Chapter 24 (1/2) : Things About Poyang Lake

1、

Zhong Lingxiu had originally been troubled over how to obtain the Song of Smiling Proud Wanderer; the predicament of Liu Zhengfeng’s retirement was even harder to crack than the Fuwei Escort Agency’s schemes.

Her martial skills were inferior to her seniors, and her position in the jianghu was roughly around 30th or 40th—intervening in this matter was as difficult as climbing to the heavens.

Unexpectedly, Linghu Chong was incredibly lucky. Long before anyone else, he had met Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang. The two were pillars of their respective sects—one a stalwart of Mount Heng, the other a protector elder of the Demon Cult. Bound by music, they had become confidants, but this was discovered by the Songshan Sect. Left Lengchan used this as a pretext to slaughter the entire Liu family.

Both Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang perished as a result, leaving the Song of Smiling Proud Wanderer entrusted to Linghu Chong.

Zhong Lingxiu felt that fortune was on her side and spoke cheerfully, “Alright, there’s no need to make a fuss.”

She added, “I’m not interested in the seniors’ personal affairs. I just ask—since Linghu Chong is my friend, could you two please release him?”

“We mean no harm to him, only that we don’t want our plans leaked,” Liu Zhengfeng sighed heavily, his mind burdened as he asked, “Junior is here alone to enjoy the lake?”

Linghu Chong quickly answered, “Of course not. The abbesses of Mount Heng came together; everyone knows young nuns do not leave the mountain lightly.”

Liu Zhengfeng shook his head. “The abbesses of Mount Heng are pure and abstinent; when have they shown such enthusiasm? Recently, there has been no trace of the Demon Cult around Lushan Yuzhang either. Why would they come now?” He scrutinized Zhong Lingxiu’s attire—she wore ordinary clothes, not even posing as a nun—his certainty grew, “Since you’re here, junior, why not stay and travel with us for a couple of days? It would be good company for Linghu junior.”

Zhong Lingxiu looked at Linghu Chong, who kept making awkward facial expressions, his facial muscles twitching comically.

“Better to comply than decline,” she smiled. “I’ve always liked music. The seniors’ qin and flute duet is truly moving; I am fortunate to listen.”

Liu Zhengfeng, a music lover himself, believed her. “You like music? Have you ever studied?”

“No,” Zhong Lingxiu answered honestly. “Back on the mountain, I chanted sutras and recited Buddha’s name every day—I don’t even understand musical scores.”

Qu Yang was skeptical but didn’t want to embarrass his friend. “I have here the Ancient Lost Sounds—take a look.” He flicked over a thin booklet that floated like a leaf but whose pages did not stir, concealing internal energy.

Zhong Lingxiu deliberately stepped back two paces before accepting it, thanked them, and sat down to flip through it.

There were pictures and text, but none of it made much sense.

She thought for a moment and said, “It seems to be about the guqin, but I don’t want to learn the qin.”

Qu Yang asked, “What’s wrong with the qin?”

“It’s not that the qin is bad; High Mountains and Flowing Water is a beautiful melody,” Zhong Lingxiu closed the book and spoke seriously, “But look at my size—carrying a qin on my back would still be a burden even if it’s a knee qin.” She wasn’t learning an instrument solely for the Song of Smiling Proud Wanderer; she also wanted personal entertainment, so she had thought it through carefully. “The dongxiao is portable but its sound is low and gentle. I prefer the bright and lively tone of the flute.”

Liu Zhengfeng nodded. “It’s common for young people to prefer the flute over the xiao.”

Having good relations with both Mount Heng and Mount Hua, he did not want to offend the juniors of the two sects. Previously, because Linghu Chong had discovered Qu Yang traveling together and didn’t want unnecessary trouble, he had forcibly detained Linghu Chong. Now, with another person showing up—whether sincere in learning or trying to save Linghu—it was an opportunity.

He said, “The flute and xiao share the same root; I can teach you both. But from now on, you cannot call me ‘Junior Uncle’.”

