Chapter 37: The Death of the Poet (2)
As outsiders in an unfamiliar place, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng wandered around the city for a long time before finding the residence of their first customer, “Little Jack”—27 Shell Street.
It was a very small house. A copper plate the size of a tofu block engraved with the house number hung by the door; if Tang Cuo hadn’t been sharp-eyed, he might have missed it entirely.
There was still no one inside the house. But the moment Tang Cuo stepped inside carrying the bamboo basket, he heard another “Ding.” Opening the mission panel, the side quest progress now showed (1/3).
Jin Cheng: “It seems this mission really is very simple.”
Tang Cuo placed the bamboo basket on the only table in the room, not quite believing in such luck. Jin Cheng didn’t really believe it either. His gaze swept over a framed photograph sitting on the bedside table. The photo showed a mother and son, both wearing the most ordinary linen clothes. The mother wore an apron, and the son had a small cloth bag slung across his chest. With a head of reddish-brown curly hair and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, he smiled brightly.
This was probably Little Jack.
Little Jack seemed to have a musical dream.
From a wooden trunk under the bed, Tang Cuo found a small lap harp. The lap harp was very, very old, but it had been meticulously maintained; even its case was wiped spotless.
Beneath the lap harp lay a piece of sheet music. Its edges were yellowed, and the handwriting was starting to blur, indicating its age. Tang Cuo couldn’t read music, but he recognized the composer’s name—Lancelot.
The most popular bard on all the continent, Lancelot.
“So this Little Jack is a fanboy of Lancelot?” Jin Cheng said, handing Tang Cuo a newspaper. “Look at this.”
The front-page headline of the newspaper was about an organization called the Greenvines Alliance. The headline read, “Lady Catherine Accepts Knighthood from the Greenvines Alliance, Becoming its Thirteenth Arbiter.
[Recently, the headquarters of the Greenvines Alliance on Popolo Island announced the official bestowment of the Arbiter position to Lady Catherine, codenamed “Order of Life,” in recognition of her tremendous contributions during the July Rose Incident.
The “Overseer,” Lord Roger Reeds, stated that the Greenvines Alliance will continue to track news of the Rose Sect…
It is reported that Mr. Lancelot has donated all proceeds from his July charity performance to the victims of the July Rose Incident. Praise be to the eternally kind and righteous Mr. Lancelot…]
The newspaper was called the Raven Daily, dated July 30, Year 1228 of the Sicilite Continental Calendar.
Tang Cuo flipped through the other contents. Aside from learning a few place names, there was nothing else noteworthy. He asked, “What date is today?”
Jin Cheng: “September 1st.”
Little Jack had a habit of tracking the date. He had drawn his own calendar grid, marking an X for every passing day. September 1st had not yet been crossed out; instead, it was circled in red ink with the words “Flower Festival” written next to it.
Aside from this, there was no other useful information in the house. Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng lingered no longer and headed to the next house.
Aunt Anna lived two streets away. Her living conditions were slightly better than Little Jack’s, but her house appeared much more cramped. The corners were piled high with clothes needing to be washed and starched—clothes for men, women, young, and old, mostly made of coarse linen, with some cotton. This was likely her job.
There was even a pile of half-washed clothes right by the door.
Though the room was cramped, everything was organized meticulously, making it clear at a glance where everything belonged.
Tang Cuo searched around but found nothing. Finally, he set his sights on the pile of clothes. Just as he reached out his hand, Jin Cheng handed him a magic wand he had snagged from the magic shop.
There were certain moments when Jin Cheng would suddenly come down with a condition called “germaphobia.”
Expressionlessly taking the magic wand, Tang Cuo used it like a stick to poke through the pile of clothes. As he poked, he actually uncovered something. With a soft clack, a badge fell out from one of the garments.
Jin Cheng picked it up, examined it, and said, “A silver moon crest. It could be a family crest, or perhaps some kind of token. Given that the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight probably consists only of this one small city, this is likely the royal seal or the city lord’s seal. Also, did you notice? All along our way, we haven’t seen a second type of flower besides white climbing roses. And looking closely, these roses all seem interconnected.”
Clusters of climbing roses blanketed every corner of the city. They bloomed on the windows of the bakery, on the eaves of Little Jack’s house, entwined around the watchtower, and even filled the gaps in the city walls. The thorn-covered vines twisted and turned endlessly, making it difficult to trace their origin. But one thing was certain—their roots weren’t here.
The entire Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight was paved with large stone blocks; there was barely a dirt path to be seen. Climbing roses couldn’t possibly grow out of bricks.
“Are you saying the roses are connected to the anomaly in this city?” Tang Cuo asked.
“Most likely.” Jin Cheng plucked a rose that had snaked its way in through an open window and raised an eyebrow slightly. “I’m just curious why it’s a climbing rose instead of a regular rose.”
“A rose?”
“Haven’t you read Oscar Wilde’s The Nightingale and the Rose? The ring on your hand is called the Nightingale.”
