Chapter 182 A Letter from the Embroidery Master's Sect
"Does Sister Embroiderer have something important to do?"
Ye Wei looked curious, but then turned to take out a long branch.
It was the same one that Ouyang Rong had seen a few days ago.
The embroiderer sat on the edge of the bed with her head down, repeatedly folding a corner of the Xuan paper with her right hand, which had lost its little finger, as if it were a habitual action when she was in a daze or nervous.
She lowered her eyes and nodded, offering no further explanation.
"Then be careful, Sister Embroiderer." Ye Weilai patted the back of her hand.
"Hmm." The embroiderer smiled faintly.
He shook his head at her, as if to indicate that the matter was not dangerous.
The white-haired maidservant is a little calmer.
The embroiderer covered the sleeping young man with the blanket, then got up and led Ye Weilai to the front hall to instruct her in swordsmanship.
"According to our sect's ancestral teachings, unless we become fellow disciples and form a sworn brotherhood, the Qi Refining Technique cannot be passed on to outsiders. I can only teach you a few sword moves. I may not be by your side often in the future, so please learn them in case of need..."
Ye Weilai followed behind the pretty cook, recalling the ink she had written on paper a few nights ago.
From that day on, Ye Weilai began to practice a few strange sword techniques with the embroiderer.
Meanwhile, thanks to Xie Lingjiang's temporary absence, the Meilin Courtyard can be lit up at night without fear of being exposed.
Under the supervision of the embroiderer, Ye Weilai practiced late into the night. During the day, when her master was out on duty, she would bury herself in her studies in the courtyard, occasionally running to the kitchen to find the embroiderer...
And so, it's the middle of the night now.
A strange scene unfolded inside the room.
Under the dim yellow light.
A young maidservant wearing a bright red bodice and underpants had fair, delicate, milky-white skin, and her long, snow-white hair was tied into two ponytails that draped over her shoulders.
She stood in the center of the hall, twirling a withered branch in her hand, her little face very serious.
A mute girl with delicate features and a serene demeanor, like a virgin, sat at a table to the side. By the pale yellow light of the oil lamp on the table, she threaded a needle and embroidered a blue men's robe in her hands.
The mute girl would occasionally glance up at the white-haired maid with pigtails practicing her swordplay, but most of the time she would keep her head down and squint, focusing on threading the needle. She would only listen to the faint sound of the branches swaying, and she could immediately shake her head and point out the mistakes in the white-haired maid's sword moves.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the bed, a handsome young man turned over and slept soundly, muttering in his sleep.
The contrast between the two sides of the room, one in motion and the other still, would surely puzzle any outsider who witnessed it.
Unfortunately, amidst the faint scent of sandalwood, Ouyang Rong's eyes slowly moved beneath his eyelids, his deep sleep undisturbed.
I don't know what I dreamed about...
The embroiderer may not be considered a master.
But she is definitely a comfortable teacher who never blames anyone.
She executed several sword moves with effortless ease, as if they were second nature.
Ye Weilai was already considered very clever and quick-witted by Ouyang Rong, but she still stumbled quite a bit when practicing these sword moves.
Of course, this might also be because the embroiderers only know how to use the techniques but don't know how to teach them.
In response, the embroiderer sitting at the table with her head down, embroidering, was very patient and not at all harsh. On the contrary, she would sometimes show a guilty and self-reproachful look on her face when she had not taught her well.
Instead, Ye Weilai hurriedly tried to comfort her.
"Sister Embroiderer, watch how my sword strike goes."
At this moment, Ye Wei blinked and said that she turned around, tiptoed, bent over, and delivered a sword move that resembled the horns of an antelope.
The tip of the branch made a whistling sound as it pierced the air.
It looks quite professional.
The embroiderer smiled gently, temporarily putting down her needlework, and picked up her brush to write:
Excellent.
"Wei Lai is already very impressive."
"However, compared to swordsmanship, Wei Lai is more suited to cultivating Qi, as she possesses a flawless physique and is further nurtured day and night by the incense in the room."
"It's a pity that the concubine's Qi cultivation technique cannot be taught."
