Chapter Eighty-Five: Until It Is Named

This round of tea drinking lasted for nearly two hours. The teahouse patrons, who had initially been noisy and boisterous, gradually fell silent, one by one listening with rapt attention as Zhou Qiqiao recounted the story of the white serpent. There is love in the mortal world, and deep affection even among spirits. Through five hundred years of endless reincarnation, through the changing of seas into mulberry fields and stones turning to dust, the debt of a life-saving grace was never forgotten. They met at the Broken Bridge, recognized each other after the rain, and after enduring countless tribulations, they finally became a wedded couple. This romance between a human and a spirit seemed more soul-stirring and tear-jerking than all the love stories since the Qin and Han dynasties.

Zhou Qiqiao’s throat was parched, but as he watched the coins in the collection bowl slowly pile up and spill over, the satisfaction in his heart was truly beyond description. Xu You had previously promised them that all the money collected during the storytelling would belong entirely to them. In other words, in addition to the fixed daily income of five hundred cash, these extra rewards could also be pocketed. Judging solely by today's feedback from the patrons and making a rough estimate, even if it did not quite reach five hundred cash, it was not far off.

Only then did he remember to look for Xu You, but after gazing around, he saw no sign of him. He did not know when Xu You and his entourage had quietly departed.

Leaving at the same time was Han Qi. Although he had listened for a little less than half an hour and found the tale quite captivating, he had suffered a setback in his earlier dispute with Li Fu and had harbored a lingering resentment ever since. This resentment naturally extended to the storyteller. As he walked toward the door, he muttered curses under his breath: "What kind of storyteller is he, just a barking old dog! Spouting nonsense about the depraved affairs of men and snakes. Just wait until I report this to the county magistrate and have you charged with corrupting public morals!"

While brooding with indignation, he secretly plotted how to vent his spleen. Little did he expect that just as he stepped into a small alley, two men in green garments would surround him. Pinioning him from left and right, they dragged him into a corner. Raising their fists, they landed a heavy blow straight to his stomach, and then, showing no regard for limbs or torso, rained punches all over his body. Moreover, these two clearly possessed martial arts skills; their strike locations were tricky and caused a pain that penetrated to the bones, yet left no visible bruises on the exterior—truly masters of underhanded tactics.

"Remember, keep your mouth shut when you get home! Otherwise, drowning a family of seven in Qiantang Lake will be quite an easy task..."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know! I'll shut my mouth! Stop hitting me, please spare me," Han Qi begged on his knees, his heart shattered with terror. He had one wife, two concubines, and three sons at home—precisely seven family members.

The East Market within Qiantang City had been a churning sea of humanity since morning, with people rubbing shoulders and bustling about endlessly, stretching further than the eye could see. As the most concentrated hub of regional trade, the foot traffic was consistently the highest in the entire county and the surrounding several counties, with no fewer than a thousand people coming here daily to conduct various commercial transactions.

A man dressed in the exact same attire as Zhou Qiqiao stood on a half-man-high wooden platform in the very center of the market, recounting the Legend of the White Snake in a clear and resonant voice. Around him gathered first a sparse dozen people, then several dozen, and soon a triple ring of onlookers formed. Later arrivals had to bring wooden stools or bricks to stand on just to catch a glimpse of the man on the stage; as for whether they could hear clearly, it depended entirely on the sharpness of their own ears.

"...Then Bai Suzhen formed a sword mudra, leaped into the clouds, and engaged in a fierce battle with the centipede spirit. After nearly three hundred rounds, she suddenly turned invisible, crept up behind the centipede spirit, and thrust her sword straight into his waist. Imagine how sharp that precious treasure of a sword was; it instantly pierced the dark armor, sank deep into his flesh, and spurted a stream of dark blue blood..."

"Bravo! Well fought!" Shouts of thunderous applause erupted from the crowd. The emotions of the audience were completely stirred, and some even screamed, "Kill him! Kill the centipede spirit!" They were so deeply immersed in the performance that they were practically on the verge of becoming obsessed superfans.

The storyteller looked down at the audience, gave a dry cough, and said with a smiling expression, "Allow me to wet my throat..."

Boom!

Another burst of laughter followed. A perceptive fellow immediately shouted, "Quick, quick, quick! The master is asking for throat-moistening funds. Those with money, show your financial support!"

