous streets were now scorched earth.

The people's money was burned away; their homes were burned away; and their family members were burned to death.

Those who survive today may have smiles on their faces and seem cheerful, but the trauma in their hearts and the uncertainty about the future are deeply etched into their bones.

With anxiety filling their hearts and sorrow pervading their spirits, in this state, they are unwilling to listen to any entertaining storytelling, no matter how pleasant it may be.

I really don't feel like listening; it's not the right time of year.

What truly defines a good time of year is when there are no worries on your mind.

The people of Mingjiang Prefecture had far too many trivial matters and worries on their minds.

This situation is like playing pop songs for survivors in a city that has just been ravaged by war. Who would want to listen to love songs?

"We need to choose a different book to tell the story."

Zhou Xuan thought to himself.

What kind of book should I choose to replace it with?

Zhou Xuan calmly thought—should we change it to "The White-Browed Hero," which was once a huge hit in Pingshui Prefecture?
That probably won't work either. The people of Mingjiang Prefecture are too sorrowful; they've clearly lost interest in the fighting and killing of martial arts stories.

"If there were a book that was very relatable to the people of Mingjiang Prefecture, or that told stories that were the stories of the people of Mingjiang Prefecture themselves, they would be interested in listening to it."

However, Zhou Xuan had many stories in his mind, but none of them were about the people of Mingjiang Prefecture.

For a moment, Zhou Xuan was in a dilemma.

"A story? Where can I find a story about Mingjiang Prefecture?"

Zhou Xuan gazed at the sky, looking up at the "city in the clouds," trying to find the answer within that city.

"Yunzhongfu City" is the blueprint for rebuilding Mingjiang Prefecture laid out by the Book of Will.

In the blueprint, Zhou Xuan saw the East Market Street.

Dongshi Street was bustling with pedestrians, and its former prosperity had returned.

The plaque for Zhou Family Pure Ritual Shop has been hung up again.

Across from the ceremonial shop was Sister Cui's food stall, where she was busily serving customers.

However, one extremely important figure was missing from that food stall—Mu Hua.

After Hua Zi and Zhou Xuan merged their mirrors, they protected Mingjiang Prefecture. However, even if all the people in Mingjiang Prefecture were resurrected after the city was rebuilt, Mu Hua would most likely not survive.

At least, Mu Hua was not on the blueprint for the prefectural city.

"Hua Zi doesn't seem to be part of the plan to revive the Heavenly Book. Sigh, Hua Zi..."

When Zhou Xuan thought of Hua Zi, he remembered the young man who had fallen in love with storytelling and told stories to Xiao Fu Zi every day.

It was precisely this thought that made Zhou Xuan suddenly excited.

A storytelling tale that touched the hearts of the people of Mingjiang Prefecture—isn't it right here in Mingjiang Prefecture?
"Since those stories of immortals and martial arts can no longer attract the interest of the disaster victims, I will tell a story that takes place in Mingjiang Prefecture—the story of the day and night wandering gods fighting against the Buddhist Kingdom, the great demon of Huangyuan, and the star-covering demon."

I will tell you a poignant story about the people of Mingjiang Prefecture during the Zoroastrian fire, how they remained steadfastly by their families' side amidst the flames.

"Becoming an immortal or a hero is too far removed from us, but the spirit of the people of Mingjiang Prefecture is the most vibrant thing right now."

In Zhou Xuan's mind, the images of many people appeared, including the God of Bitter Calamity, who was fearless and entered Mingjiang Prefecture to fight against Zhexing with his backward cultivation.

The King of Xishan plotted to kill the monk Zhiming, and with two volumes of scriptures in the valley, he faced off against Zhao Qingxiao's passionate spirit of using the Nine Incense Sticks of Dunjia.

The sixteen Yintang Mountain barbarians entered Mingjiang Prefecture to pursue and intercept Zoroastrian followers.

And then there were the shoemakers, coppersmiths, and dockworkers trapped in the fire, desperately trying to put it out, all to save their families, coworkers, and friends.
Of course, in the very end, all these images were scattered and then pieced together, coalescing into Mu Hua, the young man who served and passed around dishes...

"That's what I'm going to talk about..."

Zhou Xuan immediately made up his mind, took out his pen from his pocket, and began writing a new book title on the lecture platform.

