Chapter 257: Talking with King Beiliang about Beiliang

Tao Manwu, feeling perfectly at ease, rode on the shoulders of a certain "bad guy," enjoying the view of the temple fair from above. Suddenly, she noticed the masked and pseudonymous man stop. Following his gaze, she saw a slender young woman standing before them, timidly offering a thin flyer.

Xu Fengnian was momentarily surprised as he took the flyer from the emaciated girl. Such flyers were common marketing tools for storytellers, briefly outlining the content of their tales, whether about brave cavalry, courtesans, or ghost encounters. Even good wine needs no bush, so apart from the main performer staying in the teahouse or tavern, assistants would go into the streets to invite customers in. The grandeur of the setup usually correlated with the storyteller's fame; renowned storytellers might display golden banners outside bustling restaurants. This particular one, however, was quite humble, just a piece of paper with a crimson tail. What surprised Xu Fengnian was that he recognized the girl. She was part of the grandfather-granddaughter pair he had seen in a secluded teahouse in the city before he left Beiliang: an elderly, blind storyteller discussing with wine, and the girl holding a shoddy pipa.

What was written on the flyer astonished Xu Fengnian even more: how dared they tell the story of the Beiliang heir's thousand-mile journey within a Beimang city? He looked around, then quietly watched the young girl distribute over a dozen flyers before following her into a relatively quiet teahouse, Tao Manwu still on his back. After taking a seat, he ordered a pot of tea. Sure enough, a space in the center of the teahouse had been cleared. The blind old man habitually placed his bamboo clappers and a bowl of turbid wine on a small stool. After distributing the simple flyers, his granddaughter scurried to his side, carefully picked up the pipa, and whispered a few words to her grandfather, on whom she depended. It seemed the old man's tale of the Beiliang heir was so fresh and astounding that most of the flyers had attracted genuine customers willing to pay for tea, making the teahouse owner beam with satisfaction at his own foresight and courage. The blind storyteller took a small sip of wine to clear his throat. Instead of diving into the main topic, he announced loudly, "Today, this old man will speak neither of romantic liaisons nor of spirits beyond the human world. I shall only recount the Beiliang heir's journey of thousands of miles, with two swords at his waist, hoping to earn a few laughs from you, my esteemed audience. That will be enough."

As the old storyteller finished speaking, the young girl deftly strummed her pipa, producing a clear, ringing sound.

The old man took another sip of the strong liquor the teahouse owner had given him, gently set the bowl down, picked up his bamboo clappers, and recited the customary prologue: "Born clever, yet appearing naive, the rake may not be true. Folly arises from circumstance, amidst war, laughter runs deep. The winding river is shallower than the heart, ten layers of cavalry thunder like strikes. How could one forget the realm for wine and women? Only then does one know that poetry and books mislead people."

The pipa music gradually swelled, but it remained soft and meandering, like a gentle stream flowing under a small bridge, without any forceful clashing sounds.

Xu Fengnian, seated in a corner, smiled knowingly. He stopped watching the skilled grandfather-granddaughter duo and instead looked out the window at the bustling street. He admired the elderly storyteller for daring to speak well of the heir within Beimang territory. Fortunately, Beimang's customs were rough yet open-minded; there were no literary inquisitions, and people were rarely prosecuted for their words, even if they criticized the government. What the old man said was, of course, hearsay and differed greatly from the truth, but it was a considerable gimmick, and the audience found it captivating. Especially when he spoke of the heir single-handedly facing Prince Jing'an, Zhao Heng, and a thousand armored cavalry outside Xiangfan City, some tea drinkers who had initially been dismissive became engrossed. A few listeners who had been about to leave returned to their seats and ordered more tea from the waiter. At this point, the blind old man paused deliberately. The tea drinkers knew this meant it was time to collect money, and indeed, a few tables dropped some copper coins into a large white porcelain bowl, producing a pleasant jingling sound.