I’m illiterate, thank you very much.
Tang Cuo disliked reading fairy tales; they were utopias set in a miserable world—too fake. But he didn’t like reading Les Misérables either—too miserable. To sum it up, he just didn’t like reading.
Jin Cheng’s artistic inclinations, on the other hand, sprouted as randomly as his germaphobia.
Ten minutes later, the two arrived at the residence of their final customer, Mr. Gilbert.
Mr. Gilbert was wealthy, living in a detached two-story house. There was even a carriage parked downstairs. The carriage had no horse, and its doors were open, revealing all sorts of goods piled inside—food, daily necessities, toys, and even a stack of letters.
There was also a basket of items outside the carriage, with a footstool placed beside it. It looked as if someone was in the middle of loading the carriage but had vanished before finishing.
Tang Cuo looked at the letters first.
Most of them were family letters: students studying abroad writing to their parents, traveling adventurers writing to their beloved girls, detailing trivial matters and exciting adventures. Bitterness, longing, and affection were all encapsulated within these letters.
Flipping through them, Tang Cuo found a letter addressed to Aunt Anna. It was written by her son.
[Mother, another spring has arrived. I hope you are in good health.
Although Falan is a small principality, it is beautiful here. Mother, last time you worried that I wouldn’t be able to get used to the cold climate here or the inherent arrogance of the Falan people, but spring here is filled with blooming flowers. As long as there are flowers blooming, it can never be too sad.
I found an hourly job helping repair old clocks at a clock shop. The boss is a very kind gentleman. He often shares his family’s extra bread with me, so you truly needn’t worry about me, nor do you need to overwork yourself for my tuition anymore.
At the end of last year, I even had the honor of meeting Mr. Lancelot. He is still as gentle and kind as ever, and his music grows increasingly wonderful. He asked me about things back home and encouraged me to study hard. I am so happy, Mother; he still remembers me.
Praise be to the Silver Moon.
Miss you, my Mother.
When I finish my studies and return next year, I will definitely bring you the most beautiful flower.
— Your most beloved son, Louis]
Folding the letter, Tang Cuo suppressed the slight ripples in his emotions and opened the next one. The recipient of this letter was another familiar face—Cecilia from the bakery.
[Dear Cecilia:
I apologize for taking so long to reply to your letter. As you know, the distance between the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight and the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers is vast, crossing many mountains and rivers. It is very difficult for me to send you firsthand news.
Regarding the matter you asked of me, I can only tell you with the deepest regret: Mr. Lancelot has no intention of returning for the time being. He just accepted an invitation from the Greenvines Alliance and plans to travel to Popolo Island to perform his new composition, ‘Serenade’, at Lady Catherine’s knighting ceremony.
Dear Cecilia, perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but you should use your beautiful, starry eyes to look at other men. They love you so deeply and are willing to give everything for you.
— Your Uncle Thane]
Jin Cheng read the letter as well and teased, “It seems this beautiful Cecilia harbors a secret crush on Mr. Lancelot.”
Tang Cuo, however, focused on the second appearance of “Popolo Island” and the “Greenvines Alliance.” The newspaper was dated July 30th; today was September 1st. What happened to Lancelot in the short span of one month between traveling from the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers to Popolo Island?
The Death of the Poet—was he truly dead?
And how was the anomaly in the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight connected to him?
Looking at it now, the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight was undoubtedly Lancelot’s hometown. Traces of his existence were everywhere. Meanwhile, the wealthy Mr. Gilbert appeared to be a traveling merchant, moving between the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight and other places, bringing goods and letters for the people here.
The items in the carriage bore different insignias, and Tang Cuo could identify some based on the contents of the letters—like dried flower bookmarks from the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers, jade from the Elven Forest, and so on.
Placing the bamboo basket containing the bread inside Mr. Gilbert’s house, a “Ding” sounded. The side quest was successfully completed. Simultaneously, the system announcement chimed:
“Congratulations to the player for completing the side quest ‘Cecilia’s Bakery’.
Reward: ‘A brass key’.”
Opening his system panel, Tang Cuo indeed saw the rewarded item. He then looked at Jin Cheng. Jin Cheng shrugged at him; it seemed the reward was only granted to Tang Cuo, the ring bearer.
By this time, the two had already traveled from the west side of the city to the south and were turning back toward the city center. When Tang Cuo surveyed the city from the watchtower, he had seen a small palace covered in climbing roses in the center. It was highly likely that Lancelot was there.
But upon arriving, the two were somewhat dumbfounded.
The palace wasn’t large, and it lacked an outer wall. However, layers upon layers of vines wrapped tightly around it, bursting with vibrant clusters of flowers that blocked all the doors and windows. The vines were covered in sharp thorns, leaving no place to even place a hand.
With a “let’s try it and see” mindset, Jin Cheng drew his mechanical bow, aimed at the main door, and fired an arrow.
