When Xiao Rong heard these words, his heart skipped a beat. He instinctively stood up to block Qu Yunmie, but neither the stranger nor the boisterous King were moving. Both were sitting calmly.

Xiao Rong: “…”

The stranger didn’t seem particularly scared either. Instead, he looked at Qu Yunmie with confusion.

He pointed at himself. “I… a scoundrel?”

Qu Yunmie squinted, seemingly contemplating where to strike next.

The stranger trembled and spoke again. “Isn’t he a man? I… I just looked at a man. How did that make me a scoundrel? Who would have improper thoughts about a man?”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

It seemed a bit reasonable.

Now, it was Qu Yunmie who looked dazed. He couldn’t think of a way to refute the stranger and instinctively looked at Xiao Rong, who was still standing.

Xiao Rong’s expression changed several times. He tightly pressed his lips together and sat down heavily. The commotion attracted the attention of others. Xiao Rong placed one arm on the table, using it to support his head, covering half of his face.

Qu Yunmie spoke. “Xiao—”

Before he could say “Rong,” Xiao Rong, in a fit of embarrassment, angrily scolded him, “Don’t call my name!”

How embarrassing!

Qu Yunmie: “…”

Fortunately, at that moment, the play started. The stage curtain was pulled back, and the zither player, seated in the corner, began playing elegantly.

This zither player was someone Xiao Rong had hired at great expense. One performance was worth the income of street vendors for two months. However, he made it clear that he couldn’t perform long-term. If he ran out of inspiration, he’d need to go home and rest for a while.

…

There was no choice. Without sheet music, whatever play was performed, he would have to create music to match, completely improvising. This kind of music was so refined that Xiao Rong, who was used to emotional pop music, couldn’t fully appreciate it at first.

Still, that didn’t matter. As long as the audience enjoyed it, that was enough. Moreover, it was still early in the play. Once the theater started turning a profit, Xiao Rong planned to hire a few more musicians from outside to perform. A pipa melody was always enjoyable for both the refined and the common. When things got too busy, he could relax here too.

The variety of music was one reason why people wanted to watch the play again, but the main reason was that their lives were too monotonous.

This thing called “theater” didn’t just let people listen to music. It also allowed them to see the performers’ movements and hear them sing, although the singing was minimal. Most of it was dialogue, and people enjoyed that. The dialogue here was witty and rhymed, far more interesting than the sorrowful and melancholic raps they usually heard.

Indeed, the rap they were familiar with mostly lamented spring’s end and autumn’s sorrow, either telling of a miserable life or the tragedies of others’ families. The ultimate goal was to bring out tears from the audience, so they’d feel sympathetic and tip more. These people thought the plays in the theater were different, but Xiao Rong wanted to tell them: You’re too naive.

The core of a comedy is tragedy, and the core of a tragedy is also tragedy. Only tragedy can leave a deep impression. Otherwise, why would he go through the trouble of finding someone to write a script and another person to play the music? It was all for the audience to remember these things.

The full name of this play was “The Return of the Corpse,” but very few people remembered the title. Everyone laughed heartily at the exaggerated performances of the actors. Those who had seen it before were relatively calm, but those seeing it for the first time laughed so hard that the tables almost cracked.

To be honest, Xiao Rong thought this person was even more exaggerated than the actors.

He wasn’t a plant. Since they’d been performing for so many days, Xiao Rong wouldn’t bring in any more plants. This person just had an unusually low threshold for laughter.

After a pause, Xiao Rong continued watching the stage.

The Return of the Corpse was about a family of four, though it originally started as a family of six. A couple and their three sons and one daughter lived together. The son was disobedient, the father had a bad temper, and the mother could only worry without offering any real solutions. It was only when all six of them interacted that the atmosphere became lively. The audience’s initial laughter came from their chaotic life.