"But it doesn't matter. In fact, the Qi cultivation techniques of the other branches of the Dao are more suitable for Wei Lai."
Panting, Ye Wei wiped the sweat from her brow with a handkerchief, leaned closer to the table, and carefully examined the embroiderer's characters for a while. She couldn't help but ask curiously:
"How long did it take you, Sister Embroidery, to practice these sword techniques?"
The embroiderer thought for a moment and wrote:
"No need to practice, they are in my heart. I will take them out and give them to Wei Lai."
Ye Weilai was taken aback. "So you created all these sword techniques?"
The embroiderer nodded, her expression calm.
Ye Wei looked at her face and clear eyes and saw no trace of smugness or pride.
The white-haired maid, who had been beaming with pride at her "mastery of swordsmanship" just a moment ago, silently put away the branch, her hands obediently clasped behind her back, and she swallowed hard.
Ye Weilai had no idea that in the eyes of the quiet and beautiful young girl in front of her, there were no sword moves in the world, nor was there anything that was not a sword move.
Swordsmanship arises in the heart.
There was no sword in sight.
The embroiderer paid no attention to the maid's shock and continued embroidering, mending clothes for her sleeping lover.
With the help of Ye Weilai, the little traitor, the clothes she wove would be worn by Tanlang in the name of the former.
The mute woman squinted at the lamp, mending stitch by stitch, occasionally glancing towards the bed.
She carefully stroked the tightly stitched fabric of the robe with four fingers of her right hand.
In the dim light, a delicate face occasionally showed a look of dazed happiness, before she silently lowered her head again.
She silently embroidered for him.
Her master once said four words to her when he was alive.
They were destined to meet but not to be together.
In this world, it is truly a matter of fate to meet some people and even fall in love with them.
But you may not be qualified to be with the other person.
This is the point that men and women in the world who are blinded by love and caught in the river of passionate love are most likely to overlook.
This is also the reason for the unhappiness in the love between most men and women in the world.
“Foolish child, severing emotions is not the same as being heartless.”
"It is precisely because he is the most affectionate, yet he is fully aware that they are destined to be apart, that he swung his sword at himself."
So let's have fewer regrets and more contentment.
My master's words from back then still echo in my ears.
"Ah," the embroiderer murmured softly.
A bead of blood appeared on the pad of the index finger that was twisting the clothes, and slowly grew larger.
She put her finger to her red lips and sucked on it. A moment later, she picked up the needle again and started embroidering. Her movements were already very skilled.
The embroiderer lowered her head and sniffed.
She was already content to be able to enjoy a moment of happiness with him like this, how could she dare to ask for more?
I remember back then, she was my childhood sweetheart, and he was my childhood friend.
The embroiderer, too, sat quietly weaving clothes for him in the room where he lay ill and unconscious.
"Sister Embroiderer, why are you crying?"
Ye Weilai put down the branch, bent down, and looked up at the mute cook's face, who was engrossed in embroidery. She asked in a low voice.
The embroiderer shook her head.
“Nothing,” she wrote on the paper.
Ye Weilai couldn't help but glance at the ink on the paper, dampened by clear droplets, and hesitated to speak.
"It's getting late, I'm going out now, I'll be back later."
"Take good care of Danlang, remember the sword techniques I taught you, and always stand in front of Danlang."
The embroiderer squeezed Ye Weilai's small hand, then went to the bedside and spent some time alone with Ouyang Rong, who was lying on his side with his eyes closed. Before long, she left the plum grove courtyard.
After seeing off the mute cook, Ye Weilai looked down at the damp stains on her scholar's robe at the table.
...
The moon and stars are sparse.
The mountain wind howled.
The embroiderer silently climbed the steps up the mountain.
Along the winding mountain road, a bright lantern hangs at intervals.
They might be hung under the eaves of a solitary pavilion, in front of a memorial archway, or on the treetops by the roadside.
It seems to be specially designed to provide lighting for pilgrims going up the mountain.
This mountain road, or rather this solitary mountain, bears numerous traces left by monks, pilgrims, and scholars, and has been developed into a thriving tourist destination.
The embroiderer looked up at the distant mountaintop, where a cluster of temple buildings was illuminated by lights.
