boyutpedia Chapter 139, Scene 1: "Qingfeng Pavilion"
Chapter 139, Scene 1: "Qingfeng Pavilion"
Chapter 140 A Scene at Qingfeng Pavilion
Lu Cheng remained silent.
He was sitting in front of the mirror.
【Exquisite Heart】Open.
In that instant, he felt everything around him slow down.
The Kunqu opera he had just watched from the audience flashed through his mind.
Every turn of the voice, every breath, every trembling of the orchid finger.
Under Linglongxin's dissection, those lost and top-secret Southern School techniques seemed to regenerate within his body.
"Master, put on your makeup."
Lu Cheng's voice was steady.
He picked up a paintbrush.
This time, her face didn't turn completely red.
He applied a full-face "old man" makeup, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, representing vicissitudes, were drawn very deeply with shadows, exuding a chilling aura.
His temples were covered with snow-white hair.
The spine, which was originally as straight as a pine tree, strangely hunched over under the subtle adjustment of the [Bone Shrinking Technique].
That tall, 1.8-meter frame shrank to a thin, gaunt old man right before everyone's eyes.
He deliberately crumpled his moon-white robe.
"Amazing!"
Old Guan watched in astonishment.
This isn't Lu Cheng at all.
This is clearly a miserable old man whose back has been bent by life and who is begging for food in this chaotic world!
"A gong rang out, echoing throughout the China Grand Theatre."
At that moment, all the lights in the theater were dimmed.
Only a pale beam of light remained, shining on the center of the stage.
-
There was none of the boisterous gongs and drums typical of martial arts dramas.
Only Yang Baozhong's repaired erhu was there, playing mournful tunes, each note like a lament, each note like a drop of blood.
That's a slow tempo unique to the Southern School.
"Squeak—!"
The side curtain is lifted.
A hunched figure staggered out in the cold winter wind.
He was holding an empty rice bowl in his arms.
Every step was taken with trembling steps.
Every step felt like walking on the tip of an icicle.
The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.
Mr. Gu on the second floor suddenly sat up straight, pushed up his reading glasses, and forgot to smoke the pipe in his mouth.
That figure—
The chill emanating from every gesture—
This isn't an act at all! This is clearly Old Zhang Shouxin, who has been brought back to life from the icy, snowy Qingfeng Pavilion!
Lu Cheng spoke.
It doesn't have that powerful, resonant voice.
Instead, it carried a southern-style hoarseness, and a sense of desolation and resentment before death.
"Old and frail, standing beneath this pavilion in the gentle breeze—"
This aria used the soft, breathy tone of the "fishing for the toad" technique.
The sound was extremely soft, yet it reached everyone's ears steadily.
It's like the cold wind of a winter night, drilling straight into a person's collar.
"Zhang Jibao, my son—!"
Lu Cheng suddenly raised his hand, and his long, slender but withered old hand trembled in a heartbreaking rhythm under the light.
More than half of the audience members had tears in their eyes after hearing that shout.
This is—being engrossed.
On the stage.
Qinglian, the little apprentice whom Lu Cheng had saved, was now disguised as the heartless Zhou Shi.
Lu Feng is Zhang Jibao, who lives a life of luxury and is ungrateful.
The play reached its climax.
The elderly Zhang Shouxin and Madam He stopped their adopted son Zhang Jibao, who had become a high-ranking official, at Qingfeng Pavilion amidst the heavy snowfall.
They don't want money or food.
They just wanted this child to call out "Dad" and "Mom" one more time.
Lu Cheng knelt in the snow.
He looked at Lu Feng, who was wearing a brocade robe, with disgust on his face.
Two streams of turbid tears actually flowed from those already cloudy eyes.
"My son—"
Lu Cheng clutched the hem of Lu Feng's robe, his voice filled with the deepest sorrow.
Do you remember that year under the Qingfeng Pavilion, when I, an old man, used these frozen hands to dig you out of the snowdrift?
"Do you remember that bowl of thin porridge with a crack in it, the last bite your mother saved for you?"
Every single word.
It's not lyrics.
That was Lu Cheng's heart's blood, forged with hidden strength, a fusion of the bitterness of being a corporate slave in his previous life and the sorrow he witnessed at the human market selling children.
The entire theater was completely silent except for his voice.
Even the most discerning Mr. Gu couldn't care less about elegance or vulgarity at this moment.
