Chapter 27: Insisting on an Invitation
The ornately decorated opera stage stands on a certain street in Bianjing, its low and noisy shops on either side merely insignificant embellishments. It cannot compare to the bustling Imperial Street, so once someone enters this main street, its painted beams and carved rafters rise in splendor, and the sounds of string and wind instruments fill the air, making it impossible to look anywhere else.
The lingering notes of famous actors and actresses drifted from behind the pearl-encrusted screens, clear as pearls falling onto a porcelain plate. They sang an unknown scene, the ambiguous and illusory glow a backdrop of fluttering red silk, the poignant and melodious operatic singing set against an backdrop of overwhelming wealth, the air thick with the scent of worldly pleasures. Passersby, oblivious to the common folk, mingled beneath the covered walkways, their laughter and conversation seemingly a dream of Luo Ze. They feared that if this grand structure were to collapse, they would all be reduced to dust.
Xie Huailing sank into the chair by the window, resting her head on the railing. She occupied the best spot, watching the entire performance below. The servants around her came and went like migratory birds, always on their way to her orders and then relaying the latest news back.
She wasn't there to watch a play; it was just that this theater, recently taken from Jin Banhua, was a place she had to be at today. Having received Su Mengzhen's instructions, Xie Huailing delayed her departure for a long time, searching for Di Feijing's figure among the files and movements of the Six and a Half Hall. It was hard to say, but spending time watching a man was a new experience for her.
Di Feijing was hard to find. After reviewing the case file, Xie Huailing roughly understood why Yang Wuxie, who could penetrate the White Tower Palm, had repeatedly failed in his battles against Di Feijing. He was a cautious and intelligent man, very good at hiding himself in the shadows. All the actions of the Six and a Half Hall were his camouflage. Unfortunately, this kind of thing had always been Xie Huailing's strength.
She knew perfectly well that chasing him was pointless; playing cat and mouse was too time-consuming, and Xie Huailing wasn't prepared to waste half a month on him. The most direct and straightforward method was to force Di Feijing out. Di Feijing was very clever, but there were too few people as clever as him in the Six and a Half Hall. If a situation arose that Lei Gun and Lei Hen couldn't handle, and the bad news couldn't be reported to Lei Sun, he would have to take action.
Once a move is made, it leaves a trace, making it easier to trace the person's movements.
So what Xie Huailing is doing now is exactly that; to put it simply, she is imitating Su Mengzhen.
Following the command strategies Su Mengzhen had employed in past conflicts, at this crucial moment when Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou was vying for a new territory with Liu Fen Ban Tang, in a place Liu Fen Ban Tang was unaware had been acquired by Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou, she waited until the alleyway fight was about to end. The new territory wasn't particularly close to either Jin Feng Xi Yu Lou's or Liu Fen Ban Tang's lands, yet she was determined to stay here; she refused to believe Di Fei Jing would remain in Liu Fen Ban Tang's territory.
Having laid out so much, let's return to the present moment. The servants who kept returning to report vanished from their obsequious manner as soon as they entered the room, bowing low and whispering a few words in her ear.
Xie Huailing's drowsiness vanished instantly, and she spoke to the servants, saying, "Then let's set off."
.
The scene quickly changed; although it was still a theater, it was now a different one.
This one was more rustic, not flaunting its wealth as if eager for everyone to know it. The tables and chairs had a slightly aged feel, exuding the fragrance of wood, making it more understated and low-key. The owner of the building descended from the second floor the moment Xie Huailing entered, accompanied only by a single page. Few people in Bianjing knew his identity, and this secluded place had few people around. He could simply walk with his head down and blend into the crowd outside, unnoticed by anyone.
Unless they met unexpectedly, he paused on the stairs, barely opening the eyes of the beauty he had seen just a few days ago, her gaze still weary as she looked up.
Because he lowered his head, their eyes met, and the forgotten fragrance seemed to drift back to his nose, his chest, and his lips. Such a coincidence should not have happened in Di Feijing's life.
Xie Huailing was always expressionless, and it was better to be expressionless. Her coldness and indifference revealed nothing about her feelings about meeting him: "What a coincidence... even Master Di is here to watch the show?"
