The Birds Keep Ringing Chapter 4
byChapter 4 The Fourth Chapter: Do You Know the Eighteen Forms of Spring Night?
After eating and drinking his fill, Yun Zhen began to ponder: how did he, a perfectly normal person, suddenly turn into a bird? If this incident were written into a novel, readers would definitely tear the author apart, accusing them of being lazy and perfunctory.
Someone might even pound the table at a bookstall and shout, “Refund! What kind of garbage is this!”
In novels, when the protagonist undergoes a transformation, the process is usually quite elaborate.
They either fall off a cliff and consume some thousand-year-old ganoderma, ten-thousand-year-old fleeceflower root, or Tianshan snow lotus, instantly opening their major meridians and embarking on the peak of life; or they are beaten half to death by an enemy, and at the brink of death, they activate a mysterious power in their bloodline—the lineage of some ancient divine beast or primordial demon god suddenly awakens; failing that, they must at least have a white-bearded old man appear in a dream to impart cultivation, creating a sense of ceremony, a “Heaven is about to confer a great mission upon this man” trope.
And him? He just slept.
An abnormality must indicate a demon. Yun Zhen decided he had to find this “demon.”
He went through everyone in the sect who could breathe, suspecting them one by one.
First was his Master.
The old man was constantly spouting nonsense like “Daoist Principle of Nature” and “Heavenly Secret must not be revealed.” The reason this nonsense is nonsense is not because it lacks logic, but because it can be interpreted logically no matter how you look at it, which is inherently illogical.
He tells you “form is emptiness.” You ask him what emptiness is, and he says “emptiness is form.” If you ask again whether form is truly emptiness, he will stroke his beard and smile, “Disciple, you have achieved Enlightenment.”
Enlightenment my foot.
But then again, if Master truly had the ability to turn people into birds, he should have turned himself into silver long ago. Why would he bother constantly calculating how to get his father’s meager contributions? Last month, when his father sent a hundred taels of silver, Master grabbed the messenger and said, “Zhen’er has extremely high Aptitude and is destined for greatness.”
If a hundred taels is enough for greatness, would a few hundred more make him a Buddha?
So, Master’s suspicion was relatively low.
What about Senior Sister? She seemed completely oblivious.
But according to the laws of novels, the person who seems least likely is often the mastermind—what is that called? The darkness under the lamp.
However, Senior Sister’s interest lies in girls. What benefit would turning him into a bird bring her?
Did she want to give him to a girl as a pet to foster their relationship? It wasn’t impossible. But on second thought, if Senior Sister wanted to please a girl, wouldn’t it be better to just send jewelry or rouge? Why go to all this trouble? And what if the girl didn’t like birds and preferred cats? Wouldn’t all that effort be wasted, and she’d have to prepare for the bird’s funeral?
Yun Zhen decided to temporarily lower Senior Sister’s suspicion, but not completely rule her out. He needed to keep observing.
Senior Brother…
Thinking of Senior Brother, a scene suddenly flashed through Yun Zhen’s mind.
It happened shortly after he arrived, though he couldn’t recall the exact date.
One night, he was engrossed in reading a very stimulating novel called something like “After Hugging the Sword Venerable’s Thigh, I Became Invincible.”
The content was mediocre, with vague descriptions and a few blurry illustrations, leaving everything to the reader’s imagination. Just as he reached a crucial plot point—the Sword Venerable and the protagonist engaging in passionate intimacy in a hot spring—there was a sudden noise outside.
Yun Zhen was terrified, thinking Master was getting up. He quickly stuffed the book under his quilt. This book was a rare, solitary copy he had bribed a book vendor in town to transport from the capital.
He peered through the crack in the door and saw it wasn’t Master, but Senior Brother returning.
Senior Brother walked silently, like a cat. In the moonlight, his beautiful face looked somewhat pale, with an indescribable strangeness.
What startled him most was a striking smear of red at the corner of Senior Brother’s mouth.
