It was just as he had imagined, at least in terms of atmosphere if not aesthetics. In aesthetics, it was no different from the fourth floor, save perhaps for the lighting, which was a little brighter here. Golden lanterns illuminated the space, and the air was suffused with the scent of spring mountain incense. The refreshing clarity that washed over him made Yang Qing suspect that either an entire forest’s worth of incense had been burned or the teahouse had lit a monarch-grade stick, given he could acutely feel its effects even with his cultivation realm.
Another key difference lay in the walls. On the second floor, the walls were lined with rectangular compartnts, much like those in the Institute’s libraries. Instead of scrolls, however, these compartnts held thin rectangular wooden tokens. With Sun Bayi’s guidance, Yang Qing quickly discovered that these tokens contained the library’s contents and operated in a way not unlike how it did with that Go tile he’d received from the painting.
All he needed to do was channel his spiritual essence into one of the tokens, and it would transform into either a booklet or a scroll, depending on the content it held. From his cursory glance, each compartnt seed to store around twenty tokens, and there were at least a hundred compartnts in total.
After his introduction to the floor and its workings, Yang Qing quickly chose a table, sat down, and began perusing the titles within his compartnt, which were grouped in the sa manner as was done with the Go tile. As before, he went straight for the Curiosities section, hoping to stumble upon works as intriguing as those of the wandering scholar Song Quan.
Unsurprisingly, so of the tokens he examined held content that was either fascinating yet hard to believe, or read like the ramblings of soone driven mad by heart demons, gripped by paranoia, or simply drunk on too much rice wine.
As preposterous as so of the works were, Yang Qing, as a lover of oddities, enjoyed them nonetheless and even indulged for a while before calling Sun Bayi to lead him to the third floor, where the "artists" resided.
On this floor, he did not need to rely on imagination, as he had already seen it through the visual-auditory arrays inscribed on the fourth-floor tables, which allowed one to see and hear the happenings below.
When he stepped onto the floor, he realized that no matter how imrsive the visual-auditory arrays had been, they couldn’t compare to the real thing. The atmosphere was sothing one could only truly perceive and appreciate in the flesh.
The music ensnared the soul, the stories pulled the minds of listeners into their worlds, the poems beca light that illuminated the buried truths of the heart and urged reflection, while the drawings and paintings blended with reality and played with imagination. The patrons themselves added to it all—they laughed, cried, debated, and playfully jeered with one another or with the artists.
The entire floor was a living, breathing painting, a story unfolding in real ti, a continuous symphony of notes playing to the tune of life, and a poem that both reflected it and added to it.
Soaking in that atmosphere, Yang Qing found himself regretting not stopping here yesterday when his whimsical sense of adventure struck him. This floor, with its boundless vibrance, would have thoroughly fed that impulse.
Seeing it, feeling it, and experiencing it, he understood why this floor was not only the largest but also the most crowded. Painfully, as much as he enjoyed the atmosphere, Yang Qing had to tear himself away at the twentieth-minute mark to head to the fourth floor. His one-hour limit was nearly up, and as indulgent as he wanted to be, he was also a stickler when the mont demanded it. Bai Chen’s matter was one such mont, and so were Bolin and Haishi, whom he had left behind in sensitive states.
...
Fourth Floor
"Hopefully sothing cos of this," Yang Qing whispered to himself, seated at the sa table as before while fiddling with the crystal from Bu Zhen. The ability he had cast was still active; all it needed was a thought from Yang Qing to trigger it.
He ate his sesa seed pastries, washing them down with old pine needle brew, one hand resting on the crystal and his eyes fixed on the painting, which was as lively and enigmatic as he had left it.
From the nu, he’d chosen the failed examiner comforter set—perhaps because of the story he heard from old man Chen about Hebei’s founder, or perhaps because of his own pending action that carried a certain degree of failure.
The al included old pine needle brew, sesa seed pastries, honeyed chrysanthemum jelly, and sweet almond porridge. Given his ti constraints, he had ordered just one set, which he was now finishing as he bit into the last sesa pastry that he washed down with the final sip of the old pine brew.
Seeing the empty table, Yang Qing drew a slow, deep breath, rose to his feet with the crystal in hand that he went on to activate when he was only a few inches from the painting.
He stared deeply at the painting as his pupils transford into a moon.
"I can feel your presence. I can only sense it faintly, but I know you’re there, listening—and probably eyeing as I say these words," said Yang Qing.
"My na is Yang Qing. I am from the Order, a judge to be exact, and I am here because of a friend of mine who disappeared the other day. The trail of that friend led here," he continued, using his free hand to conjure a vivid image of Bai Chen.
"You see this friend of mine," Yang Qing went on, "his disciple was recently kidnapped. The person who took him left a ssage, saying that if my friend wanted his disciple back, he needed to co here and present a moonlit orchid." He paused briefly.
"Now, I believe you saw my friend, and whoever he likely t or interacted with when he ca here. I also feel it’s very likely that he ca to this very floor. And even if he didn’t, with your perception covering this entire teahouse, you would have certainly noticed his arrival," said Yang Qing as he lightly waved his hand, dispelling the image of Bai Chen.
"Now you see," he said lightly, "an old senior of mine who was with here the other day left with a few interesting words."
"He said that you likely had a connection to the matter and that we could help one another. That is why I am here, boldly sharing," Yang Qing admitted.
"I have no idea what your connection is. Maybe you know the kidnapper, and if you do..." Yang Qing said slowly, "From what I’ve gathered, it doesn’t seem like the kidnapper had ill intentions toward Bai Chen—apart from the kidnapping, of course. But beyond that, their actions don’t strike as those of soone who makes a habit of this. They don’t seem like the ruthless sort I’ve co to expect from people involved in such affairs."
"Loose ends who should have been killed were not only spared, but even seed to profit," Yang Qing comnted, as the figures of Wenling and that guest elder from the Huang family flashed in his mind.
"So, you see, given the evidence left behind, I don’t think the kidnapper is a horrible person. To , they seem like soone who may have been caught up in sothing difficult, to the point that they felt kidnapping was the only viable option to resolve it.
And if that’s the case, and you know them, this is my offer: if Bai Chen, his disciple, and the others are returned unhard, I am willing to help with whatever it is they are dealing with that drove them to this in the first place.
I also promise not to pursue the matter of the kidnapping. All I care about is Bai Chen, his disciple, and the others returning safely. If that can be done, then I am even willing to swear on the Heavenly Dao that I will help them to the best of my abilities, provided it does not violate my principles or guarantee my death.
So, what do you say?"
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