Chapter 41- Despair

Zhou Zishu had gotten used to entering the Ping'An Counting-House as he pleased, but on that day he was invited to sit in the outer hall.

After pouring tea for both him and Wen Kexing (who was scanning his surroundings like a country lad on his first trip to the city), the shopkeeper stood to the side.

"Sir Zhou, please wait here," he said with a fussy smile. "Lord Seventh has arrived today, and the Manager went in to announce your arrival."

Zhou Zishu's heart lurched as he was seized by sudden trepidation at the prospect of seeing his old acquaintance again.

Wen Kexing, however, remained entirely obtuse.

"Eh? Didn't they say that Gu Xiang and Zhang Chengling were here?" he asked in a careless tone. "Why don't they just fetch the two little brats? And what's with the 'announcing our arrival' business? As if we were in some princely abode."

Zhou Zishu didn't heed him. Though he reflected that Wen Kexing was, in his way, a wonder of a person. One that had guessed right on his first try.

Soon afterward, Ping'an came out in long strides.

"Sir Zhou, my Master, and the Great Shaman are waiting for you inside."

At the words "Great Shaman" Wen Kexing gave a start. What "great shaman"? he wondered in astonishment. Can't be the near-mythical Great Shaman from Nanjiang, can it?

The Central Plains' wulin was really getting more chaotic by the day.

He didn't get to ponder the matter further, however, as he had to follow Zhou Zishu into the inner hall. From there, they pushed past an old wooden door that led to a small courtyard. As soon as they stepped into it, a delicate

fragrance from a row of osmanthus flowers1 floated to their nostrils.

Ping'An then led them to a room, a gush of warm air wafting out as he drew aside the door screen.

Wen Kexing glanced in and saw that, apart from Gu Xiang and Zhang Chengling, two men were present. By coincidence, his gaze met that of a man dressed in black. They eyed each other for a split second before both of them nodded at each other and looked away in a tacit show of concession.

Wen Kexing then turned to observe the second man, guessing that he must be the one the shopkeeper had called "Lord Seventh".

From that glance, he couldn't help but inwardly gasp in admiration. In his days, he had laid his eyes upon quite a few beautiful people, but none of them could compare to that fellow. The guy's eyes and brows were so pretty, they could almost be described as coquettish, but the air of nobility he exuded from head to toe balanced it out, creating a hard to define a sense of poise.

The phrase "born amidst splendid orchids and jade trees"2 seemed penned for him.

"Lord Seventh. Great Shaman," Zhou Zishu called out with deference whilst he gave a slight bow. Beaming, Lord Seventh waved his hand for him to rise before scrutinizing his face.

"Zishu," he sighed. "It's been many years since I last saw you, yet your tastes... have grown only increasingly unconscionable."

Zhou Zishu laughed. He reached up and pulled off the mask on his face before tucking it away into his robes. Then, his smile turning wistful, he replied:

"In all those years, girls aside, the only person I've known who'd dare 'conceal themselves' while sporting an attractive face is Jiuxiao, that little fool."

His junior Liang Juxiao's death during the battle in the capital was the regret of his life. Zhou Zishu hadn't dared mention it in so long that what occurred back then had become like a dream. But at that moment, as he faced his old friend, it was as if he had returned to the capital city that stretched tens of miles along the banks of the Full- Moon River — events and people of the past were flashing before his eyes in succession, making him blurt out that person's name.

Though now that he said it, it didn't seem that big of a deal. It only felt like he had hurled out something from his chest, leaving a vacuum behind. As if a piece was missing.

The grin on Lord Seventh's face froze for a second before he sighed. Then, he gave Zhou Zishu another once-over and said with a frown, "How come you've wasted away so much?"

Zhou Zishu lowered his eyelids while he gave a shake of the head; he let out a chuckle. "It's a long story," he replied. "Let's just say that... I'm getting old."

As a lover of the male form, Wen Kexing had been admiring "Lord Seventh" at first, thinking that the guy was quite something. But a strange vexation was now rising within him.

Indeed, he considered how he himself had to coax and pester Zhou Zishu for so freaking long before he got to see his actual face, and how it may not even have happened if not for Yu Qiufeng and co badgering them, whereas the just-arrived man in front of him only had to utter the one sentences for Zhou Zishu to drop his mask out of his own accord.

