Chapter 542: 542, Life is Like a Play (First Update)

Wild roses grew amidst the mountains.

It seemed that as long as one found a place with wild roses, the Soul Resurrection Grass could be found as well.

Chu Jin had wanted to ask Zi about the situation, but Zi had fallen asleep on the table again. Chu Jin frowned slightly; lately, Zi seemed a bit off.

It looked like he’d have to figure it out on his own.

With such vastness of Nan Mountain and his unfamiliarity with the terrain, where could he find wild roses?

Chu Jin gently smelled the wild roses in his hand, his thoughts deep in his eyes.

The bright red flowers against his jade-like cheeks were stunningly attractive, perfectly embodying the phrase "beauty that shames the flowers."

Seeing him like this, Mo Qingyi leaned in and asked, "What’s wrong, Jin? What are you thinking about?"

Chu Jin snapped out of his reverie, and with a faint smile, he replied, "It’s nothing. Shall we go? Aren’t you hungry?"

Mo Qingyi knew that Chu Jin had his little secrets and did not pry further, cheerily pulling him and Miao Xinran forward.

Leaving the three tall men walking side by side, their striking looks and presence commanding attention.

This drew frequent glances from young girls, but they were just that, glances; none dared approach to strike up a conversation.

Mo Qingyi was like a child with ADHD, carrying a basket and bounding energetically along the way, and whenever he encountered people, regardless of gender, age or social standing, he would offer them a wild rose.

He even gave a nice-sounding reason for it: "Give someone roses and the fragrance lingers on your hands."

Passersby were startled when they received wild roses from Mo Qingyi, thinking to themselves, "Whose unruly child is this?"

And for those single young men who received flowers from Mo Qingyi, their faces turned beet red, their hands holding the flowers as they imagined scenes beyond reality.

Duanmu Zhe’s face behind them was almost as black as the bottom of a pot.

Mo Zhixuan patted Duanmu Zhe on the shoulder and said meaningfully, "Bear with it a bit more."

Duanmu Zhe looked up in surprise, trying to suppress the excitement within him, "Ninth Brother?"

What did Ninth Brother’s words mean? Was he offering his support?

But Mo Zhixuan didn’t continue talking, reverting back to his noble and aloof demeanor, with his sharply-defined features partly shrouded in shadow, mysterious yet conspicuous.

Seeing him like this, Duanmu Zhe swallowed hard and said nothing more.

A flash of bright yellow crossed the corner of the street.

Qin Jinyong’s pupils constricted, and he abruptly stopped. "Ninth Brother, Duanmu, I’ve suddenly remembered I’ve left something at the inn. I’ll go back to retrieve it. You can go ahead; no need to wait for me," he said.

"Go ahead," Mo Zhixuan said, parting his lips lightly to utter two words indifferently.

Qin Jinyong nodded and turned, his steps rapidly carrying him back in the direction of the inn.

Meanwhile, Mo Zhixuan and Duanmu Zhe continued to walk forward.

The group soon arrived at the specialty restaurant Duanmu Zhe had mentioned, and Mo Qingyi had just finished handing out all the wild roses in his basket, even giving the basket itself away.

Like all nearby buildings, the restaurant was of ancient construction.

The restaurant was large, with many guests coming and going by the door, unlike the Hidden Ferry Inn where they stayed, which was quite deserted.

As soon as they entered the restaurant’s main entrance, Chu Jin’s gaze was captured by the stage set up in the middle of the hall, where a Qingyi was making an exquisite appearance, makeup and costumes on point.

The melodious strains of the opera echoed through the air, "It turns out that the garden is full of reds and purples, all succumbing to desolation and ruin..."

It was the most famous excerpt from the Kunqu opera "Peony Pavilion," "The Dream in the Garden."

Listening to the familiar tune and seeing the familiar makeup, Chu Jin’s eyes gradually moistened.

In a previous life, when I was still Qin Jie, my grandmother was best at playing the role of Aunt Du Li. She would often dress in costume and apply Aunt Du Li’s makeup, tirelessly practicing her lines alone in the garden.

