A Poet’s Deception and a Heart’s Ruin

Lin Xingjian harbored no desire to be a literary plagiarist.

Yet, upon reflection, he reasoned it was merely a matter of assisting a certain Young Master Zhong in winning the affections of an Immortal Maiden, earning a handful of spirit stones.

He was not, after all, employing the verses of ancients for any nefarious purpose.

Moreover, within this world, these poems could be considered unclaimed treasures, and with this logic, he slowly brought himself around to the idea.

Lin Xingjian then employed a disguise technique, altering both his visage and his very aura.

Initially, Zhang Jingya showed him little to no interest.

She was a woman of breathtaking beauty, gentle and virtuous, whose every subtle frown and radiant smile exuded an enchanting allure, making it virtually impossible for ordinary men to capture her attention.

In each of their conversations, Lin Xingjian invariably sensed a distinct aloofness and coldness emanating from her words.

This palpable distance caused a chill to creep into Lin Xingjian’s heart, sparking a genuine concern that the mission would prove exceedingly difficult to accomplish.

The turning point arrived during a minor poetry competition hosted by the Confucian Sect.

On the day of the contest, the Confucian Sect’s grounds teemed with masters of verse.

When Lin Xingjian’s turn came, he unleashed a torrent of Tang Dynasty poetry, even recreating the legendary scene of Cao Zhi composing a poem in seven steps (TL Note: A famous historical anecdote where Cao Zhi, a prince during the Three Kingdoms period, was ordered by his brother to compose a poem within seven steps or face death. He succeeded, demonstrating his poetic genius.).

From that moment onward, Zhang Jingya’s interest in the Young Master Zhong impersonated by Lin Xingjian deepened considerably, and a tender affection began to quietly blossom within her heart.

Often, beneath the high-hanging moon, she would extend an invitation to Lin Xingjian, asking him to meet within the Confucian Sect’s grounds, where they would compose poetry amidst the flowers and moonlight.

Each time such an invitation arrived, Lin Xingjian maintained an outward composure, yet his inner world churned with extreme nervousness.

Every subtle expression, every spoken word, had to be meticulously weighed in his mind, for fear of betraying his true identity.

As their time together gradually increased, he, too, began to relax, finding genuine enjoyment in the hours spent with Zhang Jingya.

They would engage in profound discussions of poetry and the Dao, stroll along the tranquil paths within the sect, and share their myriad joys, angers, sorrows, and delights.

Slowly, the deliberate facade he had constructed began to shed its artificiality, becoming almost second nature.

Imperceptibly, the affection in Zhang Jingya’s eyes whenever she looked at Lin Xingjian intensified, blossoming into profound love.

Within the confines of her heart, she began to sketch out a future with him, envisioning a lifetime spent walking hand-in-hand.

By the time she fully comprehended the depth of her feelings, she was already inextricably entangled, utterly unable to break free.

Zhang Jingya had fallen hopelessly in love with Lin Xingjian.

Yet, what she cherished was not merely his poetic talent or literary prowess, but rather his strikingly contrasting humor, and the endearing playfulness and charm he displayed in their daily interactions.

During those shared moments, Lin Xingjian’s true personality would inadvertently surface, imbuing Zhang Jingya with a unique sense of warmth and familiarity.

Perhaps, falling in love with someone was indeed a profoundly unexpected journey.

There was a time when Zhang Jingya’s envisioned ideal lover was a mighty Confucian cultivator, one who could effortlessly weave words into poetry, whose speech flowed like lotus blossoms, and who shone with unparalleled brilliance within the realm of the Confucian Dao.

In truth, however, she had fallen for a man whose heart harbored a distinct childishness.

Lin Xingjian’s seemingly immature actions, in her perception, were imbued with an irresistible innocence and charm, captivating her profoundly.

In those nascent days, Lin Xingjian, still green and inexperienced, could not yet perfectly embody the image of a dashing and talented scholar before Zhang Jingya.

On numerous occasions, he would inadvertently betray his true nature through unconscious actions.

He might, for instance, scratch his head when nervous, bite his lip while lost in thought, or even flush crimson when engaged in poetic discourse.

Unaware of these habits himself, these small, genuine gestures were nonetheless observed by Zhang Jingya and etched into her memory.

Little did he realize that it was precisely these unguarded moments of authenticity that had won Zhang Jingya’s profound affection.

In essence, the object of Zhang Jingya’s love was, in fact, Lin Xingjian himself.

