Ya She

Chapter 21 Ting Gui Mo

The doctor laboriously placed the heavy camphor wood chest on the ground, then leaned against the wall, panting heavily: "This should be the last chest, right? Oh dear, my back..."

The boss glanced at the wailing doctor and said indifferently, "You volunteered to help."

"Yes, yes, I brought this on myself." The doctor smiled wryly. What does it mean to do something thankless? This perfectly describes him. Today was his day off, and he went to the bookstore to kill time. The owner said it was the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, and books should be aired out. Could he not help? Was he supposed to just stand by and watch the owner work?

The doctor looked at the boss's thin frame and decided it was more reliable to do it himself.

Despite his initial complaints, once he caught his breath, the doctor regretted not bringing a mask. He wiped the thick layer of dust off the camphor wood chest with a rag, covered his mouth and nose with one hand, and unscrewed the chest with the other.

Dust filled the air, but unexpectedly, it was mixed with a strong scent of ink and books.

The doctor's spirits lifted at the scent of ink, and he paid little attention to the speck of dust. Unlike ordinary ink, which often had a faint, musty smell, this ink fragrance was initially rich but not overpowering; upon closer inspection, it was lingering and subtle, containing an unknown number of different aromas. The doctor couldn't resist peering inside, carefully searching for the source of the scent: "Why is this box different from the others? Could there be a block of ink inside?"

"No, most of what's in this box are manuscripts, not thread-bound books." The shopkeeper put down the book he was holding and walked over, taking out stacks of manuscripts from the camphor wood box. He carefully spread them out one by one and placed them in the sun to dry.

"You have manuscripts here too?" The doctor leaned closer with interest. He dared not touch these delicate items carelessly, having accidentally broken a scroll of the Classic of Mountains and Seas before. Although it was an accident, he still dared not tamper with it again. Moving boxes was no problem, but he was afraid that if he tore a piece of paper, some mythical beast might jump out. However, as the doctor looked around, he realized for the first time that there was such a small courtyard inside the Silent House. Occasionally, a caterpillar or two would crawl on the square bluestone floor, but the owner hadn't moved them away; instead, he had placed books away from their paths. It was midday, and the sunlight was directly on the ground, perfect for drying books. But to his surprise, the Silent House didn't have many books. Including the box of manuscripts he had just brought out, the books weren't even enough to cover the entire courtyard.

"Boss, is this all the books that need to be aired?" the doctor asked incredulously. He wouldn't be surprised if there were many more books, but what was strange was that there were so few! The boss had lived for thousands of years, how could he have collected so few books and manuscripts?
The shopkeeper blew the dust off the manuscript, carefully examining it as he said casually, "Books are inherently difficult to preserve; even thread-bound books from the Song and Yuan dynasties are hard to find on the market now. Most of the books I have are sealed in safe places; a vacuum seal is more secure. These... that's all I have."

Hey! What's with that suspicious pause?

Even standing in the sunlight, the doctor suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. Based on his understanding of his boss, he only kept antiques he wasn't comfortable with on his person. So, did that mean these books were actually problematic?
The doctor immediately froze, too afraid to move. But then he thought again, weren't all the antiques in the Silent Shop problematic? He frequented this place all the time, so what was there to be afraid of?

As the doctor was pondering this, the shopkeeper took out a stack of manuscripts from the box. The rich scent of ink and books that he had smelled earlier wafted over again, causing the doctor to involuntarily move closer: "It smells so good... Why does it smell so good?"

A smile appeared on the boss's handsome face: "You want to know?"

The doctor nodded with delight and said, "You're going to tell me a story again? I love listening to stories."

The boss's gaze, however, fell on the bluestone pavement beside him, on the caterpillar struggling to move forward. After a long while, he finally spoke in a low voice, "Do you know how caterpillars cross rivers?"

"what!"

two

The third year of the Shunzhi reign of the Qing Dynasty.

"...Are all the items ready for the young master's first birthday celebration?"

What's that sound? It's so noisy... Xi Mo opened her eyes groggily. It felt like she had slept for a very, very long time. Was it years? Or decades?
"We're still missing the Four Treasures of the Study! The master told me to find a set in the storeroom. By the way, it would be best to find something small and delicate, the kind that even a baby could hold in its hand."

“I remember there was a piece of ink… oh, here it is.”

Xi Mo felt the box that had been imprisoning her open, and the long-lost sunlight streamed in. She squinted, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"How ugly! Such an ugly piece of ink?"