Zhong Lingxiu was about to speak when Linghu Chong called her, “Junior sister!”

She turned her head.

Linghu Chong smiled. “Heaven knows how many can teach music; why trouble Senior Uncle Liu?” Senior Uncle Liu was entangled with the Demon Cult and possibly plotting something. If junior sister were to take the master-disciple title to save him, she might get implicated later. This was absolutely forbidden.

But he couldn’t say this outright, so he looked for an excuse: “The seniors have other affairs in Yuzhang and no time to teach disciples.”

“Heh,” Qu Yang laughed, “Brother Liu, these two children are interesting. Since the little girl follows me to learn, he should just take me as his master.”

Linghu Chong blurted, “I’m from Mount Hua—how could I take a master from the Demon Cult…”

His words cut off abruptly.

An awkward silence filled the air.

The little girl glanced around, puffing her cheeks and said to break the ice, “So what if we’re from the Demon Cult?”

“No, no,” Qu Yang said calmly. “Since young brother is dressed as such, it’s easy to handle. I’ll be frank with you: Brother Liu and I have some leads on the Guangling San. No matter what, we must travel together. If you two swear before Heaven not to leak any of our secrets, once the task is done, we will release you.”

Linghu Chong smiled bitterly and pleaded, “Senior, these days I have seen you are different from those evil Demon Cult disciples, and I trust that you and Senior Uncle Liu have a gentlemanly friendship. But Junior Sister Yixiu knows nothing about this. Could you let her leave first? I believe she would not reveal anything while I’m still in your hands.”

They laughed at his teasing and asked, “Junior, what do you think? What’s so urgent that you want to learn the flute and have Linghu Chong leave first so you can stay?”

Qu Yang smiled faintly, though he said nothing, but Qu Feiyan, young and frank, giggled, “When trouble comes, birds of a feather flock together, but when disaster strikes, they fly separate ways. Brother Linghu, this sister here doesn’t leave you behind.”

Shi, however, was tongue-tied and confused.

“I want to stay,” Zhong Lingxiu smiled. “Linghu Chong wants to stay too, no harm done.”

She intended to maintain good relations and picked up on Qu Feiyan’s words, “Though we know Mu Shaoai, there isn’t really such love and romance in the world. At our age, blood is plentiful, memories sharp. It’s the best time to practice martial arts and learn skills.”

Since transmigrating into the martial world, all she thought about was how to train, where to find peerless manuals, and how to defeat enemies, with no worldly desires.

“Anyway, Senior Uncle Liu promised to teach me the flute, right?” Zhong Lingxiu asked calmly, skirting around the topic of formal apprenticeship. “Thank you, senior uncle. I will study well.”

Liu Zhengfeng had no real intention of taking her as a disciple, only to impose some restraint. He said, “If you swear not to reveal our matters to the Sixth Elder, I’ll agree.”

“No problem.” She answered immediately. “By the gods and buddhas above, if this junior monk reveals your secrets to outsiders, may Heaven strike me dead with thunder and send me to the eighteen layers of hell for eternity.”

Her oath was exaggerated. Liu Zhengfeng was somewhat startled. “No need to be so dramatic. Just trust me.”

Qu Feiyan grew fond of her, abandoning Linghu Chong to sit beside Zhong Lingxiu. “Sister, you really are passionate. I wouldn’t have guessed you’re a nun.”

“I am a nun. I am what a nun is.” No one could resist a clever and lovable little girl, and Zhong Lingxiu was no exception. She patted her head. “You can’t put yourself in a box.”

Qu Feiyan seemed to half-understand.

Zhong Lingxiu thought a moment and asked, “Fei Fei, do you know how to play the flute?”

“My grandpa taught me,” Qu Feiyan said. “I also know how to play the qin, zheng, and pipa.”

“Senior Uncle Liu is busy with something. Can you teach me first?” Zhong Lingxiu offered. “I’ll pay for two flutes—one for you as a token of apprenticeship.”

Qu Feiyan asked, “What’s a token of apprenticeship?”