The old man stopped building suspense and continued to narrate smoothly. When he described the Beiliang heir piercing a brave cavalry general to death with a spear, the tea drinkers immediately gasped in astonishment, first looking at each other, then starting to discuss amongst themselves. Most did not believe the heir could possess such cavalry combat skills. As for Prince Jing'an, Zhao Heng, the people of Beimang had heard much about the exciting power struggles among the princes of the Liyang Dynasty from storytellers, so they knew this prince was merely unlucky not to have become emperor. Xu Fengnian saw Tao Manwu listening with wide-eyed awe, an impish expression on her face as if she wished to rush over and urge the old man to speak faster. Xu Fengnian then pricked his finger under the table, letting a drop of blood nourish his sword, which he then concealed in his sleeve. He poured a cup of tea, closed his eyes, and concentrated. The blind old man skillfully managed the pacing; when the audience grew a little impatient again, he finally mentioned Dragon Tiger Mountain, the ancestral home of Taoism, interjecting an anecdote about General Xu Xiao's campaign through the martial arts world. The listeners' appetites were immediately whetted again. Xu Fengnian could not help but laugh. Few survived the battle at Daxieping, and those who did would never reveal such secrets. The old man's narrative became exceedingly mysterious, describing the purple lightning formations at Gu Niujiang on Huishan, attributing them to the sword god Li Chungang's supreme divine power. Most of the listeners scoffed, thinking, "This old man in sheepskin cannot be stronger than our Beimang God of War, Tuoba Pusa, can he? How come this old sword god isn't among the top ten martial arts masters? We only hear of Deng Ta'a, who carries a peach branch." The old man heard the jeers and countless boos, but he remained unperturbed. At this moment, the pipa music intensified, like a silver vase suddenly shattering and spilling liquid, making one worry if the young girl's frail, slender hands could endure.

Amidst the grand atmosphere created by the pipa music, the old man began to describe the climax of his story: the arrival of flying swords. He claimed that with just the words "Sword, come," the old sword god commanded thousands of swords from Huishan and Dragon Tiger Mountain to fly simultaneously to Daxieping, darkening the sky. The listeners were dumbfounded. "Good heavens, could he really be one of the few terrestrial immortals in the world?" When the old man spoke of Celestial Master Zhao of Dragon Tiger Mountain demanding the old sword god return the swords to the Celestial Master's Residence, the old man paused, then said word by word, "Do you, my esteemed audience, know what happened next?"

Well, it was time to pay up. This time, the tea drinkers quickly and generously filled the large bowl with their copper coins, making a clinking sound. Those impatient ones rushed to deposit their coins, then quickly returned to their seats and urged, "Old man, tell us, tell us quickly!"

The blind storyteller took a sip of wine and laughed, "That Elder Li, of the Sword Immortal realm, loudly declared to the vast Dragon Tiger Mountain, 'The heir says, give back what ass?!'"

The entire teahouse fell into dead silence, then erupted in thunderous cheers. Many tea drinkers, feeling a sense of satisfaction, began slapping their tables. Tao Manwu beside Xu Fengnian chuckled. Xu Fengnian took out a small, fractional piece of silver, shaking his head. The little girl already found the old man's storytelling splendid, and seeing this miser surprisingly generous for once, she finally gave him a smile. Grabbing the silver, she ran to the center of the teahouse, her face flushed, and gently placed it in the bowl. Then she ran back to Xu Fengnian, nestling against him, too shy to face the crowd. The others simply thought this young man was probably a bored rich scion with too much money to spend, without thinking much more of it.