And the guy even knew his real name!

As Ping'an invited them to seats and served them tea, Wen Kexing felt his righteous indignation in the face of injustice brew.

"Has everything in the capital... been well?" Lord Seventh asked.

Zhou Zishu leaned himself against the backrest of his chair, appearing to relax entirely.

"Some have left to command expeditions, others have returned and been appointed to high offices," he answered in a drawl. "Princess Jing'an was wed to the young Marquis He Yunhang. The couple left for the Northwest and have elected residence there. As for the Emperor... he's been quite well. A little prince was bestowed upon him just this

year, but I had to leave early and couldn't make it to the Third Prince's full-month's banquet3."

The two of them conversed in unhurried voices, one posing questions, the other providing answers. The Great Shaman sat to the side in silence and didn't intervene.

Wisps of smoke from the incense burner curled in the air while time itself seemed to slow down.

Wen Kexing found the mood between the two men peculiar. He had never seen Zhou Zishu like this, sitting quietly

whilst he drank tea and partook in idle chatter. It was clear the two were bosom buddies4 from way back, but upon reuniting, after all, that time, they only discussed light topics that were as insipid as water.

As if their understanding of each other went beyond the exchanged, dispensable words. It only made the exception he took to "Lord Seventh" sharpen.

Where does that prancy little punk with his pretty face come from? he wondered. And what's with the "Lord Seventh" here and "Lord Seventh" there? The guy wouldn't even reveal his name, meaning he was nobody honest for sure.

Irritated, Wen Kexing yanked off the mask covering his face and beckoned with a wave of his hand Gu Xiang and Zhang Chengling who'd been watching on in dumbfounded silence.

"You two little snots, come here."

The other three men all shifted their attention toward him.

With nostalgia still lingering on his features, Lord Seventh asked, "And this person would be...?"

Zhou Zishu hesitated for a second.

"He's a jianghu... friend..."

Zhou Zishu hadn't yet finished speaking, however, when Wen Kexing snatched his hand from where it rested on the small table, and pressed it against his chest, over his heart.

"A jianghu friend?" Wen Kexing said with a sidelong glare at Zhou Zishu. "That's not what you told me before! What's this, A-Xu? Are you trying to discard me now that you've had your wicked ways with me?"

In that instant, the expression on Lord Seventh's face could have illustrated a dictionary's entry for the word "flabbergasted". Even the Great Shaman, who had remained silent all along, gave pause. His jet-black eyes darted back and forth between Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu before they took on a strange glint and came to rest on the hand Wen Kexing held against his chest.

Zhou Zishu freed his other hand to jab at the funny bone on Wen Kexing's elbow, forcing him to let go. Then, as calm and collected as ever, he gathered his teacup and lifted it up.

"His name is Wen Kexing," he said as if nothing had happened. "He's a bit of a fruitcake — a few crumbs short of a biscuit, you could say. And he likes to speak nonsense. Lord Seventh, please don't pay him any mind."

Lord Seventh remained wordless for a good while before, at last, he could watch no longer.

"Ping'an," he called. "What do you have eyes for? Don't you see that Sir Zhou's cup is empty? Hurry to top him up."

Zhou Zishu started as if he were waking from a dream then. He set down his empty cup back onto the table and glared daggers at Wen Kexing.

Wen Kexing took it in stride, maybe even taking murderous intent for fondness, and only grinned back his foolish grin that made people's teeth ache with detestation.

No doubt desirous of more chaos, Lord Seventh addressed Zhou Zishu again:

"To think of the golden cups and kingfisher plumes of yore, our decor today may remain unchanged, yet the people

seem no longer the same5. I wonder what transformations have befallen the Full-Moon River, which was built on

piles of rouge, and its ornate baluster houses with jade steps6... In the year the capital was in quandary, you and I took an oath on the high tower — we swore that if the coming days were long and if leisure was permitted us, we would be sure to drink together and not retire our cups before intoxication. I've now waited in Nanjiang for so long that the wine has already grown cold, yet you, my old friend, have not given the faintest indication of showing up."

He changed his tone then, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes as he added on purpose, "Zishu, you may have broken our promise, but I didn't, you see. I remember to this day that you have asked me to help you find a slim-waisted Nanjiang girl, and I can report that I've taken note of a few. Though now I wonder whether..."