"And what about you with no money?"

The man grinned mischievously, produced two short wooden cylinders from somewhere, raised them high, and clapped them together with a sharp crack, declaring, "I'm specifically contributing a human presence!"

Not far from the wooden platform, a group of people had gathered. Their leader sat on a folding couch, wearing a thin, padded vest despite the freezing winter weather, with both arms bare and exposed to the air. If tattoos had not been out of fashion at the moment, he probably would have had a green dragon on his left bicep and a white tiger on his right.

"What is all that chaotic racket over there?"

"Reporting to the boss, it seems they're telling a story. I went over to listen for a bit just now, and damn it, it's actually quite interesting."

"A story?"

The boss showed no interest. He rubbed his belly and squinted, saying, "You lazy hound, you still have the leisure to go listen to stories? Hurry up and figure out where to get some money for the brothers. We haven't opened business for three days..."

"Heh, the boss wrongs me." He leaned close to the boss's ear and whispered, "Did you know that the fellow telling stories is collecting money—they call it throat-moistening funds. I squeezed to the front and took a look; there must be a thousand cash."

"What? You can actually collect money just by telling a crappy story?"

The boss jerked upright and roared angrily, "Goodness me, what Qiang slave crawled out from where, coming to my territory to do business without paying market taxes? You've got some nerve!"

"Qiang slave" was a term of abuse. Servants and slaves were already of low social standing, and appending the ethnic slur "Qiang" made them even more contemptible. As for the market tax, it was essentially protection fees. These roaming vagrants mingling in the East Market, banding together into factions and collecting protection fees from merchants, had already become an unwritten rule.

"Let's go and meet him!"

The boss led his men, brandishing clubs and swaggering aggressively just a few paces forward, when suddenly a cold voice rang out, "Lord Zhou, where are you headed?"

The boss took one look, and his body instantly went limp. He plastered on a fawning smile and said, "City Prefect, why have you graced us with your presence?"

The highest official of a market was the City Prefect, assisted by market clerks and scribes, and further down by gatekeepers and guards, who were responsible for public security and market administration. Their word was law in the market, and their authority was immense. Many vagrant gangs had dealings with the City Prefect or market clerks; otherwise, it would have been impossible for them to calmly collect protection fees. This point remained unchanged from ancient times to the present.

This Zhou Xiang did not have a particularly large influence in the East Market and could not claim friendship with the City Prefect, but he had deep ties with the market clerk standing behind the Prefect. Every two or three days, they would gather to eat, drink, and carouse with prostitutes, while splitting the collected protection fees fifty-fifty. They were typical drinking buddies bound by mutual interests.

The City Prefect ignored him and commanded, "Men, seize these villains who are bearing arms and disrupting the market!"

A pack of wolf-like guards and gatekeepers swarmed forward. Before Zhou Xiang could even offer a defense, he and his subordinates were subdued on the ground, gagged, bound, and silently escorted away.

The City Prefect glanced at the storytelling wooden platform, which was still bustling with lively activity, completely undisturbed by the commotion here. He asked, "Which batch is this?"

The market clerk replied indifferently, "The fourth batch!"

"Good. There is still one last one. What was his name again?"

"Zhang Wang!"

"Zhang Wang... Hmph, he truly brings shame to the surname Zhang. Let's go and meet this boss of the South Market!"

A hidden resentment stirred in the heart of the market clerk. This round of arrests was clearly aimed at eradicating those vagrant gangs that had no ties with the City Prefect; otherwise, Wang Hui and Fei Tong, who held the largest spheres of influence, would not have been on their absolute best behavior today without leaving the slightest pretext for arrest. They must have received prior notification from the City Prefect to remain hidden out of sight.

What a brilliant maneuver!

From this day forward, all the vagrants in the entire East Market would be completely under the control of the City Prefect. However, the clerk dared not voice any complaints, because today's market rectification operation was carried out under the written decree of Gu Yun, not at the Prefect's own discretion. Having served as an official for many years, he was deeply versed in various bureaucratic maneuvers. He could offer passive resistance, play along insincerely, or even lock horns with the City Prefect without major consequence, but he dared not ignore an order from Gu Yun.

