Xu Fengnian saw Wang Chudong puffing her cheeks red yet unwilling to give up her whistling efforts. She looked adorable. Standing upon a stone cliff beside the lake, a breeze brushed his face, giving him a light and ethereal sensation. He had deliberately chosen to wear a flowing white robe with wide sleeves, and his hair was pinned neatly with a sandalwood hairpin. His posture, hand resting on his sword, made him appear even more like a graceful scholar. Wang Chudong stole glances at him repeatedly, yet she couldn’t seem to get enough of the sight.
This girl was likely beginning to fall into the throes of first love. Born into a family so wealthy that pearls and gold were treated like dirt, she had been adored and protected from birth. Prophecies by wise men said this little girl would enjoy unparalleled honor and wealth. Wang Linquan, known for his strict household, doted on her unconditionally, and her elder brothers and sisters all spoiled her with affection. Growing up with such indulgence, Wang Chudong carefree penned her famous work “Spring Goddess Tea” at merely six years old. When she was fourteen, she completed “The First Snow in the Eastern Wing,” a novel that made countless noble daughters and ladies of the court shed tears. Scholars revered this heart-wrenching tale with the phrase “The First Snow in the Eastern Wing Conquers the World.” Especially noteworthy was the concluding line where the female protagonist expressed the wish that “All loving hearts may find their destined union,” a phrase considered superior to thousands of other books.
Although many Confucian scholars from Jiangnan harshly criticized the book as improper and misleading to the youth, some even suspected that the widely acclaimed romantic novel had actually been ghostwritten by someone on Wang Linquan’s behalf. Nonetheless, this ten-year-old girl living deep within the Spring Goddess Lake remained uniquely herself — always fond of sleeping and playing. When she felt joyful after playing cuju or on the swings, she would write a few hundred more words of the “Eastern Wing” continuation, each word worth a thousand in gold. There were rumors that as soon as Wang Qudong began writing, no matter how many words she penned, copies were swiftly sent to the palaces of several esteemed consorts obsessed with the book. One secret tale claimed that when a beloved female character in the story died, a palace consort, moved to tears, wrote to Wang Qudong, imploring her to spare the character and soften the fate she had written. However, the young “Eastern Wing” writer remained unmoved and refused to change even one word.
The final installment of “The Eastern Wing” was published during the joyful Spring Festival, leaving the noblewomen of Qingzhou without a single smile that year. Scholars who had spent decades studying Confucian classics yet failed to gain any renown regarded this as a baffling anomaly. One poet renowned for writing seductive and delicate verses even declared himself a half-offspring of the “Eastern Wing” author, praising the book extravagantly, claiming that it encapsulated all the intricacies of romance, leaving no room for similar works in the future. It was particularly shocking that a man nearing fifty would humble himself so deeply before a girl of less than eighteen. Consequently, his reputation became controversial; however, by piggybacking on the popularity of the “Eastern Wing” phenomenon, his previously modest name gradually gained greater recognition.
Xu Fengnian, however, was unaware of all this. With his nature of spending lavishly for poetry, he would surely not have underestimated this girl, initially believed merely a sweet and innocent child. What he didn’t realize was that this young lady by his side was in fact a renowned female literary genius of her time — perhaps the prince would even find himself shamelessly requesting her to compose a few beautiful poems. Since they were now acquainted, perhaps he could ask for a small favor price.
When Xu Fengnian noticed that Wang Chudong had finally exhausted her efforts whistling and was now gently patting her cheeks, he playfully remarked, “Do your friends live in the water?”
Wang Chudong nodded earnestly, replying, “It awakens from the lake bed the day I was born, crawling right to our doorstep. Father says it’s my lifelong companion; I play with it every Qingming.”
Xu Fengnian inquired curiously, “A tortoise or even a dragon?”
Wang Chudong’s face turned red as she replied, “How could a dragon crawl to my home? It is a giant turtle with a hump bearing an unnamed stone tablet, resembling a big turtle, very clumsy. Experts say it is a mythical beast that stabilized the seas during the time of Yu the Great. When I was little, I would sit on its back and tour Spring Goddess Lake. Once, it happily dove deep into the water, nearly drowning me. Later Father forbade me from slipping out to visit it secretly.”
Xu Fengnian exclaimed in amazement, “Wang Chudong, I see. Who would’ve thought you possess such a unique talent! I once knew a Daoist on Wudang Mountain who rode a green cow, but you’re even more impressive for riding a giant turtle.”
Wang Chudong grinned, revealing a pair of small tiger teeth, clearly proud yet pretending to be humble, “Nothing special, really.”