Whoosh! The metal arrow pierced through the vines, grazing a rose. But the moment those petals were broken, all the vines seemed to come alive. They surged madly toward the metal arrow, dragging it down firmly.
Sharp-eyed, Tang Cuo saw crimson blood seeping from the broken petals.
Snap. The metal arrow was snapped into two by the vines, as if it were incredibly fragile.
“Run!” Jin Cheng made a prompt decision, grabbed Tang Cuo, and bolted back at lightning speed. Tang Cuo was half a second slower than him, but he also ran without looking back.
It was terrifying.
All the roses on the entire palace had come alive. Hundreds and thousands of thorny vines lashed out like whips. Just one lash from those, even if it didn’t kill you, would flay a layer of skin off.
The only saving grace was that the climbing roses elsewhere didn’t move; otherwise, this would have been an unsolvable dead end.
Smack! Several vines lashed out simultaneously. Tang Cuo swiftly vaulted over a roof, but the hem of his coat was still hit. With a tearing sound, the fabric was instantly shredded.
Jin Cheng blocked in time for him, and the two fled rapidly. Finally, after sprinting a kilometer away from the palace, they narrowly escaped disaster.
The vines retracted. The pure white flowers embraced the palace once more, falling utterly silent, as if tenderly guarding a slumbering lover.
Tang Cuo caught his breath, ignoring his torn coat for the moment to survey his surroundings. They were originally on the west side; they had now run to the south side. The layout of the south side was similar to the west. Looking ahead, there appeared to be a small plaza.
At this moment, the sun was finally sinking into the golden sea of sand. The sky grew dim, and the tip of the moon peeked out in the distance.
“We can’t get into the palace for now. Not even my arrows can do anything to them. I’m afraid we’ll need to find some other mission-clearing item,” Jin Cheng, well-versed in instance tropes, said. His gaze swept over the bronze ring on Tang Cuo’s finger. “Why do I feel like your ring is still missing something?”
Tang Cuo raised his hand. “Like what?”
Jin Cheng: “Like a gemstone.”
Tang Cuo examined it closely. The engraved pattern did indeed look like something was missing there. But if there really was a gemstone, it would be a tiny speck. Where were they supposed to find it?
He couldn’t help but look at the moon. The skill engraved on the ring was called “Moonlight Tide.” He wondered what connection it had to real moonlight. There was no moon in Yong Ye City; if he wanted to test it, he could only do it inside an instance.
Perhaps use Moonlight Tide to blast open the palace doors?
No, the danger level of doing that was too high.
Tang Cuo temporarily abandoned the idea. The two continued along the street and reached the small plaza.
The small plaza truly was small, no more than ten meters in diameter. But in the center stood a bronze statue—a young man sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, singing while embracing a small lap harp.
Tang Cuo rarely saw statues of people sitting on the ground. The man wore a shirt, vest, and tall boots. A dagger hung from his waist. He wore a fedora with the brim curled up on one side, adorned with a beautifully shaped feather. His hair was tucked behind his ears, revealing a handsome profile.
He was smiling. A white dove perched by his feet, and a pile of flowers lay before him—though, of course, these were also made of bronze.
Jin Cheng crouched before the bronze statue and noticed the ring on its right hand. The statue replicated the ring perfectly, and right on the patterned section of this ring, there was indeed a tiny gemstone.
Aside from this, there was a keyhole on the statue’s chest. Tang Cuo tried Cecilia’s key, but it didn’t fit.
Jin Cheng’s focus, however, wasn’t on these things, as he was suddenly reminded of an old, lingering grievance: “An Irish lap harp. I remember playing this at the bonfire party when you first entered the training camp. Everyone cheered for the instructor, but you weren’t there. Where did you go?”
Tang Cuo didn’t want to admit he had actually heard it, just that he was sitting in a corner where Jin Cheng couldn’t see him. Other instructors at most played a harmonica, but Jin Cheng had to steal the show with a lap harp, leaving no room for anyone else to shine.
“Going to the bathroom.”
“Tsk.”
If there was anything Jin Cheng was dissatisfied with regarding this student, it was his complete lack of artistic appreciation. What a buzzkill.
Tang Cuo didn’t want to dwell on this topic and changed the subject. “The Well of Time.”
Jin Cheng caught his drift. “Time magic?”
Tang Cuo: “The side quest mentioned that today is the Flower Festival, so Cecilia went to fetch water from the Well of Time. The time in this Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight seems to have stagnated, forever stopped on the day of the Flower Festival, and everything left behind is dead.”
Jin Cheng: “Except for those bizarre climbing roses.”
In the entire city, or perhaps the entire kingdom, there wasn’t a single living creature besides the climbing roses. Not even trees.
Flowers must root in soil and be nourished by a water source. If the climbing roses were watered and grown by the water from that Well of Time, and if the Well of Time contained time magic, then everything could be explained.
The question was—where was this Well of Time?