Zhou Xuan was involved in the entire Zoroastrian calamity, both before and after it. The touching, passionate, and tragic events, along with the undercurrents of emotion within them, all deeply moved him.
This feeling of being infected was also an encouragement, and Zhou Xuan's pen flowed freely across the pages...

……

The storyteller suddenly stopped telling stories and instead started writing and drawing on the stage, something that had almost never happened in the country of Jing.

In other words, the person on stage was the great storyteller Zhou Xuan. If it had been any other storyteller, the audience would have lost their temper long ago, whistling and cursing, and would have definitely booed the storyteller off the stage.

"Why did you stop speaking, sir? I thought you spoke quite well."

"What did the Master say?"

"..."

"Didn't you come here to listen to a story? You didn't hear anything?"

"It's not like I wanted to come. Besides, I'm worried about my dead baby. I don't have the mind to listen to this."

"Is this book finished? If it is, can we leave now? It's quite crowded here."

"Just wait patiently, what's the rush?"

Impatience has begun to emerge among the audience, and this sentiment is only intensifying.

The Yushin-ji (a local deity) also felt the pressure. As the people in charge of patrolling the area, they naturally had to manage the order of the disaster victims.

But Zhou Xuan suddenly started writing instead of lecturing, which made some of the disaster victims restless and they tried to sneak back into their tents.

It's crowded, stuffy, and boring here. I might as well go back to the tent, have a few drinks, and rest.

Those who sneaked away were mostly brought back by the patrol personnel of the Imperial Guard.

"Old Master, what exactly is he doing? The people can't hold back anymore."

The musician asked the painter.

At first, only a few dozen people were thinking of leaving, but now hundreds are trying to leave. If there are no more shows, I'm afraid several thousand people will want to leave.

If public opinion grows stronger and the Bureau of Parade of Gods insists on taking control, it could lead to conflict.

The painter, looking distressed, said, "I'm not quite sure either, but the response to tonight's book was really lukewarm."

"It wasn't just not enthusiastic enough, it was practically nonexistent."

The musician was a straightforward person who didn't like to beat around the bush.

The two suddenly looked at each other as they talked.

"Could it be that?"

"The master wants to change the book on the spot?" the musician and painter said in disbelief.

……

"Changing books on the spot is a major taboo for storytellers."

Under the Zhou family's tutelage and the ancestral tree, Yuan Buyu was on tenterhooks for the first time as he lectured Zhou Xuan.

Regardless of his other qualities, Zhou Xuan was exceptionally skilled at storytelling.

Whether in Pingshui Prefecture or Mingjiang Prefecture, every story he told was a hit. But today's sudden silence was something Yuan Buyu hadn't expected.

Under the same ancestral tree, those who were linked to Zhou Xuan by the Zhou family's ancestral tree and watched Zhou Xuan's every word and action were not only Yuan Buyu, but also Zhou Lingyi and Sister Cui.

When Zhou Xuan first stepped onto the stage, all three of them wore broad smiles, as they had great confidence in his storytelling abilities.

“There’s no situation that my brother can’t handle.” That’s how much Zhou Lingyi trusted Zhou Xuan.

But as the storytelling began, the three of them each had their own thoughts.

Zhou Lingyi didn't know much about storytelling, nor was she particularly interested in it. Naturally, she wasn't knowledgeable about whether Zhou Xuan's performance on stage was up to par.

No matter how unskilled she was, she could tell from the audience's plummeting emotions that the storytelling had a positive impact.

She immediately felt a pang of worry for Zhou Xuan.

As for Sister Cui, because Zhou Xuan's posture when he was lecturing was exactly the same as Hua Zi's, she thought of Hua Zi. As she listened, she couldn't continue, her mind filled with Hua Zi's image.

Sister Cui entertained guests, while Hua Zi washed the dishes; Sister Cui cooked, while Hua Zi served the food; when Sister Cui had free time, she would sit in the shop chatting with the neighbors, while Hua Zi and Xiao Fu Zi played around nearby. All these scenes lingered in her mind.
"I wish life were a dream. Hua Zi is dead, Ming Jiang is ruined, it's all a dream. When I wake up, I'll still be cooking noodles in the shop, and Hua Zi will be helping me in the kitchen."

Sister Cui sighed.

As for Yuan Buyu, of the three, he understood the ins and outs of storytelling the best. When the audience applauded at the very beginning of the storytelling, he sensed that something was wrong and that the story was going to go wrong.