The handkerchief clutched in his old hands was already soaked with sweat.
"This...this is the martial arts performer of the Northern School?"
Old Gu murmured to himself, his eyes filled with shock.
"This guy is even more capable of touching people's hearts than a female impersonator from the Southern School."
On the stage, Lu Cheng neither looked at Old Master Gu nor at the 50,000 silver dollars.
He was looking at Lu Feng.
He was looking at these apprentices who had been rescued from hardship.
He wanted to teach them more than just the fist to kill.
It is also the very essence of being human.
Lu Cheng opened his mouth, his voice gradually deepening, and when he sang the most tragic parts, every word seemed to be uttered with blood.
"My son has reunited with his family and doesn't want to go back."
"Very well, if my son does not wish to return, I will not force him."
"My son, on this trip to the capital, I met your father, who is an official. He told me about the kindness and care you have shown me for raising me for thirteen years."
"My son, you must study hard, grow up to be an adult, and get a position so you can come back and visit your parents."
"If my parents are not fortunate enough to pass away, son, buy some paper money, burn it at our graves, and bow to us a few times."
"Do you think my parents can't accept this bow from their son? No, this bow is nothing important. It's so that those who have no children can also hold someone else's son."
"————"
"You are returning home in glory today!"
"You now enjoy high office and generous salary."
Lu Cheng swayed, and a trickle of blood actually escaped from the corner of his mouth.
Qi and blood flow in reverse!
To perform this scene well, he forcibly suppressed all the internal energy in his body, leaving only a trace circulating in his lungs.
The real pain caused by excessive physical strain made this play truly exceptional.
"Enough! Enough! Enough!"
Lu Cheng looked up at the sky and sighed deeply.
That sigh used the lowest frequency of the [Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound].
"Buzz"
The entire theater seemed to tremble.
That was thunder.
That's justice that even God couldn't stand by and watch.
"May lightning strike Zhang Jibao—!!!"
Lu Cheng suddenly stood up, and in that instant, it was as if he had exhausted all the vitality in his body.
He fell straight backward.
"Bang!"
He slammed the back of his head against the hard wooden board of the stage.
That loud noise sent shivers down the spine of anyone in the deathly silent theater.
The curtain rises.
It closed slowly.
The moment the curtain closed, the Chinese Grand Theatre was as quiet as a tomb.
Of the more than three thousand people, not a single one dared to breathe loudly.
The melancholy she exuded on stage was so powerful.
It felt like your heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys had been crushed and then stuffed back into your body.
In the private room on the second floor, Mr. Gu Weishen, who had just been so insistent on listening to Kunqu opera, was now slumped in his armchair.
He was walking stick when it fell to the ground with a "thud".
Tears streamed down his wrinkled old face.
"This—this is what a play should be!"
Old Master Gu shakily took off his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped the corners of his eyes with a fine Suzhou embroidered handkerchief.
"I've listened to Southern School music my whole life, and I thought it was elegant and gentle."
"But I only realized today that when a Northern man softens, he can turn a steel blade into a silken touch, and he can knead blood and tears into his bones."
"This Lu Cheng—he's no ordinary man. He's poured his life into this play."
"Give me a reward, give this old man a reward."
Grandpa Gu suddenly stood up, his voice hoarse.
"Fifty thousand silver dollars, not a penny less. And you must add my personal Hetian jade pendant—to calm Boss Lu's nerves!"
Backstage.
The curtain had just blocked the view from the outside.
"puff--!"
Lu Cheng swayed slightly, and a mouthful of dark purple blood gushed out without warning, splattering onto the wrinkled, pale white robe, a shocking sight.
"Master."
"Master Lu."
Shunzi, Lu Feng, Zhou Daikui, and the others were so frightened that they all swarmed around them.
"Quick, quick, call a doctor! Master is vomiting blood!" Little Bean cried out.
Lu Cheng's face was as pale as paper, a result of exhaustion from the reverse flow of his qi and blood, and a reaction to the expulsion of impurities from his body. But his eyes were frighteningly bright.
He raised his hand, calming the crowd's panic.
"What's the panic?"
Lu Cheng's voice was soft but steady, "This blood—only by spitting it out can it be clean. The stagnant blood goes away, and new blood is generated."
He didn't explain much, but with Shunzi's help, he sat back down in the armchair.
Close your eyes and concentrate.