The blind storyteller then spoke of Wudi City in the East Sea, only mentioning the heir carrying a bowl onto the city wall without revealing the reason. The tea drinkers listened, thrilled, and all agreed that this hereditary Beiliang heir was truly audacious. They didn't delve into the details; why take a storyteller's tale so seriously? When the old man spoke of Wang Xianzhi, the undisputed foremost martial artist in the world, sweeping across the East Sea's surface, and the Sword God's sword opening the heavenly gate, causing the East Sea to rise, the entire teahouse fell silent. Beimang's people were fierce; even Feihu City, despite its relative gentleness compared to other towns, still had a martial spirit flowing in its veins. They might look down on the emperors and nobles of the Liyang Dynasty, and on the effeminate literati, but they would never look down on Gu Jiantang, the renowned general from the Spring and Autumn period who ranked on the list. Even less would they dare to disdain the Lord of Wudi City, who had dominated the martial arts world for sixty years. Across Beimang, people only regretted that this old martial artist was not from their dynasty; they would never question Wang Xianzhi's ability to rank above Tuoba Pusa as the world's number one! Even for Xu Xiao, the Butcher, Beimang's arch-enemy, they harbored sincere awe and respect. Both in the common populace and at court in Beimang, there were many who openly admitted their admiration for Xu Xiao. When rumors spread that His Majesty the Emperor was willing to "marry Xu," while they cursed Xu the Lame for his insolence and wild claims, few ever said that Xu Xiao was unworthy of sharing the realm with their Empress. In Beimang's view, who else in the world was more deserving of their empress than the Butcher? The Liyang Emperor? Get lost, go to hell.

The epilogue: by the Guangling River, the great tide rose, and the heir cut his own flesh. Li Chungang, with one sword stroke, severed two thousand six hundred armor plates.

The teahouse became so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Only the pipa music, like bursting spring thunder, resonated.

Even the teahouse owner was dumbfounded. He slowly took out a few pieces of silver, not yet warmed by his touch, and had his waiter deliver them to the bowl, without any trace of reluctance. Thanks to inviting this grandfather-granddaughter duo to tell stories today, he had earned a lot of extra money, and he decided to have them continue for a few more days, guaranteeing flourishing business and ample profits. After the story concluded, some wealthier tea drinkers added more spare change.

Xu Fengnian patted Tao Manwu's head and smiled, "Go tell the pipa-playing older sister that I'd like to treat them to tea."

Tao Manwu happily ran over. The grandfather and granddaughter usually avoided such social pleasantries, but perhaps seeing the little girl's innocent and kind face, and observing that the young gentleman by the window didn't seem like a bad person, they agreed. Xu Fengnian waved to a waiter, ordering a pot of good tea and a pot of good wine. Tao Manwu sat beside Xu Fengnian, looking admiringly at the young woman across from them. She herself had only studied the zither and knew nothing about the pipa, simply thinking this young lady was very impressive. The blind old man took a sip of wine, hissed with pleasure, and slowly savored it. A knowing smile appeared on his weathered face. "Thank you, young master, for the generous money and wine. Unfortunately, this old man only knows how to tell stories; I have nothing to repay you with."

Xu Fengnian smiled, "I just found the story delightful, and I happened to have a bit of spare change. It was a pleasant surprise to pass the time this way. You don't need to worry about it, old sir. Just consider it like meeting an old friend in a foreign land; it's only natural for the one with more coins in their pocket to treat the other to some wine."

The old man laughed heartily, "That's true, young master, you're generous. This old man won't stand on ceremony then. Come, let's clink bowls. Though this wine isn't as authentic as our 'Green Ant' from Beiliang, it's still good wine."

Both men drained their bowls. As for the young and older girls, they drank tea. The owner thoughtfully sent over some inexpensive pastries and fruits, and they, too, felt relaxed and at ease.

Xu Fengnian asked with a smile, "Old sir, are you not afraid of trouble by speaking well of the Beiliang heir in Beimang?"

The sexagenarian storyteller shook his head. "What is there to fear? In this day and age, if you want to earn more money than your peers, you can't be afraid of trouble."

Xu Fengnian noticed the crisscrossing scars on the back of the old man's hand as he held the bowl. He asked, "Old sir, were you once a Beiliang soldier? Those knife wounds on your hand back then weren't light."