The hot-tempered father would, at night, tell the mother he regretted hitting the son so hard. The reason the son was beaten was that he had given a bowl of rice to a starving person outside. The youngest daughter didn’t understand why giving away a bowl of rice would lead to a beating. Her brother would pat her head and say, “You don’t need to understand. When you grow up, we can give not just a bowl of rice, but a whole bag of it to others.”

Their life was chaotic but filled with hope. For an ordinary family, with three strong young men about to come of age, their lives would surely get better as long as they didn’t slack off.

Then the scene ended, and the next scene began with a large white cloth painted with faint mountain peaks, suggesting distant snow-capped mountains.

Snow began to fall heavily. The actors wore thick clothes, and the son who had been beaten earlier came home, carrying two or three twigs. At the door, there was a starving beggar, but the son could only helplessly shake his head. Just as the beggar turned away in disappointment, the son called him back. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly gave the beggar a bowl of water. In the harsh winter, even drinking water was difficult.

The beggar drank the water quickly, and the son returned home, but as soon as he entered, he heard a loud wail from inside. It turned out their mother had passed away. The water dipper fell to the ground with a loud clang, and the family of five gathered around the “dead” actor, crying bitterly. What made it even more absurd was that when the stage created a nighttime effect, there was actually a corpse wrapped in a grass mat on the ground. The family now surrounded the corpse, discussing what they should do next.

This was a small detail only those who had experienced it would understand. The heavy snow not only sealed the mountains but also froze the ground hard. Even a hoe couldn’t break the surface, so if someone died, they could only temporarily keep the body at home and wait for the thaw in spring to bury it properly.

Obviously, this family wouldn’t make it to that point because, through the actors’ dialogue, the audience learned that their mother had died from starvation. She had given her remaining food to the children, and by enduring hunger, she had simply starved herself to death.

If they didn’t leave, the number of grass mats on the floor would just keep increasing.

One of the sons mentioned that someone from the neighboring village had left to head south, calling on others to join. However, this was their homeland, and who knew what the outside world was like? What if they couldn’t survive out there either?

The sons debated back and forth, but in the end, the father made the decision. “People move, trees die. How can we big men just sit here and wait to be trapped?”

At that moment, there was no more arguing in the house. Everyone listened to the father, and before they left, the father found a place and started burning all the firewood in the house. Every time he burned a little, he’d grab a hoe and try to dig a bit more, but when it couldn’t be done, he just kept burning. The scene was presented through shadows since it wasn’t possible to bring a real fire into the theater—after all, it was made of wood, and a fire could be disastrous.

Yet it was precisely those black-and-white shadows that conveyed the silence and sadness. Especially when the shadows moved, and snowflakes were still falling from the sky. The feeling that no matter how hard you try, the heavens wouldn’t show any mercy. It was truly heart-wrenching.

No one in the theater laughed. There wasn’t even a single random sound. Even the staff of the theater stopped moving. No matter how many times they had seen this, they would quietly watch the burly figure on stage. No matter how strong he was, he was just a pitiful person.

The scene ended, and at that moment, Qu Yunmie whispered to Xiao Rong, “What is that falling down?”

Xiao Rong answered softly, “Torn scraps of paper. After the performance, they’ll be swept up, and we’ll use them again for the next scene.”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

His staff really was frugal.

Just as Qu Yunmie was about to continue watching, he suddenly heard a faint sound next to him. Xiao Rong also heard it, and they both paused, looking in the direction of the sound.

They saw Zhao Xingzong, his nose red, sniffing repeatedly. He didn’t want to sob in public, but he couldn’t control it, so he just kept sniffing to hold back the tears.

Qu Yunmie: “…”

Xiao Rong: “…”

They exchanged a strange glance and, in the end, chose to say nothing.

He was crying so much, they should at least show him some respect.

….

The third act began, and no matter how it was performed, it was always just these six people. Various effects were shown through the lines of the performers. For example, at this moment, the play showed that they had joined a group from another village and were heading out. While resting in one place, the youngest daughter suddenly asked her older brother, “What are refugees? Are we refugees?”

