"Come, Young Master Xuanxiao, let me toast you again."
Li Xuanxiao drank another cup of wine.
This wine made one feel light as a feather—clearly no ordinary liquor.
Bai Liu stood up, raising her cup.
"Come, Young Master Xuanxiao, another toast to thank you for saving my cousin."
Li Xuanxiao exhaled deeply—he'd drunk more than anyone at this table.
Bai Jing, seeing this, said, "Alright, stop forcing wine on Young Master Xuanxiao. He's still injured."
Li Xuanxiao smiled and waved dismissively.
Bai Liu countered, "Young Master Xuanxiao clearly has an impressive capacity—this little wine is nothing to him."
"Then let's stop drinking. As per tradition, we'll compose poetry instead.
Young Master Xuanxiao, as our guest, you go first."
All eyes turned to Li Xuanxiao with playful anticipation.
Li Xuanxiao currently sat rubbing his temple with one hand, neither fully drunk nor completely sober.
His slightly narrowed eyes revealed a contemplative expression that made one curious about his thoughts.
A faint blush colored his otherwise pale cheeks, breathing life into his features.
Silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, swaying gently like moonlight in the breeze.
"Young Master Xuanxiao, don't be shy—no one will laugh," Bai Liu said with an encouraging smile.
Li Xuanxiao remained silent.
"Brother Xuanxiao?" Lan Qing called again.
Bai Jing said, "Young Master Xuanxiao, if you're truly drunk, you should rest. Your injuries..."
After a long pause, Li Xuanxiao finally spoke.
Straightening his posture, he recited clearly:
"How rare the moon, so round and clear!
With cup in hand, I ask of the blue sky,
'What palace is this, in celestial spheres,
And what year is it tonight up high?'"
He suddenly stood up.
"Men have sorrow and joy, meeting and parting,
The moon has its dimness and brightness, waxing and waning...
This imperfection has been since olden days.
May we all be blessed with longevity,
Though thousands of miles apart, we'll moon's beauty."
The listeners froze momentarily before murmuring the verses repeatedly, expressions turning entranced.
Before they could fully savor it, Li Xuanxiao continued:
"Amid fallen petals, warmth and chill reside,
The world's vicissitudes are commonplace.
A cup of murky wine laughs at mortal dust,
Half a cup of plain tea mocks a poor man's life."
Setting down his cup, ignoring the stunned audience, he went on:
"Rare dishes and tolling bells aren't precious things—
I only want to stay drunk, never sober.
Since antiquity, sages have been lonely souls,
Only drinkers leave some fame to savor...
Call the boy to trade my horse for fine wine,
And we'll drown our eternal sorrow together!"
A cough interrupted him as he covered his mouth with his sleeve.
Turning, he walked out of the pavilion.
"My apologies, gentlemen. Li must excuse himself—I'm unwell."
Only after Li Xuanxiao's figure disappeared did the shocked group snap back to reality,
eyes wide, mouths agape, exchanging stunned glances.
Bai Jing's chopsticks froze mid-air. Her bright eyes flickered before she set them down and hurried after him.
After Bai Jing left, Lan Qing exhaled, attempting a smile.
Failing even at that, he threw down his chopsticks in resignation.
Li Xuanxiao walked along Xiangshan Academy's paths.
Bai Jing watched his retreating back,
still digesting the poetry he'd recited.
Memorizing texts after a single exposure was basic skill for Confucian scholars like her.
"When life brings joy, drink it all in,
Don't let golden cups face the moon, empty within.
Heaven gave me talents meant for use—
Spent gold may scatter, but returns again."
Bai Jing wondered—how could a mountain vagabond compose such emotional verses?
If not him, then who?
As Xiangshan Academy's top disciple,
how could she not be astonished?
This man... truly stirred her curiosity.
Noticing something, Li Xuanxiao asked over his shoulder,
Curious, Bai Jing followed his pointing finger.
Not far stood wooden frames—each binding a human skeleton.
The particular skeleton appeared aged, bones grayish-white from time's erosion.
Its limbs were tightly bound in a twisted posture.
Li Xuanxiao noted a distinct depression in the skull—evidence of violent impact—and a gaping hole in the ribcage.
Similar frames stood nearby—about twenty in total.
"These are Shushan disciples' remains," Bai Jing said casually.
During the great battle thirty years ago,
Xiangshan Academy besieged Shushan's branch disciples,
Later participating in the assault on Mount Shushan itself,
they gained considerable benefits—
a major factor in Xiangshan Academy's rapid rise these past three decades.
"You know of Shushan, yes?"
"Naturally," Li Xuanxiao nodded. "But when I began cultivating, Shushan had already fallen."
Bai Jing smiled faintly. "Pity you missed that era."
"I've only heard others say Shushan was immensely powerful—
why it provoked universal hatred remains unclear."
Bai Jing said, "The tallest tree catches the fiercest wind!"
"So it was destroyed for being too strong?"
Bai Jing shot him a stern look.
"Don't repeat that to others. Shushan committed countless evils—
they deserved retribution!
The world united against them for Zhongzhou's people."
Nowadays, "Shushan" seemed synonymous with taboo—
anything related forbidden from casual mention.
"I understand," Li Xuanxiao nodded.
Bai Jing approached one particular frame—a female skeleton.
Judging by the bones, she'd endured torture before death.
Gazing at it, Bai Jing narrowed her eyes,
plunging into memories.
Born proud as the Bai family's firstborn daughter,
later enrolled at Xiangshan Academy...
Yet her illegitimate younger sister
joined Shushan instead,
outshining her at every turn.
"Elder sister, I've requested assignment here—
we can be together from now on."
"Yes... together from now on..."
Watching her radiant younger sister,
Bai Jing could barely contain her envy.
"Elder sister, save me! Alert Shushan—!"
Bai Jing smiled, shaking off the memory to face Li Xuanxiao.
"Enough of that. Tell me about your poems—
did you truly compose them? You claimed to lack education."
Li Xuanxiao modestly replied,
"My wandering master taught me some. I improvised earlier."
Bai Jing inhaled sharply.
"For a rogue cultivator to possess such skill...
I'd like to meet him someday."
As their figures receded,
only the skeletons remained,
bones clattering in the wind.
Li Xuanxiao suddenly turned back,
gazing coldly at the remains.
"Tell me more about your poetry—
ah, what are you looking at?"
"Don't mind today's events."
"Lan Qing meant to embarrass you,
but only humiliated himself."
Bai Jing chuckled lightly,
omitting her own change of heart.
Li Xuanxiao smiled faintly.