The old man, who likely had a fiery temper in his youth, still spoke without any reservations, laughing straightforwardly, "Indeed! Back then, it hurt so much I almost cried for my parents. I had just joined the Beiliang army and was ridiculed by the old squad leader. Later, I suffered even more severe injuries, but I gritted my teeth and endured. Looking back now in my old age, I truly admire myself. But young master, you might not know what the Beiliang army was like back then. Ha! If you didn't have some scars, how could you even dare to greet your comrades who fought shoulder-to-shoulder with you? You'd be treated like a little girl! It's funny, a few years after enlisting, I wished I'd gotten a couple more cuts. Our old squad leader used to say before he died, 'Whoever wants to usurp my position, fine! Strip naked, and whoever has more scars than me gets to be the squad leader. In a word, whoever has chopped off more heads than me, those scoundrels will have to ask me to unbutton their pants when they need to pee! No problem at all!'"

Xu Fengnian murmured, "Old sir, why do you say 'back then' regarding the Beiliang army?"

The storyteller took a sip of wine, hesitated, then took another large gulp before slowly giving a bitter smile. "These words can only be said to an outsider like you, young master. It's not some deep secret, much less a family disgrace. Back then, after our Great General won the Battle of Xileibi and annihilated the Western Chu Dynasty, which was almost an equal match for Liyang at the time, the entire Beiliang army harbored resentment. We thought, 'Those damn civilian officials in the capital talk without consequence, and even the old emperor is constantly suspicious of the Great General. Why don't we just rebel?! Let the Great General become emperor himself! Who wouldn't be convinced if the Great General sat on the dragon throne in dragon robes?' Unfortunately, the Great General refused. Actually, that wasn't a big deal for us old Liao East veterans, us ordinary soldiers. As long as we served the Great General faithfully, it was fine whether he was emperor or not. But later, when I followed him to Beiliang, the atmosphere changed. The Great General was still the same Great General; no one had a single complaint about him. But the Great General isn't a four-headed, six-armed deity, is he? Some of the generals beneath him probably thought peace had come and it was time to make a profit. Then many civilian officials who had never fought a battle also climbed the ranks. This old man and some of my old comrades became disheartened, especially me. With my eyesight gone, I wasn't going to squat in the latrine and do nothing, wasting Beiliang army rations. Every bit I saved was a bit for a new recruit on the frontier. I've traveled through several Beiliang prefectures, and there's no shortage of lawless scions there. This old man isn't well-read; I only know a few characters, and I can't quite figure out if fighting for the Zhao family's empire was truly worth it."

Seeing the young master across from him remain silent, he chuckled and said, "Don't think, young master, that just because this old man grumbled a bit, our 300,000 Beiliang cavalry are easy to deal with. Some officials might be unruly, but the Great General is always the Great General. To tell you an honest truth that might sound unpleasant to your ears: as long as the Great General is the King of Beiliang, you in Beimang, don't even think about taking another step south! If the Great General doesn't march all the way to your Beimang royal court, then you'd better burn incense and pray to Buddha!"

Xu Fengnian smiled and said, "Let's drink."

The blind storyteller raised his bowl. "Cheers!"

The old man drank to his heart's content, then muttered to himself, "The reason I've persevered and not died is because I have this poor little granddaughter to look after. And also, I'm truly afraid that the spirit of our Beiliang people might dissipate. What if, what if something happens to the Great General? What would become of the 300,000 cavalry? Four or five years ago, this old man heard that the heir was idle, spending money lavishly on everything, quite a wastrel. I truly wished I could go to the Beiliang King's residence and give him a beating. Only later did I find out that wasn't the case at all. So I thought, since I don't have many years left anyway, I might as well visit a few towns in Beimang and tell you Beimang people about our future King of Beiliang, so you barbarians won't sleep peacefully, haha. At worst, this old man will get a few scoldings and beatings; it won't kill me. If I truly die in Beimang, it's no worse than my old brothers who died wrapped in horsehide."