Perhaps influenced by my grandmother, I also developed a fondness for Kunqu opera, even coming close to becoming a Qingyi actress myself. However, everything changed after I met Shen Lingtian.

For Shen Lingtian, I gave up my beloved Kunqu opera. I not only took up the pen to write but also wandered the marketplace, clinking glasses with strangers.

In the end, it all led to a raging fire.

Life is like a play, and a play is like life.

Just like Aunt Du Li on the stage, once awakened from her dream, what awaited her was emptiness.

How many years had it been since I last heard the long-lost sounds of Kunqu opera, yet by then, everything and everyone had changed.

My capriciousness had reduced my grandmother to nothing but bones, and I, I had become Chu Jin.

Our group made its way to the railing on the second floor and sat down.

The view from here was excellent; a mere glance downward captured the entirety of the restaurant.

After seating myself, my attention remained fixed on the stage below. My expression was serene, but my eyes were intent, even slightly red-rimmed.

"Jin, can you understand what she’s singing?" Curious, Mo Qingyi leaned in closer, glancing down at the stage. As for her, she couldn’t understand a single word—it all sounded like unintelligible murmurs, with such drawn-out intonations that it seemed utterly dull to listen to.

These days, young people prefer pop music, DJ sets, and upbeat tunes. How many of them would take an interest in such ancient operas?

Only the retired elderly would listen to opera music to pass their time.

I withdrew my gaze and said lightly, "I can understand a bit."

"Jin, you’re not bluffing, are you?" For the first time, Mo Qingyi doubted me. "If you can understand, then tell us, what Huangmei opera is she singing?"

In Mo Qingyi’s mind, all such operatic warbling were labeled as Huangmei opera, having come to know Huangmei opera through old Lady Mo, who often watched opera programs and occasionally hummed a few lines from "A Girl as Daughter-in-Law."

I glanced at Mo Qingyi and said softly, "She’s singing Kunqu."

Mo Qingyi nodded thoughtfully, "So the Huangmei opera she’s singing is called Kunqu, huh? But that’s such a strange name..."

Mo Zhixuan: "..."

Duanmu Zhe: "..."

I, believing that it’s wrong to mislead the youth, patiently explained to her the difference between Kunqu and Huangmei opera.

I spoke in great detail, yet not overly complex, in a way that was easy to understand. It was clear I had thoroughly researched the subject.

They say a person who is earnest in their pursuits is most attractive, and this description couldn’t fit Chu Jin at the moment any better.

I explained earnestly to Mo Qingyi, my tone gentle like the bubbling of an approaching river, clear and melodious, each sound entering the ear, dispelling the gloom in the air and bringing enlightenment.

Full of grace and charm.

The admiration was visible in the eyes of the elderly at the next table, who nodded their heads in approval.

While Mo Qingyi struggled to grasp the nuances, seemingly understanding but not quite, Miao Xinran, after hearing my explanation, looked at me with eyes sparkling with admiration, "Wow, Jin, you’re amazing, you even understand operas!"

I smiled faintly, "There was an elder in my family who particularly enjoyed studying these, so I picked up a little."

Mo Qingyi then leaned over, teasing, "Jin, tell me honestly, are you really not the Immortal of the Heavenly Mount? "

Can this person really be only eighteen years old?

Would an eighteen-year-old girl actually enjoy such old operas?

I shot her a glance, "If I were the Immortal of the Heavenly Mount, you would be the first one I’d devour."

After hearing my explanation, Miao Xinran became intensely interested in Kunqu. She grabbed my hand and pleaded, "Jin, Jin, tell me the story of ’Peony Pavilion,’ okay?"

I nodded and proceeded to briefly yet succinctly explain the backdrop of "Peony Pavilion" to Miao Xinran. I concluded the tale with the line, "Beneath the peony flowers we meet, to wed even as ghosts is sweet."

Having learned the backstory, my heart stirred with a different sort of feeling when I listened once more to the sorrows sung by the Qingyi below the stage.