“It’s the gift given to a master,” Zhong Lingxiu explained. “The leader comes first; you are my little teacher.”

Qu Feiyan laughed, “Great, great, thank you, sister.”

Having been around Qu Yang for years with few playmates, Qu Feiyan occasionally played with the abbess. These past days, with Linghu Chong’s company, she was often bored; apart from drinking, Linghu Chong only drank. No wonder it was dull—pretending to be a teacher was more interesting. She frowned seriously, “If I don’t scold you, I won’t hit your hand, but I won’t give you candy either.”

–

Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang did not row the boat on the lake merely for sightseeing; they were waiting.

Nearby, they discovered a Han Dynasty tomb and believed the Guangling San might be inside. They prepared to rob the tomb and dig up the score. Previously, they had secretly received gunpowder from the Liu family—everything was ready except for the crucial moment.

That night, the moon was dark and the wind high.

Linghu Chong carried a basket of gunpowder, Zhong Lingxiu held two Luoyang shovels, following the two seniors as manual labor.

“Whose tomb are we robbing?” Zhong Lingxiu was curious; she had never thought she’d experience a ghostly tomb robbery in the martial world. “Which Han emperor?”

“You’re smart. We believe the Guangling San must have been passed down before the Western Jin. Either Eastern or Western Han. If our guess is right, it’s the tomb of a Western Han emperor.”

Zhong Lingxiu said, “It doesn’t look like an imperial tomb.”

Qu Yang smiled, “Although he was an emperor, he was buried as a marquis. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so easy to get in.”

Western Han, was emperor, marquis, near Poyang Lake… Zhong Lingxiu vaguely recalled, “The Marquis of Haihun?”

Qu Feiyan, clueless, tugged her hand and asked, “Why was the Marquis of Haihun an emperor?”

“He was a Liu descendant, first a feudal lord, then emperor for twenty-seven days supported by Huo Guang, then deposed and finally made Marquis of Haihun,” Zhong Lingxiu explained simply. “Huo Guang was Huo Qubing’s brother—you know Huo Qubing, right?”

“I know, Champion Marquis!” Qu Feiyan exclaimed excitedly. “Feng Wolf Juxu!”

“Exactly.”

Linghu Chong opened his mouth to say something, but seeing their excited faces, he sighed and swallowed his words. @InfiniteGoodStories, all at Jinjiang Literature City

Chatting idly as they climbed the hill, they soon arrived at their destination.

Liu Zhengfeng and Qu Yang began placing explosives.

They detonated it, blasting a hole.

The process was crude and straightforward—a true tomb robbery.

Qu Yang and Liu Zhengfeng went inside, taking Linghu Chong with them.

Zhong Lingxiu, being a girl, was left behind to look after Qu Feiyan.

With nothing else to do, she took out her newly purchased bamboo flute and asked Qu Feiyan to teach her finger positions.

Qu Feiyan had just woken from a nap and was alert. She guided Zhong Lingxiu’s fingers, how to cover holes, how to blow, quickly teaching her the entire scale.

Zhong Lingxiu didn’t understand ancient scores yet. She arranged the do-re-mi scale in her mind and carved numbers onto the flute with a small knife.

Qu Feiyan giggled and chided, “Cheating. Grandpa can’t see this.”

“He doesn’t teach me anyway.” Zhong Lingxiu played the scale twice and then began to blow a couple of familiar tunes from memory.

Unaware, Qu Feiyan was playing the tune “A Laugh Over the Vast Sea” and urged, “I’ll play a phrase; you follow.”

She played a Jiangnan folk tune—light and lively, with a simple melody.

The night breeze blew, tree shadows swayed.

Qu Feiyan put down the flute and suddenly asked, “Why aren’t you leaving yet? I can’t stop you.”

“I want to watch your grandpa, see if he really is a villain, a thorough Demon Cult disciple.” Zhong Lingxiu asked, “Is he?”

Qu Feiyan hesitated, then sighed with maturity, “I don’t know.”

2、

In Qu Feiyan’s memory, the Demon Cult was a vague concept.