But unexpectedly, things turned out so badly that a book could not gather much of the people's goodwill.

To his surprise, Zhou Xuan broke the storyteller's rules by stopping the storytelling without informing the audience.

Stopping is fine, it's just a matter of leaving, but Zhou Xuan is still hunched over the table writing about the book's structure, wanting to change the book on the spot.

"That's not how you do it."

“A storyteller must finish a story, regardless of its quality. If he changes to another story halfway through, no matter how good the new story is, the effect will be extremely poor.”

Yuan Buyu currently has only one thought: to have Zu Shu send him to Mingjiang Prefecture. As the apprentice, he can continue the story as the master. No matter how much he pleads, he must keep the conversation going until the end.

Thinking of this, Yuan Buyu immediately said to Zhou Lingyi, "Master Zhou, you've sent me to Mingjiang Prefecture. The scene can't be allowed to fall flat. I'll go and crack a joke to keep things in order and help my apprentice keep things in check."

"Professor Yuan, you've just recovered from a serious illness, if..."

“There is no ‘if.’ Send me there. A master must share hardships with his disciple.” Yuan Buyu had already picked up his folding fan, held the gavel, and stood in front of the ancestral tree.

"Ugh."

After a sigh, Zhou Lingyi drew a blood talisman in the air. The ancestral tree then slung down a branch, which bound Yuan Buyu and sent him to Mingjiang Prefecture.

……

"Shu Liangzi" is a general outline of a book. In terms of word count, it won't be too many, but it will still take a lot of mental effort to write.

Zhou Xuan is currently experiencing a surge of inspiration, with his thoughts flowing like a spring, but it will still take him some time to write a lengthy and comprehensive book.

But during this break, the sea of ​​black spectators was not happy.

The person on the stage is a highly respected gentleman whom Mingjiang admires. They have the patience to wait, but this patience is not unlimited.

Gradually, many people started thinking about leaving.
Just then, an old man stood up behind Zhou Xuan.

Yuan Buyu made a grand entrance, holding a folding fan in both hands, and said: "Everyone, please be patient. Zhou Xuan is my disciple. He has a habit that is not necessarily bad. When he is telling a story, if he gets inspired, he will write down a preface on the spot and tell a new story."

"Changing books midway through requires some free time. The audience might be getting impatient waiting, so I'll fill in and tell you a story from the book."

"The book is titled 'The White-Browed Hero'."

As he finished speaking, he met Zhou Xuan's gaze.

The master and apprentice exchanged a smile and then went about their own business.

Zhou Xuan quickly continued writing Liangzi's story, while Yuan Buyu told the story of "The White-Browed Hero".

When he started speaking, it was one thing if the audience didn't like listening, but at least his attention was drawn back, and they stopped threatening to leave.

Some knowledgeable audience members immediately started discussing it.

"The man on the stage said he was the master of the Great Master, and he was talking about the White-Browed Hero. As far as I know, the White-Browed Hero is the author of the book Liangzi written by the Great Master."

"Is it inappropriate for a master to talk about his disciple's shortcomings?"

"That's so inappropriate, it's embarrassing."

A knowledgeable audience member clapped his hands and said, "The master is telling his disciple's stories. In the world of storytelling, this is like an adult playing with a child's weapon. If this gets out, people will laugh at us."

"Of course, it's not uncommon for masters to have disagreements with their disciples when they talk about their books. Some masters and disciples are actually father and son. When a father talks about his son's books, it's to support his own son. But if they're not related, the master can't bring himself to do it."

"So, according to you, the old man on the stage and our Master are extremely close?"

"They're even closer than a biological son."

Yuan Buyu chuckled to himself as he listened to the discussions below the stage.

He never forgot that this venue belonged to Zhou Xuan—and since it belonged to Zhou Xuan, he would only talk about the books that Zhou Xuan had previously read.

He lectures on the subject; he makes a fool of himself; he leaves the reputation to his disciples.

The novel "White-Browed Hero" became popular through the Zhou family troupe. During the time Zhou Xuan was away from home on his way to Mingjiang Prefecture, whenever Yuan Buyu missed Zhou Xuan, she would secretly read this book to him in the house.

