Chapter 5: By the Deadline, a Word or Two — Inviting the Green Mountains, the Rain, the Gentle Breeze

“Falling into destitution on the streets, yet striving to achieve greatness...” It is often said that a story resembles its creator. Guan Yin, looking at the works left behind by her predecessor, wondered silently: Is this the image that the original self aspired to become?

“Madam?” For several days in a row, Liu Jiao’an returned quite early. The embroidered pieces she brought back were always numerous. Guan Yin noticed this but found herself at a loss for words.

Being able to teach did not mean one could create. Every day, facing the pristine sheets of paper, Guan Yin sighed deeply, fully aware that this was no lasting solution.

Footsteps halted, and then Sanheng’s voice sounded: “Are you looking for my lady? Madam hasn’t returned yet.”

“Don’t barge in like that... Ah! Husband!”

A quick series of footsteps echoed at the door. When Guan Yin realized something was amiss, the visitor had already crossed the short path.

When the visitor finally pushed open the door and entered, seeing Guan Yin rise from the chair behind the desk, he still spoke with a measure of respect: “The recluse asked us to wait for him.”

“I heard that Yin Yun Shan is unwell. We have come several times... but judging by his complexion now, he seems fully recovered.” Across the desk, Guan Yin held no advantage in this exchange of words.

Outside, Sanheng finally broke free from the visitor’s grasp, clutching onto the shaky wooden doorframe, pressing his head firmly forward. Only after seeing Guan Yin unharmed did he relent.

“Husband...”

“Sanheng, you should leave first.” Guan Yin had now calmed, sitting back down and spreading the still blank sheets on the desk. “Close the door. Whatever happens, I am here.”

Hearing this, Sanheng was about to argue further, but the visitor took the chance to glance at him with a smile, then said, “Since your husband has spoken, aren’t you going now?”

With that settled, the visitor no longer bothered with Sanheng, who was of no consequence, but instead scanned the blank papers on the desk, ready to demand an explanation from Guan Yin.

“We respect the recluse’s reputation, but many know that he once came from the pleasure quarters. If these writings are not delivered to us promptly, what will others say...”

“Are you implying the recluse, having come from the pleasure quarters, doesn’t know proper decorum?”

Though the original self had spent time in the pleasure quarters, she was a skilled writer. To be honest, Guan Yin admired such a person—someone who, in an era full of obstacles for women, still lived authentically. If she could meet her, Guan Yin believed there would be much about her that was extraordinary.

“It’s not that I’ve been procrastinating. It’s just that I recently caught a cold, and the chills have damaged my voice...” Guan Yin’s throat had actually improved significantly these past days, but the excuse served well—it fooled Sanheng, the madam, and naturally, the visitor standing before her.

“Why don’t you find someone else to continue the writings in the meantime? That wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Though she spoke this, Guan Yin felt uneasy. She recalled reading online that when an author ceased updating for months, websites might appoint others to continue the story. From top authors to ordinary readers, no one welcomed such interruptions—better to have no updates than poor continuations.

“We’ve already paid the recluse a deposit,” the visitor’s expression darkened. “A full year's worth. But where exactly the recluse has spent it, we have no idea.”

Standing less than five steps away from Guan Yin, the visitor looked around without restraint, then approached the plain bed and tapped it lightly. “Yet inside and outside this room, it hardly looks like tens or hundreds of taels of silver have been spent.”

“What exactly do you want to say?” Guan Yin’s head ached at the mention of a year’s payment.

Heaven only knows what the original self did with that money. After some carefree living, the debt of words had become her burden to repay—selling herself if necessary, but even then, she doubted she could clear this deficit.

“We still hope Yin Yun Shan will show some sincerity. After all, this matter should be mutually beneficial. Don’t make things difficult for me.”

Guan Yin truly wished she could produce the writings, so Liu Jiao’an would have no worries, and she herself could calm her mind and think of a way back to her own world.

Most importantly, so she wouldn’t starve in this unfamiliar place.

The play scripts were evidently meant for the pleasure quarters, the stages, or even performances in the grand mansions of wealthy families. Guan Yin clearly remembered that there was once a time when the original self had competed in plays on temple stages... Thus, these scripts could bring considerable profit to the other party.

“I doubt the recluse wants this to escalate. If the Liu family finds out that the madam married a fake husband, when they come to settle scores, we will be powerless to help!” Seeing Guan Yin still hesitant, the visitor resorted to threats.

Oh, original self, why did you turn this play into a serialized drama like a novel?

Guan Yin seriously doubted what sins she had committed. After years of diligent study, just as she saw a glimmer of hope, she found herself in an unfamiliar place, cleaning up someone else’s mess!

“Who are you calling the fake husband?”

“The recluse knows well enough, doesn’t he?” The visitor smiled wider. “Madam might not know, but does the recluse himself?”

Does Madam not know? After days spent together, Guan Yin did not think so—Liu Jiao’an was clever, clever enough to conceal the truth even from someone who had lost her memories.

Moreover, those scattered words hinting at “old acquaintances” only muddled her already tangled thoughts further.

“I will do my best.” Guan Yin knew that her words were as futile as a whisper.

She had seen the original self’s writings. Not to mention the elegant, upright calligraphy, even a man seeking a modest official rank could easily achieve such splendid prose...

Reading a book a hundred times reveals its meaning. But to wield that skill in her own pen was far from easy; Guan Yin knew her own limits.

“Please grant me a few more days.”

These days, on one hand, were for evasion. The original self and Liu Jiao’an had little to do with her; if she could find a way to leave within a few days, the delay would be worthwhile.

On the other hand, Guan Yin wanted to devise a workable plan, at least to bluff through this time.

“Then three days it is.” The visitor did not want to truly corner this great talent, as the original self was indeed a lucrative resource.

Seeing Guan Yin nod in agreement, the visitor ordered his men to release Sanheng. Before leaving, he added at the door, “If the recluse’s mind isn’t sharp, go see the doctor at the clinic. If even that healer can’t help, perhaps a greater trouble has befallen him.”

Guan Yin had tried to speak less, but hearing this made her suspect she might have inadvertently revealed something.

“Husband? Husband? What should we do now?”

Indeed, what should they do? Sanheng asked anxiously, while Guan Yin remained without a clear answer.

She had heard of skilled Chinese medicine practitioners who could detect spiritual ailments by pulse. Guan Yin wanted to return home but feared exposing her identity, so she feigned disdain for doctors and healing, which naturally kept her head in a fog.

“Sanheng, I’ll rest for a while. When Madam returns, remind me, please.”