The four great clans of Wu Commandery—Gu, Lu, Zhu, and Zhang—were figures looked up to by everyone. How many heads did a lowly market clerk like him have to risk taking such a gamble? Therefore, when Zhou Xiang was arrested just now, he remained completely silent, not even uttering a single word of plea.

Identical scenes were simultaneously staged in the rural markets, neighborhood markets, grass markets, and trading fairs—any place where crowds gathered. Xu You had arranged personnel in advance to be responsible for building up the atmosphere and guiding public opinion: cheering when appropriate, and shouting approval on cue. Ordinary people possessed a herd mentality; as long as the first wave of favorable reviews was overwhelming, it would be difficult for subsequent dissenting voices to suppress them. Most importantly, anyone causing trouble had to be dealt with immediately—such as Han Qi and Zhou Xiang. The essence of propagation lay precisely here: both overt and covert efforts had to be applied diligently.

Within a single day, those who had listened to the Legend of the White Snake would return to their places of residence, inform their relatives and friends, and through word of mouth, spread the tale across the Three Wu region within ten days.

Propromotion and dissemination science was a major discipline, but it boiled down to a massive blitzkrieg designed to generate the most explosive spreading power in the shortest possible time. Once an initial scale was formed, under the effect of the spiral of silence, the impact would quickly expand tenfold or a hundredfold.

On the way back to Mingyu Mountain, Lü Shuang suppressed her excitement and said, "Congratulations to the young master, felicitations to the young master!"

Xu You looked up at the mountain path. Where the winter was fading, the forest trees were entirely bare, and the desolate scenery always stirred a sense of depression in the heart. He softly asked, "What is there to congratulate?"

"The young master has just tested his skills for the first time, yet he has already stirred Qiantang into a state of shifting winds and clouds. How can one not rejoice?"

Xu You shook his head and said, "It was merely being forced to the margins..."

"The margins?"

Xu You smiled and said, "That is another story of flashing spears and iron-clad horses..."

When they reached the manor, He Ru was sitting leisurely, leaning against the eaves of the western corner and basking in the winter sun, while Qiufen listened to him speak: "Qi Lang’s character is indeed good, but his shortcoming is also quite obvious—his heart is still not ruthless enough."

"A kind heart—shouldn't that be praised?"

"In a small farming household, a kind heart is naturally praised by the neighbors, but if one wishes to accomplish great things, one must be able to harden one's heart. After Hu Hai, the Second Emperor of Qin, ascended the throne, he had dozens of brothers and sisters torn apart by chariots. Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Pang, could push his own flesh and blood out of the carriage during his flight. Emperor Wu of Han, Liu Che, was able to establish his son as heir while executing the boy's mother upon his own death. And Cao Qi, the last emperor of Wei, even whipped his own biological mother with a whip. Tell me, could a kind-hearted person ever do such things?"

"The young master naturally could not do those things... but," Qiufen said, half-understanding, "if one cannot accomplish great things without a ruthless heart, why is the master willing to assist him?"

"That is a well-asked question!" He Ru turned his head to look at Qiufen and said, "Let me put it this way: if one day, Qi Lang had to kill you in order to escape a perilous situation, lacking a ruthless heart, how could he bring himself to strike?"

Qiufen was startled. Fear first surfaced in her eyes, but it slowly dissipated as she said, "If such a day truly comes, I will end my own life. I would never let the young master be troubled."

He Ru gave a faint smile and said, "That settles it! Although Qi Lang lacks ruthless stratagems, he possesses the caliber that makes people willingly go to their deaths. Speaking privately, among people like us, who would truly enjoy following a master who turns his face and shows no mercy?"

"That is not necessarily true!"

He Ru and Qiufen turned around simultaneously. Qiufen cried out excitedly, "Young master, you're back."

Xu You flicked her forehead with his finger and said, "Don't listen to Qiyi's nonsense. Such a situation will not arise. When things truly reach that desperate pass, I fear everyone is doomed to die anyway—where would this fallacious theory of having to kill one person to escape come from?" He then reprimanded, "I asked you to teach Qiufen how to read, write, and understand reason. What on earth are you filling her head with these things for?"

He Ru laughed and said, "You went out for tea and storytelling without bringing Qiufen along. Seeing her feeling cooped up and bored, we were just chatting idly. Do not blame me, Qi Lang."