Suddenly, the water splashed noisily, revealing a colossal creature on the lake’s surface, its shell spanning two fathoms, carrying a towering stone tablet.
According to the *Shuowen Jiezi*, among armored reptiles, the yuan is the largest. The name “yuan” sounds like “yuan,” meaning large. Given his relationship with the white-furred falcon, Xu Fengnian had extensively studied *Scenic Marvels of Shenzhou* and *Notes on Auspicious Creatures.* The *Dragon Progeny Chapter* in the latter particularly discussed the yuan extensively: the yuan loves to sleep, especially the *kuiyuan,* which appears only during times of chaos or glory. Currently, aside from the *kuiyuan* before his eyes, Xu Fengnian himself owned a six-year-old phoenix, a pair of young *kui,* and had heard of legendary creatures including Lü Zu, the sword immortal’s red-crowned crane on Wudang Mountain, and the black tiger that had listened to scriptures for decades at Dragon-Tiger Mountain under the guidance of Qi Xuanzhen.
Xu Fengnian embraced Wang Chudong’s delicate waist and leapt from the cliff onto the *yuan’s* back. The girl, who could swing high enough to reach the third floor, felt no fear while others watching were filled with awe. As Xu Fengnian stood on the *yuan’s* back, he felt a sense of absurdity. He stared closely and confirmed that the stone indeed bore no inscription. The ancient *yuan* was so immense it resembled a small boat. Xu estimated it could easily carry a dozen strong men. The *Notes on Auspicious Creatures* hinted at riding such a *kuiyuan* bearing a stone tablet to reach the mythical islands of the immortals, a belief pursued relentlessly by emperors throughout history. Han Diaosi, a eunuch commander who ventured to sea purchasing sandalwood, might have also sought these immortal lands and divine beings.
Wang Chudong crouched at the front of the *yuan*, gently patting its large head, whispering, “Big Black, let’s play at the lake center, but remember not to let anyone spot us.”
The majestic *yuan* slowly glided across the lake as steady as Mount Tai.
Xu Fengnian spoke softly: “Chudong, if you can summon this stone-bearing *yuan*, others shouldn’t know. Otherwise, it might bring disaster.”
Still tapping the *yuan’s* head, Wang Chudong turned her head and said: “But you are not an outsider, right?”
Xu Fengnian laughed: “We met just today, and I’m not an outsider? I wonder how you’ve managed not to be abducted until now.”
Wang Chudong made a face and said: “I know you are the young master, Xu Fengnian. The only people my father would kneel to are Heaven and Earth, ancestors, and a great general — and now you. I’m not that stupid.”
Xu Fengnian relaxed. People who flattered him for no reason usually unsettled him. Even if he looked impressive, he doubted a young girl would fall for him instantly. But if Wang Linquan had been hinting around for years, then it made sense. After all, Xu Fengnian’s actions were out of character — taking Wang Chudong on the *yuan*, leaving Ning Ehui and others behind, a decision he had wrestled with for a while.
Xu Fengnian sighed: “Then why were you dressed that way at the dock today? Were you trying to test whether the notorious young master is truly obsessed with voluptuous women?”
Wang Chudong didn’t hide it, grinning sheepishly: “You did look odd, but not as bad as those rich brats who come to Lao Mountain. Those thin blouses and delicate silk undergarments were all borrowed from my eldest sister. I thought I’d look pretty in them. Alas.”
Xu Fengnian bent over and ruffled the girl’s hair gently: “They looked awful, but maybe when you grow up, they’d look better.”
Wang Chudong, crouching low, pouted: “I won’t grow any taller.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled heartily, stepping back to lean against the stone tablet. A refreshing chill ran down his back as he placed the Xiudong and Chunlei swords across his knees, watching the night scenery of the lake. The 800-mile Spring Goddess Lake appeared peaceful now, hard to believe it once bore the scars of warships ablaze, and the chaos of battles. Who were the heroes of those days, poised and commanding, and who were the desperate and defeated? Boats on the lake could reach the ghost city of Xiangfan, where 36,050 Daoist priests held the Grand Sacrificial Rites for Heaven. For whom were those rites conducted? History remembers only the victors, not the fallen. Like the girl’s father, Wang Linquan — without his treasure basin, who would bother tracing his early servitude to Xu Xiao? Ironically, the standard bearers of the Northern Liang army seldom lived long, but those who once served the butcher as stable boys ended up as influential lords.