That's Donglin Temple.
It's quite a coincidence.
This is the place where she saved her lover twice.
In fact, for the embroiderer who had already entered the intermediate level of Qi Refining, this mountain path could be crossed in an instant, allowing her to leap to the top of the mountain.
But she still chose to climb the mountain step by step.
Like those devout pilgrims who bathe and burn incense.
However, the embroiderer's attitude was more about politeness and respect.
It was like paying homage to a temple gate.
Although the Donglin Temple may not know that it is a certain mountain gate in the eyes of some people.
By the light of the lanterns in the pavilion halfway up the mountain, a place where Tanlang liked to rest, the embroiderer lowered her eyes and glanced over the letters from her sect once more.
On the letter, the senior sister's handwriting was bold and unrestrained, her strokes flowing like dragons, exuding an overbearing air.
I was simply reminding her of something that wasn't a big deal.
But this letter was like a towering mountain peak, cleaved precariously by the sharp strokes of the pen.
The paper is filled with the aura of swords.
If a Qi cultivator capable of observing Qi were present at this moment, upon seeing this letter, which is as thin as a hair, they would surely find the owner of this letter quite astonishing.
The embroiderer crumpled the letter and tossed it into the mountain breeze that passed over her shoulder.
Continue walking uphill.
The ancient pavilion behind the serene mute girl creaked and swayed in the mountain breeze.
On the eaves, a row of roof tiles are neatly split in half, as if cut by a knife, with clean cuts.
The embroiderer was already used to the senior sister's "arrogance".
She continued her journey without looking back, visiting the ancient temple again at night.
The embroiderer did not secretly run away from her master's school.
A few months ago, in the Pure Land Palace of Donglin Temple, after waking up her lover, she sent the old Taoist priest in a crane-cloak, who was singing "May the Heavenly Venerable of Boundless Blessings" back to the water dungeon. Sure enough, he was caught on the spot by her fellow disciples.
Originally, she had been confined by her eldest sister and could no longer leave the house. However, things took an unexpected turn. She performed well at a grand event held by the sect, and her second sister pleaded for her, which resulted in her being released from confinement. She was even given a strange assignment in Longcheng County, which allowed her to leave the sect again.
However, once she arrived in Longcheng County, she became obsessed with cooking for her lover and "taking his body" every night, which caused her to neglect the important matters that her sect had instructed her to attend to.
My senior sister has sent another letter urging me to hurry up, and her tone is stern.
"Ah," the mute girl sighed softly.
I dare not delay any longer.
Otherwise, if the eldest sister were to come in person, things would become even more complicated with Tanlang...
At night, Donglin Temple does not close its doors.
Because of its fame in Jiangnan, it is not uncommon for pilgrims from other places to arrive at night, climb the mountain late at night, and enter the temple to worship Buddha.
To quote a young county magistrate's quip, it's like operating for twelve hours straight, never missing a moment to earn incense offerings.
However, the word "business" doesn't sound very pleasant. In Master Shandao's own words, it means that the Buddha is compassionate and is always there to guide lost beings.
Donglin Temple is also brightly lit tonight, with rows of grand halls standing in a serene and solemn atmosphere.
In the incense square, wisps of smoke curled upwards.
Every now and then, two or three monks would yawn and walk around with lamps.
The solemn and majestic main hall was not deserted even at midnight.
There were many people gathered in front of the golden Buddha statue, burning incense and worshipping.
At the very front of this group of figures stood an old monk with a white beard, dressed in the black robes typically worn by highly accomplished monks, his fingers resting on prayer beads.
Although the old monk had single eyelids and small eyes, they shone with a sharp light, giving him an extraordinary and otherworldly appearance.
“Amitabha, female benefactor, you are attached to appearances. There is no need to blame yourself so much. Based on my many years of experience, the fact that you have not conceived for a long time may not be your fault. After all, besides you, your husband’s other concubines have also not conceived for a long time.”
"What? Why is Old Ne so certain? It's nothing but practice. This old monk is known as the Gynecological Master. Over the years, I have written thirty prescriptions for treating gynecological diseases, and my reputation has spread far and wide. Pilgrims from all over the country praise me highly."
