Chapter 70 It is my honor to know Miss Ji.
After the meal, Achan took Song Yan to the garden behind the house.
The offerings used in yesterday's ceremony were still there, but the flowers in the basket had been blown everywhere and were already wilted. A thick layer of incense ash had settled around the incense burner, but the three stones that Achan had found to replace the ancestral tablets were now broken into pieces on the ground.
Achan stepped forward, picked up a piece of gravel, and rubbed it between her fingers. The gravel was so brittle that it crumbled into pieces.
Achan handed the broken stones in her hand to Song Yan and said to him, "This is the consequence of communicating with the ancestor. I will use that inkstone as a medium to communicate with the ancestor. If the ancestor's consciousness descends, you will suffer great pain. If you can't hold on, you will die immediately. If you hold on, you can steal a little power from the ancestor."
This wasn't a solution Ah Chan came up with casually; the book she took contained a complete record of the sacrificial process and all the necessary preparations.
From making beautiful offerings to preparing various types of incense to communicate with ancestors, every step is meticulously detailed.
Only in exceptional circumstances will they use stones as a medium to communicate with their ancestors; most of the time, they will use the skulls left by their ancestors as a medium for worship.
After being worshipped countless times, those skulls would acquire powerful energy and become legendary magical artifacts.
This proves that each time the ancestor receives offerings, the skull used to communicate with the ancestor gains a portion of the power, which is why Achan dares to do this.
“I understand. Miss Ji, please go ahead and do it. Even if you fail, I can accept the result.” Song Yan understood why A Chan had brought him here and said.
"In that case, I will go and prepare for the sacrifice. The preliminary preparations will take about four days. During this time, Young Master Song should have his own things to do?"
"Yes." Song Yan nodded slightly. "I happen to have some time these few days, and I'm going to visit an old friend."
Achan didn't ask who Song Yan's old friend was, letting him come and go as he pleased.
Song Yanxian returned to the room where he had stayed the day before, while Achan talked to Chen Hui about the sacrificial offerings.
If a second sacrifice is to be held soon after the first one, the quality of the offerings needs to be improved. After all, even ancestors can find it troublesome, so you have to appease them.
She asked Chen Hui to order the heads of the three sacrificial animals, as the weather was too hot to preserve them properly and they could only be picked up on the day of the sacrifice.
Since the Ghost Festival is over, it should be easier to place an order this time. Chen Hui thought for a moment about which stalls she could place an order with, and nodded in agreement.
In addition to the offerings, we also need to make a new batch of incense. However, this time we don't need to make thin incense sticks; we can make thick ones directly, which will save a lot of effort. The ancestors probably won't mind eating from a large bowl instead.
She wrote down the names of the different types of wood needed to make incense and gave them to Chen Hui, so that she could buy them while she was ordering the sacrificial heads.
As for Achan, she needs to learn sacrificial dances at home to increase the chances of summoning her ancestors. After all, she has already promised them, so she should make sure everything goes smoothly.
Achan believed she had a lot of talent for dancing. After all, she was a fox spirit not long ago, with a natural racial talent that made her dance beautiful no matter what she did.
However, the author of that book doesn't seem to have much talent for drawing. The nine dance moves, which Achan used to think resembled some kind of mysterious symbol, were all composed of rhombuses and straight lines.
Later, she read the book many more times before she gradually realized that those might be the movements of a sacrificial dance, and she memorized them all.
Thinking of this, Achan suddenly stopped.
How come she hadn't realized it before? The mysterious symbols emanating from the chains binding her seemed to be the same.
Could those symbols be shamanic script?
Achan was eager to verify this, but she couldn't normally enter a state of inner vision. After several unsuccessful attempts, she gradually calmed down.
Even if she verified it, it wouldn't be of any use, since she didn't recognize the shamanic script. The only thing she could confirm was that the chains might have come from her mother.
The only witch clan member associated with her was her mother.
Achan sat on the rattan chair in the courtyard for a long time, thinking that at least those symbols could prove that her mother had paid attention to her for a moment, right?
After spending half a day in a daze in the courtyard, Achan finally broke free from her low spirits and began to learn the sacrificial dance.
Those movements were quite strange to do. Ah Chan was already weak, and she was panting after practicing for a while, but she still had to persevere.
Once you've mastered the movements, you also need to connect them together so that they at least look pleasing to the eye.
Just as she was practicing repeatedly, Song Yan pushed open the door and came out with a scroll of painting. As soon as he opened the door, he saw A Chan making strange movements. He froze for a moment, unsure whether he should avoid her.
Achan didn't seem to care at all. She stopped what she was doing and asked Song Yan, "Are you going out?"
"Yes, while I still have some free time, I'll go sell a painting."
"Are we going to Boss Xu's place?" Achan asked casually without giving it much thought.
Song Yan shook his head: "No, I will sell this painting myself."
