Chapter 121: Shizun is the Real Zongshi[1]

On the eighth day after Mo Ran left, Xue Zhengyong received the first letter from him.

Messy scrawls on lined stationery that tried their best to be neat, but to no avail.

"I hope this letter finds Uncle well. I'm at Blossom Crossing today, and everything is going well. There was an evil spirit here a couple of days ago, but luckily no one was hurt. I've already taken care of the pesky water spirit, so the ferries are able to come and go safely again. The boatswain paid me five hundred in silver notes, attached here with the letter. Please send Auntie and Shizun my regards."   The hundred twentieth day, and the twenty second letter.

"I hope this letter finds Uncle well. I recently chanced across a high-quality spiritual stone that could be embedded into Xue Meng's Longcheng blade to make it a peerless weapon. It still wouldn't be a holy weapon, but it should make for a fine weapon regardless. Please send Auntie and Shizun my regards." The hundred thirtieth day, and the twenty fourth letter.

"I hope this letter finds Uncle well. Lately I've been cultivating at Snow Valley.

It's always cold here, and there are all kinds of unusual flora, of which the Frost Lotus is the rarest. I didn't have the skills to get past the thousand year ape monster guarding the flower field at first, but I've made good progress in recent days and managed to pick a dozen or so, which I've attached with the letter.

Please send Auntie and Shizun my regards."   ...

The letters often came attached with some small playthings, medicinal herbs,

or spiritual stones.

Aside from writing to Xue Zhengyong, Mo Ran also wrote privately to Shi Mei. The contents of these letters were mostly just about the places he went and the things he saw, asking how he was and reminding him to dress warmly, and other such trivial things.

The brushstrokes on paper were a mess full of mistakes at first, but as time went on, although the handwriting wasn't exactly good-looking, it did gradually straighten into something neat and mature, with fewer and fewer errors.

A year went by in the blink of an eye.

One day, as Xue Zhengyong was savoring the fresh spring tea, another letter from Mo Ran came.

He read the letter with a smile before passing it to Madam Wang, whose lips curled into a smile as well as she read. "His handwriting has certainly gotten better." "Doesn't it look just like a certain someone's?" "Whose?" Xue Zhengyong blew on his tea leaves, then retrieved a copy of "Variorum of Ancient Barriers" from his desk. "Compare it with Yuheng's writing. Seven-parts alike, hm?" Madam Wang looked through the scroll and said with surprise, "It really is." "He took Yuheng as teacher when he first came to Sisheng Peak, after all.

Yuheng had him read on his own at first, but he barely even knew any of the characters, so then Yuheng spent quite some days teaching him, starting with his name, then simple things, and then more complex things." Xue Zhengyong shook his head. "He never did take it seriously back then, always putting down some chicken-scratch just to get it over with, but look at him now, finally learning to write decently." Madam Wang said with a smile, "Going out to see the world is doing him wonders, he seems much more mature now." Xue Zhengyong was smiling as well as he said, "Wonder what he's gonna be like after the five years of travelling around. How old will he be then? Twenty two?" "Twenty two." Xue Zhengyong sighed with a hint of regret. "I thought Yuheng would be able to watch them grow into their twenties, but the heavens had their own plans."

The heavens had their own plans, that's what Mo Ran thought too.

He travelled all over the place, from the misty rains of Jiangnan to the south to the Sanguan Pass of Saibei to the north, sat by the Toulao River and chugged rice wine in the summer, huddled by the campfire and listened to a tune on the Qiang flute in the winter.

Last lifetime, after declaring himself emperor, he had owned all the lands under the skies yet never once took the time to go travel them, to go see the lanterns and fishing boats of the east or the underground aqueducts of the west;

never bothered to notice the dark, toughened, and cracked soles of a porter's feet who carried load-laden poles across cobblestone roads; never stopped to listen to the singing of the young trainees in the opera troupe, their voices pitched like ripping silk, rising into the skies:

"Such brilliant splendor, blooms flourishing abound, against a backdrop desolate, of walls ruined and decrepit…"   He wasn't Taxian-jun anymore, wouldn't ever be Taxian-jun again in this life.

