Chapter 13
As the crowds rejoined the temple fair, the afternoon sun intensified, and the air seemed thicker and more viscous, thickened by the various smells. The crowd reached its peak, and the sound waves assaulted the eardrums as if they were tangible. Sheng Xuan, still energetic, pushed the wheelchair, but his destination had subtly shifted.
"It was too noisy this morning, let's look at something 'refined' this afternoon!" Sheng Xuan announced, pushing the wheelchair into a relatively quiet alley lined with shops selling antiques, calligraphy and paintings, ancient books and old objects, as well as some peculiar "miscellaneous" items. The noise was suppressed here, and the air was filled with the peculiar smells of old paper, ink sticks, and various unidentified objects.
Deep in the alley, in an inconspicuous corner, stood a used bookstall. The stall owner was a thin old man with white hair and beard, wearing reading glasses, engrossed in reading a yellowed scroll. The stall was piled high with various thread-bound books, handwritten manuscripts, and even a few tattered bamboo slips, exuding a strong smell of old paper.
Sheng Xuan wasn't particularly interested in books, but his sharp eyes immediately caught his attention in the corner of the stall at a dark, oddly shaped object. It resembled a small bronze animal head, holding a ring in its mouth, the ring engraved with intricate cloud and thunder patterns, ancient and mysterious. "Hey! Boss, what's this thing?" Sheng Xuan squatted down, picked up the heavy bronze animal head ring, and felt its cool touch.
The old stall owner looked up from his books, adjusted his reading glasses, and said slowly, "Oh, that's a paperweight from the previous dynasty. It's said to have been used by generals to weigh down military books. The beast head is Bi'an, one of the dragon's sons, representing justice and majesty."
"A paperweight? For weighing down books?" Sheng Xuan weighed it in his hand, thinking that this thing would be quite handy as a decoration or... for cracking walnuts. He imagined how it would look on Zhe Lan's desk. It seemed a bit out of place with that elegant environment, but for some reason, he felt that this antique with its menacing aura might be able to suppress the sickly aura emanating from Su Zhe Lan?
He even had a fleeting thought: this heavy weight could be used as a weapon if anyone dared to harm Su Zhelan someday—much more practical than Xiao Qiyun's pretty but useless jade pendant.
"Ze Lan, feel this. I heard it can ward off evil spirits! It's heavy, so it'll definitely hold books steady!" He shoved the cold bronze beast head into Su Zhe Lan's hand, deliberately rubbing his fingertips against her palm a couple more times.
Su Zhelan's fingers traced the rough, cool surface of the bronze, feeling the ferocious outline of the beast's head, the smoothness of the ring in its mouth, and the intricate patterns on it. A heavy sense of history and a somber atmosphere emanated from her fingertips, completely different from the exquisite trinkets she had handled that morning.
He frowned slightly, then stroked it carefully for a while before saying softly, "Very...heavy. The patterns are very dense." His fingertip paused for a moment at the fangs of the Bixie. This ancient artifact, exuding a murderous aura, reminded him of the bronze magical artifacts in the sect that were engraved with runes, only lacking the bloody smell and possessing more of a dignified and righteous aura of the human world.
Seeing that Su Zhelan didn't seem to dislike it, Sheng Xuan immediately bought it. He then picked up a handwritten poetry collection with a worn cover but exceptionally neat and beautiful handwriting from the stall: "Take this one too! The handwriting is beautiful, I'll read it to you!" He actually thought that the delicate handwriting matched Su Zhelan's plain appearance. If Su Zhelan could read a few lines to him, even if it was love words from a poem, it would be better than listening to Xiao Qiyun chant scriptures.
Holding the cold bronze paperweight and the poetry collection still smelling of ink, Su Zhelan felt the two completely different textures under her fingertips, and a strange ripple stirred in her heart.
At the end of the alley, a group of people sat under a huge old locust tree. A storyteller, dressed in a worn long gown and with a booming voice, was recounting the story of Huo Qubing's sealing of the wolf's lair with great enthusiasm. The gavel slammed down, its sound echoing throughout the area: "...The Champion Marquis, with his silver spear and white horse, descended like a god! He roared, 'How can I have a home when the Xiongnu are not yet destroyed!' And like an arrow released from a bow, he struck straight at the Xiongnu's court!"
Sheng Xuan pushed the wheelchair and stopped at a spot on the outskirts of the crowd where he could hear clearly but wasn't too crowded. "Ze Lan, listen! They're talking about Huo Qubing! It's exciting!" He lowered his voice, unable to hide his excitement, his chest surging with a young man's yearning for a hero.
Su Zhelan was immediately drawn to the captivating voice. The storyteller's voice rose and fell with varying intonations, sometimes soaring like the clash of swords, sometimes low and deep like a stealthy night, vividly depicting the vastness of the frontier, the brutality of the battlefield, and the heroic spirit. The crisp sound of the gavel, the imitation of warhorses neighing, the onomatopoeia of weapons clashing... all the sound elements automatically combined in Su Zhelan's mind, constructing magnificent and vivid images.