At that very moment, the long-awaited voice in my mind resounded like a great bell.
[Current Performance: Qingfeng Pavilion]
[Character: Zhang Shouxin (cross-dressing as an old man)]
[Commentary: "Using martial arts to express literature, and strength to soften. In this performance of 'Qingfeng Pavilion,' you didn't use a single move, but with your mastery of internal energy, you portrayed the joys and sorrows of human life. The reversal of qi and blood to express grief and indignation—this is acting with your life on the line, and also proving the Dao. The charm of the Southern School and the backbone of the Northern School are all contained in this kneeling and weeping."]
Overall Rating: Top Grade (Exceptional skill, breaking down barriers)
[Reward Received:]
[1. Marrow cleansing progress increased to 30%!]
[2. Special State: The Might of a Sick Tiger (In this state, the appearance is like that of a sick man, but in reality, the vital energy is extremely restrained. Once it is unleashed, the power is multiplied)]
"Om one"
A warm current, purer than ever before, appeared out of nowhere and instantly flowed into Lu Cheng's spine.
If the previous marrow cleansing was like a trickle, then this time it's like a river overflowing its banks.
It hurts! It itches! It's a tingling sensation that seems to emanate from the depths of your bones.
Lu Cheng could clearly feel that his bones were becoming denser, and the originally white bone material was gradually turning into a faint jade color.
Blood rushes through the veins, and the sound becomes muffled, like lead and mercury flowing.
What's most amazing is his skin.
The pores, which were originally rough due to martial arts training, were now rapidly shrinking and closing.
Those layers of dead skin and grime, along with the mouthful of black blood he had just vomited, were all "toxins" expelled from his body.
After three stages of marrow cleansing, one undergoes a complete transformation.
Lu Cheng felt his body become lighter than ever before, yet heavier than ever before.
Lightness lies in movement, weight in inner strength.
He slowly opened his eyes.
The light in those eyes completely disappeared.
His eyes used to shine like light bulbs; that was his overflowing vitality.
Now, his eyes are as warm and gentle as jade, as deep as a pool, giving people a sense of tranquility at first glance, yet their depths remain unfathomable.
"Master—are you alright?" Lu Feng looked at Lu Cheng cautiously.
In his eyes, his master's aura was extremely weak at this moment, his face was pale, and he even had a sickly feeling.
It's like a scholar recovering from a serious illness, easily blown over by a gust of wind.
This is the effect of the "Majesty of a Sick Tiger." Divine creatures conceal themselves, and precious swords hide their sharpness.
"fine."
Lu Cheng smiled slightly, took the handkerchief Shunzi handed him, and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Spitting out that mouthful of blood made me feel much clearer-headed."
"Let's go back to the hotel."
"Remember, if anyone asks, just say I've suffered a loss of energy and need to rest."
Shunzi was taken aback, then suddenly realized.
Is this an attempt to show weakness?
Indeed, in this den of wolves and tigers, being too conspicuous is likely to attract trouble.
"Understood, Master, you are conserving your energy."
the next day.
In addition to the earth-shattering "Qingfeng Pavilion" performance, another explosive news story has emerged in the streets and alleys of Tianjin.
"Have you heard? That Master Lu—he vomited blood after his performance last night!"
Inside the teahouse, the well-informed gossip lowered his voice, his face full of mystery.
"Really? That's a martial saint, his body is made of iron."
"Hey, even iron can't withstand this kind of abuse!"
The gossip smirked, looking like he knew what he was talking about. "Think about it, just a few days ago he fought the Japanese to the death at the Hongkou Dojo, and last night he reversed his blood and qi to perform that tragic play on stage. He was risking his life for fame."
"I heard from the Qingyun Class that Master Lu has damaged his foundation this time, and his internal organs are bleeding. He went back and was bedridden, unable to even get out of bed."
"Alas, what a pity, such a talented person is often envied by heaven."
The more this rumor spreads, the more bizarre it becomes.
In the end, the story even spread that Lu Cheng had been poisoned by the Japanese and was about to die.
The French Concession, Lin Mansion.
Song Ziqi sat on the leather sofa, holding a newspaper in his hand, laughing so hard he almost fell over.
"Hahaha, Yu Die, see? I told you he was just faking it! What grandmaster, what martial saint? He's just a reckless brute who overexerts himself."
