That night, Song Qianji looked up at the moon and was moved to express his feelings through music.
After composing the piece, he only played it silently in his mind once, feeling it was not bad, and then gave it to He Qingqing.
Now, hearing her finish playing it, he was momentarily dazed. The piece he had written, when infused with spiritual power and performed, actually carried such grandeur.
He Qingqing had stunned everyone with this piece, her fame spreading far and wide. Though it seemed glorious, it was uncertain whether it would bring fortune or misfortune.
Suddenly, a clear and gentle male voice faintly emanated from the pavilion at the center of the pond, as if examining others.
All in the pavilion were examiners for the Music Examination, but the moment that person spoke, everyone else fell silent, treating him with extreme respect. Wasn't his identity obvious?
Song Qianji was slightly startled—was Qin Xian here?
He focused his mind, trying to hear what the man was saying.
"In youth, solitary and bitter..."
Bitter it was, but there was nothing to complain about—habit makes it natural.
"...competing for supremacy under heaven."
What competition? I had just climbed to the peak and hadn't enjoyed it for long before the Sky-Supporting Tree was about to fall and the world was on the verge of collapse.
"...a hero at his end."
Song Qianji finally couldn't hold back and chuckled.
No one had ever called him a hero.
The term had nothing to do with him.
Calling Old Thief Song a hero was more absurd than the Lord of the heretical path accumulating virtue or a mad Formation Master being calm and rational.
"...should be a dead man."
Song Qianji raised an eyebrow—this part was true. He had indeed died once.
The person in the pavilion was indeed Qin Xian. His mastery of the art of music was profound, allowing him to perceive subtleties beyond the notes and deduce the composer's experiences from the emotions in the melody.
Each trade has its master—an amateur like him was far from comparable.
He could only hope He Qingqing kept her promise and wouldn't reveal him.
If she did, he wouldn't admit it and would have to fabricate another story, pinning it on Xian Jianchen.
After all, practice makes perfect.
"What are you laughing at? Is it funny?" someone beside him said coldly.
Song Qianji was taken aback before realizing the question was directed at him.
Looking around, he saw everyone wearing unfriendly expressions.
He was the only one who hadn't shed tears but had instead laughed.
The crowd had just dried their tears, their hearts still lingering with the resonance of the music, when they heard a light chuckle.
Tonight, with this soul-stirring piece and the masked fairy's divine performance, how could someone remain unmoved and even scoff? Was he even human?
Standing in the crowd under condemning gazes, Song Qianji felt somewhat awkward.
"Misunderstanding, I wasn't laughing at you," he explained.
"Then who were you laughing at?" someone stepped forward and declared loudly:
"The masked fairy who played the zither enlightened me with her music and did me a great favor. Today, anyone who dares to mock her or disrespect her will have to answer to me!"
The crowd echoed in agreement.
He Qingqing's zither piece had not only moved hearts but also helped many advance their cultivation, granting them tangible benefits.
"Apologies, I meant no disrespect," Song Qianji had no choice but to explain again.
Seeing his sincere attitude, gentle smile, and handsome features, everyone finally let him off and turned to praising the music.
At that moment, the most popular people were the disciples of the Celestial Sound Sect.
Other Sword Cultivators, Talisman masters, Formation Masters, and artifact refiners only knew how to cheer but couldn't articulate what was good about the piece.
Only the Sound Cultivators elaborated on their insights, speaking eloquently and convincingly, earning admiration and praise.
"Although the opening of this piece carries a sense of hardship, it is sorrowful yet not despairing, without self-pity. Like a treasured sword sheathed, gathering momentum to strike.""The middle section is magnificent and grand, yet joyful without being licentious. As the saying goes, 'Joyful words are hard to perfect, while sorrowful tunes are easier to craft.' Grand and majestic music is most prone to losing its Spirit Qi and falling into vulgarity. Yet this piece not only avoids vulgarity but also possesses a majestic, awe-inspiring spirit, evoking the image of a king establishing dominance, attracting all creatures to pay homage!"
"The final section is a desolate and sorrowful song, drawing listeners into the secret realm of the heart."
Someone hesitantly remarked, "But it seems this piece wasn't finished?"
