Chapter 128: The Xiao Estate's Eightieth Birthday Celebration, The Nine-Lotus Lamp Offering

The ways of the world are but a trick, a layering of illusions.

Gao Ming no longer possessed the high spirits he had displayed at the Listening Rain Studio. His face was crestfallen, and a slap mark marred his cheek—a clear sign that he had suffered.

"You! It’s you!" Gao Ming recognized Song Mo instantly; he had left a deep impression as a generous patron.

"Long time no see. How have you been lately?" Song Mo asked with a smile.

Ji Duoduo and Yi Rushi could barely suppress their laughter. How wicked this man was, asking someone how they were doing when they were clearly rotting in a prison cell.

Gao Ming struggled for a long while, nearly bursting into tears, before finally managing a strained smile. "I’m fine, except I’m afraid I’ll be a dead man in a couple of days."

Song Mo felt a jolt of alarm. He had assumed Gao Ming had committed some minor offense, not that he was facing a death sentence. Unable to contain his curiosity, he asked, "What happened? Did you trick yourself right into your own grave?"

Song Mo had intended to tease Gao Ming to lighten the mood, but Gao Ming asked with a deathly pale expression, "Kind sir, how did you know that I played myself to death with my magic tricks?"

Song Mo was stunned; he hadn't realized he had stumbled upon the truth.

Yi Rushi remained indifferent, but as soon as Ji Duoduo saw someone suffering the same miserable fate as himself, his brow relaxed. Indeed, such is the way of the world; people only feel deep sorrow when they believe they are alone in their misfortune.

Ji Duoduo was such a man. Though he enjoyed his conversation with Song Mo and Yi Rushi, he knew well that one of them had committed no serious crime, while the other was the son-in-law of Chancellor Tang—no matter what, they would never face the executioner’s blade. Seeing the conjurer Gao Ming, who was equally doomed, land in prison, Ji Duoduo felt not pity, but a strange sense of comfort.

Feeling somewhat cheered, Ji Duoduo asked the conjurer, "Brother Gao, what crime did you commit to end up in here?"

Gao Ming sighed and said, "Alas, better not to speak of it."

Seeing his reluctance, Ji Duoduo pressed, "Don't be like that. Tell us so we can have a laugh—no, so we can ponder a way to solve it." Though his tone feigned a desire to help, the grin on his face had stretched almost to his ears.

Yi Rushi chimed in to help, "That’s right, Brother Gao. I am the execution overseer for the capital of Jian'an. I have some pull!"

Gao Ming looked at his two unreliable cellmates, and the gloom on his face deepened.

"Gao Ming, why don't you just say it? Bottling it up is hard," Song Mo suggested.

"Sigh, very well. I'll tell you. Treat it as a joke," Gao Ming said with a heavy sigh. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before saying in a low voice, "It all started three days ago. It was the eightieth birthday of Master Xiao of the Xiao Mansion in the north of the city. His son, Xiao Xiong, is a high-ranking official in the imperial court, so the banquet was grand. My master and I went along to join the festivities."

Song Mo had heard of Xiao Xiong; he was a key official of the Dongshan faction in the court, a man of significant power. His father’s eightieth birthday would certainly have been a flamboyant affair. As for Gao Ming’s master, Song Mo had seen him once before outside the Listening Rain Studio—the middle-aged man with a maimed left hand and a shadowed, gloomy face.

Gao Ming gripped his pant legs, clearly full of regret. "You know, life as a street performer is not easy. A grand occasion like that is the perfect opportunity to get a few good meals and earn some tips." Gao Ming’s tone shifted. "If I had known what would happen at the Xiao Mansion, I would have starved to death rather than go there to perform."

With a voice heavy with regret, he recounted the events at the Xiao Mansion.

...

Three days ago, at the Xiao Mansion in the north of the city.

That evening, as the banquet reached its peak, Gao Ming and his master arrived. The steward, seeing the ragged pair, wasted no time, dismissing them with a single red envelope and two steamed buns. Gao Ming was incensed, realizing the man had taken them for mere beggars.

His master, however, explained their purpose with calm dignity. The steward, thinking the banquet was lively and lacked entertainment, decided that the arrival of these two conjurers could provide some amusement. He nodded, and they were allowed inside.

During the day, Gao Ming had wandered among the tables, performing small tricks. Since the guests were mostly wealthy and noble, he had earned a fair amount in tips. By nightfall, the inner courtyard was filled with music, dancing, and a deafening roar of voices.

As they drank outside, the master suddenly put down his cup and asked Gao Ming if he wanted to make a name for himself and become a renowned conjurer in the capital. Gao Ming, emboldened by the wine, nodded repeatedly. His master slapped his thigh and declared, "Good! With that said, we shall win a standing ovation at the Xiao Mansion today!"

They walked straight into the inner courtyard. When the servants tried to block them, the master shouted, "A banquet with wine and song is a fine thing, but wouldn't a few small tricks be the icing on the cake?" His words piqued the guests' interest, and Xiao Xiong, not wanting to dampen their spirits, allowed them to perform.

The master asked, "Does the honorable Master Xiao have a carving knife and a brush? I shall present the Nine Lotus Lamps to wish you long life."

Xiao Xiong nodded, and his men quickly brought the tools.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I beg your indulgence." The master bowed, picked up a cup of wine from a table, and walked to a blank white wall.

"What is that man doing? Why is he painting with wine?" a guest asked in confusion.

"It seems he has some skill," a richly dressed noblewoman said with anticipation.

Though missing half a hand, the master moved with grace, his brush sweeping and his carving knife striking the wall. Soon, he stopped. The guests stared at the empty wall, wondering what trick the conjurer had up his sleeve.

"Is this your magic?" Xiao Xiong asked with a dark expression. This was his father’s eightieth birthday; losing face before so many people would be a disaster.

"My lord, wait and see," the master replied, unperturbed. He took the remaining wine into his mouth and sprayed it violently against the wall.

In an instant, as if by divine intervention, nine lotus flowers appeared on the pristine white surface, one after another from left to right. The leaves were a lush, vibrant green, the lotus blooms a brilliant crimson, and even the stamens were vividly distinct. It was truly miraculous.

"Brilliant! Simply brilliant!" a guest cheered.

A smile finally broke across Xiao Xiong’s face. He looked at the master and asked, "You said you were presenting Nine Lotus Lamps. Where are the lamps?"

The master smiled, dipped his remaining hand into the dregs of the wine cup, and, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, touched it to a lamp. A ghostly blue flame danced upon his fingertips.

"Light the lamps!" he commanded with a steady voice. He flicked his hand, and the blue flame leaped across the nine lotuses. As the light flashed, the stamens of the flowers ignited, making them appear even more exquisitely delicate.

"I offer these Nine Lotus Lamps to wish Master Xiao a life as enduring as the pines on the Southern Mountains!" the master declared, bowing.

The guests broke into thunderous applause.

Yet, in the crowd, someone whispered softly, "So that’s how he lost that half of his arm..."