"But this inkstone is so small! And I remember the person who gave it to me said that it was made by Li Tinggui of the Southern Tang Dynasty during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period! It's priceless! It's just that there aren't any patterns or carvings on it, which means it was made in Li Tinggui's early period. It's a good thing it was made in the early period, otherwise it wouldn't have survived until now!"

"Alright, alright, who cares about the origin of this ink! It's still ink, so let's tidy it up..." The box was closed again, and Xi Mo felt herself being bumped around inside. Although it didn't hurt, it was starting to annoy her.

Ugly? Is she ugly? She's the first piece of Tinggui Ink in the world! Okay, although when her master created her, there weren't any good ink molds, so she's not as square or elegant as other inks, but rather a very irregular ink block. But is it really appropriate to speak so bluntly to a lady?
Xi Mo's complaints didn't last long. Soon, she was bathed in sunlight again, and this time she discovered a dazzling array of items around her: seals, scriptures, pens, paper, inkstones, abacuses, coins, account books, jewelry, flowers, rouge, food, toys, and more—enough to fill an entire bed, a dizzying and countless sight. Moreover, the other writing implements nearby revealed the family's wealth; not everyone could afford Xuanzhou paper, Duanzhou inkstones, and Zhuge brushes. Adding her own Tinggui inkstone, it truly was the most precious set of the Four Treasures of the Study.

However, among all these items, only she cultivated a spiritual essence. The other items, though exquisitely precious, were merely objects. She, on the other hand, was the first piece of ink her master had refined. Her master had mixed the soot ingredients into a ball and pounded it in an iron mortar thirty thousand times, pouring countless expectations into each pounding. Therefore, she gained a sliver of consciousness the moment she was refined.

Xi Mo was born from this, even though she was abandoned by her master from the very beginning.

Being disliked didn't bother Xi Mo; she remained calm, knowing it would prevent her from being given away, sold, or wasted. In the decades that followed, she watched from a dusty corner as her young master, along with his father, crafted the world-renowned Shezhou ink. She watched as her master and father were bestowed the imperial surname by Emperor Li Houzhu, later changing their names to Li Tinggui. Everyone knew that "gold is easy to find, but Li ink is hard to come by," and in the end, only ink made by her master when he was surnamed Xi survived. Therefore, she named herself Xi Mo.

Later, the master's reputation surpassed that of his father, and the world-famous Li Mo gradually became Ting Gui Mo.

Then, the owner died.

Xi Mo was still somewhat unaccustomed to her long life, but she also knew that she was a being different from other things. Over the centuries, she had changed hands several times. Although she was ugly, her quality was excellent. Now that she was confirmed to be Ting Guimo, she was actually worth a fortune. She remembered the last time she saw Yang Guang; it seemed she had been given to the Hong family as a gift. The current head of the Hong family did not like her and simply locked her in the storeroom.

Living like this, locked in a brocade box, what else could she do besides sleep? She would rather be abandoned in a corner like before.

Speaking of which, did she sleep for a long time again? Why has everyone's appearance changed so much? The woman is fine, not much has changed, but why is the man's hair all bald in the front? And he's wearing a big braid in the back?

Xi Mo watched in astonishment as the group of richly dressed men and women escorted a beautifully sculpted little boy as they approached. Oh, right, this was for a "first birthday celebration," where the one-year-old would choose whatever he liked, and their future and temperament would be predicted.

What does a one-year-old child know? Xi Mo watched the little boy being carried onto the bed with a dismissive expression.

"Sheng'er, take whatever you like." A bright and beautiful woman said with a smile. She had her hair neatly styled in a traditional Chinese bun, with bright eyes and white teeth, and her hair was adorned with jewels. She must be the boy's mother.

Encouraged by his mother, the little boy began to select from the dazzling array of items. Xi Mo, upon being glanced at by those large, moist eyes like grapes, couldn't help but feel excited as well.

At birth, human nature is inherently good. The younger the child, the more they can sense the mysteries that adults cannot perceive. Xi Mo watched as Sheng'er only glanced around before decisively crawling towards her on all fours. Before Xi Mo could prepare herself, she found herself being lifted up by a pair of chubby little hands.

Xi Mo stared blankly at the tiny baby so close to her, soft and white, looking like a fragile porcelain doll. She almost froze as the porcelain doll gave her a big smile.

No one has ever smiled at her with such purity before.