The crowd echoed with sighs of regret.
However, an older Sound Cultivator stepped forward and smiled:
"Even if the music ends abruptly with broken strings, it can still embody a beauty of imperfection."
"After all—" the person concluded, "Great perfection seems flawed, great music is often silent!"
"Clap, clap, clap!" Thunderous applause erupted.
"Well said!"
A supporter of Mengzhi Fairy sighed, "It seems Mengzhi Fairy cannot compare..."
"Compare? How can they even be compared? A grain of rice cannot compete with the sun and moon. In my opinion, there's no need to listen to the pieces that follow."
"There's still one piece by Fairy Miaoyan later. Won't you listen to it?"
"Not just one piece—I won't listen to the qin for a whole year. Having heard such celestial music tonight, I fear ordinary sounds will only pollute my ears!"
"Not so!" a supporter of Fairy Miaoyan objected. "This masked female cultivator has low cultivation and insufficient Spirit Qi within her. Her mastery of the qin is inferior to Fairy Miaoyan's. Tonight, she did not win with skill but with the golden composition itself! If Fairy Miaoyan were to play this piece, she would surely perform it better!"
"This composition is truly marvelous. I wonder who wrote it for her?"
"Music carries the Dao. The one who composed this piece must be a great hero who stands tall between heaven and earth."
"Not necessarily," Song Qianji, who had been listening silently all along, finally spoke up.
He felt extremely awkward, his face slightly flushed, and couldn't help but say:
"Perhaps he was just a petty person who met a bad end because he stopped at nothing."
A disciple of the Celestial Sound Sect immediately interrupted:
"Are you a Sound Cultivator?"
"No, I am not," Song Qianji replied.
"Do you understand music theory?"
"Somewhat."
The Celestial Sound Sect disciple snorted coldly, "The path of music is vast and profound, lofty and boundless. How dare you casually comment with only a superficial understanding?"
The crowd grew indignant, blaming him for insulting the composer.
Song Qianji fell silent.
He blamed himself for speaking too much.
The merits and faults of history are left for posterity to judge. Even if misunderstood or slandered, he should have endured it—it wouldn't cost him a piece of flesh.
"Fellow Daoist, don't bother with him," someone chimed in. "He's not a Sound Cultivator, so how could he understand music theory or the emotions of the piece? Although I'm not a Sound Cultivator either, I know reverence and respect. Today, I've broadened my horizons and truly understood what it means to 'hear celestial music and feel one's ears cleansed,' to have 'echoes lingering for three days around the beams,' and to 'forget the taste of meat for three months.'"
Song Qianji smiled helplessly and looked toward the pond.
Through the dense crowd, he finally saw He Qingqing being summoned by Qin Xian with a single sentence. He then turned and left.
What was there to wait for?
Among the cultivators who attended the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals and listened to the qin by the pond tonight were those who had once surrounded and tried to kill him in his past life, as well as those he had killed.
He could no longer remember clearly.
Nor did he wish to strain his memory.
Song Qianji walked away alone, leaving behind the laughter, cheers, and praises that gradually faded into the distance.
Walking alone on the mountain path, the bright moon shone upon him.
He suddenly felt like drinking some wine, returning to his small vegetable garden, and getting drunk amidst the company of plants and trees.
"Brother Song!" A hurried shout interrupted Song Qianji's thoughts.
Someone rushed toward him: "I've been looking everywhere for you. I've searched so hard!""Ji Chen?" Song Qianji wondered, "What does he want with me? Is the Go Examination over?"
He had assumed Ji Chen stayed behind at Windy Mist Valley observing the Go Examination and practicing his gameplay.
Only when the other rushed out from the tree shadows, his face illuminated by the moonlight from www.hetushu.com.com, did Song Qianji notice the panic in Ji Chen's eyes and realize something might be wrong.
"What characters did you even write? The Calligrapher Sage personally selected the 'Egg Calligraphy' as the champion!" Ji Chen gasped, "They were trying to drag me to the celebration banquet, but I slipped away!"
"What?" Song Qianji exclaimed in shock, "Egg Calligraphy?"
"It was the circles I drew with the 'eggs' you wrote - now it's become the Egg Calligraphy!"