"Okay, be careful on the road."
After saying goodbye to Achan, Song Yan took the painting and walked towards the Heavenly Street.
He used the first money he earned from writing storybooks to buy a piece of information.
Sun Bo'an, a wealthy merchant in the capital, opened a shop on Tianjie Street that specialized in buying and selling calligraphy and paintings. He spent half of each month in this shop.
He happened to be here today as well.
In such a prime location on Tianjie Street, every inch of land is incredibly valuable. Even though this shop isn't large, it still attracts a lot of customers.
Song Yan walked into the shop with the painting scroll in his hand. The shop assistant saw that he was dressed simply and guessed that he must be a frustrated scholar who had heard of their shop's reputation and had come to sell his paintings.
This fellow had seen too many idiots who lacked real skill but always thought their paintings were comparable to masterpieces. Although he felt that Song Yan had a scholarly air about him and might actually have some talent, he dared not make any hasty conclusions.
He stepped forward and politely inquired, "Are you here to sell your paintings?"
Song Yan nodded: "Indeed, I do have a painting to sell. Is the shopkeeper here?"
The waiter didn't answer, but instead asked, "May I take a look first?"
There are plenty of people coming to sell their paintings every day, but he can't call them "boss" every time one comes. Most of the time, he can't even stand the sight of those people's paintings.
Some shops don't even unfurl their paintings if the owner doesn't come out, probably because they think the shop assistants aren't worthy of appreciating their artwork.
Song Yan was easy to talk to; after hearing what the shopkeeper said, he readily unfurled the scroll.
This ink painting depicts layered mountains, with a silver ribbon encircling them, and a small boat drifting downstream. The subject matter is very simple, with large areas of blank space.
The guy couldn't quite put his finger on what was so great about the painting, but after seeing it, he felt much more open-minded.
He looked at Song Yan carefully, cupped his hands in greeting, and became more respectful: "Please wait a moment, young master, I'll go and call the boss right away."
The waiter had only been gone for a short while when Sun Bo'an, dressed in brocade and with a protruding belly, came out with him.
Song Yan recognized Sun Bo'an's face, but Sun Bo'an did not know who he was.
"I heard that you've come to my shop to sell your paintings. May I have the pleasure of appreciating them?" Sun Bo'an's expression was not good, probably because the recent events had made him uneasy. However, he still habitually put on a smile when facing Song Yan.
Song Yan unfolded the painting, and Sun Bo'an came closer to admire it carefully, nodding repeatedly and saying, "Young master's painting skills are amazing."
Technical skill is secondary; the important thing is the artistic conception. He could tell that this young master was extremely talented in painting.
"You flatter me," Song Yan said calmly.
"Is the young master skilled in landscape painting?" Sun Bo'an asked again.
"I am better at painting pine and cypress trees."
Sun Bo'an's eyes lit up. Pine and cypress trees were good; his brother-in-law loved them the most. His brother-in-law's birthday was in a few days, and with his sister's accident, he was uneasy. This was a good opportunity to visit the Duke's mansion.
His Majesty only told my brother-in-law to reflect on his mistakes, and did not send troops to guard the place. I suppose outsiders can also go to the Duke's mansion, right?
Thinking of this, Sun Bo'an asked, "How much does the young master want for this painting?"
"Fifty taels of silver."
Sun Bo'an shook his head: "The artistic conception is good, but the painting is too small. The price is a bit high. Young master is not famous yet. It is already good that a painting can sell for twenty taels of silver."
"It seems the owner isn't really interested in buying the painting, so let's leave it at that."
Seeing that Song Yan was about to pack up the painting and leave, Sun Bo'an quickly stopped him: "Young master, don't be in such a hurry. How about this, I'll take the fifty taels of silver as a token of friendship."
Song Yan turned around but didn't speak immediately, seemingly waiting for him to continue.
Sun Bo'an knew in his heart that this was not someone who could be easily fooled, so he could only continue, "I would like to ask you to paint a picture of an old pine tree. If your painting meets my requirements, the price is negotiable."
After a moment's hesitation, Song Yan nodded under Sun Bo'an's expectant gaze: "Okay."
He tucked the fifty taels of silver notes from the sale of the painting into his pocket, and the two agreed on a time to deliver the painting before saying goodbye to each other.
When they said goodbye, both of them had smiles on their faces.
Since that day when he went out, Song Yan has not left the house again.
The weather has been hot lately, so the windows of his house are often open. When Achan is practicing dancing in the yard, she can occasionally see him painting at the table.
Today is the fourth day, and Achan's dance movements are already very skillful, no longer as awkward as when she first started practicing on the first day.
After she finished practicing the sacrificial dance for the last time, a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead. She turned around and saw Song Yan standing up inside the room, stretching out his arms and unfolding a painting.
