Sword from the Immortal Mountain

Chapter 4: Last meal, chicken tonight

Chen Jin was seen holding a rice stalk and stabbing and dancing against the wall.

The old writer secretly shook his head, thinking that the young man was going crazy being locked up in the death row waiting to die.

The old writer himself also felt tormented and felt like he was going crazy.

The cell was cramped, the environment was terrible, and there was no sign of hope.

This feeling is definitely not pleasant.

He had to talk more with Chen Jin to relieve the frustration and despair in his heart.

Even if Chen Jin wasn't listening.

The old writer didn't care and just kept talking with his mouth open.

When he was young, he was also a scholar, but he failed the imperial examinations many times and didn't even get the title of Tongsheng. In order to make a living, he had to give up studying classics and turned to miscellaneous studies. He began to write vernacular novels, strange stories, and the like. Most of them were about talented men and beautiful women, fox spirits, and ghosts, which were quite popular among the people and he could make a living.

In order to obtain more fresh materials, the old writer traveled alone, all over the country, and gained a lot of experience.

Now in prison, what he talked about were the things he had personally experienced, and they were very vivid.

He thought Chen Jin was not listening, but that was not the case.

Chen Jin was multitasking and listening carefully.

His previous life was a bookworm who was oblivious to the world outside and lacked social experience. He also practiced in the mountains and was unaware of the changes in seasons in the human world.

What the old writer saw and heard just filled in the gaps in knowledge about astronomy, geography, local customs and culture.

As for whether there is any exaggeration or exaggeration, Chen Jin will be able to identify and distinguish them.

After all, apart from these two lives, he also has a life full of modern human relationships.

After listening so much, Chen Jin gradually discovered that this world seemed different from what he had imagined. He didn't know if it was because of the huge changes that had taken place over the centuries, or for some other reason.

All in all, this should be a world where all kinds of people mix together and demons and monsters roam around.

The old writer's endless chatter was actually a kind of confession, in which he talked about the story of the unexpected disaster.

The story is not complicated and seems old-fashioned:

A scholar with a wife chose to live in seclusion in a hut in the mountains in order to concentrate on studying and preparing for the provincial examination.

One night, a beautiful woman suddenly came, claiming to be a refugee, and asked the scholar for help.

The scholar felt sorry for her and opened his door to take her in.

It was not a big deal to take her in, the two of them were a single man and a single woman, and they soon became very close.

After that, the scholar stopped reading and went home, and spent every day in the thatched cottage making out with the beauty.

This incident aroused the suspicion of his original wife, who invited a Taoist priest to perform a ritual.

It turned out that the beauty was a baboon demon in painted skin, who was forced to reveal her true form by the Taoist priest and then beaten to death.

But the scholar had been tortured to the point of being on the verge of death and unable to move.

That's the story.

Unexpectedly, someone reported him and found fault with him.

This is because the current emperor has a new favorite, Concubine Zhao, and is completely bewitched by her. From then on, the emperor no longer attends court early in the morning.

After Concubine Zhao gained favor, her family became more powerful and more arrogant.

The accuser, in order to gain a promotion, took the story of the old writer to the Zhao family, saying that the story implied that the imperial concubine was a demon, which was extremely disrespectful.

So the old writer was arrested.

He had no idea what he had done wrong until the presiding official told him about it and he learned about the existence of such a concubine.

It was bad luck for the old writer. During this period, many officials in the court and the country had complaints about Concubine Zhao, and privately accused her of being a seductress to the emperor and corrupting the government.

The old writer's story hit the mark.

"Alas, if I can escape death this time, I will never write those stories about ghosts and human hearts again. I will only write about talented men and beautiful women, and only talk about love and romance... No, love and romance are not easy to write about. If they are a little explicit, it will be against morals and will also be a crime."

The old writer clapped his hands in annoyance, his face dejected, "Then I won't write. That's it. Woohoo, what's the point of saying all this now? I've offended the noble this time, I'm dead for sure."

Chen Jin threw away the rice stalk in his hand. This one was already broken.

In order to practice swordplay, he had to change it frequently.

Compared with a real sword, rice straw is far from being handy. It's just that the conditions limit it, there's no other way, so I just use it to practice sword skills.

Chen Jin didn't know what to say about the old writer's experience.

Sympathy and pity are cheap things and have no value in this death row.

Staying in prison, the old writer felt that every day was like a year.

In comparison, Chen Jin's days passed quickly and were very fulfilling.

In the blink of an eye, ten days passed.

On this day, the jailer came to deliver dinner.

The dinner was surprisingly sumptuous, with a big bowl of white rice, a plate of stir-fried vegetables, a plate of braised tofu, and a huge fried chicken leg that smelled delicious.

The old writer took his bowl of food and said in a lost voice, "Eat chicken legs, the last meal of execution, young man, it's your turn."

"is it?"

Chen Jin brought the food to him and handed over the chicken leg: "Father-in-law, you have given me a lot of advice these days. Tonight, I will treat you to chicken."

The old writer hurriedly shook his head: "This is your last meal. I can't eat it, and I don't want to eat it. If I eat it, I will die."

Chen Jin took it back and said, "Since you don't want to eat it, I won't be polite."

Put the chicken leg into your mouth and take a big bite.

The skin is crispy and the meat is smooth, and the taste is surprisingly good.

Maybe it's because I haven't eaten good meat for a long time.

Tonight's meal was the fullest he had eaten in all these days, and his mouth was full of oil.

In fact, it is not entirely true to say that you are “full”. As long as you practice the exercises and refine your essence into Qi, it will be digested in a short while.

Seeing that he was fine, the old writer felt strange. Then he thought that maybe Chen Jin had let it go and wanted to die early to be free.

This is not necessarily a bad thing.

Old writers themselves sometimes have thoughts of suicide, thinking of banging their heads against the wall and dying.

But I just couldn't make up my mind, because I was worried that if I didn't die in one go, it would be even more painful.

Moreover, the final judgment has not yet been made, and he still holds on to a glimmer of hope and luck in his heart.

What if he happens to meet a wise judge who can see through everything and discover his injustice?

In that case, his innocence would be cleared and he would be released.

Chen Jin suddenly said, "Father, if there is a chance, do you want to go with me?"

The old writer was startled, wondering if the young man was about to die and was so frightened that he had gone mad and was talking nonsense.

I comforted him, "Young man, you don't have to think too much now. You have no relatives or friends, if you have anything to say, you can talk to me, maybe you will feel better."

Chen Jin smiled and said, "You are a good person and you shouldn't die here. I say it again, if you want, you can come with me."

"Follow you?"

The old writer blinked and thought that it would be better to die with you.

Having said this, Chen Jin said no more and began to close his eyes and rest.

Time passed quickly, and about two hours later, there was a clang, and the door of the death cell was opened.

A jailer walked in, his footsteps breaking the silence in the cell, and he shouted, "Chen Guiyang, Chen Guiyang, it's time to go."

In the darkness, Chen Jin opened his eyes.

The old writer was also startled. He looked up and found that the eyes of the young man opposite him were extremely bright and shining like stars.

(End of this chapter)