The old man came to his senses and smiled apologetically, "Young master from Feihu City, this old man has been rambling nonsense. Please don't mind it; this drink has gone to my head."

Xu Fengnian shook his head and, in a Beiliang accent, smiled faintly, "Old sir, how do you know I'm not from Beiliang?"

The storyteller froze, his mind racing. He guessed the young master was a descendant of Beiliang merchants doing business in Beimang. But to be cautious, he lowered his voice, and with a heartfelt smile, said, "No wonder! No wonder you spoke of meeting an old friend in a foreign land. Don't worry, this old man knows how important discretion is. Today, I'll just consider it having shared a good pot of wine with a young gentleman from Feihu City."

Xu Fengnian smiled, "If in the future your storytelling angers some narrow-minded Beimang people, old sir, you can simply curse the King of Beiliang and the Beiliang heir a few times. It's no big deal. The world is vast, and living is most important. Your granddaughter hasn't found a good man yet and still relies on your storytelling to earn money."

The storyteller shook his head. "Why would I curse them? The Great General has never done a single dishonest thing in his life. If this old man cursed the Great General, down in the underworld, the old squad leader and the others would give me such a look I'd die from it. And I can't bear to curse the heir either. I was blind before and cursed him so much. If I curse him one more time, this old man won't die in peace. As for my granddaughter, since she was born into the old Song family, this is her fate. There's nothing to complain about."

The young girl holding the pipa smiled gently.

Resigned and at peace.

Xu Fengnian put down his wine cup and said softly, "Old sir, if you trust me, may I borrow the pipa from your granddaughter to test its sound? My second sister is particularly skilled at the 'martial pipa,' and while I'm not as talented as her, having been exposed to it, I understand a little. Perhaps I could share some simple insights with the young girl."

The old man laughed, "What's there to be reluctant about? Eryu, hand it to the young master."

Xu Fengnian smiled, "Please, young lady, give me the cleaning cloth as well."

The young girl blushed, then stood up and carefully handed over her cherished pipa.

After meticulously wiping the pipa, Xu Fengnian sat upright. He thought for a moment, then aligned all four fingers of his right hand and swiftly swept them from the lowest string to the highest in one rapid motion, like a single resounding note. He then withdrew three fingers, using only his right index finger to pluck the three lowest strings in sequence. A flick and a sweep. The young girl, who had played the pipa for many years, her eyes lit up. This pipa was merely a low-grade one with a white wooden backboard, far inferior to high-quality pipas made of rosewood, red sandalwood, or padauk. It was far from reaching the master level where powerful notes could be heard two or three li away. Xu Fengnian gently demonstrated the techniques of sweeping, plucking, separating, hooking, and striking in succession. Then he looked up at the young girl standing beside him and smiled, "For a white wood pipa, the sound quality is quite good. If funds allow, you could add a little more glue. The old sir's storytelling especially demands crispness and explosiveness from the pipa. Also, the first string is almost broken. However, in my opinion, since you're playing the pipa for the audience's enjoyment, breaking a string while playing is actually a delightful event that everyone would appreciate. There's no need to rush to replace this first string. Let me also tell you some techniques from the Cao family's Southern School of pipa masters. Remember as much as you can..."

One spoke, one listened.

The blind old man sipped his drink slowly, contentedly.

All gatherings eventually end. After Xu Fengnian finished teaching the Cao family's techniques, which were widely considered almost lost, he stood up to bid farewell and led Tao Manwu by the hand out of the teahouse.

The young girl held her pipa, murmuring, "Grandpa, who was that young master?"

The old man drank his last sip of wine, his face flushed, and smiled, "He was probably just a good person we met by chance."

The elderly storyteller might never know in his lifetime that he had stood face-to-face with the King of Beiliang, speaking to him about Beiliang.