Yun Zhen initially thought it was rouge. After all, Senior Brother usually liked to dress flamboyantly, so wearing a bit of rouge wasn’t strange. Just as he was about to pull his head back, he saw Senior Brother cough restlessly, then raise a hand to wipe his mouth.
In the moonlight, he saw clearly.
It wasn’t rouge; it was blood. Fresh blood, not yet congealed.
“Senior Brother, are you hurt?” Yun Zhen pushed the door open and shouted.
He didn’t care about anything else. Firstly, he was genuinely worried about Senior Brother, and secondly, he was afraid of missing out on gossip.
Senior Brother turned around, saw Yun Zhen, and forced a smile.
“I’m fine. Kids shouldn’t stay up late,” Senior Brother’s voice was strangely hoarse. “Go back to sleep quickly.”
Yun Zhen thought at the time that this was some kind of Dual Cultivation technique that required blood as a catalyst for breakthrough. There were such plots in novels: to break through a bottleneck, the protagonist had to use blood as a medium during the full moon, combining Yin and Yang, resulting in both parties breaking through and greatly increasing their power.
But thinking about it now, that wasn’t right.
What kind of Dual Cultivation makes you bleed? How vigorous would that have to be? And if it were true Dual Cultivation, both people should be radiant with health. Why was Senior Brother pale? Was it kidney deficiency?
Yun Zhen didn’t dare say more at the time and obediently went back to sleep. The next day, he specifically observed Senior Brother and found him to be energetic.
Recalling it now, Yun Zhen shivered.
Because he suddenly remembered another trope in novels: some evil cultivation methods require sucking the vital essence and blood of living people to increase power. Practitioners of such methods must go out hunting on the night of the full moon.
Was Senior Brother practicing some evil technique?
Wait.
What day was that?
Yun Zhen tried hard to recall. The moon that night was big and round, hanging in the sky like a pancake.
The fifteenth, the night of the full moon.
No, no, this was too absurd.
If Senior Brother truly had that ability, would he still be chased all over the mountain by various people? If he had really practiced some evil technique, that Young Master Xie would have been sucked dry long ago. How could he still be bouncing around seeking revenge?
Yun Zhen shook his head, thinking he was overthinking things.
Perhaps he was just bitten on the tongue accidentally while kissing his lover that night. Senior Brother was always flirting; it wasn’t strange for him to have kidney deficiency. That made sense. People in love inevitably engage in overly passionate behavior, and biting injuries were normal. He had read similar descriptions in novels.
But for some reason, the feeling of unease never disappeared. Yun Zhen decided to temporarily list Senior Brother as the number one suspect.
Finally, there was one person left: Jiang Zhi.
Thinking of him gave Yun Zhen a stomach ache. His mind started replaying those unbearable memories, making him wish he could travel back in time and strangle his past self.
The first time Yun Zhen saw Jiang Zhi was while practicing in the back mountain.
He was practicing the “Stupid Frog Technique” Master taught him, which involved squatting there, motionless, like a stupid frog. Yun Zhen thought the technique was ridiculous. After squatting for a long time, he felt nothing but leg numbness. Master said it was training his patience; Yun Zhen thought it was wasting his life.
Yun Zhen got bored after squatting for only a minute. He stood up to stretch his legs, then started chasing birds. Just as he was having fun, Jiang Zhi appeared.
He was dressed in black, with a sword tucked at his waist. He just stood there, looking like he was passing by.
“Are you new here?” Jiang Zhi asked coldly.
Yun Zhen gave him a bright smile: “My name is Yun Zhen. Who are you?”
“Jiang Zhi.”
“Oh! You must be my Second Senior Brother!” Yun Zhen blinked and walked toward him. “I’ve heard so much about you—”
Before he could finish, Jiang Zhi had turned and walked away.
Yun Zhen watched the black silhouette disappear into the woods, feeling inexplicably annoyed.
Why?
I’m talking to you, and you’re so cold? I didn’t offend you. Why the sour face? Who do you think you are? Is being handsome a big deal?
…Well, he was kind of handsome.
But that wasn’t the point!
The more Yun Zhen thought about it, the angrier he got.
