Vallée Sauvage de Green Mountain (Transmigrée à la dynastie Song)

Chapitre 30

Shang Shaochang smiled and said, "Let's go then." He led the way towards the thatched hut in the middle, and Yun Yiyang and I exchanged a glance and followed.

As we approached the thatched hut, just as Shang Shaozhang was about to knock, the bamboo door creaked open, and a hoarse, shrill voice suddenly rang out: "Since you are an honored guest, there is no need for such formalities!"

Young Master Shang smiled slightly but did not answer. I frowned slightly and said loudly, "Young Master Yun Yiyang of Guiyun Manor in Jiangzhou, and his servant in white, have come to pay their respects to Physician Xia. We humbly request that Physician Xia grant us an audience!"

"Hahaha—" The shrill voice rang out again, making one's teeth ache and ears hurt. "Whether we meet or not depends on fate... Please come in!"

The three of us stood in the thatched hut, which was completely empty!

Where did that sound come from?

The three of us surveyed our surroundings. The room was utterly rudimentary; the tables and chairs were all carved from wood, rough and unadorned, yet the cuts were impeccably smooth, as if someone had finished with a single axe stroke, requiring no second. My gaze lingered on the cuts of the tables and chairs for a few moments, then swept across the room, suddenly fixing on a painting on the wall, from which I couldn't look away—

On the mud-brick wall facing south of the house hung a meticulously painted figure scroll, depicting two figures: a man and a woman. The woman, around twenty-nine years old, with green sleeves and dark hair, her eyebrows arched, held a hoe in her hands, walking among the flowers. The man, in his early twenties, lay casually in the grass, his hands clasped behind his head, looking at the woman with a slight smile. The woman was slender and graceful, delicate and beautiful; though not exceptionally beautiful, her features exuded a subtle, ethereal charm that captivated the viewer. The composition of this painting was quite peculiar. Ancient portraits often depicted one or two figures, or three or five, or several men or women, but it was rare to see a single man and woman gazing into each other's eyes—the kind of look one would expect from lovers in the throes of passion!

I looked closely and saw several lines of text written in tiny, neat characters next to the picture:

"His skill in restoring youth is unparalleled! Alas, I, a healer, lament the coldness of the world."

"Pulse diagnosis is the key to healing; acupuncture is the most difficult to cure, but the human heart is the most difficult thing to manage."

These two lines, like a mighty river, express the author's innermost feelings, revealing a sense of depression and indignation! "The hardest thing to heal is the fickleness of human relationships, the hardest thing to heal is the fickleness of human relationships… Alas, I, a healer, lament the fickleness of the world!… What does this mean?" I frowned slightly and continued reading:

"...

The sparrows sing, seeking the voices of their friends; I rejoice with you, indulging in our pleasures.

Traveling with my companion in the chill of February; I will not let worldly things disturb your peace of mind.

Two hearts intertwined, every smile and frown a testament to their love; fortunate to have met her, with whom they could play music together.

Fate brought us together, and people we didn't forget; our hearts are intertwined, and we've vowed to understand each other.

If the first two lines express a sense of melancholy and indignation, the following four lines are a vibrant display of springtime beauty, gently unfolding the scene as if it were early spring, February, when a young couple were strolling hand in hand, enjoying the fragrance of flowers, their voices mingling with the sounds of the zither and flute, their tender affection overflowing. Then the poem takes another turn:

"...

As we part, tears stream down my face; do not betray our love, lest you blame me for being heartless.

There was a divine bird called the phoenix; it lost its male in one night, and mourned for three years!

The source of the Jing River, the banks of the Wei River; separation and reunion, like floating clouds on the vast sea.

...

The songs of Chu and the odes of Han are sung and recited, but I, a foolish man, cherish and remember them.

Strolling through the apricot grove, I am filled with many emotions; who can console my loneliness? The autumn twilight descends.

Youth fades quickly, time changes rapidly, but let us capture this beauty in paintings and leave our mark…

I sighed inwardly, finally finishing the poem. In just a few words, it seemed to perfectly capture the entire story of a couple's journey from meeting to parting, from union to separation. From initial joy and happiness to final sorrow and helplessness, it was a tale of twists and turns, a lament of sorrow and longing. The woman in the painting gazed at the young man in the grass, her eyes seemingly overflowing with three parts joy, three parts shyness, and three parts sadness and sorrow. The young man, too, looked at the woman before him, his gaze focused and gentle, seemingly filled with endless tenderness and affection. This scroll and the accompanying poem formed a complete story, the brushstrokes incredibly smooth and delicate, the lines lifelike, especially the woman—her clothes fluttering in the wind, her fair wrists like snow—as if she might step out of the painting at any moment! I stared intently, and below the poem were a few more lines of poetry:

"I have long silk threads, as smooth as the waves of Dongting Lake."

Your intentions are endless, like the flowing waters of the Yangtze River.

The waves of Dongting Lake never cease, and the river flows on without end.

This water will never run dry, this intention will never be regretted!

Upon seeing this, I finally couldn't help but exclaim, "What a wonderful line: 'This water will never run dry, this intention will never be regretted!'"

