Chapter 97: To Compose in Nuit Blanche; Fragrance Added by Red Sleeves*
Xie Lian actually already kind of knew the answer to this question. However, Hua Cheng's reaction was largely different than what he expected.
After a moment of silence, Hua Cheng suddenly blurted, "I'm sorry."
"What?" Xie Lian was confused.
At first he had thought if 'Qiandeng Temple' wasn't some kind of a joke, then the one who would have the most connection to it could only be Hua Cheng. But no matter how off he might be with his guess, there was no reason for Hua Cheng to apologize. Hua Cheng didn't respond, and only gestured for him to keep walking onwards with him, and so Xie Lian followed his lead.
The two walked for a while, and after making a turn, the sight before him opened to a broad horizon; a bedazzling, transcendent temple quietly appeared before Xie Lian's eyes.
In an instant, his breathing stopped.
All around was the smoky dark and vivid crimson scenery of the ghost realm, yet surrounded by such an ominous backdrop stood that temple, beautiful beyond words, its thousands of lights enchanting like that of paradise.
That a temple with brilliance and enlightenment as its core would sit within the rowdy, chaotic pandemonium the likes of Ghost City, it was opposingly conspicuous yet awesome. The second it's been seen it would leave an unerasable deep impression. It took a while before Xie Lian could speak, "...This..."
The two stood before the temple, and Xie Lian raised his head to look. Hua Cheng also lifted his head slightly and explained, "It was the Mid Autumn Festival a few days ago, and I figured gege would probably join them in their annual boring games, so I set this place up to give gege some amusement while attending the banquet, make things interesting."
"..."
His way of "make things interesting" was rather too shocking. For the sake of Xie Lian's "amusement", he built a temple and raised three thousand Blessings Lanterns of Everlasting Light!
Hua Cheng lowered his head, fixed his sleeves, then added, "I hadn't wanted you to know because I set this up on a whim. I built gege's temple in such a chaotic place, pray gege isn't offended."
Xie Lian immediately shook his head. Hua Cheng actually thought he was giving Xie Lian trouble, so he didn't want him to know. Xie Lian really didn't know what to say. At this point, to say his thanks again would fall flat, thus, Xie Lian steadied himself, sucked in a deep breath, and proceeded to admire this 'Qiandeng Temple' attentively.
A moment later, he inclined his head and asked, "This temple is gloriously magnificent, the artistry and craftsmanship in its build is divine; it couldn't have been constructed in mere days. San Lang, you didn't just build this recently, did you?"
Hua Cheng smiled, "Of course not. Gege has a good eye, this was built a long time ago. I never found a use for it, so I had it hidden, and there's been no one who have been allowed in before. I'll have to thank gege for finally giving it a purpose, and have it see the light of day."
Hearing this, Xie Lian let out a breath of relief.
If it was built a long time ago but never had a use and had other intents at the beginning, then it was only adopted out of convenience. If Hua Cheng really had constructed a temple just for him, he would feel even more uncomfortable. Of course, with Hua Cheng's personality, it could very well have been built out of pure entertainment. Although Xie Lian was really curious as to why Hua Cheng would construct a building that was so completely different than the rest of the Ghost City, still Xie Lian held back the impulse to ask. It wasn't a good habit to pry too much; who knows if one was to step on a mine?
"Want to go in and take a look?" Hua Cheng asked.
"Of course." Xie Lian answered cheerfully.
Side by side, the two entered the temple leisurely, strolling through the path paved by jaded stones. Looking around, the interior of the temple was wide and open, but it didn't have a divine statue nor the cushions used for worshippers to kneel. Hua Cheng spoke up, "This was built in a hurry, so if there's anything amiss, pray gege won't mind."
Xie Lian grinned, "Not at all. I think this is very nice. Very, very nice. It's good that there isn't an idol or any cushions, best if there won't ever be any. But, how come there's no establishment plaque either?"
This wasn't a criticizing question; only, within the temple even the jaded stones that paved the paths had been delicately engraved the words 'Qiandeng Temple', and only the establishment plaque above the entrance was missing, so naturally it couldn't just be a simple overlook, which was why Xie Lian was curious.
Hua Cheng chuckled, "It couldn't be helped. There's not really anyone here who can write. Look at the crowd earlier, it'd already be impressive if they could recognize letters. Does gege like any particular calligraphy professors? I'll invite them over to help compose for the plaque. Or, the best solution in my opinion, is if gege yourself should draw up a sign, and hang it here at the Qiandeng Temple. That'd be more than amazing."