Lost in thought, Xu Fengnian was interrupted by Wang Chudong, who, after playing with the *yuan,* now sat staring at him dreamily. Facing him, the young girl aged sixteen held the same sword in her hand as he did — but her pen had written *The First Snow in the Eastern Wing,* an unknown legend to Xu Fengnian who had never heard of the *Eastern Wing* or “Little Eastern Wing” since coming north.
Suddenly, Xu Fengnian asked: “Wang Chudong, if you’re friends with this *yuan,* why didn’t you hold back at dinner when we were eating the black chicken stewed with turtle? I saw you eating the most happily.”
The girl pretended to be confused and said, “Huh?” Her eyes shifted sideways, her face flushed, and she was clearly nervous yet endearing.
Generally, larger turtles are tough, while smaller ones taste bitter; winter is the best season for turtle meat; spring and autumn are secondary, and summer is the worst, earning the name “mosquito-thin turtle.” The turtles of Spring Goddess Lake were unusual, becoming more delicious the older they grew. The 200-year-old turtle’s tender belly was considered a delicacy. Wang Chudong had eagerly devoured everything, chopsticks moving rapidly. Despite Wang Linquan’s repeated hints through glances, she paid no heed. Xu Fengnian found it amusing. Initially annoyed by her revealing outfit, he developed a sense of affection instead during dinner. In his view, the most beautiful quality in a woman was her sincerity and innocence. Pretentiousness, no matter how attractive the face, was intolerable to him.
Eager to change the topic, Wang Chudong suddenly played her last card, whispering softly: “Actually, the stone Big Black carries has many ancient inscriptions in small seal script. I can’t read most of it. I checked many old books and barely recognized a few lines. It says something like ‘Further east from the East Sea lies the immortal mountain. One who learns this art shall live forever.’ There’s also something like ‘What is fate? Why consult fortune-tellers? To carry heavenly scripture makes gods and ghosts bow in awe.’ Beyond that, I can barely make sense of it.”
Xu Fengnian just nodded.
Wang Chudong leaned closer, asking: “You don’t want to see it?”
Xu Fengnian, suppressing a smile, replied: “I’ll act like I don’t care first.”
With a sweet smile, Wang Chudong patted the *yuan’s* large head. The *yuan* seemed reluctant, so she pouted and kept hitting it. Eventually, the *yuan* couldn’t handle her relentless taps. With a growl, it shook its massive body, causing the stone tablet to creak. The exposed surface revealed hidden writings that gleamed in the moonlight. Xu Fengnian stood up, his phoenix eyes narrowing as he quickly glanced, memorizing every word. Though he couldn’t recognize the ancient characters, he etched the shapes into his mind. He had good reason to be cautious — perhaps one day this heavenly scripture would be his life-saver. After memorizing all the characters, Xu Fengnian pointed to his forehead and confessed: “I’ve already seen them all. They’re safely in here.”
The naive little girl didn’t understand the dangers involved, looking at him with admiration and saying: “You really have a photographic memory. My father didn’t lie to me.”
Xu Fengnian grinned: “How about we write something on the stone for future generations to guess?”
Wang Chudong blinked, then clapped her hands: “Great idea!”
Xu Fengnian drew the Chunlei blade and approached the back of the stone with Wang Chudong, asking: “What should we write?”
This pair — one audacious, the other bold — were the only ones daring enough to commit such a reckless act.
Wang Chudong thought for a moment and smiled: “How about ‘Xu Fengnian and Wang Chudong were here’?”
Xu Fengnian gave a thumbs up: “Even better if we add the date!”
Delighted, Wang Chudong grinned again, showcasing her adorable tiger teeth.
Xu Fengnian had a masterful hand, even with a blade carving letters, as graceful as a dragon in motion. Especially after rigorous sword training, his style grew more powerful. The little girl gazed at him, captivated.
Xu Fengnian admired his work on the stone and laughed heartily. This might be an unprecedented feat in the last thousand years!
Reclining against the stone tablet again, Xu Fengnian waved Wang Chudong to sit closer, their shoulders nearly touching.
The girl whispered, “I hope you can travel alone and armed into the Northern Meng.”
Xu Fengnian asked in surprise, “Why?”
Wang Chudong blushed slightly, “In a novel, a man did just that. He used the head of the Northern Meng emperor as a wedding gift.”
Xu Fengnian thought, “That could work.”
Wang Chudong murmured softly, “If so, I’ll write you three hundred poems.”
Xu Fengnian joked without thinking, “Still a loss for me — one Northern Meng head for a single poem.”
Wang Chudong continued to lower her head, her delicate profile illuminated by moonlight, her soft downy ear hairs barely visible.