Song Ziqi threw the newspaper onto the coffee table, his face full of schadenfreude.
"Now look what happened. He ruined himself trying to show off. This is what they call—'Those who do many evil deeds will surely perish.'"
Lin Yudie sat by the window, holding a cup of coffee in her hand, but didn't drink a drop. She looked at the gloomy sky outside the window, her brows slightly furrowed.
"Is it really that badly injured?"
The image of that figure standing tall and proud at the entrance of the police station flashed through her mind.
Would someone like that really ruin themselves for a mere empty title?
"It must be true."
Song Ziqi stood up, straightened his suit and tie, and said confidently, "I specifically asked the clerk at Tongrentang, and they said the Qingyun Troupe has bought a lot of blood-tonifying and qi-nourishing medicine these past few days. Why would they need so much medicine if they weren't on their last legs?"
"Yu Die, this remnant of the old era, is destined to be eliminated."
A glint of light flashed in Song Ziqi's eyes as he lowered his voice and spoke.
"Moreover, the dance party that Grandpa Lin organized this time was no ordinary event."
"What do you mean?" Lin Yudie turned her head.
"Hmph, on the surface it's the Lin family's way of thanking everyone, but in reality it's the idea of the consuls from Britain, France, and the United States."
Song Ziqi sneered, "Recently, the martial arts circles in Beiping and Tianjin have been too chaotic. The Japanese have suffered losses and lost face. The Western powers also want to see just how much this so-called 'Chinese Kung Fu' really is, and whether it can truly threaten their rule."
"So for this ball, not only were business luminaries invited, but also that Russian strongman Ivanov was specially invited."
"Even the Japanese will send experts to observe the ceremony."
"This is called 'weighing.' Weighing the bones of the Tianjin martial arts world to see just how heavy they really are."
"Lu Cheng was originally the best target, but alas, he's wasted. But we've chosen a good one; it'll be good for him to see what true power is."
"There's a ball in a few days, let's go relax and not let an actress ruin our mood."
Lin Yudie didn't say anything, but she felt inexplicably choked up.
National Hotel, penthouse suite.
Rumors were flying everywhere outside, but it was very quiet inside the house.
Lu Cheng lay on a recliner on the balcony, covered with a thin blanket, holding a scroll in his hand, with a purple clay teapot beside him.
The sunlight shone on him, giving him a lazy and languid air.
"Master, listen to what's being said outside."
Shunqi walked in, fuming.
"They say you're dying, that our Yiyun Troupe is going to break up. And that Japanese ronin is starting to swagger around the streets again."
"Let them spread the word."
Lu Cheng turned a page of the book without even lifting his eyelids.
"Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad. My current ailing state" is a perfect sieve. It reveals those hidden in the shadows...
All the monsters and demons in the area must be screened out. Only when they realize I'm no longer capable will they dare to lay their claws on me.
Lu Cheng's lips curled into a cold smile.
"That way, it'll be easier to chop it up then."
Just then, a knocking sound came from outside.
"Mr. Lu, someone has delivered an invitation." It was a waiter from the hotel.
Shunqi took the letter and looked at it; his expression turned somewhat strange.
"Master, it is—the Lin family. Master Lin Shiyuan, Qi."
Lu Cheng raised an eyebrow and accepted the letter.
The letter was written very politely, saying that in order to renew the sworn brotherhood between Master Lu and Qi, a banquet was specially arranged at the most luxurious "Astor Hotel" in the French Concession, and Lu Cheng was invited to attend.
The time is tonight.
"The Lin family—"
Lu Cheng pondered for a moment.
Lin Shiyuan, that old fox, is the most well-informed.
Inviting someone to dinner at this time is probably more than just a simple expression of gratitude. It's more likely an attempt to probe their true intentions.
After all, the value of a lawsuit between a crippled grandmaster and a grandmaster at the height of his power is worlds apart.
"go."
Lu Cheng closed the letter and stood up.
In that instant, the lazy aura emanating from him vanished completely.
But then he coughed twice, and his face turned even paler again.
[The Might of a Sick Tiger] can be switched at any time.
"Tell the messenger that I am unwell, but I must keep my appointment with an old friend."
into the night.
Astor Hotel.
This is the most luxurious foreign-style hotel in Tianjin, a den of thieves for foreigners and top compradors.
The entrance was filled with all kinds of luxury cars, with elegantly dressed people coming and going.
