Nan Yan waited patiently outside the meditation hall, thinking the prince was being too pompous. She was about to leave when she heard the prince speak from inside.
“Since you’re a master of the ‘True’ generation, I’ll allow three-quarters of an hour.”
“Thank you,” Nan Yan sighed in relief. Fortunately, Master Chiku’s seniority was high. The ‘True’ generation belonged to the third generation of direct disciples from Chou Mountain and Brahma Sea, giving her request some weight.
As she entered the hall, she didn’t notice Song Zhu’s face contorting.
“What am I saying? Three-quarters of an hour? Why didn’t I say three days and nights?” he thought to himself.
Nan Yan felt the prince’s overwhelming presence, causing her to tread carefully. Passing by him, she noticed his unwavering gaze. She bowed slightly, lifted her robes, and knelt beside the wooden fish near the incense altar. As she grasped the mallet, the prince suddenly raised his sword, startling her.
Nan Yan thought her second brother was right about Weizhou’s famed sword cultivators. The prince’s eyes never left his sword, and his aloof expression suggested he was wholly devoted to the Dao and unlikely to pay her any attention.
She began reciting the Heart Sutra in a low voice.
Seven steps away, Song Zhu was rigid with tension. Despite having formed his core years ago, cold sweat ran down his back. He appeared to be staring at his beloved sword but was watching the Buddhist nun through its reflection.
“She’s so beautiful,” he thought.
Two-quarters of an hour passed quickly. Seeing the incense nearly burnt out, Song Zhu felt anxious and flustered. After adjusting his internal energy, he spoke stiffly.
“When are you leaving?”
Song Zhu froze after speaking.
“Didn’t I want to ask if she’d like to stay longer? What am I saying?!”
Nan Yan stopped striking the wooden fish, thinking the prince was difficult to converse with. But she wasn’t one to give up easily. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I’ve overstayed my welcome and should leave. However, this humble nun is here on my master’s request to understand the qin’s past. Despite listening for so long, I still don’t grasp its meaning. Since the prince has been meditating here for a while, may I boldly ask if you could explain the qin’s meaning that puzzles me?”
Since becoming a Buddhist cultivator, Nan Yan’s cultivation path didn’t seek to break through the void and ascend to immortality. Instead, she aimed to cut through worldly obstacles. Thus, Buddhist precepts didn’t greatly restrict her. As the Blood-Handed Guanyin, she wasn’t above using deception when necessary, and her words were a fabrication.
The qin conveys emotions, but Song Zhu misheard her words.
“Your feelings?” he thought.
Song Zhu’s face turned red. He closed his eyes and said, “Say that again.”
“…”
From Nan Yan’s perspective, Song Zhu started frowning when she asked her question. His expression even became somewhat fierce, and his face reddened with anger. His request to repeat herself seemed to be said through gritted teeth.
“Did I say something wrong? Is this prince’s temper so volatile?” she wondered.
Nan Yan was undefeated against demon cultivators of her level or slightly above, but she wasn’t without self-awareness. The princes of various realms were the cream of the crop, nurtured by the upper realms. She dared not provoke him too much.
Left with no choice, she stood to leave. “This humble nun has offended you. I’ll take my leave now.”
Perhaps it was her imagination, but Song Zhu’s face seemed to pale after she spoke.
Nan Yan quickly stepped out of the hall. Remembering that Qi Yang had wanted to see the qin, she added, “This humble nun is staying at Panyin Temple. If the prince wishes to meet, I’ll be waiting with tea on the back mountain.”
Fearing his angry expression, she hurried away.
As the last incense stick burned out, Song Zhu put down his sword and placed both hands on the ground. His mood was… quite elated.
“I managed to get a date with such a beautiful female cultivator. Master, it seems I performed well.”
…
Most of the meditation rooms on Panyin Temple’s back mountain were empty, as many monks were on pilgrimages.