“‘This water will never run dry, this intention will never be regretted!’ That shrill voice rang out again, seemingly coming from all directions, but it was impossible to tell whether the voice was male or female: ‘The woman in this painting wandered the world for this man, suffering endless criticism and nearly losing her life. She has experienced the full spectrum of human emotions, yet she has never regretted it…’ Her voice gradually faded, and it even carried a hint of desolation.”

My gaze remained fixed on the poem, and I sighed softly, pondering to myself, "What is love in this world? Is this word 'love' truly so profound?" Suddenly, a thought struck me, and I walked to the painting to examine it closely. I said softly, "Senior, there's something I don't understand. Where I'm pointing—" I raised my hand and pointed to the hem of the woman's skirt in the painting, "This painting was completed in one go, reminiscent of Wu Daozi's flowing brushstrokes, yet its delicate details are exquisitely rendered, truly capturing the spirit of the subject. However, I noticed that this area seems to have been touched up by someone else after it was finished, is that right?"

The voice seemed surprised for a moment, then paused and spoke again: "As expected of the white-robed prime minister, your eyesight is amazing! The sleeves and hem of the skirt were indeed damaged due to some changes in the original painting, and were repaired by someone else."

"Oh..." I nodded slightly, glanced at the half-open wooden door, turned and walked to the opposite mud wall, gently stroking the wall and said, "This wall looks like it's made of mud, but it's mixed with pebbles, shells, sand, and grass, making it incredibly sturdy and fireproof..." I pointed to a spot on the lower left, "These shells were also quite well-chosen, each one round and snow-white, creating a unique sight when laid in the wall. Especially here, this piece has even formed a willow leaf shape, which is truly rare."

The shrill voice then let out a soft "Eh," and said, "That's right. This was given by some island lord of Jinglong Island in the East Sea. I treated his eighth concubine once two years ago. Seeing that his island had nothing to offer except these seashells, I asked him to send three boxes every year for the next three years to use as decorations. Among these three boxes of seashells, the willow-leaf shaped seashells you pointed out are extremely rare."

Behind him, Yun Yiyang exclaimed in surprise, "These seashells are all similar in size, and each one is exquisite and lovely. If all three boxes were like this, even if the East Sea produces seashells, how much effort would it take to collect three boxes! You only treated his concubine once, and the consultation fee... is far too expensive."

"Hahaha—" A piercing laugh erupted, the sound piercing through the roof tiles and nearly bursting eardrums! "Boy! Haven't you heard what it means to be the most difficult to deal with is a fickle heart? If I were so easy to handle, how could I be called the most difficult to deal with?"

“The most difficult thing to remedy is the human heart! I think this is not the original intention of the divine physician. The world is cold and indifferent, and people’s hearts are no longer what they used to be. If it is not the human heart, then what is it?” I walked slowly to the table. On the table were several different styles of embroidery and cups, some made of bamboo, some of wood, and even a black iron cup. I picked up a bamboo cup at random and said, “This wooden cup is well carved.”

"Not only is it good! This is carved from ironwood, a specialty of western Fujian. It will not rot in water and will not burn in fire..." The shrill voice seemed to remember something, and changed its tone, saying, "It seems that the white-robed minister did not come here to appraise the few furnishings in my room. How could these mere trinkets meet the standards of an expert?"

I chuckled and said, "Dr. Xia, you flatter me. I live in a remote corner of Guiyun Manor, a poor and remote place. What knowledge do I have? It is only because my young master was poisoned this time. I beg you, Dr. Xia, to use your great kindness to save my young master from danger. Guiyun Manor will be forever grateful for your great kindness and virtue!"

Before I could finish speaking, a shrill voice burst into laughter, "You've come to this Valley of Flames and Coldness so that I can save the boy in the middle?"

I nodded and said, "That's right!"

The harsh voice said, "You've traveled through mountains and rivers, enduring hardships, all for this young man, just to save his life?" The voice paused, then continued, "Do you know that the cold has invaded your lungs, causing your blood to flow backward and attack your heart? And in the depths of winter, with the weather so cold and damp, your qi and blood are becoming increasingly disordered, causing your hemoptysis to flare up more frequently... His life is life, but your own isn't?"

Yun Yiyang exclaimed in shock, “Sister Bai! You…you actually coughed up blood!! You—” He grabbed my arm and shouted repeatedly.

I smiled gently and said slowly, "The divine physician truly lives up to his name. It is said that diagnosis involves observation, listening, questioning, and palpation, yet Physician Xia diagnosed my illness solely through observation. He is indeed extraordinary! However..." I looked at Yun Yiyang and said softly, "Yun Yiyang is my assistant and saved my life first. Even if I were to repay him with my life, it would be only right." Then I raised my voice and said, "I wonder what Physician Xia desires, or what he desires to achieve, before he would be willing to treat my young master?"

"You..." The shrill voice seemed to sigh, "What... Although my place is simple, what is there that I don't have?... I've heard that the White-Robed Prime Minister has a pair of divine eyes. If you can tell where I am in this room, I will save this kid! However—" The shrill voice cackled, "You only have one chance. If you guess wrong, no matter how vast the world is, no one but me can save this kid!"

I turned to look at Shang Shaochang, but he just smiled and stared at me without saying a word, standing silently in the room. My eyes flickered, a smug smile playing on my lips, and I slowly asked, "Are you telling the truth?"

A shrill voice boomed, "A gentleman's word is as good as his bond!"