Her owner disliked that she wasn't perfect enough, many people loathed her ugly appearance, and some even thought she was a rare commodity. Only this little boy simply smiled at her so innocently.

Xi Mo's emotions didn't last long, and before the adults around her could even utter a series of auspicious words, everyone watched in surprise as the baby swiftly put Xi Mo into his mouth.

"Wah!" A deafening cry rang out, and Xi Mo, covered in drool, was silently thrown back onto the bed.

She knew she couldn't have too much hope for a one-year-old child!

Xi Mo knew that her scent had the unique rotten smell of ink blocks. Even though Sheng'er could sense her spiritual energy, which was different from other things, she couldn't stand this smell.

However, knowing this was one thing, seeing Sheng'er, who had just been holding her like a precious treasure, now picking up a box of rouge and admiring it so much, Xi Mo couldn't help but feel depressed.

Hmph! This brat is only one year old and he already knows how to eat rouge! What will he be like when he grows up? Look how angry he is with his old man…

Fifteen years later.

"Cousin Sheng, is this the legendary inkstone?" a graceful woman asked curiously.

"Yes, it's the legendary piece." The speaker was a handsome young man, a helpless expression on his face. He had a long face, delicate features, and a refined and elegant demeanor. Every gesture exuded the air of a noble young master, captivating all who saw him. The woman beside him bore a resemblance to him, her beauty exquisite. She wore a lake-blue moon-scented dress, and two plum blossom-patterned jade hairpins adorned her hair, making her complexion even more radiant and captivating.

This handsome young man is Hong Sheng, the eldest son of the Hong family, and the woman beside him is his cousin, Huang Hui. They are about the same age, with Huang Hui being only one day younger than Hong Sheng, so they have been childhood sweethearts and have a very good relationship. Today, Huang Hui happened to hear someone talking about Hong Sheng's first birthday celebration, and she insisted on seeing the very famous Tinggui inkstone.

Xi Mo sat quietly at the desk. Ever since that first birthday celebration fifteen years ago, she had ended her life in the box and was sent to Hong Sheng. Of course, this was also because Hong Sheng's old-fashioned father simply couldn't accept that his son had picked up a rouge, and insisted that his son must study, take the imperial examinations, and bring glory to the family.

In truth, this idea was utterly absurd. Xi Mo, who had observed Hong Sheng for fifteen years, sighed silently. For those fifteen years, she had been placed on Hong Sheng's desk, watching him study the *Three Character Classic* and *Standards for Being a Good Student and Child*, attend the ancestral school, and read the Four Books and Five Classics. She knew him better than anyone else in the world; this eldest son of the Hong family was simply not cut out for the imperial examinations! Making him take those eight-legged essays would be tantamount to killing him!
Hong Sheng's favorite pastime was spending time with his sisters in Hong Garden in Xixi, Hangzhou, composing poems, painting, and exchanging verses—a truly blissful life. These women even formed the "Banana Garden Poetry Society," writing poems about willow catkins in spring, lotus flowers in summer, crabapple blossoms in autumn, and winter plum blossoms in winter. For Xi Mo, it was unimaginable that daughters of respectable families would gather and enjoy themselves. In her mind, every well-bred lady rarely left her home; some hadn't even left their boudoirs before marriage. She was certain this women's poetry society was the first of its kind in history.

Hong Sheng was very popular among these young ladies from prominent families. The Hong, Huang, Qian, and Weng families were renowned and prestigious clans in the Qiantang area, so young men and women among them didn't adhere to many rigid rules. The Hong family had been a scholarly family for generations, a century-old distinguished clan, and Hong Sheng's father was a seventh-rank official. Hong Sheng's maternal grandfather, Huang Ji, had even served as Minister of Justice and was currently a Grand Secretary of the Wenhua Hall and Minister of Personnel, a truly important minister of the state. Hong Sheng knew that if he could obtain official rank through the imperial examinations, he would contribute to the continuation of his family's lineage and provide them with greater security. However, he genuinely had no interest in studying the classics and poetry, and no matter how hard he forced himself to study, he couldn't grasp it.

"Cousin Sheng, do you think this ink is really Tinggui ink?" Huang Hui looked down at Xi Mo, her face full of curiosity. She had known for a while that this ink was always on her cousin's desk; she had seen it before, but because it was inconspicuous, she hadn't paid much attention. It was only during the family dinner today, when it was brought up as a joke, that she realized this ink was the one her cousin had picked up during his first birthday celebration, and then had thrown away with obvious disdain. This was such an interesting story, yet no one had ever mentioned it before. It must be because their father, Hong, was too old-fashioned; every time the topic came up, he would fly into a rage and throw a tantrum, so over time, no one in Hong Garden dared to mention it.