Nan Yan encountered a few monks on her way. Opening the door to a meditation room, she found Qi Yang waiting. He put down the Buddhist scripture he had been casually reading and looked her up and down. “Were you rejected?” he asked.
“That prince was terrifying,” Nan Yan sat down, still somewhat scared. “I should have listened to Second Brother. Just being near him for two-quarters of an hour, I felt like I was affecting his sword-drawing speed.”
“Oh? How did he react?”
Nan Yan replied shamefully, “I was afraid he might hit me if I stayed longer, so I excused myself… Shao Cang, there’s a barrier protecting Panyin Temple. I didn’t see you enter through the main gate. How did you get in?”
Qi Yang explained, “I claimed to be a disciple of Daosheng Heaven and acquainted with you. They let me in.”
Nan Yan often suspected he hadn’t lost his memory, but whenever she asked, he revealed nothing. She wanted to question him further but remembered that she had insisted he join them on this journey. She decided to wait until they parted ways to resolve her doubts.
“Anyway,” Nan Yan continued, “the abbot knows my Master Chiku and was quite accommodating. He said the sacred qin was a gift from Zizhou and didn’t belong to the temple. In the past, people have come asking for it, and the temple doesn’t necessarily forbid it. However, the sacred qin has a spirit, and those who move it carelessly will suffer a backlash.”
Qi Yang nodded, picking up the Buddhist scripture again. “Both ‘Listening to Madness’ and ‘Drunken Illness’ belonged to qin masters. Even without an owner, ‘Drunken Illness’ won’t submit to mediocre hands. To claim it, one would likely need to pass some tests.”
Nan Yan suggested, “Since you say that, why not give it a try? I can accompany you on the wooden fish.”
“…”
The Dao of the qin wasn’t Qi Yang’s forte, but his former status had required him to master all six arts of a gentleman. He wasn’t afraid of the ‘Drunken Illness’ test because he had played this qin before when someone taught him.
Back then, his teacher had not yet lost their heart.
“Shao Cang?”
Qi Yang pulled back his wandering thoughts and said, “The temple has an agreement with the Weizhou prince, allowing him to monopolize the sacred qin for three months of meditation. While the monks are accommodating, persuading the prince won’t be easy.”
Nan Yan, upon hearing this, said, “We can’t wait three months. I’ll invite the prince for tea to discuss the Way and build a friendship. If he doesn’t come tonight, I’ll persuade him again tomorrow. If that fails, I’ll try once more the day after.”
Qi Yang listened intently to her chatter, then suddenly reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Ah Yan,” he said softly.
“Yes?” Nan Yan looked up.
“You’re no longer a child. You’ve disciplined yourself through Buddhist practices, but how many worldly men could withstand such persistent persuasion?”
Nan Yan fell silent, suddenly aware of Qi Yang leaning in closer, his voice low near her ear.
“Even I can get angry.”
A realization dawned on Nan Yan. She had always seen Qi Yang as an older brother, but if he truly had amnesia, her clingy behavior since their reunion on the whale ship must have seemed like that of a frivolous nun with impure thoughts.
Her feelings for Shao Cang, once admiration in her youth, had transformed into remorse after their parting in the Filthy Valley. Her attempts to stay close to him now were merely to converse and help him recover lost memories.
But what did Shao Cang think? He seemed more genuine before, but now, after spending time together, he remained unable to be truly honest.
As the atmosphere grew tense, Nan Yan sensed a presence outside the meditation room. The visitor stood silently at the door.
“It’s the prince… he came,” Nan Yan observed. Noticing it wasn’t yet dark outside, she quickly pushed Qi Yang behind a folding screen.
Qi Yang sighed, “If only I had kept my silence earlier. Now that I’ve spoken, the past is forgotten.”
Nan Yan pushed him further behind the screen, urging, “Hide yourself with the silver shark pearl. Don’t say another word.”
“Why?” he asked.
After several attempts to speak, Nan Yan finally blurted out, “…You’re disrupting my spiritual practice!”