An innocent Du Li, yearning for marriage freedom yet oppressed by feudal ethics, whose beautiful love could only be realized in dreams, was undoubtedly pitiable.

"Du Li is so pitiable..." Miao Xinran lamented with reddened eyes.

Mo Qingyi patted Miao Xinran on the shoulder, "Hey, hey, hey, look at you, all weepy-eyed. Remember, you’re eighteen this year, not eighty!"

Miao Xinran exclaimed, "You, with your lack of artistic sensibility, wouldn’t understand."

Mo Qingyi pouted, dissatisfied, "Let’s talk about it when I’m eighty..."

It was quite a while before Qin Jinyong finally made his late appearance.

As he made his apologetic entrance, he leaned over to sit next to Miao Xinran, "Sorry to have kept everyone waiting."

With everyone now present, Duanmu Zhe motioned for the waiter to serve the dishes.

The six of them had ordered a full table of delicacies, all unique to places outside Capital City.

At the dinner table, Mo Zhixuan kept adding food to Chu Jin’s bowl, hardly touching his own chopsticks.

Occasionally, Chu Jin would peel a shrimp for Mo Zhixuan, dipping it into garlic spicy sauce and placing it on the dish in front of him.

Thus, Mr. Mo, who typically avoided spicy food, subtly ate all the shrimp she peeled for him.

Watching their interaction, Qin Jinyong’s brow furrowed slightly.

Ninth Brother truly couldn’t keep sinking into this.

If things continued this way, the one who’d be hurt the most would only be Ninth Brother.

He must act decivisely and solve the situation.

"Zhixuan." A gentle, water-like voice emerged at the right moment.

Everyone at the table instinctively looked up to see a woman, in her twenties, approaching. She was dressed in a bright yellow gown with phoenix tails embroidered on the hem, her demeanor gentle, perfectly matching the appearance of a lady from the Jiangnan water towns.

Qin Jinyong immediately stood up, somewhat surprised, "Zhurao, what are you doing here?"

The woman smiled and nodded, "I didn’t expect to bump into you all here, either."

Duanmu Zhe greeted her politely, "Good to see you, Sister Zhurao."

Qin Zhurao responded courteously.

It was clear to see, she was a lady brought up in a sheltered environment, with impeccable manners.

However, although she knew Qin Jinyong and Duanmu Zhe, she chose to call only Mo Zhixuan’s name, which was quite intriguing.

Miao Xinran and Mo Qingyi were clearly seeing Qin Zhurao for the first time, and their eyes were filled with curiosity upon meeting her.

The waiter brought over a chair.

The round table, initially meant for six, now felt somewhat cramped with an additional person, and since the guests were all paired, no matter where Qin Zhurao sat, it appeared a bit awkward.

"Put it here by me," Qin Jinyong suddenly spoke.

Upon hearing this, the waiter placed the chair next to Qin Jinyong, who had Mo Zhixuan on his left and Miao Xinran on his right.

Now, Qin Zhurao was the person on the left of Qin Jinyong, and she also ended up being the person on the left of Mo Zhixuan.

Viewed this way, it gave the impression of being flanked on both sides.

It was unclear whether Qin Jinyong had done this intentionally or not.

Chu Jin, however, seemed unconcerned, finding it trivial whether it was one seat or another.

Mo Zhixuan furrowed his brows without a word, perhaps out of consideration for Qin Zhurao’s feelings. He didn’t raise any objections but instead moved his chair slightly closer to Chu Jin’s side.

Upon Qin Zhurao’s arrival, the atmosphere at the dining table changed instantly.

Mo Qingyi was so embarrassed that he couldn’t even make loud chewing sounds while eating.

Qin Zhurao was indeed too gentle and elegant; even her speech was soft and delicate. She was like a lady from an ancient painting, not resembling a modern person at all.

"Zhixuan, it’s been many years, and you still look the same, no change at all," Qin Zhurao said as she looked at Mo Zhixuan, her voice also the ultimate in gentleness.

From her words, one could tell that she and Mo Zhixuan were old acquaintances.