Di Fei remained silent. Xie Huailing showed no intention of making way. The maid supported her hand, perhaps intending to brush past him. The distance between them was a flight of stairs, then several more, and with just a few graceful steps, she would be past him again. She hadn't changed at all compared to a few days ago. It seemed she disliked brightly colored clothes; her skirt fluttered before her eyes, the first thing she noticed was its plain color. The jade pendant at her waist was nowhere to be seen, and then the cloud pattern on the hem of her skirt… Her fragrance arrived before she even appeared.
"Miss Xie." This wasn't good news, Di Fei exclaimed, "It was a chance encounter."
Xie Huailing walked right up to him and replied, "What a coincidence! My cousin hadn't seen Master Di for six or seven years, but I ran into him twice in the last two weeks."
She didn't mention a word about her own elaborate schemes, but her gaze, as if it were tangible, swept over Di Feijing: "What play did you come to see, Master Di? The first half, I remember it was 'The Wandering Chronicle'?"
Di Fei turned his head in surprise. He couldn't recall her posture at all; it was as if she hadn't humiliated him, nor had her rouge spilled into his wine glass. Had Su Mengzhen spoiled her, or was this just how she was? Her empty eyes seemed to disregard everything; she didn't see him, only he saw her. So what now? Was this something she had planned, or was it just a "chance encounter"?
He hadn't believed in coincidences for many years, so he cautiously replied, "It is indeed 'The Tale of the Wanderer.' Since Miss Xie is also here to see a play, I, Di, will not disturb this elegant place."
He turned to leave after saying that, but Xie Huailing tilted her head and blocked his path. She smiled faintly, "How strange."
Subtly emphasizing the words, Di Fei's gaze fell upon the lower half of her face. His unfocused eyes revealed a slender, jade-like figure with long, flowing hair. Xie Huailing, about half a zhang away, also saw his feigned quiet shyness. His lowered brows gave him a somewhat feminine air, and his thin lips were pressed tightly together.
Xie Huailing spoke softly, yet her words were sharp and impactful: "Why isn't Master Di looking at me? Is it because I invited you to drink?"
Di Feijing's hands clenched tightly, veins bulging on her fair skin before quickly receding. A subtle fragrance, a sparse shadow, the shame of humiliation; the fragrance of orchids mingling with her body, yet beneath the cup, a look of disgust… His eyes rolled upwards, their deep, inky blackness almost devoid of light, but before he could speak, a mocking glint appeared in them. She took a step forward, this time placing her hand on his right shoulder. A man who concealed his martial arts skills was now only subject to coercion before her. Just how much confidence had Su Mengzhen given her that made her disregard his identity and status, to the point that this bitter, bitter fruit was his own doing, and he had to bear it himself.
Qingxiang clung to him again. She was very close and said, "There are so many people watching, we can't keep talking here. Let me invite Master Di to watch the show."
Then Xie Huailing gazed at him, not really caring whether he agreed or not, or whether he would leave.
Di Feijing was also looking at her. His fingers were cool, covered by his sleeves for years, yet their outlines were not much different from hers. He brushed away her fair wrist, his deep pupils locking onto her color, revealing a hint of the haughty aura of a dragon bowing its head. He was also scrutinizing her, genuinely unwilling to remain passive, just as she was gambling on him being exposed to her, and just as she wanted to see through him, he also wanted to see through her.
She finally sensed his arrogance: "Then, I'll politely decline."
.
Xie Huailing also requested the best room. There weren't many guests at the theater today, and she didn't mind spending Su Mengzhen's money without hesitation. She booked the entire theater and asked the opera troupe to continue performing the second half of "The Wandering Chronicle".
"The Tale of Drifting," as the title suggests, is a tragic play. The "drifting" in the title refers to a fallen flower drifting on the water, finding no solace anywhere. The story tells of a scholar who, in his youth, was poor and oppressed by corrupt officials. He aspired to pass the imperial examinations and become a benevolent official, serving the people. However, during his years of striving for success in the examinations, he gradually lost his true self under oppression and greed. His life, like a fallen flower drifting in a river, was ultimately transformed into the very thing he hated most.
The scholar exploited the common people until he returned home in glory and saw his parents' tombstones, only to realize that his ambitions and true self had drifted away to who-knows-where. He went mad in front of his parents' graves, then crashed into a tree and died. The End of "The Wandering Chronicle".