Xu Fengnian gently lifted her chin with a finger, observing her blushing cheeks and quivering lashes.
He teased, running a finger across her lips, “Grow up quickly, and then I’ll pluck you.”
She was pulled into his embrace.
Xu Fengnian whispered, “Why me, little one? You’ve picked a loser.”
Wang Chudong counted with her fingers, her eyes dreamy: “Ever since I could remember, I knew about you. My father said you’d become the greatest man in the world. I’ve been watching and listening all these years from Lao Mountain. I’ll keep watching. When I grow up, will you really come back to see me? How old is ‘grow up’? I’m sixteen now. Will seventeen be enough?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, rubbing his stubbled chin against her soft cheek.
As she spoke, her breath smelled sweet, more fragrant than Spring Goddess Tea.
He thought of her delicate tongue and felt a stirring.
I will Endure!
Only by enduring what others cannot be called a true man.
Bravely, Wang Chudong reached out to touch the vermilion mark on Xu Fengnian’s forehead gently. As she did so, Xu smiled and explained, “This isn’t makeup, unlike those of your kind, it’s the mark from inheriting the previous Taoist Master of Wudang’s great Huang Ting cultivation. I’ve only barely reached the second level of the six. I must spend days and nights reading Daoist scriptures, practicing breathing techniques. Daoism emphasizes turtle breathing, much like this *yuan,* which holds its breath at the lake bottom. Even when I sleep, I have to keep cultivating, or else I would squander this great Huang Ting power.”
Wang Chudong looked up curiously, “Is it tiring?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “Not really. You get used to it. The goal is to roam freely, without a huge escort for protection. If I’m to fulfill the wish you mentioned—going alone into Northern Meng—I need to work even harder on my sword skills.”
Wang Chudong shook her head, “Don’t go. I was kidding. It’s too dangerous.”
Xu Fengnian cupped her face in both hands and bent down to kiss her lips hungrily and recklessly.
Her delicate tongue was tender and sweet.
Wang Chudong’s eyes widened, clearly inexperienced and far from the sophisticated author of the famous romance novel.
Only after Xu pulled back did she slowly close her eyes, belatedly realizing what had happened.
Xu Fengnian smiled gently, “From today on, you’re mine. If you speak to any scholars or fine young men in the future, I’ll spank your bottom.”
Wang Chudong didn’t move in his arms, merely whispering, “Kiss me again.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “No more kissing now, or you’ll truly become a woman.”
Wang Chudong opened her clear eyes, half-understanding, half-not.
※※※
By the Swallow River, a colossal black-and-white cat charged from the mountain forest straight toward the river, only halting at the very edge. A young girl riding atop it nearly tumbled into the water.
The girl, perched on the enormous cat’s back, held a golden flowering stalk known as the “One-Zhang Flower” — a sunflower that faced the sun in bloom. After stopping abruptly — frightened to the extreme of water — the cat shook violently, the girl’s flower swaying wildly in her hand. She seemed displeased with the ridiculous mount’s fearfulness, not scolding it but instead slamming her fist onto the cat’s head. The feline, afraid of water to the highest degree, shook its head and turned pitifully to look at its master, the very one who had brought it from Xishu to Northern Liang and raised it from a kitten to this massive creature. She struck it again. Though frail in appearance, the girl’s punches were powerful, leaving a resounding thud.
She jumped off its back and moved behind the cat, aiming a kick to launch it into the Swallow River.
The cat whimpered and ran away, though not far, stopping after a short distance to sit on the ground, looking foolishly adorable.
The girl pointed at the river with her chin, silently signaling her pet to jump in voluntarily.
The cat shook its head frantically.
She gestured again with her chin.
The cat shook its head again.
The girl, still holding the sunflower and expressionless, chuckled, “Hehe.”
Realizing the trouble it was in, the cat rolled on the ground, pretending to give up.
The girl approached, placing the sunflower on the ground and grabbing the cat’s leg. With surprising strength, she heaved it over her shoulder and hurled it into the river’s center. She dusted her hands and picked up the sunflower.
The cat splashed into the Swallow River, creating a towering column of water.
After a while, the previously water-fearing cat seemed to awaken. It splashed about, reveling in the river with a variety of strokes, clearly enjoying itself.
The girl leaped effortlessly onto the cat’s back and seated herself, commanding the beast — which had once defeated an adult tiger kui in Qingcheng Mountain — to swim toward Spring Goddess Lake.
In a pleasant mood, she laughed, “Hehehe.”
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