He was—— "Da-gege." Came the tender voice of a child from the bookstore. "Da-gege,

can you save this birdy? Its wing is broken, I, I don't know what to do." "Little Xianjun." Came the old, raspy voice of Shijiu Village's village head.

"Thank you, thank you. All of us here are too old to do anything about evil spirits;

if not for you, we would've had to abandon our homes and go elsewhere. This old one… this old one will never forget Xianjun's kindness for as long as he lives." "Kind person." Came the trembling voice of a beggar woman on the street.

"Kind person, my child and I haven't had a real meal for days, please, won't you be so kind…" Mo Ran closed his eyes.

And opened them again.

Because there was someone calling for him.

"Mo-zongshi." Stung by the form of address, he looked up toward the suntanned bloke calling for him and said with helpless resignation, "I'm no zongshi, that's my Shizun. Please don't call me that anymore." The bloke scratched his head bashfully. "Sorry about that. I know you don't like it, it's just a force of habit cause everyone in the village calls you that." Mo Ran had been staying in a small village near the border of the lower cultivation realm lately. The village was often troubled by snow ghosts, owing to the snowy mountain that towered some kilometers outside. They were only minor nuisances with little spiritual power, and one of Shizun's Holy Night Guardians would have more than sufficed to take care of them, but the village was far too remote for the use of Holy Night Guardians to have spread this far.

And so, with no other choice, Mo Ran could only try to make one himself, following Shizun's diagrams.

He'd failed many times before finally managing to make a Holy Night Guardian. It wasn't as good-looking as Shizun's, or as nimble, but the creaking wooden golem was serviceable.

The people of the backwater village, delighted with this curious new thing,

had started calling him Mo-zongshi. Mo Ran felt nothing but awkwardness at this turn of events.

But the more awkward thing was yet to come.

One particular evening, with half the sky dyed red by the setting sun, he was walking along a busy alleyway by an apricot grove, on his way back from lectures at an academy on Taishan Mountain, when he suddenly heard someone calling.

"Chu-zongshi!" Mo Ran's head whipped around at the name immediately and without thinking, and then he almost wanted to laugh at himself as his brain caught up.

There were plenty of cultivators out there with the surname Chu; he really was getting ahead of himself, to think that his Shizun had somehow woken up already.

Of course not.

He shook his head with a smile and was just about to turn back around when the call came again: "Chu-zongshi!" "..." Holding his pile of books, Mo Ran squinted into the crowd. There was someone waving at him, but the person was too far for him to see his face. He could only vaguely see the clothing and build—it was a young man dressed in blue cultivator garb, with a bow on his back and a wolf by his side.

The person walked over briskly, and the both of them were caught by surprise when they were close enough to see the other's face.

"You're…" "Mo Ran." He reacted before the other did with a simple nod of his head,

since his hands were occupied with the books, and his gaze paused curiously on the young man's face for a moment. "Fancy meeting Nangong-gongzi here."   As it turned out, the one calling him "Chu-zongshi" was none other than the gongzi of Rufeng Sect, Nangong Si.

This guy had died too early in the past life for Mo Ran to have met him back then, but Chu Wanning was different. Chu Wanning used to be a guest instructor at Rufeng Sect, so it was only natural that Nangong Si knew him well. As Mo Ran looked him over, the quiver in Nangong Si's hand caught his eyes.

    It was an old quiver made of cloth, so worn that the camellias embroidered on it had faded in color, their once-vibrant petals yellowed by time, as if even embroidered flowers couldn't escape the fate of wilting away.

Nangong Si was neat and well-dressed, save for that threadbare, visiblypatched quiver. Mo Ran could tell that the quiver was precious to him—after all,

didn't everyone have a couple of sentimental objects? Even the most bodacious person was sure to have memories they held dear.

No one was heartless, however they might appear; nothing was that simple.