Xu You had no recourse against him. After taking his seat, he recounted what he had seen and heard today at the Liuqing Teahouse. He Ru nodded and said, "Southern people love matters of ghosts and deities. That the Legend of the White Snake caused a sensation was entirely expected. But after the sensation, we must carefully ponder how to lure the Tianshi Dao into the trap!"

Over the next three days, the range of the storytellers expanded from Qiantang to the surrounding areas; for another three days, it spread toward the southeast; and for yet another three days, it swept across the greater part of Yangzhou. Within a mere half-month, it created a massive impact throughout the Three Wu region. From farmers tilling the furrows in the fields to wandering gallants gossiping in the marketplaces, and all the way to pleasure quarters, flower alleys, wine shops, and inns, there was practically no one who did not know of Bai Suzhen and Xu Hanwen. Even scholars and famous literati began citing classics and historical texts, investigating the many characters and places mentioned in the Legend of the White Snake—such as the West Lake, Tianyun Mountain, White Deer Taoist Temple, Prefect Mu Mao, and Taoist Priest Qing Jian. For a time, numerous derivative anecdotes emerged, pursued by people everywhere and gaining immense fame.

Zhuji, located in the middle reaches of the Puyang River, was the ancient cradle of the State of Yue during the Warring States period and the hometown of Xi Shi, having been a place famed for producing beauties since ancient times. If one spoke of the finest establishment in Zhuji City, none surpassed the Cuiyu Tower located in the west of the city. There was a dancer in the tower named Chunshui, whose beauty was as clear and moving as spring water, and whose singing voice surpassed all others in Zhuji, resembling a phoenix dancing across the nine heavens. Some praised her as comparable to the divine Lady Song of Qiantang, making them a pair of peerless talents of the era.

Eighteen scholars sat gathered inside the Cuiyu Tower. Aside from one person wearing ordinary padded cloth garments, all the others were dressed in fine silks and brocades, looking exceptionally brilliant and polished. Raising their cups in a toast, they discussed poetry and painting, and naturally could not omit talking about the currently hottest topic: the Legend of the White Snake.

"Speaking of this white serpent, it is truly wondrously written. I listened to that storyteller for a whole day and already spent three thousand cash in throat-moistening funds. If it weren't for the nighttime curfew, I truly wished to have him finish the whole tale in one breath."

"Who is to say otherwise? You have only listened for a day, but I have listened for three consecutive days and am so entranced I forgot to return home. Ah, I wonder if that Bai Suzhen, suppressed by Taoist Priest Qing Jian beneath the Yuanyang Jinglu beside the West Lake, will ever manage to escape?"

"Actually, it is rather strange. The Legend of the White Snake feels ambiguous—it seems like something that happened in our current dynasty, yet doesn't quite fit."

"How so?"

"First, Tianyun Mountain: Qiantang County indeed has a Tianyun Mountain, which matches reality. But there is no Taoist temple on the mountain, much less any White Deer Taoist Temple. Next, the West Lake: Qiantang only has Qiantang Lake, also called Mingsheng Lake, and has never held the name West Lake. Furthermore, Prefect Mu Mao: 'Mao' can be broken down into 'mu' and 'mou'—wood and a sprouting prefix, which clearly satirizes Yangzhou Prefect Liu Quan..."

"Then how do you explain Taoist Priest Qing Jian?"

"Master Zhuang says mutual debate is contention, and contention naturally requires meeting face-to-face. 'Qing Jian' is probably a play on the character 'Jing'..."

"Jing? Could it be Du Jingzhi?"

"Hard to say, and not easily determined either!"

"Today we are here to discuss establishing our literary society. This Legend of the White Snake is merely a tale of ghosts and deities; let's listen to it casually and not take it seriously. If it isn't using ghosts and deities to satirize the present, then so be it. But if it truly involves Prefect Liu and Libationer Du as you suspect, how many heads do you and I have to spare to get involved in such matters?"

"That's true as well. Very well, very well, let's not discuss it anymore; establishing the society is what matters."