"No way, this can't be." Song Qianji stood dumbfounded.
Not only had he failed to find Wei Zhenyu, but the champion of the Calligraphy and Painting Examination turned out to be a Formation Master?
What was wrong with the Calligrapher Sage?
Instead of choosing the genius who left writing on the cliff face, or any of the countless exquisite landscape paintings, he picks an egg drawing.
Is this a restaurant menu where you just pick whatever looks tasty?
"This champion title I got is absurd and completely undeserved! I'm really panicking! You said life is about participation, and you claimed you only knew a little bit - you lied to me, wu wu wu."
Seeing Song Qianji's stunned expression made Ji Chen even more distraught, and he began sobbing uncontrollably.
"I didn't lie to you!" Song Qianji felt a headache coming on from the crying.
Has no one ever taught you that a man of seven feet should shed blood rather than tears?
Today I couldn't meet Wei Zhenyu, and then I got thoroughly criticized during the Music Examination.
I'm not crying, so why are you?
"Stop crying, Fellow Daoist Ji. Nobody wanted this to happen - it's not our fault!"
Ji Chen sniffled, "Then is it the Sage's fault? Even if it is, who would dare say a Sage made a mistake?"
"Hand me your handkerchief!" Song Qianji demanded.
Ji Chen obediently produced a handkerchief made of gleaming ice-silk satin brocade.
Song Qianji took it and wiped away Ji Chen's snot and tears: "Since the Sage cannot make mistakes, and he personally chose you, who would dare say you're wrong? Anyone who questions your championship is questioning the Calligrapher Sage himself. What are you afraid of?"
"But the two characters for 'egg' were clearly written by you!"
Song Qianji intimidated him: "Writing on someone else's examination paper counts as cheating. If you reveal this, we'll both be in trouble."
"Then what should we do?"
"You might as well accept it and happily become the champion!"
Song Qianji continued explaining the pros and cons, eventually managing to calm Ji Chen down.
"Go back now, before others come looking for you."
"What about you?" Ji Chen asked, tugging at his sleeve, "You're making me go alone? Aren't you coming to the celebration banquet with me?"
Song Qianji shook his head: "I don't want to eat right now, I just want to drink."
He added: "Alone."
Too many things had happened today, one absurd event after another - fate seemed determined to play jokes on him.
He wanted to drink, then return to his warm, lovely vegetable garden and sleep soundly.
When he woke from his drunken slumber, tomorrow would still be another fulfilling day of farming.
"Alcohol? I have some!" Ji Chen patted his Storage Bag and produced a small purple jade wine jar. "Drink mine!"
"It's not too strong, is it?" Song Qianji hesitated.
Ji Chen patted his chest reassuringly: "Don't worry, this is fruit wine brewed by my family - sweet and light."
"Good, thank you." Song Qianji nodded. "You should go now."
Ji Chen lingered reluctantly.
Song Qianji gave him a gentle push.
※※※
The waterfall cascaded down, scattering silver spray in the moonlight.
Dozens of Qing Shi stones were lifted by Spirit Qi, floating silently in the pond, forming a path to the pavilion at the center.He Qingqing held the qin as she walked step by step along the path.
She came to a halt outside the pavilion, where the pond reflected her slender waist and the veiled hat concealing her head and face.
"What is the name of this melody?" someone in the pavilion asked with a laugh.
He Qingqing replied softly, "I do not know its name."
"Where did you learn it?" the person inquired again.
Summoning her courage, He Qingqing looked up.
She saw that all the others in the pavilion were standing, solemn and dignified.
Only the one who had spoken was seated, his eyes smiling.
He wore dark robes, yet maintained the appearance of youth. His features seemed carved by divine artistry, his skin fair and flawless, almost translucent under the moonlight.
He Qingqing couldn't resist the urge to observe him more closely, but when her gaze met his profound and distant eyes, her spirit trembled. She immediately lowered her head.
It was like beholding an exalted immortal—inspiring involuntary awe and making deception unthinkable.
She spoke softly yet firmly:
"I promised someone I would not speak of it."
Several people in the pavilion changed expression, ready to rebuke her for her audacity.
But Qin Xian nodded: "Honoring promises and valuing righteousness—commendable."
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