The Great Shaman let out a small cough, a faint smirk coming over his stony face, and Zhou Zishu felt like he couldn't stay an instant longer.

He got up and cupped his fist in a hasty salute.

"Ahem... Now that I'm thinking of it, Lord Seventh has arrived in Dongting only today," he said in a panicked voice. "He must be exhausted from his journey and we shan't disturb him further..."

"We aren't at all tired," Lord Seventh said.

"What?" Wen Kexing shouted almost at the same time. "A-Xu, did you really say such a thing?" The room descended into silence.

People stared at each other in the face until Gu Xiang, who was made of sterner stuff, patted the utterly distracted Zhang Chengling on the shoulder.

"Looks like it's 'How many during the night are the pining sighs; while in springtime they sleep like dead pigs past sunrise'7 over here," she commented. "Little Chengling, I think it'll have to be the two of us if we want to save Brother Cao. Those guys are clearly too busy getting jealous with each other and we can't count on them." Lord Seventh chuckled at that.

"Little girl, you needn't worry," he said. "You told us that the Brother Cao of yours was from Qingfeng-Sword, so the strange people who were after you won't dare be too rough on him. On the contrary, if you rush over without sufficient preparations, you'll only cause more trouble for him by cementing his guilt — Zishu, you've been here for a mere instant and you already want to go? Stay a while longer, will you? In their wisdom, people from the

olden days often lament having no one with whom to share their memories of inlaid harps and golden youth8. Our meeting today is a rare reunion, and we have yet to reminisce for a cupful about past affairs. How can you be in such a hurry to leave?"

To Wen Kexing, that Lord Seventh was growing into an outright eyesore. The way he rambled on and on while ripping off literary references left and right, to fudge them together in ways that were neither here nor there, wasn't trustworthy. Or proper. At all. The saying was quite right, "eloquence leads to duplicity, merit is found in simplicity"9, and people who talked so much rubbish were obnoxious indeed. They could be beauties or even exceptional beauties, and it still wouldn't do.

"Right, right, right! We won't disturb your rest further," he hurried to say while grabbing Zhou Zishu's arm. "We still have some affairs to attend..."

The Great Shaman made an unexpected intervention then.

The man in black shook his head smilingly as he put down the Go stone with which he had been fiddling.

"Lord Zhou," he said while getting up. "I've noticed that your complexion isn't healthy, and your countenance also seems labored. Could I check your pulse?"

Zhou Zishu gave a start as Wen Kexing's grip tightened on his arm. The mischievous smile vanished from Lord Seventh's face. "What's the matter?" he asked with a frown.

"I will need to have a closer look before I can say with any accuracy," the Great Shaman replied. "Although, Lord Zhou, please forgive me for being blunt, but like a lamp running out of oil, you present the symptoms of a man nearing his final hours. What exactly has happened?"

Upon hearing those words, Wen Kexing's usually rakish face turned grave. He slowly let go of Zhou Zishu. Lord Seventh was aghast.

"What?" he exclaimed. "Don't tell me Helian Yi refused to spare even you!"

"Helian Yi" was the current emperor's personal name that fell under a state taboo10. The man had spoken it without a second thought, yet nobody paid mind to such details as everyone, whether or not they were in the know, turned their attention to Zhou Zishu.

Zhou Zishu gave an airy chuckle and extended his wrist to lay it flat in the Great Shaman's palm.

"Lord Seventh," he said. "Don't you know even better than I what kind of place we used to haunt, and... what sort

of person he is?"

The Great Shaman affixed three fingers over Zhou Zishu's pulse and kept them there for a long time, the frown in

his brows deepening. When he released his grip, at last, he sighed.

"I've heard that Skylight," he began, "has a punishment called the Nails of the Seven Apertures and Three Autumns..."

"You're correct."

"You have inserted a nail every three months so that they would grow into your flesh and wither your meridians progressively. That way, you could preserve some kung-fu and avoid losing your mind. Am I right?"

Lord Seventh's eyelid twitched, but the smile remained etched on Zhou Zishu's face.

"The Great Shaman is indeed perspicacious."

The man dressed in black didn't reply. With both hands clasped behind his back, he paced the room in slow steps.

Wen Kexing was struck with a sudden sense of panic then. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. However, Lord Seventh posed the question he wanted to ask in his stead.