Literary societies among scholars originated in the Six Dynasties period. After development through the Sui and Tang dynasties, they reached full maturity by the Song and Ming eras. Jiangdong was a scholarly land that continuously produced men of letters, and the trend of forming societies had become a raging wildfire. These eighteen individuals were all locals of Zhuji who had come together because of shared aspirations, and later decided to adopt the advanced experiences of places like Wu County and Qiantang to form a mutual aid society and jointly elevate their literary fame abroad.

One man stood up, holding a wine cup, and said, "Elder brothers, this younger brother lacks talent, but I am willing to propose a name for our poetry society. If it is adopted, how fortunate that would be!"

This man was named Kong Rui, style name Ziduan. He was a collateral branch of the Kuaiji Kong clan. Though no longer considered a major aristocratic house, he was still a prominent family of note in Zhuji. He wore crimson robes and stood barely six feet tall, but his facial features were regular, and his expression as he swept his gaze around was one of utter self-satisfaction, revealing how accustomed he was to being pampered on a daily basis.

"Ziduan, your literary talent is brilliant; the name you choose will surely be exceptional. We await your words."

"Yuantan, you may still be able to quote 'Wait until the auspicious time', but I am already shouting 'Wait until this very moment'. Hurry up and tell us, Ziduan!"

"If you put it that way, both Yuantan and Youishu fall short of me." Another scholar stood up, raised his wine cup, walked over to Kong Rui, and linked arms with him in the manner of drinking the wedding nuptial wine, saying, "I am already at 'Wait until he speaks of it', a full three parts more anxious than all of you!"

The others laughed until they doubled over. Yuantan and Youishu exchanged glances, shook their heads in unison, and said, "Mingchu, you are still the most formidable. We yield to you, we yield to you!"

In the *Classic of Poetry*, *Xiaonan* section, there is a poem titled *Plum Blossoms Falling*, which expresses a maiden's longing for marriage. It consists of three stanzas. The first stanza, "Wait until the auspicious time," expresses the maiden's sense of leisure; the second stanza, "Wait until this very moment," shows a sense of anxiety; and the final stanza, "Wait until he speaks of it," reveals an impatience that can no longer be contained. When scholars gathered, they naturally would not speak as bluntly as rustic villagers, but these three fancied themselves men of letters yet used a maiden waiting for marriage to flatter Kong Rui—their moral fiber and backbone could well be imagined from this.

Kong Rui smiled. Although he knew these people were mostly flattering him, he was deeply pleased in his heart. "Last night, I obtained two fragments of poetry: 'Flowers wither with delicate makeup fading, orioles weary as clear songs break.' When we form our society, isn't it precisely for flowering days and moonlit evenings, gathering to compose poetry? We might as well take the two characters 'clear song' from the lines to form the Clear Song Society. What do you elder brothers think?"

"Exquisite!"

"Utterly wonderful!"

"Clear song... 'The waters of the Canglang are clear, sing to chant our thoughts!' Ziduan's literary compositions are indeed razor-sharp; we cannot match them."

Kong Rui turned his head to look at the man in cloth garments, his expression earnest as he asked, "Buyi, do you think the Clear Song Society is enough to make a name for itself?"

This man in cloth garments was precisely Zhang Mo, the one who had conversed with Xu You outside Wu County that day. He smiled and said, "Not bad at all."

Kong Rui was overjoyed and said, "With those words from the Five-Colored Dragon and Luan, the Clear Song Society is bound to flourish greatly!"

Since Zhang Mo had no objections, the name of the Clear Song Society was settled. As the host for the day, Kong Rui naturally wanted to ensure his fellow society members thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and he had long since paid a heavy sum to have Chunshui reserve a full day without accepting any other guests. Now that the major business was concluded, he specially summoned Chunshui in to perform a song.

Chunshui was draped in a thin robe of kingfisher feathers, her fragrant shoulders slightly exposed, and her skin surpassing snow. As her jade legs parted and closed, the scenery beneath her robe was faintly visible. Fortunately, there were charcoal braziers and red stoves burning inside the room, otherwise she truly would have been sacrificing warmth for elegance. Her beautiful eyes swept across the room, lingering briefly when they passed over Zhang Mo, before finally landing on Kong Rui. She curved her lips in a smile that was bright and stunning.

For courtesans like them who relied on their looks to serve others, knowing how to please the human heart had already become an instinct, unrelated to beauty or talent. The person who spent the most money could always receive the best treatment.