Among the three sons, the eldest was the most steady, the second son shared his father’s temperament, and the youngest son was the most timid. The second son immediately wanted to confront the person who spoke, but the eldest son stopped him, and then impulsively said, “We are refugees.”

The second son’s expression instantly turned ugly, and he punched the eldest son in the face. The two started to fight as if they were going to kill each other.

The father rushed over to break up the fight and delivered the most important line of this scene.

“So what if we are refugees? Those whose homes were stolen by thieves never shamefully admit it. Why should we be ashamed of being displaced by natural disasters? Just because we are refugees now, does that mean we will be refugees for our whole lives? Those who mock you, their ancestors were probably not even as good as refugees! People only remember the noble ancestors, but if you go back further, those who were slaves or drove chariots for the rich, do you think anyone talks about them? Remember, one’s status in life cannot define their identity forever, but if you accept your fate, then that’s truly the end! Listen to your father. We stick together as one, and find a place where we can survive. Once we settle down, we will no longer be refugees.”

The father held his two sons’ heads, and they exchanged a glance, silently obeying. At this point, the youngest daughter began to sing a song, the lyrics were written by a scholar whom Yu Shaoxie had found. The melodious tune quieted the family down, and the lyrics described the scenery, which also calmed the audience’s hearts.

Then, several performers dressed as Huhar people rushed onto the stage, shouting as they swung their swords left and right. When one of the Huhar people grinned and aimed his sword at the terrified youngest daughter, the curtain was pulled up. The stage manager came forward to inform the audience that the performance was over.

Audience: “…”

Be grateful we don’t have knives!

First-time viewers were extremely excited, almost wanting to curse the stage manager to death, while the regular audience members simply sighed. After each performance, there was always this scene, but the stage manager seemed to be a relative of the Northern King, so no matter what anyone said, he didn’t react. Fortunately, the first act would be performed tomorrow, and they had already decided to send a servant at midnight to secure seats. No matter what, they were determined to be the first to see the first act!

The people downstairs gradually left, while Zhao Xingzong remained sitting in his spot, staring blankly. After a long time, he put his hands on his head, looking utterly defeated. He no longer cared about the people around him and directly shouted, “Damn! Who is the one who started this theater! Don’t they fear for their lives with such tricks to tease the audience! They say this Baobao Street belongs to the Northern King. Why doesn’t he manage this place! His heart can be condemned, his heart can be condemned, ahh!”

After saying that, he suddenly turned around, angrily walked down the stairs, not sparing a single glance at Xiao Rong or Qu Yunmie.

Xiao Rong played with the peanuts on the table and looked at Qu Yunmie curiously. “Strange, isn’t the King angry? Didn’t this man offend the King with his words?”

Qu Yunmie glanced at him. “Clearly, those two words weren’t referring to me.”

Xiao Rong said, “So is it fine if he’s referring to me?”

Qu Yunmie: You’ve changed!

Qu Yunmie then pointed at Xiao Rong’s face from a distance. “Judging by your expression, I think his words were still mild.”

Xiao Rong froze. He instinctively touched his face, realizing that he looked like a cunning fox who had succeeded in a plot. His smile stiffened, he put his hand down and shifted uncomfortably. Still feeling unsatisfied, he hummed at Qu Yunmie, “Then for whom am I doing this? My conscience has long become the Northern King’s appetizer.”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

Do you think I haven’t heard that saying about your conscience being eaten by a dog?

He didn’t address Xiao Rong’s wounded pride. Instead, he quietly looked at Xiao Rong’s side profile and smiled. “I know everything.”

Xiao Rong turned his head, not understanding where this statement came from.

Qu Yunmie’s smile grew wider. “I know everything. No matter what you do, it’s all for me. I’m very happy.”

