A master of comedy!

Chapter 97 Tang Xianzu

"Aunt Zhu loves to joke around, Boss Long, don't take her words to heart..."

On the main street of Ghost City, Yao Tai Feng spoke to Zhou Sheng.

"Don't worry, I understand."

Zhou Sheng nodded, then asked curiously, "Just who is this Aunt Zhu?"

He felt an inexplicable pressure emanating from the beautiful woman. Even with his full power of his divine eye, he could only see a blurry reflection with eight long, scythe-like legs.

Could it be a spider demon?

"Aunt Zhu is an old-timer in the Ghost Market. Although she also runs a shop, she only does business with a few people. She makes clothes by tailoring, and there are three price ranges: three strings of cash, six strings of cash, and ten strings of cash. She never allows bargaining."

"At such a high price, will they even sell?"

"That's what you don't understand. The clothes made by Aunt Zhu are simply exquisite. My costume for Yu Ji was made by her."

Zhou Sheng recalled her bright yellow embroidered cloak with phoenixes and peonies, and the matching lake-blue fish-scale armor, and couldn't help but nod.

The costume left a deep impression on him. It was exquisitely made, with almost no trace of stitches. The fish scale armor, in particular, was made of some unknown material. It was exceptionally tough yet very light and not bulky at all.

"I heard that even the city lord had her make clothes. You were lucky that she didn't have any customers, otherwise you would have had to wait in line for months."

"That shouldn't cost ten strings of cash, right? I'm a little... unable to pay it back."

Zhou Sheng coughed, a hint of embarrassment on his face.

He only has three strings of cash on him now, which he borrowed from Yao Taifeng.

"I didn't say you had to pay me back."

Yao Taifeng suddenly stopped, her bright and spirited eyes, clear and flawless like the moon, staring directly at him.

“You tore your clothes last night while helping us fight the tiger. I should compensate you with a new one.”

"It doesn't need to be that expensive—"

"Who told me I have so much money?"

Yao Taifeng smiled brightly, her chin slightly raised, and under the moonlight, every inch of her skin seemed to shimmer with the luster of white jade.

Zhou Sheng inexplicably felt that the luster was somewhat dazzling, like golden light.

"Over the years, thanks to everyone's love and support, I have earned a lot of donations from singing. I can't spend it all, and my box is almost overflowing."

"Mr. Long, consider this a favor to help me clear out my inventory."

Zhou Sheng: "..."

Although I knew she was exaggerating, the thought of that box, which looked like a mountain of gold, made me realize that the wealth inside was indeed astonishing.

"Where to go next?"

"Let's go to Simengzhai and see if Mr. Hai Ruo has any new plays or stories."

Mr. Hai Ruo? The Four Dreams Studio?

A thought flashed through Zhou Sheng's mind, and he blurted out, "Tang Xianzu?"

Yao Taifeng quickly glared at him, placed her snow-white finger over her red lips, and said, "Shh, as juniors in the Peking Opera world, how can we address Mr. Hai Ruo by his given name?"

Zhou Sheng nodded quickly, a hint of excitement in his eyes.

He immediately recalled that the famous playwright Tang Xianzu, whose pen name was Hai Ruo, was the author of the Four Dreams of Linchuan, among which "The Peony Pavilion" was a well-known and widely popular play.

In Chinese history, Tang Xianzu lived during the Jiajing era of the Ming Dynasty and died in Linchuan.

Since Linchuan and Xunyang are adjacent, it's quite possible that Tang Weng might have actually come to this ghost town after his death.

"When you meet Mr. Hai Ruo later, Boss Long, you must be very polite to him. He holds a very high position in this ghost city. It is said that he was personally invited by the city lord back then."

Yao Taifeng added another word of advice, still feeling uneasy.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tang is someone I admire, and I'm more than willing to treat him with respect."

Zhou Sheng said somewhat excitedly.

Tang Xianzu did not perform opera, but his name is a towering figure in the world of opera, especially for Kunqu Opera. His play "The Peony Pavilion" almost laid the foundation for the art of Kunqu Opera.

Moreover, Zhou Sheng was a time traveler, and he had heard of the famous Tang Xianzu.

He never expected that this ghost market was truly a place where hidden talents resided. He had just met Aunt Zhu, who seemed to be a great demon, and now he was about to meet a grandmaster whose name would be remembered in history.

Seeing his excited expression, Yao Taifeng smiled slightly, but also quickened her pace and led him to the Four Dreams Studio.

Before long, the two arrived at a quiet and elegant courtyard. There was a winding stream, bamboo shadows, and a faint scent of ink wafted through the air.

The three characters "Si Meng Zhai" on the plaque above the door are written with vigorous strokes, elegant and unrestrained, showing the style of a master.