As he spoke, he pointed to the altar in the great hall. That jaded bureau was exceedingly long and wide; orderly decorated upon it were various offerings, an incense burner, and there were even brushes, inkwells, and paper; a refreshing flavour of scholarship. The two approached and Xie Lian said, "Then how about San Lang compose one for me?"
Hearing this, Hua Cheng's eyes slightly widened, as if not expecting him to say that, "Me?"
"Yea." Xie Lian replied.
Hua Cheng pointed at himself, "You really want me to write?"
Xie Lian noticed his discomfort and asked, "San Lang, is there something wrong?"
Hua Cheng cocked an eyebrow and replied, "Nothing's wrong, it's just..."
Seeing that Xie Lian was waiting for him to answer, he clenched his fists and replied, somewhat helplessly, "Alright. It's just, I don't write well."
Now this was something new. Xie Lian really couldn't imagine there was anything Hua Cheng couldn't do well. He smiled, "Oh? Really? Write something and show me?"
Hua Cheng asked again, "You really want me to write?"
Xie Lian took out a few sheets of blank paper, laid them out neatly upon the jaded bureau and attentively flattened them, then he picked out a fine looking purple brush and put it into his hand. "Come."
Seeing that he had everything prepared, Hua Cheng said, "Alright, fine. But don't laugh."
Xie Lian nodded, "But of course."
Thus, Hua Cheng took the brush and started writing, assuming an air of seriousness. Xie Lian watched, standing next to him, but the more he watched, the more his face changed colours.
He really wanted to hold it in, but he couldn't do it. Hua Cheng, while drawing madness, writing recklessly on that paper, chided half warningly half jokingly, "Gege."
Xie Lian immediately schooled his expression, "My bad."
He didn't want to, but what could he do? Hua Cheng's writing was just too funny!!!
In all the history of crazed writing Xie Lian had ever seen, none even held a torch halfway to Hua Cheng's wild brushwork, and within the wildness carried a malevolent whirlwind and the air of evil. If any calligraphy professors were to see this they'd probably roll their eyes back and perish on the spot.
It took a long time and it was with immense difficulty before Xie Lian could make out "the sea", "waters", "the peak", "clouds" and other such devilish characters, and guessed Hua Cheng must be writing "No water's enough when you have crossed the sea; No cloud is beautiful but that which crowns the peak*"
Thinking of how Hua Cheng dominated the ghost realm, feared by all of heavens and hell, finally showed such an expression on something, and when he wrote it was such verses, Xie Lian was going to burst his gut holding in his laughter. He picked up with both hands the end product Hua Cheng completed with but one swing of his hand, and forcibly pretended to be calm, "Good. It's got such personality, a great sense of unity. It's got 'style'."
Hua Cheng placed the brush back, looking poised and proper, and squinted with a smile, "Madness, you mean."
Xie Lian pretended not to hear, and started commenting with an air of seriousness, "In truth, it's not hard to write well, it's writing with 'style' that's what's difficult. If it was only to look good, but looked exactly the same as thousands others, then it'd still be nothing more than common.
San Lang has a good foundation, the talent of profession, the force to swallow mountains..." there were two other idioms that followed: Broken landscapes, ruined armies. It couldn't be helped; making up praises was also quite hard. Hua Cheng stood there, and the more he listened the higher his brows raised. He asked doubtfully, "Really?"
"When have I ever lied to San Lang?" Xie Lian said.
Hua Cheng calmly and lazily added a few incense blocks into the small golden vessel on the side, and in the midst of fresh, faint fragrance, he conversed with an air of nonchalance, "I do want to write well, but there's no one to teach me, and I don't know if there are any tricks to it."
He certainly asked the right person. Xie Lian hummed and replied, "There's really no trick to it, just..." Xie Lian contemplated, but felt that in the end he couldn't just tell and not show, so he shuffled closer, picking up the brush himself, and wrote down the last two verses to the poem Hua Cheng had written. It was done all in one breath, and after staring at it for a moment, he laughed with a sigh, "Much ashamed, I haven't had much chance to write in many years, so it's not as good anymore."