The simplest words, the most sincere attitude, made Xiao Rong feel a little embarrassed, but he wasn’t willing to let it go so easily. Scanning Qu Yunmie’s expression, Xiao Rong couldn’t help but nitpick. “You’re so happy, but there are no thanks?”

By now, the theater was empty, and Qu Yunmie’s laughter echoed throughout the first floor. “Haha, no thanks.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

No thanks and you’re still so righteous???

Qu Yunmie had already stood up. He had come to watch the play with Xiao Rong only because he had a free moment. After watching, he would return to the military camp.

Seeing this, Xiao Rong didn’t say anything more. After Qu Yunmie mounted his horse, Xiao Rong looked up and asked, “Are you still watching the first act, my King?”

Qu Yunmie lowered his eyes. Xiao Rong’s tone seemed casual, but the way he looked at him exposed a lot. He wanted him to go.

Qu Yunmie smiled lightly. “Of course. Those who are teased like that are not just the scholars.”

Having received his answer, Xiao Rong didn’t wait for Qu Yunmie to remind him. He took a few steps back and, watching Qu Yunmie’s retreating figure, he grinned before leaving in the opposite direction.

If Zhao Xingzong were here, he would have known that the unreasonable man was the Northern King that everyone had been talking about because, in the entire Chenliu region, only the Northern King had the privilege of riding a horse in any street.

*

The first day was the sixth day of the literary collection, and the atmosphere, which had somewhat calmed down, was heated again.

First, the first act was finally performed, and the playwright was truly terrible. Everyone rushed to see if the youngest daughter had died or not. However, when the first scene began, the father died first.

…

Just this alone made everyone furious. They almost wanted to point at the playwright’s nose and curse. “What kind of nonsense are you writing? Are you even human?”

It was said that the scholar Yu Shaoxie had found was now staying at home, afraid of being discovered as the author, but the real mastermind, who had already planned how the plot would unfold, was Xiao Rong. He was watching and observing the reactions of the scholars to the first question.

He had given three questions: the first examined people’s character and political views, the second assessed people’s thinking ability and deeper social concepts, and the third tested their literary literacy. The third question was the most difficult.

Anyone could submit an answer to the first two questions, whether good or bad, but the third one didn’t require a lengthy article—just writing a couplet would suffice. It was a classic of the later generations, and for over a thousand years, no one had ever given a perfect answer. Either the meaning was off, the couplet wasn’t balanced, or the tone wasn’t right. In any case, no matter what answer they gave, Xiao Rong would always find something wrong, ensuring that no one could take the thousand gold reward.

However, the reason he had done this in the first place was that the Northern Army was truly poor, and now that the finances had loosened up, if he really gave away the thousand gold, they wouldn’t be in financial trouble anymore.

So Xiao Rong put that thought aside and decided that if someone wrote an article worthy of a leader in the first two questions, he would let the third one slide as long as it wasn’t too bad.

After hearing his idea, Song Shuo sneered.

Xiao Rong: “…”

He said unhappily, “Speak clearly, stop with the act.”

Song Shuo curled his lips. “Xiao Rong, you’re becoming less likable.”

He leaned back lazily and said to Xiao Rong, “Do you think you still control this literary collection? If there’s really someone who can answer all three questions with brilliance, then everyone would gladly accept it, but if this person doesn’t impress everyone, even if their article has just one flaw, when you choose them as the leader, everyone will rise against this person, against you, and against the entire Northern King’s household. Don’t you know how petty scholars can be?”

Xiao Rong: “…”

He blinked, puzzled, and asked Song Shuo, “But there’s no first in literature, no first in martial arts. No matter what kind of article you show them, there will always be problems. According to your logic, doesn’t that mean we can’t even pick a leader?”

Song Shuo shrugged. “I thought you knew this. When I heard about the literary collection in Jinling, I assumed you were doing it on purpose. Who knew I was just overthinking.”

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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