He could even hear the tension in Sheng Xuan's shoulders and the burning intensity in his eyes from the sounds of battle—this young man's passion was more potent than any medicinal catalyst in igniting the flames in people's hearts.
Xiao Qiyun stood to the side and behind the wheelchair, leaning against the rough trunk of the locust tree. He didn't look at the storyteller, but calmly scanned the audience around him, some sitting and some standing, listening intently, as well as the figures moving at the alley entrance in the distance.
He was calculating the evacuation routes of the crowd, assessing the threat level of each approaching individual, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the jade pendant at his waist—just now, when Su Zhelan mentioned "warding off evil," he noticed Su Zhelan's fingertips paused at the fangs of the paperweight, an instinctive reaction to danger. When the storyteller recounted Huo Qubing's untimely death and unfulfilled ambitions, his voice became mournful and desolate.
Su Zhelan's heart clenched, her fingertips unconsciously tightening, leaving slightly damp fingerprints on the bronze paperweight in her arms. Xiao Qiyun's gaze fell on Su Zhelan's slightly tense shoulders and tightly pursed lips. He didn't disturb her, but simply stood up straighter, like a silent tree, protecting Su Zhelan in the deepest shade—unlike Sheng Xuan, he didn't yearn for a dramatic sacrifice; what he wanted was for the people around him to live peacefully until their hair turned white.
Standing in front of the spice stall, enveloped by the strong aroma, Su Zhelan was actually testing whether his senses were still sharp when he pointed to the cedar resin with his fingertips—as a doctor and a former believer, sensitivity to smell was a life-saving skill.
Sheng Xuan's immediate action of taking out money to buy it carried an undeniable domineering attitude: anything that Su Zhelan would even glance at, he would present to her, whether it was spices or stones.
The three of them found a shady, secluded corner to rest.
Sheng Xuan parked her wheelchair under a low wall covered in vines, where several branches of wisteria in full bloom peeked out, casting cool shadows. Xiao Qiyun leaned against the trunk of an old elm tree nearby, his gaze still habitually sweeping around.
Su Zhelan leaned back in her chair, holding a book of poems and a paperweight in her lap, with the newly acquired packet of spices on her knees. The excitement from the storytelling and the intense stimulation from the spice stall had gradually subsided, leaving behind a strange tranquility.
His fingertips unconsciously caressed the warm, smooth jade pendant in his sleeve pocket—a gift from Xiao Qiyun, its auspicious cloud pattern and the black jade bead clearly visible beneath his fingertips. The coolness of the jade pendant seeped through the thin fabric, bringing a sense of peace, which mingled with the coldness of the bronze paperweight in his bosom, the suppleness of the poetry book's pages, and the forest scent emanating from the spice bag on his lap, creating a sense of tranquility.
Time flowed slowly in this small, shady spot. The afternoon heat gradually subsided, and the afterglow of the setting sun bathed the wisteria blossoms in a warm golden hue.
As dusk settled and the lanterns were lit, the hustle and bustle of the temple fair, far from diminishing, reached a new climax with the arrival of night. Colorful lights illuminated the streets as if it were daytime, and the throngs of people, filled with laughter and cheers, created a vibrant, bustling atmosphere.
"Look! The fireworks are about to start!" Sheng Xuan excitedly pointed to the sky. In the distance, a dense crowd had already gathered on the open riverbank.
Xiao Qiyun stood up and stretched his stiff shoulders and neck: "The view isn't good here, shall we go to the river?"
Sheng Xuan immediately nodded and pushed Su Zhelan's wheelchair: "Let's go! This is the main event!"
Although Su Zhelan couldn't see, she was also infected by the enthusiastic atmosphere, her face filled with anticipation. Xiao Qiyun stood protectively beside the wheelchair, and the three of them moved slowly towards the riverbank with the flow of people.
The closer you get to the riverbank, the more crowded it becomes, and the air is filled with the aroma of various snacks, the smell of sweat, and a festive sense of excitement.
They finally found a hillside with a decent view and relatively less crowded. Sheng Xuan stopped his wheelchair and stood on either side of Su Zhelan, along with Xiao Qiyun.
Soon, the first enormous golden firework burst open in the deep blue night sky, its dazzling light instantly illuminating countless upturned faces and brightening Su Zhelan's veiled eyes. Immediately following, countless brilliant flowers of light bloomed in succession, accompanied by deafening gasps and cheers from the crowd.
Su Zhelan tilted his head back, feeling the enormous roaring sound waves assaulting his eardrums as if they were tangible, each explosion resonating within his chest. He could "hear" the blooming and fading of the light—the sharp whistling was the ascent, the deafening roar was the blossoming, and the cheers of the crowd were the lingering echoes of the light's descent. A faint smell of gunpowder permeated the air, mingling with the rising heat of the crowd, creating a unique and intense sensory experience that made his heart surge, yet also left him with a slightly intoxicated feeling of being surrounded by the enormous sound waves.