Hong Sheng didn't actually feel there was anything shameful about picking up rouge during his first birthday celebration, but even he dared not offend his father, so he usually didn't mention it. Seeing his cousin's curiosity, he casually picked up the inkstone and introduced it to her with a smile: "Yes, the front of this inkstone is stamped with the characters 'Xi Nai,' and the back with 'Geng Shen,' markings of Li Tinggui's work. This Tinggui inkstone is as hard as jade, with rhinoceros horn patterns, a rich and smooth texture, and a lacquer-like luster. It possesses the characteristics of being light to the touch, clear when ground, fragrant in smell, as hard as jade, silent when ground, as clear as lacquer in a single drop, and enduring for eternity. Legend has it that this inkstone was originally made by Li Tinggui; although it doesn't look very appealing, its quality surpasses that of ordinary inkstones."

Huang Hui sensed a hint of interest and said with a smile, "This ink does indeed possess several characteristics: it is light to the touch, fragrant to the smell, and as hard as jade. I just wonder if it is clear when ground, silent when ground, and as black as lacquer when applied!"

Hong Sheng, sensing his cousin's unspoken meaning, knew she wanted to try grinding ink. The request wasn't unreasonable, but even he, a man of extravagant spending, hesitated. He'd had this inkstone since childhood; though he hadn't valued it much, it had sat beside him for fifteen years without a thought of using it. But when he met his cousin's expectant gaze, Hong Sheng disregarded everything and nodded.

Although it's priceless Tinggui ink, grinding just a little bit should be enough to make my cousin happy!
Huang Hui was overjoyed upon hearing this. She washed her hands, fetched some water, poured a little into a Duanzhou inkstone, took the ink from Hong Sheng, and began grinding the ink slowly with her sleeve.

Holding Xi Mo's delicate, white hand, her ten fingers slender and graceful, it should have been a beautiful scene of "a green-clad maid holding an inkstone, urging the reader to write; a red-sleeved maid adding fragrance, accompanying the reader." But Hong Sheng, watching, felt an inexplicable sense of depression. What exactly went wrong?

Huang Hui pondered for a long time, until Hong Sheng was reluctant to give up. Suddenly, she raised her head and said strangely, "It is said that Tinggui ink can be soaked in water for three years without spoiling. It turns out that it is true."

Upon touching Xi Mo, Hong Sheng was momentarily stunned, a complex and inexplicable feeling washing over him. When he came to his senses, he saw Huang Hui looking at him with curiosity, and he chuckled, "This ink is quite spiritual; she wouldn't even glance at an ordinary poem!"

Huang Hui thought Hong Sheng was teasing her, so she covered her mouth and smiled, saying, "Then cousin will have to create a masterpiece in the future to be worthy of this ink!"

Looking at the flower-strewn Hongyuan Garden outside, Xi Mo curled her lips. She had managed to maintain her original existence for so many years, naturally accumulating some benefits. One of these was that she couldn't be transformed by water unless she did so willingly.

Want her to willingly turn into ink to transcribe a masterpiece? Even if such a thing existed, she would never believe that Hong Sheng could write it.

three

The twelfth year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign in the Qing Dynasty.

Xi Mo lay quietly on the counter of an antique shop, watching Hong Sheng, who was about to sell her.

She has spent twenty-eight years by his side, watching him display amazing talent in his youth, becoming famous in the literary world at the age of fifteen, and creating many poems, lyrics and songs at the age of twenty, which were sung by many people in the Jiangnan area and became a sensation.

She watched him and his cousin Huang Hui get married smoothly, strengthening their family ties. She watched them live in harmony and mutual respect. She also watched him go to the Imperial Academy in the capital to study, but he didn't get an official position and had to struggle to make ends meet. He was even expelled from the family because his parents didn't accept his decision to give up the imperial examinations, and he became so poor that he couldn't even afford to eat.

She knew that Huang Hui's precious jewelry and gorgeous robes had all been pawned, one by one, and she hadn't complained even though they were now struggling to make ends meet. So Xi Mo truly didn't blame Hong Sheng for selling her. When they were expelled from the Hong family, the proud Hong Sheng hadn't taken much money, not even a single piece of gold, silver, valuables, antiques, or paintings from the room; he had only taken her, who had always been sitting on his desk.

