Shen Mo: “……”

Bai Youwei: “……”

Du Lai: “……”

Fu Miaoxue: “……”

After the old scholar had repeated “not by improper means” a full ten times, Shen Mo asked: “Does anyone remember what comes after this line?”

Du Lai looked at Fu Miaoxue.

Fu Miaoxue rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me. I only know the first two sections!”

Shen Mo looked at Bai Youwei.

Bai Youwei let out an irritable sigh. “Fine. I know it.”

Du Lai and Fu Miaoxue exchanged bewildered glances.

Shen Mo said to them: “Wait here for a moment.”

“Where are you going?” Du Lai asked, puzzled.

“Outside.” Shen Mo glanced down at Bai Youwei and said calmly, “We need to have a quick discussion.”

He pushed Bai Youwei out through the second gate.

Du Lai was still puzzling over this when he heard, faintly, the sound of muffled voices from beyond the gate — as though an old man, his voice heavy with gravity, was sighing: “Ah — this is a middle school required text…”

“I never attended middle school!” Bai Youwei’s voice drowned him out.

The old man went quiet.

Fu Miaoxue clutched Du Lai’s arm in alarm and whispered, “How terrifying~ Where did another old man come from…”

Du Lai frowned, staring at the doorway.

A few seconds passed, and then an elderly voice rang out clearly from beyond the gate:

“Life is dear to me; that which I desire exceeds life itself, and therefore I would not take life by improper means. Death is what I abhor; that which I abhor exceeds death itself, and therefore there are disasters I would not avoid!”

The old scholar inside the gate paused, then continued with the next line:

“If what people desire were nothing more than life, then why would anyone not use any available means to preserve it?”

The old man outside replied with full resonance:

“If what people abhor were nothing more than death, then why would anyone not do whatever is necessary to avoid calamity?”

The old scholar recited:

“And yet there are those who could preserve their lives but choose not to do so; and those who could avoid disasters but choose not to!”

The old man answered:

“Therefore there are things one desires more than life, and things one abhors more than death!”

“It is not only the virtuous who hold this in their hearts…”

“All people hold it — only the virtuous are those who do not lose it!”

Two old men, together as one —

One with passion and conviction!

The other with fervent force!

One’s voice ringing with crisp clarity!

The other’s voice flowing with graceful resonance!

In this eerie ancient residence, the two old men recited *Fish Is What I Desire* together from start to finish, complete and unabridged, with burning intensity!

Fu Miaoxue was scared half to death.

In the middle of the night, having two old men recite poetry at her — that was absolutely terrifying!

At last it was finished. The old scholar let out three booming laughs:

“Wonderful! Wonderful! My guests are so brilliant and well-read, so learned and eloquent, so full of wisdom and culture — I am most deeply impressed! What a great honor to receive you all here today in this humble home!”

He clasped his hands together and bowed to them: “Please come in, come in — come in quickly—”

He said this and then, with a loud clap, pushed open both doors to the main hall!

Fu Miaoxue let out a short, sharp scream — then launched herself entirely into Du Lai’s arms!

Du Lai’s face looked worse than hers!

(After all, he was not a doll — his expressions were more vivid.)

For inside the main hall, every lamp blazed brilliantly! A long table the color of deep red blood stood in the center, with offerings of fruit and incense candles arranged in the middle. Two tall-backed chairs stood on either side, each occupied by a paper effigy!

Both effigies had been made from white paper, painted with the darkest of eyes and the reddest of mouths, and dressed in vivid, brilliantly colored paper garments!

The old scholar, white-haired and stooped, bowed toward the two paper effigies and said: “Father, Mother — guests have come from far away. I have invited them in to sit for a while.”

Fu Miaoxue locked her arms around Du Lai’s neck and refused to let go. If she had still been a living person, she surely would have been crying by now.

Du Lai was nearly strangled.

Shen Mo and Bai Youwei returned, saw the paper effigies in the main hall, and their expressions shifted.

The old scholar finished addressing the paper effigies, walked back out, and stood in the doorway, bowing to all four of them: “Honored guests, please come in—”