M49S Vol 1 Chapter 21. The Sound Of Strings

Once the mask was torn off, there was no point in trying to paste it back on. Wang Ziling knew there was no getting out of this today, no matter what. So he steeled himself, lifted his head, puffed out his chest, and said, “Do I need to report to you where I’m going?”

Someone across from him snapped, “You know you’re the young master, yet in the secret realm you still turned on Cousin Zi’an while he was down!”

“That’s right. Were you hoping something would happen to him? He’s never treated you badly!”

Here it came. The very thing Wang Ziling feared most.

He knew full well that Wang Zi’an had always treated him decently. In fact, because of the quiet exclusion Wang Ziling faced within the clan, Wang Zi’an often went out of his way to look after him. If he could choose, Wang Ziling wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to him either.

But—

“But I only told the truth. The qilin plate was in Eldest Cousin’s hands. If that’s not explained clearly, is he supposed to take the fall for it? Tell me, are we really going to let our Wang clan be scorned and whispered about behind our backs?”

His voice suddenly rose. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want Wang Zi’an to be clean-handed in all this. He had hoped Wang Zi’an truly knew nothing.

But Wang Zi’an was the Grand Elder’s direct grandson. Wang Ziling didn’t dare imagine what the future might hold.

Wang Ziqian looked at him quietly. Only now did he realize he had always underestimated this so-called useless cousin. But what he couldn’t understand was who had given Wang Ziling the nerve to suddenly start throwing around the weight of a young master.

“Cousin,” Wang Ziqian asked, “then have you found anything out?”

Wang Ziling was at a loss for words. He had been in a hurry to find Miss Yun, and after returning to the manor, he had gone straight to search for Uncle Chai. He hadn’t had time to look into anything about the Third Elder. Now, under Wang Ziqian’s unrelenting gaze, he felt as if he were being crushed.

And for the first time, he saw his own incompetence with perfect clarity.

If he hadn’t spent these past years hiding from everything, and had instead taken time to build up some forces of his own, he wouldn’t be so helpless now.

Wang Ziqian pressed him again. “The Third Elder is still missing. Lord Jin from Wuhou Manor is pressing us hard. If the Knock upon the Immortal Gate is affected because of this, how do you think others will view the Wang clan of Langya? Do you have a solution, Cousin?”

The boy was only around fifteen, his face like polished jade. Even with his clothes stained from the secret realm, he still carried an air of nobility. That unflinching questioning struck straight at the heart, making Wang Ziling want to shrink back, step by step, until he could disappear into a place untouched by moonlight.

Wang Ziling took a deep breath, forcing himself to control the way his body trembled. “Of course there’s a solution. I’m on my way out to handle it right now. Move aside.”

Faced with Wang Ziqian, all Wang Ziling could do was act tough.

“Why are you blocking me here? You want to hit me or something?” His voice grew louder and louder, cutting through the quiet night with reckless defiance.

“You—” The youths behind Wang Ziqian instantly bristled with anger, but none of them had expected Wang Ziling to lash out like this.

“What, not satisfied with me? Want to beat up your young master?”

Wang Ziqian lowered his gaze and said nothing. The rest were filled with fury. One of them even rolled up his sleeves and stepped forward, and Wang Ziling’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

If it came to a real fight, he stood no chance.

But this was the Wang clan of Langya, a family with a legacy of a thousand years, known for its scholarly heritage. How could they lay a hand on their young master so easily? What happened to clan rules?

Wang Ziling quietly wiped his sweaty palm and took a small step back without drawing attention to it. “I’m the young master, and you actually dare lay hands on me?”

Dear heavens, I had shouted loud enough to shake the rooftops, even channeling qi into it. Surely the entire neighborhood had heard him by now.

Wang Ziqian and his group froze at the sound of his voice, which rang out loud as a bell. A few of the younger ones turned red in the face trying to hold back, until one finally muttered, “Shameless.”

Wang Ziling glared, breathing hard like an ox. Live with shame or die with pride? He would take shame.

Just then, heaven seemed to answer his call. The cultivators from Ruizhu had returned from Chanhua Tower.

From far off, Xu Mengyin had already heard the wailing shout and was leading her people toward the source with a furrowed brow. She had no intention of interfering in other clans’ business, but with such a tragic cry, walking away would go against Ruizhu’s ways.

Wang Ziling was overjoyed. But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, he saw Wang Ziqian already standing politely to the side, hands at his sides, respectful in demeanor.

Wang Ziling nearly cursed aloud.

So when Xu Mengyin arrived, she saw one young man pretending to stay calm while gnashing his teeth, a group of incensed youths, and a silent, well-behaved Wang Ziqian. Her gaze dimmed slightly, but she said nothing.

“Senior Sister Xu.” Wang Ziling quickly greeted her. He had no idea if this would help turn things around.

With Xu Mengyin there, Wang Ziling was able to leave the Wang manor without incident. But once outside, he found himself at a loss.

Go find Meng Qiqi? But could he really bypass all the eyes and ears around Chanhua Tower and reach Meng Qiqi unnoticed?

The moonlit street felt unbearably cold, and that cold seeped into his chest. Yet oddly, his thoughts had never been so clear.

There were too many people watching Chanhua Tower. He couldn’t go to Meng Qiqi now. He had to think. Think carefully.

Yes, he had to think carefully.

---

Early the next morning.

After getting up and changing clothes, Meng Qiqi sent Chen Boyan to have breakfast prepared. He then ground some ink and began writing at the desk in his room. A short while later, before Chen Boyan returned, Xiao Yu’er arrived.