Yao Taifeng led him into the courtyard, showing him the way with practiced ease, and finally stopped in front of the study.

Through the paper window, a faint figure could be seen in the candlelight. Yao Taifeng knocked on the door and whispered, "Is Master Tang in? I request an audience."

A moment later, an old but gentle voice, tinged with a hint of amusement, rang out from inside the room.

"You silly girl, have you come here to search for books again?"

"Alright, alright, come in."

Yao Taifeng pushed open the door and entered, with Zhou Sheng following closely behind. However, as soon as he entered, he raised an eyebrow and looked at the ground with some surprise.

The ground was littered with scattered books and crumpled pieces of paper, which looked like discarded drafts.

Through the three-foot-high screen, he saw a thin figure, seemingly bent over writing something.

After going around the screen, he finally saw the great playwright and writer who was later hailed as the "Saint of Chinese Drama".

In the dim candlelight, an old man with a pale face and white hair was curled up in front of a burl wood desk, like an old plum tree hollowed out by insects.

His sideburns were disheveled, as if he had been unkempt for a long time, and the bamboo hairpin inserted diagonally into his white hair had been worn with a brassy patina.

The collar of the blue cloth robe was stained with indelible pine soot ink, like moss dots, resembling blooming peonies.

The two entered, but the old man did not look up. Instead, he hunched over and stared intently at the Xuan paper on the table.

For some reason, Zhou Sheng felt that the way he wrote was almost like he was risking his life.

His withered hands gripped the pen tightly as if holding a short halberd, the sheep's hair brush ploughing the paper with a "rustling" sound, like a silkworm devouring the last mulberry leaves.

But as he was writing, the old man suddenly stopped, his brush hovering in the air for a long time, letting the ink drip down.

"Wrong, wrong!"

The old man suddenly put down his brush, crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it away, then took a piece of letter paper and placed it on the table.

"Xiao Feng, feel free to search around. Take whichever book you like."

The old man still didn't look up, only gave a casual remark, and then became absorbed in his own world again.

At this moment, Zhou Sheng stepped forward, bowed, and said, "Junior Zhou Sheng greets Mr. Hai Ruo."

Upon hearing this unfamiliar voice, Tang Weng slowly raised his head.

It was an aged yet vigorous face, with wrinkles like the rings of time, and unusually dark pupils, like ink that had been brewed for too long, carrying a sense of chaos after too many stories had been accumulated.

Yet, these very eyes occasionally flash with an unusual light, sharp as lightning in an instant, piercing straight to the heart.

"Xiaofeng, did you bring other people with you?"

He frowned slightly, as if he didn't like strangers entering his study, and looked at Zhou Sheng with a somewhat distant gaze.

Yao Taifeng quickly smiled and said, "Old Tang, this is my good friend Zhou Sheng, also known as Boss Long of our Juxianlou Restaurant. He has always been very kind to you—"

"Soaring Dragon?"

Suddenly, Tang Weng raised his eyes, interrupting Yao Taifeng's words.

Zhou Sheng was taken aback, not expecting that this master would actually recognize his name, and quickly said, "That is my stage name."

The next moment, Tang Weng's previously somewhat distant gaze softened, and he even revealed a friendly smile.

"Only when a fierce tiger is subdued on a three-foot-wide stage can one know that there is a true dragon in the world of opera."

"Boss Long, well done! That vicious tiger has devoured countless people; I have long hated it!"

“You taught him a lesson, which has vented my anger.”

Zhou Sheng hurriedly replied that he dared not accept such praise.

Yao Taifeng secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the appreciation in Tang Weng's eyes for Zhou Sheng, even ignoring her, she was not angry at all, but instead smiled broadly.

Old Tang pulled on Zhou Sheng's sleeve, making him sit down and recount the details of Wu Song fighting the tiger, taking notes as he listened.

"Good! Good!"

"That was a satisfying fight!"

After hearing this, Mr. Tang laughed heartily, and every wrinkle on his face seemed to be smoothed out.

He stood up excitedly, staggering as he rummaged through drawers and cabinets, seemingly searching for something.

After a long while, he took out a tied scroll from the bookcase and handed it to Zhou Sheng.

"Boss Long has a chivalrous spirit, a young hero, much like the Yellow-Robed Swordsman in my novel 'The Purple Hairpin,' who casually carries a jade sword through Chang'an, his silk robe stained with blood yet to dry!"

"Since you are a hero, how can I let you leave empty-handed? Keep this painting; it's a treasure that the city lord gave me back then."

"It might be of some help to you."

……

　Thank you so much to Hamster Who Never Gets Enough for the 10,000 coins! I've finally hooked up with a real rich woman. Everyone can go to her post in the book review section and leave a comment; this rich woman really does feed us!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)