"For women's ailments, this old monk only needs to take their pulse slightly to know the general condition, and I never lie... Hmm, female benefactor, roll up your sleeve a little, yes, right here, let this old monk take your pulse again..."
"There's no mistake, the female benefactor's pulse is clear, and she is in good health... Yes, please come this way to the Guanyin Bodhisattva in the next hall to burn incense and pray for blessings. If you donate some incense money, your prayers for a child will be even more effective."
"After you've finished burning incense, go back for now. Next time you come, bring your husband along, and I'll try to talk some sense into him..."
Master Shandao stood solemnly in the center of several female pilgrims who had traveled a long way to worship Buddha, his palms clasped together. He focused intently on the golden Buddha statue behind him, guiding the lost souls before him.
However, at this moment, the stubborn female benefactor in front of him, who was determined to have a child, insisted on observing and studying his famous thirty prescriptions for gynecological diseases.
Master Shandao lowered his white eyebrows, looking utterly helpless and embarrassed. Half-heartedly, he shook out a book from his sleeve and, in a friendly manner, gave it to him as a gift in his private capacity, at a price of thirty taels of silver for incense offerings.
And who would have thought that the more reluctant the old monk in black appeared, the more eager the female benefactors who came to burn incense and pray for children became.
For a moment, the dazzling silver dazzled Master Shandao's eyes, causing him to mutter "Amitabha" several times in succession.
Before long, all the prescription booklets for the day were sold out, and the enthusiastic female customers dispersed, leaving satisfied.
Master Shandao watched the departing female patrons, laden with gifts and bathed in Buddhist light, and quietly breathed a sigh of relief, muttering almost inaudibly:
"It seems I'll have to send Xiufa down the mountain to print more tomorrow. Hmm, why not open a printing shop? That would be convenient, given the high demand. But it seems the imperial court stipulates that private printing is prohibited; one must report to the county government. Maybe I should go and discuss it with that county magistrate..."
"Forget it, the county magistrate isn't truly compassionate, so let's not bother with him..."
Master Shandao shook his head, as if recalling the radiant smile of a certain young county magistrate. Inside the warm hall, this renowned and enlightened monk couldn't help but shiver. He had no doubt that if there was any profit to be made, this young county magistrate would let the whole world know his reputation as a gynecological expert, just for the sake of best-selling products.
However, to be fair, Master Shandao felt that this young county magistrate had indeed done a good job in governing for the people, better than the previous ones. His only shortcoming was that he did not have enough reverence for the Buddha, or rather, he did not treat the Buddha as an outsider.
But sometimes even Buddha doesn't have enough food.
Master Shandao sighed helplessly, banished these worldly distractions, and turned to continue receiving the few remaining worshippers in the main hall.
"Amitabha Buddha, male benefactor, would you like to burn incense and worship Buddha, or seek divination? What? You want to interpret your dream? Tonight's dream?"
"...Wait, benefactor, you said you also came to pray for a child? You've already prayed to Guanyin Bodhisattva, and tonight you're staying at this temple, and you dreamt that Guanyin Bodhisattva entered your bedding? So you've come here to interpret your dream? You want to ask if this is an auspicious sign that your prayers for a child will be answered? This...this..."
Master Shandao opened his mouth, looked at the ecstatic infertile male worshipper before him, remained silent for a long time, and then spoke softly:
“Benefactor, Guanyin Bodhisattva is a woman in the body of a man.”
Male worshipper: "..."
After a stick of incense had burned, Master Shandao finally managed to send away the last of these unreliable male worshippers who were having erotic dreams. He raised his hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Master Shandao glanced calmly at the empty hall, then reached out with his prayer beads and quietly shook the heavy incense box. Just as he was about to open it and count the offerings, he caught a glimpse of a figure outside the door.
The old monk immediately stepped forward and solemnly bowed: "Amitabha, this female benefactor... this female bodhisattva, visiting so late at night, is it to burn incense and worship Buddha, or to seek divination and answers?"
The embroiderer nodded, then shook her head, and stepped into the main hall.
(End of this chapter)
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