“Master.” Xiao Yu’er was dressed today in the pale blue gauze robes of Gushan. Even his eyeoatch had been replaced with a plain one. The small boy looked fresh and charming, putting Meng Qiqi in a very good mood.

“Come here,” Meng Qiqi beckoned.

Xiao Yu’er ran over and tilted his head up just enough for Meng Qiqi to stroke his cheek. “Master, last night Wang Ziling went to Lion Street to meet someone. Just like you expected, someone followed him afterward. But I took care of it.”

“Good boy.” Meng Qiqi patted his head. “Do you like the new clothes I picked out for you?”

“I do,” Xiao Yu’er said with a nod.

Meng Qiqi lowered his head and bumped foreheads with him. “That’s good. My little Yu’er should be dressed up nice and pretty, like a little celestial boy.”

Hearing such praise, Xiao Yu’er shyly looked down. His cheeks were pink, and there was laughter in his eyes. Meng Qiqi sighed, “Silly disciple,” and handed him a note. “Give this to your Brother Qingya in a bit.”

“Okay!” Encouraged by the compliment, Xiao Yu’er’s voice grew much louder.

At that moment, Chen Boyan pushed the door open and entered, carrying trays of steaming, fragrant breakfast. His eyes casually swept over the note in Xiao Yu’er’s hand.

Xiao Yu’er didn’t notice. Standing on tiptoe, he peered at the trays in Chen Boyan’s hands. After running around all night, he was starving. Meng Qiqi pulled him over to sit and eat together. As he helped Xiao Yu’er set out the bowls and chopsticks, Chen Boyan watched, feeling that this version of Meng Qiqi was far removed from the one he had seen in the secret realm.

This Meng Qiqi looked peaceful and gentle. The pale blue gauze robes draped over him, paired with that dark, flowing hair, suited him perfectly.

When Meng Qiqi glanced back and saw him staring in a daze, he gave a quiet laugh. “Still standing there? Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Thank you, Little Martial Uncle.” Chen Boyan snapped out of it and sat down. In the private room scented faintly with plum blossoms, the only sound left was Xiao Yu’er slurping his porridge.

The Wang clan’s breakfast was both refined and delicious. Xiao Yu’er had never eaten food like this before. He was so happy that both legs were swinging under the table.

From time to time, he also sneaked glances at his master, then at Senior Brother. When Master was happy, so was he.

One incense stick later, it was the hour of Chenshi ¹辰時: the time period from 7 to 9 AM

Young cultivators were rarely lazy by nature. By now, most of them were already up. The fragrance of breakfast overpowered even the scent of plum blossoms, wafting throughout the entire Chanhua Tower. As the cultivators passed each other, they exchanged casual greetings, lending a rare air of peace and harmony to the morning.

Before long, music once again drifted up from downstairs, and a light sprinkling of flower petals fell into their teacups, imbuing the scene with elegance and charm.

Everyone was occupied with their own affairs, but the moment the door to a certain private room on the fifth floor opened, more than half of those present instinctively lifted their heads in unspoken understanding.

The one who appeared wore a robe of sky-blue gauze that floated like mist, reflecting the Gushan Sword style’s trademark simplicity. Only the frost-colored sash at his waist, embroidered with a design of a crane rising through the clouds, quietly hinted at his distinguished identity.

It was the Little Martial Uncle of Gushan. Meng Qiqi.

Many cultivators had gone back last night to think things over and concluded that Meng Qiqi must have been wearing a human-skin mask. Otherwise, how could he have hidden his identity so thoroughly? They preferred this explanation, after all, a Little Martial Uncle of Gushan couldn’t possibly look so plain.

Everyone had been waiting to see Meng Qiqi’s true face, to judge whether he looked the part, or whether his appearance might drag down Gushan’s name.

But a veil hat concealed him from view. The sheer white gauze swayed gently, hiding Meng Qiqi’s face from sight. Only his long black hair, tied back with a jade crown, slipped down past the edge of the veil.

Mysterious and distant.

But the more obscured something was, the more it tempted the eye. Curious glances grew bold and heated, and even those who hadn’t cared before now craned their necks to catch a glimpse. In no time, Meng Qiqi had become the focal point of Chanhua Tower.

His understated attire somehow made him shine even brighter than the cinnabar plum blossoms in full bloom.

Meng Qiqi slowly curled his lips into a smile, hands folded behind his back as he descended the stairs unhurriedly. His pace was slow, but steady. In just a short while, he glided out of Chanhua Tower like a drifting cloud. Chen Boyan and another female disciple, Qing Gu, followed behind him closely. No one knew where they were headed.

The cultivators glanced at each other. Soon, some of them began filing out of the tower as well, quietly following Meng Qiqi’s steps into the streets of Jinling.

There were still two days left until the competition. The Ten Miles of Qinhuai had only just begun to stir from last night’s revelry. A scholar with a jade-like face stepped out from a boat, a street vendor appeared from the cobbled alleyways with baskets on his shoulder, and newly bloomed flowers, still wet with dew, caught the attention of ladies in embroidered towers.

But none of them knew yet that the immortals who had descended with the morning light would soon stir up storms and legends across the city of Jinling.

At the Xianfeng Teahouse, where nobles and outlaws mingled freely, a man was perched on a stool, tea kettle in hand, animatedly telling a tale. When asked what it was about, he answered. “Winds rise, clouds surge. Jinling stirs.”

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  辰時: the time period from 7 to 9 AM