Out of curiosity, Achan walked over and asked him, "What did Young Master Song paint this time?"
Song Yan put the painting back on the table and replied, "It's a painting of an old pine tree, intended for a birthday celebration."
Is anyone celebrating a birthday?
Song Yan smiled and said, "Yes, someone's birthday is coming up."
"The sacrificial ceremony begins tomorrow. Will Young Master Song send out the painting today?"
Song Yan shook his head: "It's not the right time yet. Let's talk about it after the ceremony."
Seeing that he had his own plans, Achan didn't say anything more.
The next morning, just after dawn, Chen Hui drove his carriage out and soon returned home carrying the cleaned heads of the three sacrificial animals.
Achan rarely gets up early, and she kept yawning while setting out the offerings.
This time, she at least set up an offering table, with an inkstone on it, followed by an incense burner, and then offerings below.
In addition, Hui Niang also brought over a small drum and a zither, which she had bought yesterday.
There should always be music to accompany a ritual dance.
Fortunately, Song Yan could play the piano and compose music. She even composed a piece specifically for her dance, and Chen Hui only needed to play the drums.
As the sun rose into the sky, Achan lit three incense sticks about the thickness of a finger and inserted them into the incense burner.
As the smoke rose, the sound of drums began, followed by the sound of a zither.
The music in Song Yanpu, when played, has a desolate and remote feel to it. When paired with the sound of drums, it makes people feel as if they are in the wilderness.
As the drumbeats began, Achan raised her head and arms, and started the ritual.
Twelve is an auspicious number, and the sacrificial dance is performed a full twelve times.
As she was jumping for the fifth time, a cracking sound suddenly came from the offering table; Song Yan had suddenly played a wrong note.
But he didn't stop; he continued playing without changing his expression.
Achan was dancing with complete concentration, without the slightest distraction. Chen Hui glanced at Song Yan and noticed that his face looked somewhat ferocious, with veins bulging on his forehead, as if he were enduring pain.
As the ninth sacrificial dance ended, Chen Hui heard the same clicking sound four or five times already, while blood was already seeping from the corner of Song Yan's lips.
His playing was occasionally flawed, but fortunately, Achan was already familiar with the rhythm and could dance simply by following the drumbeats.
When the twelfth sacrificial dance ended, Achan finally stopped. She was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and her heart was pounding like a drum.
Song Yan had already stopped playing the zither; his hands were clasped on the table as he endured a continuous, intense pain washing over his entire body.
Achan turned to look at the offering table; during the time she had been performing the sacrificial dance, the incense had almost burned to the bottom.
It seems her dance truly pleased the ancestors, even increasing the speed at which she absorbed incense offerings.
Achan peered at the inkstone placed at the front of the offering table. Six clear cracks appeared on the inkstone, which looked as if it was about to break at any moment, yet it seemed to have undergone a transformation. The dark inkstone was now covered with a layer of lustrous halo, but that halo was very thin and seemed to disappear at any time.
After that, Achan stood quietly to the side and waited until the incense in the incense burner burned out completely. She turned to look at Song Yan, whose pain had faded and whose breathing had become steady.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
Song Yan subconsciously looked at his hands, then looked up at A Chan and smiled, "This is the first time I've felt so strong."
He could feel that he could leave this body at any time without worrying about dissipating immediately, and he also possessed some powers that he had never had before.
That wasn't his power; it was the power of the ancestor that Achan spoke of.
"The effects of this ritual will likely last for seven to ten days, you..."
“That’s enough.” Song Yan interrupted A Chan before she could finish speaking. “Thank you, Miss Ji.”
"No need for thanks." The joy brought by the successful sacrifice gradually faded after speaking with Song Yan. Achan knew that after today, they might never see each other again.
Song Yan returned to the room where he had stayed for four days to pack his things. Actually, there wasn't much to pack; he only took the book box containing his writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone, as well as the painting of the ancient pine tree that he had finished.
When he finished packing and left the room, Achan had changed into clean clothes and stood in the courtyard with Chen Hui, seemingly to see him off.
As Song Yan descended the steps, he smiled at A Chan: "Miss Ji, I left the painting you requested in the room. The other painting is for Mr. Wen. If you ever meet Mr. Wen in the future, please give it to him as a parting gift."
“Okay,” Achan replied.
"The remaining calligraphy is for Boss Xu. If Boss Xu and Mr. Wen ask about my whereabouts in the future, Miss Ji can say that I have returned to my hometown." After saying this, Song Yan pressed one hand to her heart, feeling her heartbeat. "He is not an ambitious person. I left all the money I earned to him. I think he will take the money and return to his hometown to live a simple and prosperous life."
Achan nodded; Song Yan had already arranged everything.
"I am leaving today. It has been my honor to have met Miss Ji." Song Yan bowed deeply to A Chan.
"I am also very happy to meet Young Master Song."
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