As she turned to open the door, she thought she heard a soft chuckle behind her.
Nan Yan took a deep breath of cool air to compose herself, reassuming her serene expression. She opened the door: “Prince, I’m honored that you’ve accepted my invite—”
Before she could finish, a gust of sword energy swept past her. To her surprise, the prince of Wei Zhou had begun practicing swordplay in her courtyard.
‘Indeed, he’s obsessed with the sword, practicing anywhere at any time,’ she thought.
Nan Yan quietly closed the door, doubting what she’d seen. When the sound of swordplay ceased, she reopened it. This time, the prince stood normally at the entrance.
Song Zhu, having calmed his nerves with a sword routine, stood stiffly and said, “Venerable Master Zhen Yuan, Song has arrived as promised.”
Nan Yan nearly lost her composure. “What did you call me, Prince?”
Song Zhu, who had inquired about the proper address from the temple’s monks, hesitated. “Is that incorrect?”
Nan Yan gave him a complex look before inviting him in.
Song Zhu sat formally, watching Nan Yan in her white Buddhist robe pour tea with graceful movements. His heart softened as if immersed in warm water.
Despite feeling flustered by the conversation, Nan Yan persevered. “This tea, from Fan Zhou, is unique. It grows near lotus ponds. When processed, the leaves resemble black jade, yet the brew is like green jade. It’s called ‘Pre-Lotus Black Jade.’ Does it meet your approval, Prince?”
Song Zhu, feeling obliged to compliment it, lifted the cup and said, “It’s good tea.”
“What’s good about it?” Nan Yan probed.
Song Zhu answered honestly, “It’s… very green.”
To avoid further awkward exchanges, Nan Yan abandoned her gradual approach and addressed the main topic directly.
“Prince, do you know the origin of the ‘Drunken Illness’ in the temple?”
“Yes,” Song Zhu replied, avoiding her gaze and staring at the folding screen. “It belonged to the Celestial Ruler of Dao Sheng Tian. Decades ago, I had the honor of meeting the World Teacher with my master. When he played, it could summon a hundred cranes to sing.”
Nan Yan, noticing Song Zhu’s fixed gaze on the screen, worried that the silver shark pearl had failed to conceal Qi Yang. Desperate to prevent discovery, she leaned forward across the tea table, speaking rapidly.
“To be frank, I have a brother who loves string instruments. He wishes to play the Great Way’s music for you. Would you allow him to try?”
Song Zhu felt as if he were being roasted alive, aware of Nan Yan’s faint incense and her proximity.
‘Master, I’m nervous,’ he thought. ‘Last year, a diviner from Dao Sheng Tian predicted I’d meet my destined partner this year. Could this be…?’
“If you’re uncomfortable, Prince, please say so. If there are any conditions, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to persuade you.”
As Nan Yan anxiously watched Song Zhu’s intense gaze on the screen, just as he seemed about to nod, a sudden tremor shook the temple as if something had struck its barrier.
Song Zhu stood abruptly. “Is someone trying to break in and steal the sacred zither?”
Nan Yan extended her spiritual sense and detected over a hundred powerful auras approaching the temple.
“Chen Zhou seeks those who trespassed in the Linglong Capital ruins. We request the abbot’s cooperation!”
A swordsman who had accompanied Song Zhu from Wei Zhou rushed in. “Prince, the prince of Chen Zhou has arrived, demanding to enter and apprehend someone… It seems one of them is Master Zhen Yuan.”
Before Nan Yan could explain, Song Zhu, enraged, drew his sword. “Chen Zhou has always been tyrannical, especially this newly appointed Prince Mu Zhanting. He’s gone too far. Don’t worry, Master. I’ll teach him a lesson.”
With the characteristic speed of a swordsman, he flew out on his sword, leaving a shocked Nan Yan behind.
‘Newly appointed prince? Mu Zhanting?’ she thought, bewildered.