It was fortunate, too, that the original Young Master Zhong, keen on preventing any mission-compromising flaws, had never once made contact with Zhang Jingya.

Consequently, in Zhang Jingya’s perception, Young Master Zhong and Lin Xingjian were one and the same.

However, such idyllic times were not destined to endure.

Just as Lin Xingjian prepared to conclude his mission and revert to his true form, an unforeseen calamity befell Young Master Zhong’s family.

The Xuantian Dao Sect raided their residence, uncovering numerous transgressions, including corruption, bribery, and illicit dealings with the Demonic Path.

Ultimately, Young Master Zhong and his entire paternal lineage were stripped of their cultivation by the Xuantian Dao Sect, cast down into the mortal realm, and condemned to an eternity devoid of immortal cultivation.

Naturally, Lin Xingjian’s mission dissolved into an unfinished affair.

His sole, faint consolation stemmed from the fact that the day prior to the mission’s abrupt end, the client, impressed by his stellar performance, had already remitted the final payment.

Given that this endeavor had been a covert operation of the Shadow Sect, no other faction possessed knowledge of its intricate details, save for Lin Xingjian himself.

Henceforth, Lin Xingjian found himself unable to sustain the pretense of Young Master Zhong, compelled instead to deliberately distance himself from Zhang Jingya, consistently fabricating excuses to decline her invitations.

Initially, Zhang Jingya persistently pressed for explanations, and though a flicker of disappointment would cross her eyes with each refusal, she clung to the hope of a future invitation.

She staunchly refused to believe that Lin Xingjian had abruptly lost interest, stubbornly convinced that he harbored some unspoken difficulty.

She frequently revisited the places they had once frequented together, often spending entire days simply sitting there, lost in the tender recollections of their shared past.

Eventually, a sorrowful realization dawned upon her regarding Lin Xingjian’s true intentions, filling her heart with an overwhelming sense of disappointment and anguish.

She began to confine herself to her room for days on end, gazing blankly at the very spot where they had once composed poetry, tears often tracing silent paths down her cheeks.

Even amidst such profound suffering, her love for Lin Xingjian remained undiminished; indeed, it only intensified, growing more ardent in the crucible of her pain.

He had presumed the matter would conclude there, drawing its final, painful close.

Little did he anticipate that, more than a year later…

The two were to meet again.

“A grudge? I wouldn’t call it that.”

“It’s merely a matter of love curdling into hatred, all for the sake of one person,” Zhang Jingya declared, her expression chillingly detached, her gaze sharp as a blade. “However, the very first impression you give me bears a striking resemblance to him.”

Upon hearing her words, Lin Xingjian’s legs involuntarily weakened, causing him to sway precariously.

He forced himself to maintain composure, managing to conjure a faint smile.

“Senior Sister Zhang, please do not jest with your junior brother.”

“From what you say, it sounds as though you’ve shared an unusual romantic entanglement with someone from my Shadow Sect. However, disciples of my sect are invariably held to strict discipline, and seldom engage with outsiders.”

Lin Xingjian delivered his words with righteous conviction, his face set in an expression of grave sincerity.

This unexpected demeanor caused Zhang Jingya to pause, momentarily taken aback, before she calmly pressed on with her inquiry.

“Are you implying, then, that I am lying?”

“How could I possibly? Senior Sister Zhang, seeing as you are willing to alleviate my troubles before this assembly, you would naturally not speak carelessly.”

“Could it be that some misunderstanding has arisen?”

Lin Xingjian cautiously probed for information, simultaneously attempting to gently guide the conversation.

“There is no misunderstanding!”

“That person deliberately sought to approach me, cunningly winning my affections, only to depart without a single word, abandoning me entirely. Such an individual deserves to be struck by the Five Thunders (TL Note: A severe heavenly punishment in Chinese mythology), utterly annihilated by heaven and earth!”

Zhang Jingya cried out, her voice laced with a mixture of grief and indignation, yet betraying an even deeper, ineffable complexity of emotions.

Her affections ran incredibly deep, and that individual had long since become an unshakeable obsession in her heart.

“How did you come to know he was a Shadow Sect cultivator?”

“My Shadow Sect members are known for their decisive actions and their prowess in clearing obstacles; how could they so readily deceive a woman’s feelings?”

Lin Xingjian asserted, with an air of conviction, that the act of deceiving women… was something he simply could not bring himself to do.