-
In the hall, the crystal chandelier glittered, a Western melody played a waltz, and men and women embraced and danced gracefully.
This scene was like a completely different world from the chaotic and impoverished world outside.
"Didi1"
A rickshaw was parked in front of the restaurant. Compared to the gleaming cars around it, the rickshaw looked extremely shabby.
The carriage curtain was lifted, and Lu Cheng stepped out.
He helped him put on his signature moon-white long gown, but today the gown was a bit too big, making him look even thinner.
His face was pale, his lips were almost bloodless, and he was holding a walking stick, which Shunqi had specially found for him to "put on a show."
Shunqi followed behind, looking very wary, as if afraid that his master would get hurt.
"Hey, isn't this Boss Lu?"
Just as I reached the entrance, a shrill voice suddenly rang out.
Song Qiqi, dressed in a white tuxedo with his hair combed so neatly that even a fly couldn't stand on it, stood on the steps with the elegantly dressed Lin Yudie by his arm, looking down at Lu Cheng.
His eyes were full of mockery.
"Hey buddy, I heard you're so sick you can barely get out of bed, and you're still forcing yourself to come here for a free meal? This Astor House steak—can your appetite handle it?"
Looking at Lu Cheng's "weak" appearance, Lin Yudie felt a slight pang in her heart.
As expected—the rumors were true.
He has truly damaged his foundation. The man who once stood proudly at the entrance of the police station now even needs crutches to walk.
An emotion called "compassion" arose in her heart.
But along with it came a touch of disappointment.
It turns out that the so-called masters of Chinese martial arts are nothing special.
It was just a fleeting moment.
"Young Master Song is joking."
Lu Cheng wasn't angry; he even politely cupped his hands in greeting, his tone weak.
"Since Mr. Lin invited me, I dared not refuse. As for this steak—" Lu Cheng smiled, "As long as you have good teeth, you can chew any kind of meat."
"Tch, stubborn as a mule."
Song Qiqi snorted coldly and turned to Lin Yudie, saying, "Yudie, let's go inside. Don't stand with this sickly guy; it's bad luck."
Lin Yudie hesitated for a moment, then nodded to Lu Cheng: "Mr. Lu, please."
The group entered the hall.
At this moment, Lu Cheng's long gown and cloth shoes stood out conspicuously among the suits and leather shoes that filled the room.
It was like a white crane that had wandered into a flock of peacocks.
Out of place.
Lu Cheng ignored these stares. He found a corner to rest, and Shun Qi stood behind him like a god.
Lin Shiyuan was chatting and laughing with several foreign businessmen when he saw Lu Cheng arrive. He simply nodded from a distance and did not come over immediately.
This attitude is quite remarkable.
Clearly, this old fox is observing the situation.
At this moment, although the atmosphere in the hall was lively, an undercurrent was surging beneath the luxurious surface.
In a corner, a few tables were occupied by Chinese people who were not well-dressed, their expressions serious, even somewhat indignant.
Those were the younger generation of martial arts masters from various martial arts schools in Tianjin, as well as a few lower-ranking boxers.
They were invited by Song Ziqi under the guise of "exchange and learning." He claimed to be teaching them, but in reality, they were just there to be there as accomplices and a laughingstock.
Just then, the music suddenly stopped in the dance floor in the center of the hall.
A burly foreigner, as big as a brown bear, strode up to the microphone.
This man was at least two meters tall, his muscles were so strong they were about to burst his suit, he had a full red beard, and his eyes were fierce.
He was a Russian strongman named Ivanov.
He was a "guest performer" specially invited by Song Qiqi, whose purpose was to humiliate Lu Cheng and Chinese martial arts.
"Ladies and gentlemen."
Song Qiqi, holding a wine glass, walked over to Ivanov, a smug look on his face.
"To liven up to tonight's ball, I've specially invited Mr. Ivanov, the Russian strongman. Mr. Ivanov is a true boxing champion," he said, "he can bend a steel pipe with his bare hands and kill a bull with a single punch. That's real strength, muscles honed through scientific training."
"Unlike some so-called 'traditional Chinese martial arts' —"
Song Qiqi's gaze was undisguisedly directed at Lu Cheng in the corner, "All you do is put on a show, perform shamanistic rituals, and swindle money from ordinary people."
"Today, let's have Mr. Ivanov show everyone what a real man is!"
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