Back then, she was glad he hadn't abandoned her. And now, Xi Mo is also glad that she can help him.

He let her see the world for twenty-eight years, instead of letting her spend them alone in a box; she was already content.

Xi Mo looked at Hong Sheng, whose face was now weathered and worn. He was dressed in simple clothes and no longer possessed the elegant demeanor of a noble young man. The cruelty of life had worn away his edges, and his handsome face was filled with a look of dejection. At this moment, his eyes revealed reluctance as he repeatedly held Xi Mo in his hands, caressed him, put him down, and then hesitantly picked him up again.

Actually, selling her for money wasn't a big deal. Xi Mo looked around the antique shop. The shop was pitifully small, but two Han Dynasty Changxin Palace Lanterns burned at the entrance. The Boshan incense burner on the counter was burning Qinan incense—a piece of which was worth a fortune. The last emperor of the Southern Tang Dynasty had once bestowed a piece upon his master, who cherished it dearly, using it several times over. And here it was just being left to burn—a true waste! Looking at the various antiques on the display shelf, Xi Mo's eyes were opened even wider. In such a low-key yet luxurious antique shop, she should be able to live quite well.

But just lying in Hong Sheng's palm, feeling his tender caresses, what exactly was this emotion that was gradually welling up from the depths of her heart, an emotion that could almost tear her soul apart?
"Welcome to the Silent Shop, sir. Are you here to buy something?" A clear, melodious voice rang out, and a very young man emerged from behind a jade screen. He had fair skin and pale lips, and handsome features, yet he wore ancient clothing from the Qin and Han dynasties. The wide-sleeved, tight-fitting robe accentuated his slender waist, and the black straight hem hung elegantly at his feet, exuding an air of refined nobility. Hong Sheng, with his sharp eyes, noticed that as the man moved, he could vaguely see a lifelike crimson dragon embroidered on the man's sleeve.

Hong Sheng's eyelids twitched. Who, besides a member of the royal family, would have dragons embroidered on their clothes? In an instant, he began to doubt the friend who had introduced him to this antique shop. Was this friend helping him or harming him?

As if knowing his thoughts, the man instead raised his sleeve and showed it to him generously, then smiled and said, "This is a costume."

Hong Sheng was taken aback, only then realizing that the man in front of him had not shaved his head, but instead had long hair.

Since the Manchus entered the Central Plains, they issued a strict decree: "Keep your hair or lose your head." While monks and nuns were exempt, everyone else had to comply. Actors and entertainers could wear costumes from previous dynasties, and some could even grow their hair long for performances—these were loopholes that were often overlooked by the authorities. Although actors and entertainers were considered among the lowest of the low, Hong Sheng showed no disdain. Although he didn't believe an actor could afford to run such a shop, he still respectfully handed over the inkstone: "This humble scholar wishes to sell this inkstone."

The man didn't take Xi Mo, but only glanced at it before smiling and saying, "Ting Gui Mo? It's truly remarkable that Jun Ran has managed to keep it until now. I advise you to keep it with you."

Hong Sheng was inwardly impressed. This man could identify Xi Mo's background with just one glance, showing his exceptional insight. However, he licked his dry lips and said with a wry smile, "To be honest, I don't want to sell, but I'm forced by circumstances and have no other choice."

The man glanced at the calluses on his right fingers, calloused from years of holding a pen, and pondered for a moment before saying, "Even if you sell it, how long can it last? A year? Two years?"

Hong Sheng knew this was merely a stopgap measure. Even if Ting Guimo was incredibly valuable, staying in the capital, a place where food, clothing, and daily necessities were extremely expensive, meant he would eventually return to his current situation. But… he thought of Huang Hui, who was forcing a smile and growing increasingly thin, and could only manage a bitter smile, saying nothing more. As a grown man, he couldn't even take care of his wife, and had even caused her suffering. Such a thing filled him with guilt, and he couldn't possibly tell anyone.

Today is Huang Hui's birthday, and he thought that at the very least he could take her to Tianranju Restaurant so that she could eat the food from her hometown one more time.

Just as Hong Sheng was filled with self-reproach, he heard the man suddenly ask, "Sir, do you know how to write plays?"