"Wu Xi11, can you do something about it?"

The Great Shaman pondered in silence for another good while before he slowly shook his head.

"If you had inserted all seven nails at the same time, you would have suffered delirium, but I could have devised a way to extract them. And with adequate aftercare, you could have made a fair recovery. But the way the nails are embedded at present, I couldn't take them out without your internal energy flooding your withered meridians and rupturing them all. If that were to happen, not even a god could save you then..."

Those were words Zhou Zishu had already heard from Ye Baiyi, so he waved his hand to signify that he didn't wish to listen to them a second time.

Although he hadn't let on, a sliver of hope had kindled within him when the Great Shaman asked to take his pulse. Otherwise, he wouldn't have presented his wrist.

He couldn't have said when it had begun — perhaps since he embroiled himself with that raucous lot by his side, or perhaps since he'd been dragged into the series of endless turmoils — but he had somehow grown attached to the mortal coil again.

And hearing the Great Shaman's verdict at that moment only filled him with bitterness.

"You should have told me all of this sooner," he said with a forced, hollow smile. "Had I known the Great Shaman's abilities were so remarkable that he can extract the Nails, I would have made sure Skylight came up with a more reliable method. So that not a single fish would slip through the net."

The Great Shaman failed to reply. He only continued to scrutinize Zhou Zishu while appearing to be still in deep thought about a possible solution.

Zhou Zishu turned to Lord Seventh then.

"Let's bid our farewell for now," he said. "We'll come to visit on another day."

He was already at the door when the Great Shaman said, "Wait. Maybe..."

Before Zhou Zishu couldn't even react, Wen Kexing had already pulled him back, his grip like a band of iron around Zhou Zishu's wrist that forcibly held him in place.

When Wen Kexing turned around, he spoke in a rare display of courtesy.

"Great Shaman, have you thought of something?"

The Great Shaman hesitated for a second.

"Lord Zhou, if you... if you are willing to do away with your kung-fu, although it's a coin flip chance, I may have a way to preserve your life..."

As soon as Zhou Zishu heard the word "do away with your kung-fu", a hard to define smile came over his wan face as he held up his hand to prevent any more discussion.

"If my kung-fu was taken away from me," he said in a quiet voice. "Would I still be myself? And if I'm no longer myself, why would I want to keep on living?"

With that, he struggled free from Wen Kexing, turned around, and was gone.

The words that had reached the Great Shaman's lips were left unspoken, transformed into an almost inaudible sigh.

Notes

1. the osmanthus is a symbol of wealth and nobility because (GUI) is a homophone of

"expensive" or "noble" which are themes associated with Lord Seventh through the chapter.

2. idiom translated literally, said of people born in riches and who have a bright future.

3. It was a tradition to celebrate the first full month of a baby because the first month was considered a critical time for a newborn in an environment with high infantile mortality. Tangentially, mothers who just delivered babies were to remain bedridden for a full month to nurse the baby and themselves. The practice still exists.

4. Lord Seventh is the second person to qualify as ZZS's (blossom buddy/soulmate/person who can understand him).

5. Lord Seventh talk while using a literary reference/turns of phrase every two words. In this sentence, he evokes a rich environment (the Court) with the golden cups and kingfisher plumes — the latter being a kind of hair ornament worn by men. Then he alludes to his surprise at gay!ZZS while citing ("objects remain the same while people pass/change")

6. Evocation of ZZS being a playboy who probably has seen the inside of many bordellos or "baluster houses".

7. creative variation from Gu Xiang on the 􏰎􏰻 (Spring Morning) by Meng Haoran. She mocks the guys getting sentimental/jealous, and humorously uses "sleeping like the dead" in the verse: it's a coarse turn of phrase in Chinese that wouldn't turn up in poems.

8. The Inlaid Harp is a poem by Li Shangyin about nostalgia.

9. idiom translated literally.

10. Convention on never using the name of an emperor who is always addressed as "his majesty". Since characters in an emperor's name also couldn't be written, emperors were either obliging and changed the character in their names to obscure/rarely used homophone when accessing the throne, or were dicks and let everyone else struggle with the taboo by, for example, removing strokes when they had to write a taboo character.

11. "crow creek". Why must people resemble their names? Or is that the other way 'round?