Hua Cheng stared at the four verses that looked as different as heaven and hell, the characters with styles foreign of each other, especially the last two verses Xie Lian added – "Crossing through blossoms the eye is lazy; Half fate in cultivation, half fate in the one". He put the verses together and read them over a few times, his eye twinkling and unmoving. It was a moment before he looked up, "Teach me?"
"Well I dare not lecture." Xie Lian said. Thus, he began to tell Hua Cheng all about the introductions to calligraphy without holding back, providing insights and personal reflections of when he practiced calligraphy in his younger years.
The perfumed air wafted gently, the bright lights shimmering. Xie Lian lectured earnestly and Hua Cheng listened intently. Within the great hall, they chattered lightly and leisurely, their voices low, painting a picture of softness. After a while, Xie Lian prompted, "Why don't you try again?"
Hua Cheng "Oh"-ed and took the brush from his hand, and composed himself solemnly before writing down another few characters. Xie Lian stood next to him and watched, crossing his arms, and inclined his head, "Interesting. But..."
But, he still felt there was something wrong with the way Hua Cheng wrote. He observed with a frown for a bit and suddenly realized just where it went wrong – Hua Cheng wasn't holding the brush right in the first place!
Even the way he held the brush was all over the place, of course it'd go wrong!
Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or cry and stood closer, extending his hand to correct him without thinking, "You're holding it wrong, it's like this..."
It was only when he reached out did he suddenly realize it might be inappropriate. The two weren't teacher and young disciple, so to instruct with hand over hand may be overly familiar. However, since the hand was already out, there was no reason to pull back; it'd only seem overly self-conscious otherwise. Thus, after some hesitation, Xie Lian didn't remove his hand.
Then he thought, the last time at the Gambler's Den, didn't Hua Cheng teach him how to roll dice with hands over hands like this too? Although Xie Lian felt he learned absolutely nothing last time, and there was even a slight sense he'd been deceived somehow, this time he was sincere in wanting to teach Hua Cheng something. Thus, Xie Lian's warm palm was at ease, pressing close against Hua Cheng's cold hand, gently holding it, and carried it to guide the brush across the paper, whispering, "Like this..."
He could feel under his hand Hua Cheng's brush growing wilder, so he exerted some force to control it, correcting its path. However, it didn't take long before it went even more off course, resisting the control, so he could only grasp it tighter. The characters drawn through the power of the two combined were crooked and twisted, unseemly and ugly, and the more Xie Lian guided the more he felt something was off, and finally he couldn't help but gape, "Wha..."
As if his silly prank was a success, Hua Cheng snickered softly. The ink on the paper was chaotically tyrannical, and Xie Lian was exasperated, "San Lang... don't be like this. Learn properly. Write properly."
"Oh." Hua Cheng acquiesced.
Just one look and it was obvious he was only pretending to be serious. Xie Lian shook his head, feeling ridiculous.
Hua Cheng's hand may be cold, but in his grasp, for some reason, it felt like a lump of hot coal, and Xie Lian didn't dare to hold on any tighter. Just then, Xie Lian's eyes suddenly swept to the edge of the altar, and he stopped.
When he looked over, at the corner of the jaded bureau, there was a tiny, lonesome flower.
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●[紅袖添香] 'Fragrance Added by Red Sleeves' is a verse that described the luxury of a happy marriage, as "red sleeves" symbolized a bride, and "adding fragrance" depicted a scholar studying with the accompaniment of a beautiful woman. MXTX was using the verse as a pun.
●离思 [曾經滄海難為水,除卻巫山不是雲 取次花叢懶回顧,半緣修道半緣君]
Ache of Separation (From my Wife)
No water's enough when you have crossed the sea;
No cloud is beautiful but that which crowns the peak.
I pass by flowers that fail to attract poor me;
Half for your sake and half for Taoism I seek.
(Translation from http://www.chinesetimeschool.com/en-us/articles/chinese-poem-think-of-my-dear-wife/)
This was a poem written by the Tang poet Yuan Zhen, expressing his undying love and devotion to his dead wife. After seeing the vast sea (his wife), other bodies of water could no longer compare; after removing the clouds and mists of Mount Wu (his wife), no other landscapes could compare. Walking through bushes of flowers (other women), his mind is only focused on his cultivation and his wife.
The first two verses are currently used to express the nostalgia of having had something good and beautiful, and the loneliness of having nothing else that can compare thereafter.