"Of course I will," Hong Sheng replied hastily after a moment of surprise. Years ago, when he was in the Hong family, he often wrote plays for the family's opera troupe to perform, and he was often scolded by his father for not doing his proper job. But why was the other party asking this?
"Let me introduce you to someone. Write a few plays for him, and these will be your advance payment." The man, as if he had accomplished something insignificant, pulled out a few silver notes from the counter.

Hong Sheng glanced at it and found that even the smallest denomination card made his heart race: "This..."

"Keep this piece of Tinggui ink safe; it will bring you great inspiration." The man smiled slightly, his phoenix eyes narrowing, exuding an air of profound mystery.

The 31st year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign in the Qing Dynasty.

Xi Mo sat under the candlelight, quietly watching Hong Sheng, who was writing furiously.

Unbeknownst to her, she had been with him for forty-seven years, watching him grow older year by year, seeing the marks of time slowly appear on his once young and handsome face, yet he also became more and more wise and mature.

Hong Sheng truly wrote a masterpiece that swept the world, *The Palace of Eternal Life*. Upon its premiere, the play drew massive crowds, with entire streets deserted. It was also performed in the imperial palace, and troupes like the Juhe and Neiju troupes in the capital became renowned for their productions. High-ranking officials and members of the imperial family were proud to have a troupe perform *The Palace of Eternal Life*, and Hong Sheng became incredibly popular in the capital. During that period, he was sought after by various high-ranking officials and nobles. He achieved what he wanted: Huang Hui didn't have to redeem the gold and silver jewelry she had pawned; it was returned to her without her having to do so. Although Hong Sheng didn't pass the imperial examinations, he was more famous than anyone who had achieved the highest rank.

However, what brought him success also brought him downfall. Unbeknownst to him, Hong Sheng was drawn into the vortex of power and became a victim of the struggle between several princes. Because he performed "The Palace of Eternal Life" on the anniversary of Empress Xiaoyi's death, Hong Sheng was impeached and imprisoned in the second year after he became famous in the capital. Fortunately, Emperor Kangxi did not pursue his responsibility, but only stripped him of his status as a student of the Imperial Academy and forced him to leave Beijing and return to his hometown of Qiantang.

"Cousin, it's late and the dew is heavy, you should rest early." Huang Hui carried a bowl of soup into the study. Since returning to her hometown of Qiantang, she had removed the jewels from her hair, wearing only a simple sandalwood hairpin, understated and elegant. Although she was the same age as Hong Sheng, she looked much younger. Whether in the poorest times or the most glorious, she never complained or became arrogant, always wearing a faint smile. This time, although they were facing even greater difficulties, Huang Hui never uttered a word of complaint. After selling their house in the capital, she followed Hong Sheng back to Qiantang without a word.

Xi Mo couldn't help but look at her.

Perhaps Xi Mo was jealous of her. Although she was the one who initially stood by Hong Sheng's side, it was actually his wife who had consistently supported him. However, she had to admit that such a perfect woman was a blessing for Hong Sheng; they were childhood sweethearts and grew up to be a deeply devoted couple…

Xi Mo took the soup bowl and drank it contentedly while talking softly to Huang Hui. The heartwarming scene was like an illustration in a book.

Having someone by your side makes even the most difficult times feel sweet... Xi Mo suddenly realized that although her life was long, most of it was filled with loneliness and darkness.

Huang Hui put away the empty soup bowl, told her husband not to stay up too late, and then left the study. Hong Sheng, on the other hand, held a Huzhou brush above a sheet of white paper, lost in thought.

Xi Mo had grown accustomed to Hong Sheng's absent-mindedness, and she would join him in emptying his mind, trying not to think about anything. In fact, during countless such moments of their indifferent confrontation, Xi Mo always had a feeling that Hong Sheng was aware of her presence.

“Xi Mo…you seem to have something on your mind ever since you came back from the capital…” After a long silence, Hong Sheng suddenly developed a habit of talking to Xi Mo. Huang Hui had noticed this a few times and scolded him for being so infatuated. But he also needed someone to confide in, even if it was someone like Xi Mo who couldn’t give him a response.

Xi Mo was taken aback. She was actually used to Hong Sheng's dramatic antics, always saying strange things to her. But this time... he didn't seem to be talking nonsense...

"Do you regret that I was demoted back to my hometown? Actually, it's for the best. Xi Mo, I was too foolish. Staying in that cannibalistic place, I would have been swallowed whole sooner or later." Hong Sheng smiled. The prosperity of the capital city had dazzled him, and the success of "The Palace of Eternal Life" had almost brought him to a standstill in his writing.