Now that it's out in the open, he's quite skilled at it. Whether it's his movements, his posture, or his performance of the martial arts moves from the book, everything is done with precision and skill.

Although many audience members were still distracted, there were always some who enjoyed listening.

The audience was stunned, and many even forgot that the great master was writing furiously on the stage.

……

The three simple, cursive characters "Bi Shutang" are painted on a small wooden plaque, which is hung on the pillar of the thatched cottage.

Bi Fang sat on the wooden chair behind the lecturing platform, smiling coldly: "Preaching is a major undertaking, yet some people want to turn it into entertainment and bring it into the homes of ordinary people. That's just wishful thinking."

“Those who listen to the stories, what do they know about the stories? How can they know the true meaning of the stories, or understand the great principles of human life? This incident with Zhou Xuan has taught him a lesson.”

As Bi Fang spoke coldly, the white-robed Taoist listened with his head bowed.

The white-robed Taoist priest will descend to the mortal realm through a lecture by Bifang, rather than relying on divine threads to descend.

At this time, Bi Fang had not yet begun his sermon, so the Daoist was naturally unable to descend.

"Sir, why did Zhou Xuan's technique fail this time?"

The white-robed Taoist was also somewhat puzzled. Why was it that Zhou Xuan, who was usually so popular, had such a quiet and deserted scene during his most important book reading?

"Zhou Xuan is nothing more than a cat-and-dog amusement fellow. He has no expertise in storytelling and no wisdom to comprehend the great principles of heaven and earth. Is he not effective? It is normal for him to be ineffective. A few days ago, he made a name for himself with two stories in Pingshui Prefecture and Mingjiang Prefecture. That was really a stroke of luck."

"If the spirit of the patriarch of storytellers in heaven knew that such a clown could win the hearts of the people, he would probably be so angry that he would appear on the spot and destroy that clown."

Bi Fang kept his eyes closed, and the folding fan in his hand was gently swaying in a strange rhythm.

A divine folding fan can sense the response of a storyteller's folding fan when it is shaken.

From that response, Bi Fang could see the scenes of various storytellers telling their stories.

"Hahaha."

Bi Fang suddenly laughed out loud, his finger twitching slightly with a hint of disdain, and said, "A clown is a clown. There are countless audience members below the stage, yet he is writing a book by himself, and he wants to change the book halfway through."

"What an amateur! Changing books halfway through? No one in the two thousand years of Jing Kingdom has ever dared to do that."

Bi Fang seemed to be laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face, and he reached out to gently wipe away the glistening tears from the corners of his eyes.

The white-robed Taoist echoed, "Sir, the Zhou family's Great Nuo master borrowed our storytelling hall to cultivate Zhou Xuan. He's a 'borrowing a chicken to lay eggs' kind of person. Isn't he just an amateur storyteller?"

"Hmph, the Nuo God once protected the human world and made the greatest contribution in fighting against the Heavenly Demons, so the Supreme Will granted him nine sticks of incense."

From then on, any descendant of the Zhou family who enters the Nuo Dao (a form of Taoist practice) will be able to master nine levels of techniques within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

Unfortunately, the Zhou family's chief exorcists have never been any good; not only have they never produced anyone with high social standing, but even if they had, what difference would it make?

Bi Fang's words were sharp and witty: "To be a jack of all trades and master of none is the beginning of great disaster."

When he got to this point, he suddenly burst into laughter, laughing so hard he almost bent over.

"Haha, haha, Yuan Buyu saves the day! This old storyteller Yuan Buyu doesn't care about saving face at all, telling the same stories that Zhou Xuan told—he's just playing with children's weapons!"

Bi Fang was laughing for a while when he suddenly flew into a rage. He slammed his hand on the table and said angrily, "Yuan Buyu, Zhou Xuan... storytellers like you should have died long ago. It's too kind of this world to let you live until now."

Bifang believes his mission is to pass on the supreme will of the universe through storytelling.

In his view, all the talk about "storytelling to entertain people" and "telling stories to convey strange tales and make gentlemen laugh" is utter nonsense!
"We storytellers should be high above, looking down on all living beings, and use a book of will to suppress those traitors who openly or secretly oppose the glory of the supreme will."

At this point, the white-robed Taoist lowered his head even further.

"Jia Dao, I will tell you a story and send you down to earth. You should go to the human world to explore the truth first. Zhou Xuan's story is destined to fail him. He still wants to accumulate enough power of will to rebuild Mingjiang Prefecture... wishful thinking... very wishful thinking indeed."

