Chapter 3

The next day.

Li Qi stood at the bridge, lowering his head to gaze at his reflection in the water. Though he was not exactly a dashing and handsome man, he still had clear eyebrows and a gentle demeanor. Unfortunately, the tattered linen robe with several small holes made him look rather shabby.

He had come here not only to lose his wife and family but also to fall from a genuine rich and handsome man to a truly poor and lowly person. Even the maidservants of noble families looked down on him with disdain.

It seemed that no matter what dynasty or place, the poor and lowly always existed to highlight the rich and handsome.

However, Li Qi was not bothered by these mocking voices; instead, he found them somewhat amusing. Although he was not a historian, he was quite familiar with the history of the Song Dynasty. After all, most of his few historical idols were born in the Song Dynasty, such as the loyal and patriotic Yue Fei, and the talented woman Li Qingzhao, who wrote "Slowly, Slowly, Searching, Searching." The chance to meet these two great figures became Li Qi's first wish after arriving here.

The Song Dynasty was known for its emphasis on literature over martial arts, which Li Qi was aware of. People here always enjoyed writing and reciting poetry. It was no wonder, as there were no televisions, computers, bars, or dance halls. Apart from writing calligraphy, composing poems, teasing beautiful women, and visiting brothels, what else could they do?

However, it was already the fourth year of the Xuanhe era, or 1122 AD. In just four years, the famous "Jingkang Incident" would occur, one of the most humiliating and darkest moments in Chinese history. When the Jurchen troops invaded the capital, the people would inevitably suffer and families would be destroyed.

Li Qi thought to himself, "I really hope you can use your writing brushes to stab the Jurchen soldiers to death and use your poetry to civilize those barbarians."

Thinking about this, Li Qi couldn't help but sigh deeply. Why did he have to be transported to this critical moment? What a disaster!

"Damn it, heaven, are you trying to play me to death!"

The more he thought about it, the angrier Li Qi became. He kicked a small stone at his feet into the river.

A light "splash" echoed as ripples spread across the calm river. Suddenly, a woman's figure appeared in the ripples. Li Qi's expression changed dramatically, and he called out, "Qingting!"

Before his voice faded, the figure in the water disappeared.

It turned out that it was all a hallucination. Although he had rested for a night and almost accepted that he could not return to 900 years later, he still couldn't help but miss his wife and parents at times.

Li Qi sighed, shook his head, and gazed into the distance, softly singing Jay Chou's "Chrysanthemum Terrace."

Your tears

Gleam with a wounded light

The pale moon, curved, hooks the past

The night is long

Congealing into frost

Who in the pavilion is cold and desperate

Rain gently taps

On the vermilion window

My life is scattered by the wind on paper

Dreams are far

Transforming into a wisp of fragrance

Drifting away with the wind, your appearance

Chrysanthemums wither, the ground is full of sorrow

Your smile has turned yellow

Flowers fall, people are heartbroken

My thoughts quietly flow

The north wind is chaotic, the night is endless

Your shadow cannot be severed

Leaving me alone

Doubled on the lake

This scene perfectly matched the song.

"Beautiful words, beautiful melody, 'Leaving me alone, doubled on the lake,' truly marvelous!" A clear voice sounded behind Li Qi, accompanied by the sound of a small fan tapping against a palm, filled with admiration.

Li Qi was startled by this praise and quickly turned around to see a handsome young man smiling at him.

Damn! People these days walk without making a sound!

The young man had a oval face, clear and smooth skin, eyes like autumn water, and red lips. He held a white paper fan and wore a white robe, exuding a gentle and elegant aura, looking like a typical pretty boy.

Korean?

Li Qi, who never watched Korean dramas, knew that Koreans liked men who were neither masculine nor feminine, lacking any sense of strength. They were naturally well-proportioned but chose to look like women.

Behind the young man stood a servant holding a short sword, also looking like a woman.

Could there have been gay men in the Song Dynasty?

The young man stepped forward, clasped his hands, and praised, "Brother, your literary talent is impressive! I am truly admiring."

Li Qi was slightly taken aback, mimicking the gesture and replied, "Not at all, not at all!"

The young man's eyes showed anticipation as he asked curiously, "May I ask, what is the name of the song you just sang? Could you enlighten me?"

Li Qi shook his head and smiled, "I dare not claim to enlighten you. The song is called 'Chrysanthemum Withering'!"

His elementary school teacher had taught him that when copying someone else's work, one should add a bit of creativity. Although it was just a one-character difference, the meaning was vastly different.

Of course, Li Qi didn't think this young man would understand the ultimate meaning of chrysanthemums.

"Chrysanthemum Withering?"

The young man repeated it softly, then suddenly held his fan in his right hand and tapped his left palm, exclaiming with a hint of excitement, "What a beautiful song, 'Chrysanthemum Withering'! Brother, you are truly a hidden talent!"

A trace of displeasure flashed in Li Qi's eyes. What hidden talent? You're just hinting that I look shabby. But he still smiled and said, "No, no, I am just a commoner. That song was just a spontaneous expression of my feelings. Don't take it too seriously, sir."

In his words, Li Qi had already claimed "Chrysanthemum Terrace" as his own, but he didn't consider it plagiarism. After all, Fang and Jay created "Chrysanthemum Terrace" in 2006, while he had already sung it in 1122, nearly 900 years earlier. Even if you sued him, the judge would likely rule it as a false accusation.

The more Li Qi said this, the more the young man admired him. He carefully savored the song "Chrysanthemum Withering" again, his expression suddenly turning somber, seemingly moved by the song. He sighed slightly and said, "I imagine you were thinking of a loved one just now."

Sweat! If Fang had been transported here, he would definitely be a great talent. Any song he wrote would move people to tears in any era. Heaven, you really picked the wrong person!

Li Qi didn't deny it, just smiled bitterly and said, "I apologize for my poor performance."

"Not at all, not at all. Brother, your words are like pearls. I am Zhao Jing, and I have learned much from you. May I ask your name?" Zhao Jing clasped his hands, his delicate face almost dripping with water.

Seeing his humility, Li Qi felt a growing fondness for him. After all, he couldn't even find someone to talk to here. He smiled and said, "I am Li, and my name is Qi."

"Ah, it's Brother Li, my apologies, my apologies!" Zhao Jing bowed.

Seeing him bow again, Li Qi felt a headache. My goodness! Is it so difficult for people in ancient times to have a conversation?