"I promised you I would write a masterpiece." Hong Sheng reached out and stroked Xi Mo. After years of handling it, Xi Mo had become as smooth as jade, with a delicate touch that made it irresistible.

"I have achieved nothing, lived a life of poverty, and experienced the full spectrum of human emotions, from joy to sorrow. My sisters and cousins ​​all wept, their beauty fading with grief. Even my cousin, who lost her mother at a young age, lost her father shortly after marrying me, leaving me to endure a life of wandering..." Hong Sheng murmured, his words revealing self-reproach and regret. The Hong family was originally a prominent clan, boasting three high-ranking officials (father, sons, and prime ministers) and three renowned scholars (the Three Hongs) whose learning spanned ancient and modern times. However, in his generation, due to the rebellion of the Three Feudatories, the family's property was confiscated by the government, his parents were exiled to the army, and his sisters and cousins ​​died young from depression. Even when he returned to his hometown, he was faced with an abandoned Hong Garden.

"In the end, all that remains is a vast expanse of white, so clean..." Hong Sheng sighed wistfully.

Xi Mo watched him pick up his pen again and slowly write: "Now, I am caught up in the dust and toil of life, having accomplished nothing. Suddenly, I think of all the women I knew in the past, and upon careful examination, I realize that their conduct and insight were all superior to mine. How can I, a man of stature, be inferior to those women? I am filled with shame, but regret is of no use, and I am at a complete loss. Therefore, I wish to compile a collection of my past sins—the days when I relied on the grace of Heaven and the virtue of my ancestors, when I wore fine clothes and indulged in rich food, when I betrayed the kindness of my father and brothers in educating me, and when I failed the guidance of my teachers and friends, leading to my current state of having accomplished nothing and living a life of poverty—to inform the world..."

Xi Mo possessed the spirituality of an ink-wielder; she could sense all books written with ink. Over the years, she had read countless classics, but this novel by Hong Sheng particularly intrigued her. The male protagonist was born with a jade in his mouth, forming the character for "country." The jade was engraved with eight characters, similar to the Imperial Seal of the State and the He Shi Bi jade, symbolizing the Han Dynasty's rule. In the second year of the Shunzhi Emperor's reign, a so-called "crown prince," whose authenticity was unknown, was beheaded in the capital. Xi Mo remembered that Hong Sheng was born in the second year of the Shunzhi Emperor's reign. Wow, he picked up rouge during his first birthday celebration? Then isn't that him?

Could this man still harbor thoughts of overthrowing the Qing and restoring the Ming? The "Kings of the East, West, South, and North" he describes in his writing are clearly allusions to the four non-royal princes of the early Qing dynasty. The Prince of Beijing in the text is none other than Geng Jingzhong, the only one of the four to inherit the title and become the future Prince of Jingnan. She remembered that Geng Jingzhong was a close friend of Hong Sheng; the two had shared drinks in the capital during the eighth year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign, and she had met him a few times. The Prince of Beijing in the book, young and handsome, with a humble nature, is truly a carbon copy of Geng Jingzhong.

Look, the Tan Chun mentioned in the text who was supposed to marry far away and become a princess should be Hong Sheng's sister. She did indeed marry Geng Jingzhong and traveled three thousand miles by boat to Fujian to become a princess.

Wait, both Daiyu and Baochai in the text are Baoyu's cousins, so which one is Huang Hui? It should be Daiyu, right? Huang Hui also lost her mother at a young age, and her father, who held a high official position, died young…

Xi Mo's heart was filled with emotion as she quietly accompanied Hong Sheng, watching him write down his life story stroke by stroke, weaving his blood and tears into every word, each one a gem.

The 43rd year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign in the Qing Dynasty.

Xi Mo felt somewhat uneasy. Cao Yin, the Imperial Textile Commissioner of Jiangning, had gathered renowned figures from both the north and south for a grand gathering, and had given Hong Sheng the seat of honor to perform the entire "Palace of Eternal Life," which was said to last for three days and three nights. However, judging by the dates, Hong Sheng should have returned from Jiangning long ago.

She had overheard Hong Sheng and Huang Hui's conversation before he left. Hong Sheng would be taking the manuscript of "The Story of the Stone" with him this time. Cao Yin was his good friend and often published manuscripts for impoverished literati in Jiangnan. He wanted to ask Cao Yin to publish this "Story of the Stone".