Bi Fang had already looked down on Zhou Xuan, and he was certain that this story wouldn't cause any trouble. He was about to stop listening when suddenly he heard a sentence.

"Storytelling and opera persuading people to follow the right path, the three main roads lead to the center, good and evil will eventually be rewarded, the vicissitudes of life are the true path of humanity."

Zhou Xuan's clear and articulate words reached Bi Fang's ears.

Bi Fang immediately waved his hand, indicating to the white-robed Taoist that the matter of his descent would be discussed later.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the art of storytelling is about telling all the sorrows of the world, including strange tales, talented scholars and beautiful women, the ups and downs of officialdom, and the ghosts and spirits of the underworld. But no one ever talks about the things around us."

"I, Zhou Xuan, will break with tradition today and, using the fire disaster in Mingjiang Prefecture as a backdrop, recount the moving and inspiring stories of the people of Mingjiang Prefecture during that calamity."

Upon hearing this, Bi Fang became even angrier.

“Storytellers record the great principles of heaven and earth, and the wise sayings of the supreme will. How can they use storytelling to record those unruly and lowly people? How can they be so proper!”

After Bi Fang finished cursing, he felt refreshed and wanted to mock Zhou Xuan again, but this time, he found that he could not laugh. He sensed that the power of the wishes of all living beings in Huifeng Medical College was beginning to gather, not just a few strands, but hundreds of strands, and the power of wishes was still increasing.

"What kind of clown is he up to now!"

Bi Fang roared.

……

“My master once told me that a book without a title will not go far. My new book is based on my observations and laments in Mingjiang Prefecture. I am not very good at writing and I lack knowledge, but I have dared to give this book a name, so I will call it ‘Mingjiang Zoroastrian Record’.”

Zhou Xuan finally returned to the stage, bowed to Yuan Buyu with his fan in hand, and said softly, "Master, thank you for saving the day."

"I'm the one who should be saying thank you."

As Yuan Buyu brushed past Zhou Xuan, he said, "Disciple, be careful. My incense perception tells me that Bifang is also paying attention to this storytelling session."

"It's good that he's paying attention; I'm just afraid he'll turn a deaf ear."

Zhou Xuan smiled confidently.
Yuan Buyu nodded and walked behind Zhou Xuan. His figure faded as he was pulled back to Pingshui Prefecture by the Ancestral Tree.

Zhou Xuan bowed again to see his master off, and then faced the audience below the stage to continue: "Mingjiang Prefecture has suffered many disasters. A fire destroyed 80% of the city's wealth and buildings, but we are still alive."

"We are the spark of Mingjiang Prefecture, and we must continue to burn for Mingjiang Prefecture, rebuilding this homeland back to its former beauty."

"However, we must look forward, but the spirit of those who died in Mingjiang Prefecture, who ignited during the fight against the great disaster, also deserves to be remembered."

Where do they remember?

Zhou Xuan opened his folding fan, gazing at it as if it were a book, and said, "It is in this book I am about to mention, 'Mingjiang Zoroastrian Records'."

His opening remarks instantly ignited the emotions of countless audience members.

Each audience member is a separate, insignificant individual, but they are also flesh-and-blood human beings.

As human beings, we all hope to be remembered by the world, and we especially hope that our family members who perished in the fire will also be remembered.

The storytellers' recitation of the sutras was the most important means for the Jing Kingdom to record various events.

When they hear that their own deeds and experiences may appear in a storyteller's book, how can they not be excited?

The only true book from Mingjiang Prefecture is the "Mingjiang Zoroastrian Fire Record".

"Gentlemen, let's cut the preamble and begin our discussion."

Zhou Xuan immediately closed his folding fan and said, "A pearl necklace is precious because of the pearls themselves, but without the red thread that strings the dozens of pearls together, the pearls are just pearls, not a necklace."

The same applies to "Mingjiang Zoroastrian Fire Record"; it requires a chain of clues and a pair of eyes to clearly recount what was seen and heard in Mingjiang Prefecture.
The eyes I'm talking about belong to one person.

This person, whose ancestral home is the Dongshan Fox Clan of Dongguan Prefecture, is surnamed Hu and named Muhua…

(End of this chapter)