Since childhood, he had been the center of attention wherever he went, never ignored like this. It irritated him, so from that day on, Yun Zhen decided he would make Jiang Zhi look at him—no, he would make Jiang Zhi only look at him.
On the first day, he stopped Jiang Zhi in the back mountain.
“Second Senior Brother, can I practice sword fighting with you?”
Jiang Zhi glanced at him: “No.”
“Why?”
Jiang Zhi walked around him and left.
On the second day, Yun Zhen changed his strategy. He arrived early at the spot where Jiang Zhi usually practiced, hid behind a tree, and waited for Jiang Zhi to arrive before holding his breath and peeking.
He watched Jiang Zhi draw his sword. The sword light cut an arc through the air, sharp and chilling. To be honest, the swordsmanship wasn’t very aesthetically pleasing; it lacked the beauty of flowing water and only contained fierce killing intent.
Yun Zhen felt a chill down his spine.
He was discovered in less than half a cup of tea’s time.
“Come out.”
Yun Zhen sheepishly crawled out from behind the tree, forcing a dry laugh: “Second Senior Brother, what a coincidence.”
The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day… Yun Zhen failed repeatedly but persisted.
When he realized the martial approach wasn’t working, he switched to the literary, trying to strike up conversations with Jiang Zhi every day.
“Second Senior Brother, what is the Dao?”
Jiang Zhi was succinct: “I don’t know.”
“Then what book are you reading?”
Jiang Zhi didn’t speak, but the book cover clearly read The Classic of the Way and Virtue.
“You’re reading The Classic of the Way and Virtue and you don’t know what the Dao is?”
Jiang Zhi turned a page: “Do you know the Eighteen Forms of Spring Night?”
Yun Zhen froze, his face flushing instantly: “You… how do you know I read that?”
“Intertwined Mandarin Ducks,” Jiang Zhi said calmly. “Is that a type of swordsmanship?”
“…”
Yun Zhen realized he had let it slip. The last time he bragged, to appear knowledgeable, he had mentioned that name, claiming it was a long-lost swordsmanship technique of the martial world.
Jiang Zhi raised his eyelids to look at him, then continued reading.
Yun Zhen wished he could find a hole to crawl into. He quieted down for a while, then started bringing Jiang Zhi gifts every day.
Whether it was osmanthus cake made by Senior Sister, chicken soup stewed in the kitchen, or buns from a new shop in town, he would take some and place them on Jiang Zhi’s windowsill when he wasn’t around.
The osmanthus cake was eaten by birds, the chicken soup was knocked over by a cat, and the meat buns were casually taken by Master, who thought they were offerings to him.
Once, Yun Zhen saw a wound on Jiang Zhi’s arm. He specifically went to the town’s pharmacy and spent several taels of silver on a pot of medicinal wine for “promoting blood circulation, dispelling stasis, and relaxing muscles and tendons.” He left it at Jiang Zhi’s door with a note.
“Second Senior Brother, this is medicinal wine I bought especially for you. It was very expensive, so you must drink it. —Yun Zhen.”
The next day, the medicinal wine at the door was gone. Yun Zhen thought Jiang Zhi had drunk it and was quite happy.
It wasn’t until the third day that he heard from Senior Sister that Master hadn’t slept all night, pacing around the courtyard and muttering to himself.
Yun Zhen later found out he had been tricked. The medicinal wine was not for promoting blood circulation at all; it was… an aphrodisiac.
The pharmacy owner at the time had enthusiastically told him, “Little brother, this wine is our shop’s specialty. Guaranteed to cure all ailments.”
Yun Zhen remembered chatting with the owner for a long time before buying the medicine, talking about how good he was to his Senior Brother, who didn’t appreciate it. The owner must have misunderstood something, assuming he and his Second Senior Brother were in that kind of relationship.
His poor Master, an old man in his sixties, was tormented by the wine. Seeing Yun Zhen, he sighed, “Disciple, next time you buy something, can you please ask what it is first?”
Yun Zhen began to reflect. All his efforts were like throwing stones into water—he only heard a splash, but nothing came of it.