Nangong Si's brows furrowed. "Mo Ran… ah, I remember now. Chuzongshi's disciple?" "Mhm." That being the case, Nangong Si's attitude grew somewhat milder, saying, "My bad, your clothing and silhouette looked rather like the zongshi's from a distance, so I thought he had come out of seclusion ahead of time without me knowing." Mo Ran pulled his gaze away from the quiver, tactfully not prying as he replied without missing a beat, "Hearing your yelling earlier, I also thought Shizun had come out of seclusion ahead of time without me knowing." Nangong Si bursted out laughing. Maybe because he was highborn, but even when guffawing so, his handsome features still managed to retain a measure of arrogance. And this arrogance of his was different from Xue Meng's —Xue Meng's arrogance was a conceited pride born of skill and talent, while Nangong Si's was a touch more belligerent, a headstrong, fiery kind of arrogance.

But he was born in the lap of luxury and so the belligerence only made him seem wild and audacious rather than frightening.

Mo Ran couldn't help thinking to himself that Nangong Si really was a spirited stallion[2].

He was still musing when he heard Nangong Si say, "I was absolutely wretched when Chu-zongshi lost his life during the Heavenly Rift. Thankfully he was able to be revived under the great master's guidance. I'll definitely go pay a visit to Sisheng Peak once he wakes up." "We'll be looking forward to it."   Nangong Si waved his hand nonchalantly, and then, noting the books in Mo Ran's hands, asked curiously, "What's Mo-xiong up to?" "Studying." Nangong Si thought that surely he'd be studying some complicated, esoteric scrolls, only to find out on second glance that it was only simple classics like "The Untrammeled Traveler" and "Classic of Rites". He was dumbfounded for a second before saying, "These… these are all fundamental readings, books I've learned by heart since I was little, what're you doing reading these?"   Mo Ran's gaze was even and unashamed as he replied, "When I was little, I didn't even know how to write my own name." "Ahem…" Nangong Si felt a little awkward. "You studying at an academy?" "Yeah. I was collecting spiritual stones for cultivational purposes on Taishan Mountain a little while back, and happened to see that classes were starting at Apricot Grove Academy. I have some free time right now, so I've been going to the lectures." Nangong Si nodded, and seeing that it was getting late, said, "Say, Mo-xiong hasn't had dinner yet, right? Since you're here in Rufeng Sect's province, and Chu-zongshi's disciple to boot, let me be a proper host. I'm actually on my way to a nearby restaurant to meet up with a companion right now, so how about it?

Join us for a drink?"   Mo Ran didn't have any plans anyway, so he said, "I'd be honored[3]" "We're headed to Wuyu Pavilion then, one of Linyi's most famous restaurants. They make the best braised pork intestine[4] out there. You ever heard of them?" Nangong Si chatted as they walked.

"Of course I have." Mo Ran grinned. "They're one of the upper cultivation realm's top restaurants. You sure know how to pick the place, Nangong-gongzi." "I didn't pick the place." "Oh? Who did, then?" "My companion did," Nangong Si replied.

Having already lived through one lifetime, Mo Ran knew some things about the complicated relations in Rufeng Sect. He thought with surprise, though he didn't say it aloud—was Ye Wangxi here as well?

He followed Nangong Si up the stairs, pushing aside the pearl curtain to step into the private booth of the restaurant, and nearly choked when he saw whom it was waiting inside—— It was Song Qiutong, dressed in light silks and standing by the window,

gazing at the peach blossoms outside. She turned around at the sound of them entering, the golden adornments that dangled by her temples swaying gently and catching the light, making her skin seem all the fairer and her lips all the redder, beautiful beyond words.

Mo Ran's foot, mid-step into the room, subconsciously pulled back.

He wondered if it was too late to tell Nangong Si that he didn't like Shandong cuisine, and especially disliked braised pork intestine.

[1] To clarify, the meaning here is that it's Shizun who is the zongshi, as opposed to Mo Ran, who doesn't think himself worthy of the title

[2] Nangong Si's given name, Si 驷 is made up of the characters 马匹 which means horse

[3] The actual phrase used here was 却之不恭 which technically means "It'd be impolite to decline" but it's deeply rooted in the "you gotta at least try to pretend to decline gifts etc" aspect of Chinese culture, and just sounds like he's very reluctant to go in English, so I opted for an acceptance with a more accurate tone instead.

[4] 九转肥肠 braised pork intestine