"So beautiful..." Sheng Xuan murmured, his eyes fixed on the sky.
Xiao Qiyun's gaze swept around more, the dense crowd and deafening noise instinctively raising his alertness. He moved closer to the wheelchair without making a sound.
The grand fireworks display lasted for about half an hour, culminating in a series of the most intense and dazzling bursts of light before gradually fading into silence. The night sky was once again filled with deep blue and stars, leaving only the lingering smell of gunpowder and the lingering chatter of the crowd.
“It’s over,” Sheng Xuan’s voice was tired with satisfaction. He looked down at Su Zhelan in the wheelchair. Although the boy was still immersed in the afterglow of the shock, his face looked a little pale under the light, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Su Zhelan, are you alright? Let’s go back?” He was worried that Su Zhelan’s body could not withstand the noise and crowd for a long time.
Su Zhelan took a deep breath, suppressing the slight discomfort caused by the loud noise and the crowd, and nodded: "Yeah, I am a little... tired."
Xiao Qiyun said in a deep voice, "Alright, let's take the less crowded alleys." He keenly sensed that as the fireworks ended, the crowd began to disperse in all directions like a receding tide, and the chaos was even greater than when they arrived. The light from the lanterns appeared dim and unclear in the crowded flow of people, and countless figures swayed in the interplay of light and shadow, forming countless corners that were difficult to see clearly.
Su Zhelan's condition also made him more inclined to leave as soon as possible. Sheng Xuan pushed the wheelchair, with Xiao Qiyun protecting him from behind. The three of them went against the flow of people and turned into a relatively quiet alley leading to the suburbs.
The alley was much darker than the main street, with only a few lanterns hanging in front of the houses, their dim light barely illuminating the uneven cobblestone path. The noise was left behind, and the alley was exceptionally quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps and the soft creaking of their wheelchair over the pavement.
Sheng Xuan pushed the wheelchair, with Xiao Qiyun standing protectively to its side and behind. The three of them went against the flow of people and turned into a relatively quiet alley leading towards the suburbs. This alley was much darker than the main street, with only a few lanterns hanging in front of the houses, their dim light barely illuminating the uneven cobblestone path under their feet. The noise was left behind, and the alley was exceptionally quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps and the soft thud of the wheelchair over the pavement.
"My throat is parched," Sheng Xuan wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead, stopped, and pushed his wheelchair to a shady corner backed by a high wall, where neither moonlight nor lamplight could fully reach. "I'm going to buy something to quench my thirst. You guys wait here for me, don't wander off!" he instructed, then glanced at Xiao Qiyun, receiving a barely perceptible nod from him, before turning and quickly disappearing into the still-flowing crowd at the alley entrance.
After Sheng Xuan disappeared, the air in the corner seemed to become even quieter.
Only the faint echoes of the distant temple fair served as background noise. The moonlight was obscured by thin clouds, making the light even dimmer. Only the dim light from a few lanterns at the far end of the alley could barely outline the silhouette of Xiao Qiyun leaning against the wall and the blurry figure of Su Zhelan sitting in a wheelchair.
Xiao Qiyun's sharp gaze swept across the alley entrance and the shadows on both sides. His posture seemed relaxed, but his muscles had already subtly tensed, like a cheetah poised to pounce.
"Did you have fun today?" Xiao Qiyun's voice was low and gentle, like a breeze brushing against vines, clearly reaching Su Zhelan's ears. He was trying to use conversation to relax Su Zhelan and also to distract himself from his high level of tension.
Su Zhelan's fingers, which were caressing the jade pendant, paused slightly. His earlier weariness seemed to have been somewhat alleviated by the question. He tilted his head slightly towards the direction of Xiao Qiyun's voice, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Hmm,” he responded softly, his voice unusually clear in the quiet alley, “very…lively.” He paused, as if savoring the moment, “the sounds, the smells…all so vibrant. Like…splashing many colors onto paper.”
He couldn't see clearly, so he could only describe it using his own way of perceiving the world.
He raised his hand, his fingertips unconsciously touching the rough paper of the spice packet on his lap. "This smell reminds me of... the smell of the pine forest after the rain behind Shuyuyuan, but it's more... intense, and it feels further away."
"Far?" Xiao Qiyun's voice carried a hint of probing, his gaze still scanning the alley entrance warily.
“Hmm,” Su Zhelan nodded, his fingertips sliding back to the jade pendant in his sleeve, feeling its warm coolness. “It’s like a wind blowing across thousands of mountains and rivers, carrying… the smell of foreign soil and sunshine.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes, covered by a light veil, seemed to want to “look” into the distance. “The storyteller’s voice… is also like the wind, able to carry people to very far places.”
Xiao Qiyun listened quietly, his gaze falling on Su Zhelan's profile, which held a look of longing. Moonlight occasionally peeked through the clouds, casting brief patches of light on his moon-white robes.
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