Mo Zhixuan pursed his lips and responded with only a faint ’hmm’ before saying, "You too."

Qin Zhurao smiled lightly, "I can’t compare with you," and then added, "By the way, I’ve heard about Chuyi’s situation. Don’t be too sad; grieve moderately."

Bringing up a past lover in front of a current one at the dinner table—that’s a rhythm of stirring up trouble.

Chu Jin subconsciously felt that this Qin Zhurao didn’t come with good intentions.

However, Mo Zhixuan wasn’t angry. He merely responded in his usual manner, "She brought it on herself, there is nothing deserving of sympathy."

It was clear that Mo Zhixuan treated Qin Zhurao differently from other women.

If it had been anyone else, Mo Zhixuan probably wouldn’t have been so patient.

Qin Zhurao sighed, "Although you say that, Chuyi is after all the only bloodline of the Zheng family, and while Zilong was still alive..." She stopped abruptly and said, "I’m sorry! Did I say something wrong?"

Zheng Chuyi was not only the sole surviving bloodline of the Zheng family but also the most beloved sister of Zheng Zilong. Zilong’s death had always been a knot in Mo Zhixuan’s heart. He felt guilty towards Zilong, which was why, despite what had happened, Mo Zhixuan still treated Zheng Chuyi as family, even allowing her to stay in the Mo family during that time.

This was a promise, a commitment to the departed.

But now, Zheng Chuyi was dead, and moreover by the hand of Mo Zhixuan’s fiancée. Wouldn’t this make him seem like a dishonorable person?

With these words, Qin Zhurao intended to invoke Mo Zhixuan’s sense of guilt toward Zheng Zilong, because she knew Mo Zhixuan had always been a paragon of virtue.

Once Mo Zhixuan felt guilty towards Zheng Zilong again, he would certainly alienate the real murderer. This move was also a deliberate attempt to drive a wedge between Mo Zhixuan and Chu Jin.

That Zheng Chuyi really was foolish enough, holding such a good hand and yet playing it so poorly!

In the end, she even ended up dead!

Indeed, after hearing these words, Mo Zhixuan’s expression changed.

Qin Zhurao lifted the corners of her mouth in satisfaction.

In terms of tactics, she was more than ten times better than Zheng Chuyi. It was a pity she didn’t have a brother as good as Zheng Zilong.

The table fell somewhat silent. Qin Jinyong and Duanmu Zhe both knew what had happened back then and had no idea how to break the silence.

Meanwhile, Mo Qingyi and Miao Xinran were confused, not quite understanding what was being discussed.

Chu Jin listened without changing her expression and did not join in the conversation.

Once her objective was achieved, Qin Zhurao didn’t continue on the subject but went on to say, "Zhixuan, the young lady sitting next to you looks unfamiliar. Why don’t you introduce us?"

It was then that Mo Zhixuan stood up, turned towards Qin Zhurao, and introduced, "This is my fiancée, Chu Jin." After speaking, he turned to Chu Jin and said, "Jin, this is Miss Qin Zhurao, who is also the one who saved my mother’s life."

That was his way of explaining why he treated Qin Zhurao a bit differently.

Upon hearing this, Qin Zhurao said with a smile, "What lifesaver not lifesaver, Zhixuan, you’re being too formal! As a descendant of Bian Que, it’s my responsibility to practice medicine and save lives."

After speaking, she stretched out her right hand towards Chu Jin with a gentle voice, "Miss Chu, it’s a pleasure to meet you here."

Chu Jin noticed that Qin Zhurao was still wearing a thin pair of gloves on her hands. They were transparent, like cicada wings, embroidered with lacy patterns. They were beautiful, indeed, but to wear gloves during a handshake seemed a bit disrespectful.

Chu Jin hesitated for a moment before touching the tips of her fingers, smiling slightly, "The pleasure is mine. I’m glad to meet you, too."

After they resumed their seats, Mo Qingyi looked at Qin Zhurao with a hint of curiosity and asked, "Did you just say you’re a descendant of the medical sage, Bian Que?"

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read