It is indeed a masterpiece, but unfortunately it is not yet finished.

Xi Mo felt uneasy because she hadn't read the chapters after the 80th for several days.

How infuriating! Doesn't she know she hasn't finished writing this month's new story yet? She's just running around like this without even taking her with her! This is unacceptable for delaying the deadline!

However, time flies. It seems like just yesterday he was a handsome young man, but in the blink of an eye he is already an old man who is almost sixty years old.

Human life seems incredibly short...

Xi Mo was lost in thought when he suddenly heard Huang Hui's heart-wrenching cries.

“Xi Mo… Cousin… On his way back, my cousin passed through Wuzhen… After drinking, he boarded a boat… and fell into the water and died…” Huang Hui was in a daze. She knew that Hong Sheng liked to talk to Xi Mo, and now that she was all alone, she naturally did the same.

Huang Hui burst into tears, unable to accept this devastating news. She and her cousin had been together for so long, so long that she thought they would never separate.

"May we be birds flying wing to wing in heaven, and trees with intertwined branches on earth." Ten years ago, she had even prepared a grave for the two of them to be buried together, but she never expected that this day would come so soon.

Xi Mo watched silently from the side. Human life is really very short, just like the dazzling fireworks she saw during the New Year, which disappear completely in the blink of an eye.

Why was her heart so heavy? What could she do for him? Was she destined to endure those long and lonely years? "No, I can't just let him go like this. My cousin took the only manuscript, and there are still his drafts at home. I must make a copy for him..." After a brief moment of grief, Huang Hui resolutely wiped away her tears. She had always been this kind of woman; poverty could not make her bow her head, and hardship could not bend her spine. No matter how many years had passed, it would remain the same.

When I brought her back to her senses, I noticed that she was holding an irregularly shaped piece of ink in her hand. It was unremarkable in appearance, and even somewhat ugly.

Following Hong Sheng's usual habit, Huang Hui carefully stroked the patterns on the inkstone with her hand and slowly said, "Xi Mo, I still remember what my cousin jokingly said back then. Now that he has written a masterpiece, will you accompany him?"

Yes, they will. It's a promise they made to each other.

Xi Mo smiled faintly.

four

"This...this is the manuscript written with ink from that piece of Tinggui ink?" The doctor looked down at the paper in the shopkeeper's hand. The ink on it was like lacquer, and it even emitted a refreshing fragrance. "But that's not the point, is it? I remember that the author of 'Dream of the Red Chamber' is Cao Xueqin, right? Does he have anything to do with this Hong Sheng?"

"Hong Sheng went to the Cao family before his death, and the draft was left with Cao Yin. Later, a series of events happened in the Cao family, and Cao Yin did not have time to publish the book. Later, perhaps Cao Xueqin found the manuscript among his grandfather's belongings. It was very similar to his own life story, so he 'read it for ten years and revised it five times' instead of writing it for ten years. However, the last forty chapters may have been written by him. Because of the 'Palace of Eternal Life' incident, Hong Sheng no longer signed his real name on the manuscript. Later generations passed it down and believed that Cao Xueqin was the real author." The shopkeeper sorted the manuscripts into stacks and laid them out on the bluestone slabs to dry, and for a moment the courtyard was filled with the fragrance of ink.

“No, this isn’t right… this isn’t right…” The doctor was clearly unable to accept it.

"Where would Cao Xueqin, who was born in the capital, have seen so many things about Jiangnan in the book? And how could he write such a masterpiece at the age of twenty? How could he say that he had lived a life of poverty at the age of twenty? He was the only son of the Cao family, so where did he get so many sisters? During the Yongzheng period, literary inquisitions began. How could he dare to write such anti-Qing and pro-Ming things?" The boss asked one question after another, leaving the doctor, who was not good at history, stunned.

"But why hasn't anyone come out to refute this? Don't you know? How come..." The doctor paused, seeing the half-smile on the boss's face. How could he forget that even Qin Shi Huang could be a tyrant in history? So what's impossible about a novel's author being mistakenly identified?

The doctor wisely didn't press the matter, but when he looked down, he saw the caterpillar still slowly wriggling on the ground and remembered the question his boss had raised at the beginning.

"By the way, how do caterpillars cross rivers?"

The boss looked at the manuscript in his hand; the ink was still fresh. He smiled slightly and said, "Turn into a butterfly."

(End of this chapter)