The people of Bianjing preferred celebratory plays, so "The Wandering Swordsman" was unpopular with both commoners and high-ranking officials. It was only when the maidservant, unaware that Xie Huailing had bought a whole bunch of playbooks, that Xie Huailing learned of this play. She had only read half of the playbooks, and was seeing the second half for the first time. Whether it was good or bad, it couldn't be worse than the plays about talented scholars and beautiful women she had already seen.
But just to be on the safe side, she still asked Di Feijing, who was sitting next to her, with her hands on the coffee table and her body leaning on her arm: "There aren't any scenes in this play where a scholar and a rich girl fall in love at first sight, make vows of eternal love, and promise to stay together until the end of time, right?"
Di Fei was surprised that her first words after sitting down were this. Seeing her serious expression, he didn't know what to think for a moment: "No."
Xie Huailing still felt uneasy, as she had been scammed in other play scripts before: "What about the plot where the character flirts with the princess while being admired by other noble ladies, the plot where the character's poems are looked down upon but are humiliated at a poetry gathering, or the plot where the character kindly helps an old man on the street only to discover he is a high-ranking official?"
Di Fei, who was extremely discerning about both books and plays, was speechless, as if he had a piece of bread stuck in his throat; even if he had a thousand words to say, he remained silent. He didn't really want to reply, so he changed the subject, asking, "Miss Xie, what kind of plays and books do you usually watch?"
Xie Huailing then fell into her memories. She wasn't actually a very picky reader; aside from serious books, she would occasionally deliberately seek out some terribly written things to read, just to broaden her horizons. Back when she wasn't still in college, she had a grand plan to "watch a certain number of bad movies each semester." Her classmates called this kind of person intermittent pica, and Di Feijing's question was definitely worth answering.
Of course, she didn't choose to reveal the entire book list. She selectively changed the terms so that Di Feijing wouldn't have any difficulty understanding. If he dared to ask, she had no reason not to answer: "Books like 'A Perfect Match' and 'The Story of Red Powder,' and before that, 'The Overbearing Prime Minister Falls in Love with Me,' 'The Prince's Forced Love,' 'Rebirth of the Imperial Examination', and 'Pure Heart: Chasing Dreams in the Imperial Examination Circle.'"
"..." Silence. Silence is the current state of Di Feijing.
He even turned his head to look at Xie Huailing, who had a refined appearance. The person in front of him calmly spread his hands at him, daring to say any lie with that face: "Master Di, don't underestimate these books. A person who can read them all without changing her expression, nothing in the world can hurt her."
Her words were blatant self-praise, without the slightest hint of shame, and in a way that Di Feijing neither could nor wanted to refute. His eyelids twitched, and he didn't follow up with her words, nor did he want to know what kind of books these were.
Xie Huailing then understood, and, resting his chin on his finger, said, "So you've frightened Master Di. The Six and a Half Hall is very busy with official duties. I wonder what books and plays Master Di usually reads?"
Di Fei replied in surprise, "They're nothing more than the likes of 'The Wandering Swordsman'."
"Oh." Xie Huailing was not surprised and asked, "Then what does Hall Master Di think of this story? The young man once had lofty ambitions and wanted to be the best in the world, but then things changed and he drifted with the tide, becoming the person he least wanted to be."
There was a deeper meaning in his words, but this was the kind of response Di Feijing usually gave. His reply was ambiguous: "This isn't a tragedy."
A maid poured tea for Xie Huailing, and a gong and drum sounded on the stage below, signaling the start of the play. After the deep red curtain fluttered, the protagonist, dressed in a blue robe, appeared to the strains of orchestral music, striding confidently and striking a pose. The protagonist chanted incantations, his movements swift yet unrestrained, circling the stage before forcefully slapping his robe. At that moment, the orchestral music reached its climax and abruptly stopped: "I was originally a farmer from Liuzhou, my family destroyed, so pitiful. That county magistrate was a useless official, only caring about money and ignoring the law; now I have passed the imperial examinations, and will become a disciple of the emperor..."
The singing voice floated in everyone's ears, as if in the clouds; two figures overlapped on the wall, as if separated by a river.
However, the undercurrents are surging and never cease.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com