Chapter Seventy: Farewell My Concubine

Although I never felt any particular affection for Kunqu opera, and its stylized singing always made me uncomfortable, how could I possibly refuse the Flower Maiden?

I glanced at his frail appearance and asked, “Are you still able to sing now?”

“I can!” the Flower Maiden replied with unwavering certainty, then asked me to bring over his makeup chest.

I hurried to fetch it for him, then helped him up from the ground. He opened the chest and began to dress himself up in front of the small mirror inside.

His face, at that moment, was so pale that he hardly needed any foundation to play the role of the Flower Maiden, yet he still applied the powder with practiced care, touched rouge to his lips, finally donning the phoenix coronet and the ornate costume of the Kunqu Flower Maiden.

As he dressed and painted his face, I stood at the entrance of the temple, watching him with a complex mix of emotions. Only when he was completely transformed did he turn to me, offering a gentle smile.

Once made up, I could no longer tell he was a man. With that single smile, he seemed to possess a beauty that could topple kingdoms. Perhaps, long ago by the River Wu, Lady Yu smiled just so at the Conqueror.

Outside, the full moon hung high. The night sky, deep and black, was sporadically lit by bursts of brilliant fireworks. It was a day of national celebration, families gathered in reunion, while atop this mountain, in a dilapidated temple, there was only me—a lonely man—watching a solitary soul sing the lonely aria of “Farewell My Concubine.”

Perhaps the atmosphere was eerie, even frightening, but I had already set aside all distracting thoughts. I sat quietly on a small stone platform before the temple, my gaze complex as I watched the Flower Maiden perform.

He had surely practiced this aria for a long time, all to honor Marshal Liu’s birthday. Even on the road, he would recite the lyrics incessantly, familiarizing himself with every gesture and movement required on stage.

Yet it was this diligence that led him to accidentally fall into the ravine, trapping him in a recurring nightmare for a century. Now, his performance could no longer be given to Marshal Liu and his guests. Not wanting to leave behind regret, he could only perform for me alone.

With drunken eyes amid the fireworks,
The garden is filled with the scent of the imperial consort.
A faint dimple graces the lotus-like face,
Shaming all the flowers into submission.
She lifts the cup to drink the wine of union,
Yet waving the fan cannot dispel inner sorrow.
She dances with delicate steps and plays with her fan,
Half-veiled in gauze, her sleeves conceal her grief.
Though she may unravel a thousand threads of resentment from her brow,
It cannot melt the ten thousand sorrows in her heart!

His voice rose and fell, tender and melodious. I didn’t understand Kunqu, but as I listened in silence, I found myself more and more entranced, as if I were glimpsing the true essence of this national art.

At last, I looked at the Flower Maiden still performing, and offered him a faint smile. He returned it in kind, giving me a slight nod.

Taking a deep breath, I began to chant softly, “By the decree of the Supreme One, may all lonely souls transcend, may all ghosts and spirits receive grace, both the beheaded and the intact ascend, those slain by spear or sword, by drowning or by hanging; those dead in darkness or in light, those wronged and unavenged, creditors and enemies, those who claim lives…”

As I recited the Taoist mantra for the dead, the Flower Maiden’s voice grew fainter, his form gradually turning transparent.

When I finally finished the mantra, the Flower Maiden had disappeared completely before my eyes. The echoes of his “Farewell My Concubine” still lingered in the temple, fading away into nothingness.

I took a long, deep breath, stood up, and turned to watch the fireworks blossoming across the city below. In the midst of the brilliant display, a face resembling the Flower Maiden’s emerged, smiling at me from the night sky as if to say thank you.

Lighting a cigarette, I inhaled deeply, a nameless joy welling up within me, mingled with countless swirling thoughts.

Perhaps the appearance of the Flower Maiden was linked to the Nine Yin Severed Veins within me. I knew that on the path ahead, I would certainly encounter many more strange spirits and monsters like him. In that moment, I was truly grateful I had not used the Netherworld Forbidden Art to destroy the Flower Maiden. If I had taken that step, it would have tainted the very beginning of my journey, setting me on a path toward inner demons and disaster.

Fortunately, everything had ended in the best possible way.

I took out the Book of the Yellow Springs from my belongings, feeling a moment’s daze. Without further hesitation, I performed a Maoshan fire spell, igniting the book directly.

Very quickly, the Book of the Yellow Springs turned to ash before my eyes. Only then did I breathe a long sigh of relief. Its contents were now engraved in my memory; from this moment onward, the physical book had vanished from the world forever.

I checked the time on my phone—it was already past nine in the evening. Perhaps because I had finally relaxed, I suddenly became aware of how cold I felt. My clothes were thin, and I hadn’t bathed in a long time, which made my whole body itch with discomfort.

I didn’t linger in the temple any longer. Now that I had memorized the Book of the Yellow Springs and studied much of the Maoshan Secret Manual, it was time to head down the mountain—after all, the new school term would begin in just two days.

Thus, guided by moonlight and the intermittent bursts of fireworks, I made my way down the mountain.

By the time I returned to the city, it was nearly midnight. I couldn’t go back to the school at that hour, so I found a cheap hotel on the outskirts and got a room for sixty yuan a night.

Upon settling in, I immediately took a shower. After more than twenty days sleeping on the floor of Qingfeng Temple with the Flower Maiden, lying in a real bed felt almost unfamiliar.

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, so I pulled out the Maoshan Secret Manual and tried to read. But nothing would stick; instead, the image of that old Taoist kept drifting into my mind.

I wondered where that swindler was now, up to his old tricks. What I really wanted to know was where he got his hands on such a copy of the Maoshan Secret Manual. If the real Maoshan sect ever found out he was running around making copies of their treasured manual and selling them, they’d probably beat him to death on the spot.

Before I knew it, it was past one in the morning, and I was still wide awake. I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Instinctively, I thought of calling Wang Feiyang and Lu Li, but changed my mind. Lu Li was back at Mount Shu, surely overwhelmed by the struggle to become the new head disciple. Wang Feiyang must be busy chasing after Hua Mie. It seemed only I had so much time on my hands.

Speaking of idle boredom, I thought of my good friend the Emperor from university. Without hesitation, I dialed his number.

To my surprise, he picked up instantly. Before I could say hello, he started ranting, “Dude, why the hell aren’t you back at school yet? Get over here! Emperor’s buying the drinks!”

I was startled. “Emperor, you’re still up this late?” In the background, I could hear the thumping beats of a DJ. I grinned, “Hanging out with Sister Dan again?”

The Emperor groaned. “Hanging out my ass. Wang Dan ditched me tonight. Damn it, brother, what are you doing? The whole gang’s here except you. We’re all out singing karaoke—just waiting on you.”

I chuckled. “You guys go ahead, I’ll be back at school tomorrow.”

He swore. “If you don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll kill you myself!” With that, he hung up, sounding rather frustrated.

I didn’t dwell on it, tossed my phone aside, yawned, and suddenly felt sleepy.

I closed my eyes, wrapped myself in the blanket, and drifted off.

I don’t know how long I slept. In the midst of a groggy dream, I suddenly caught a whiff of something rotten, followed by the piercing, heart-wrenching wail of an infant crying right by my ear.