She knew her grandpa belonged to the cult and had seen other disciples. Some were hot-tempered, shouting and fighting at the slightest provocation, and some were even killed by others. She had never seen the Eastern Leader or been to Blackwood Cliff. Whenever Qu Yang returned to the main cult, he would entrust her to others. She didn’t know what the leader was like but had seen the Sacred Maiden—an extremely beautiful older sister skilled in qin and xiao who often discussed music with her grandpa.

Beyond that, she didn’t know.

“The Sun Moon Divine Cult’s disciples slaughter innocents and are ruthless, so they are called the Demon Cult. It’s not about being born in the Sun Moon Divine Cult but about their cruel deeds,” Zhong Lingxiu asked curiously, “Or is it that you have to act like this in the cult, or you’ll be ostracized and killed?”

Qu Feiyan shook her head, unaware of the cult’s “corporate culture.”

Zhong Lingxiu didn’t press further—what was the point of confusing a child? “As long as your grandpa doesn’t kill innocents, doesn’t rape or loot, and won’t torture captives, I will neither see nor harm him.”

Qu Feiyan was unconvinced. “I can’t defeat grandpa.”

She added, “Plus Brother Linghu can’t defeat him either.”

“Yes, yes, our martial skills are low and not worth worrying about.” Zhong Lingxiu hugged her, “Sleepy? Lean on me for a while.”

Qu Feiyan shook her head vigorously. “Not sleepy, let’s keep learning the flute.”

“Alright.”

Moonlight wrapped the mountaintop like silk; flute music whimpered softly.

Qu Feiyan lay on her lap and unknowingly fell asleep.

At dawn, Liu Zhengfeng and the others returned, exhausted.

“How did it go?” Zhong Lingxiu asked Linghu Chong.

He dusted his clothes and smiled bitterly, “The tunnels inside twist and turn; it will take two more days to reach the main burial chamber. I never thought I’d have to dig up a tomb one day.”

“Don’t think too much,” Zhong Lingxiu said, “We’ll fill it back properly afterward, so it doesn’t collapse from rain or floods. That would be a sin.”

Linghu Chong nodded, slightly comforted.

“Let’s descend the mountain.”

Liu Zhengfeng found lodging in a nearby village. The “feng shui survey” was a pretense; Zhong Lingxiu suspected the villagers only pretended to believe it. Who would have good sleep in a good house if they spent days snooping around at night? It was obvious they had ill intentions. But ordinary people dared not offend martial artists, so they feigned ignorance.

That didn’t concern Zhong Lingxiu.

She boiled water and called Qu Feiyan to wash up.

“How can you sleep without washing?”

Qu Feiyan, sleepy and swaying, said, “Who’s so picky?”

“I am.” Zhong Lingxiu grabbed her up and handed her a basin. “It’s so hot and we’ve been in the mountains all day. Hurry and wash—do you even know how?”

Qu Feiyan said proudly, “I know how to wash my face!”

“And besides that?”

“Wash my feet!”

“And then?”

“…”

Zhong Lingxiu shook her head. Old men and kids had no sense of hygiene, so she had to teach her step by step.

For the next several days, this routine continued.

They rested and practiced during the day, went up the mountain to dig holes at night, but after over ten days, they had no success.

Liu He’s tomb had no Guangling San. Qu Yang and Liu Zhengfeng lamented for a long time, concluding next time they should pick a scholar’s tomb—scholars were more likely to be buried with music scores than kings or generals.

But that was for later; the urgent task was how to handle the two who knew their secret.

Zhong Lingxiu wanted to return to Mount Heng, still carrying the Evil-Repelling Sword Manual unpracticed. Not going back was perhaps better; she might get closer to the prize Song of Smiling Proud Wanderer. So she suggested, “I’ll accompany Senior Uncle Liu back to Hengyang to learn the flute. But I must be allowed to write a letter back to Mount Heng to report safety. Linghu Chong can return to Mount Hua.”

Linghu Chong disagreed, repeatedly promising he wouldn’t leak anything, but she ignored him.