He just wanted to get along with his Senior Brother. Why was it so hard?
Shouldn’t fellow disciples be deeply affectionate and supportive of each other? So many people liked him, so why did he become a plague that Jiang Zhi avoided?
Yun Zhen shared these questions with Senior Sister.
Wen Wan patted his shoulder. “Zhenzhen, Second Senior Brother has always been like this. It’s not personal. Maybe… he has his difficulties.”
“What difficulties?”
“I don’t know the specifics,” Wen Wan said. “But I heard Master mention that Second Senior Brother had a tough past.”
“A tough past?” Yun Zhen’s curiosity was piqued again. “How tough?”
Wen Wan lowered her voice mysteriously: “I’m not sure of the details, but Master said he found Second Senior Brother in a mass grave.”
“A mass grave?” Yun Zhen was shocked.
“Yes. Second Senior Brother was almost dead at the time. Master took pity on him and brought him back.”
“What about his family?” Yun Zhen asked.
“No one knows,” Wen Wan shook her head. “Second Senior Brother never mentions them, and Master doesn’t ask.”
From that day on, he started trying to find out about Jiang Zhi’s past.
He asked Master, who gave him evasive answers.
He asked Senior Brother, who teased him: “Little Junior Brother, are you secretly in love with Second Junior Brother?”
“How could I be!” Yun Zhen was furious. “I’m just curious!”
“I’m not curious,” Senior Brother smiled ambiguously.
Yun Zhen ignored him.
Just when he was at a loss, an opportunity arose.
It was an autumn evening. The moon hung on the treetops, and the wind rustled the leaves. Yun Zhen returned from town, carrying a pile of snacks and trinkets he had bought. Passing behind the courtyard, he saw Jiang Zhi kneeling alone.
A paper basin was placed in front of him, burning spirit money. His face was grim—it was the first time Yun Zhen had seen him display an emotion other than indifference.
Yun Zhen stopped, unsure whether to approach.
After hesitating for a long time, he finally called out, “Second Senior Brother?”
Jiang Zhi looked up and saw him.
Yun Zhen remembered Master telling him that Jiang Zhi was observing a period of mourning. Although he didn’t know for whom, he knew he shouldn’t speak carelessly.
He cautiously walked over, racking his brain for comforting words. After much effort, he managed to blurt out: “When a person dies, the lamp goes out. Once they’re dead, they’re dead… Ah, no, wait!”
Yun Zhen quickly corrected himself: “I mean, please accept my condolences.”
He regretted it immediately.
What was that? His mouth was usually quick-witted. Why was he so clumsy at the crucial moment? This wasn’t comforting; it was rubbing salt in the wound.
Jiang Zhi just looked at him quietly, then suddenly called his name.
“What is it?”
“Don’t bring me things anymore,” Jiang Zhi said.
“I just want to be your friend,” Yun Zhen suddenly felt wronged, his nose stinging.
“I don’t need one.”
“But…”
“Yun Zhen,” Jiang Zhi interrupted him, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Do you know what you are doing?”
Yun Zhen was stunned.
“You follow me every day, saying boring things and doing boring things.” Jiang Zhi stood up. “Is it fun?”
“I didn’t—”
Jiang Zhi looked at him. “You just want to prove that you can make everyone like you. Don’t you know you are wasting my time?”
With that, Jiang Zhi bent down and extinguished the fire basin.
Yun Zhen stood rooted to the spot, suddenly realizing that he had never seriously considered the other person’s situation.
The way he constantly pestered Jiang Zhi, thinking he was being friendly, was in Jiang Zhi’s eyes merely an ignorant young master showing off his carefree life.
After that day, Yun Zhen never bothered Jiang Zhi again.
But a knot remained in his heart.
He couldn’t understand. Was it really as Jiang Zhi said—that he just couldn’t accept someone not liking him?
But if that were true, why did he feel so miserable?
His head was pounding, and he still couldn’t sort out his thoughts.
Yun Zhen looked at the sky outside the window, which was gradually darkening, and felt that the moon tonight was very round.