225. Plays

Chen Ren didn’t raise himself immediately.

He remained bowed, spine straight, head lowered, holding the posture far longer than etiquette required. One breath passed. Then another. Time stretched until finally a calm, languid voice broke the silence.

“You may raise yourself now.”

Chen Ren straightened at once, exhaling quietly as he lifted his head. Xiangrui was looking at them with great interest in his eyes.

Though he didn’t gesture for them to sit.

The absence of permission was deliberate. A sort of test or maybe just an ego thing. So Chen Ren and Princess Yanyue remained standing.

She stepped forward smoothly and Chen Ren noticed how at ease she looked.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Xiangrui,” she said. “I’ve heard much about you back in the imperial palace of the Empire.”

With that, she inclined her head—not a bow, but just enough to show respect. Only Princess Yanyue could stand on equal footing with this man, and both of them knew it. Even if the city lord didn't care about the climbers, he certainly knew that a princess wouldn't bow to him.

If she did, then he would immediately term the Kalian empire as nothing special.

Xiangrui’s eyes swept over her once slowly. There was no attempt to hide his appreciation of her clothes as his face brightened, even more so than it already was.

“You have good taste,” he said lightly. Then his gaze sharpened, locking onto hers. “And this empire of yours. It’s where all these climbers are coming from, yes? Tell me—What have you heard about me?”

“Long ago,” she said without hesitation, “my father challenged the pagoda. He reached the fifth floor, where he witnessed your majestic city and was fortunate enough to take a glimpse at you.”

She paused deliberately, to let the weight of her words settle.

“When he returned, he vowed to become a ruler worthy of that sight. He often spoke of Goldspire City and said that if he could build even half of what you have here, his reign would not be in vain. Though you may not know him, my father considers you a benefactor.”

Xiangrui’s expression shifted instantly. A smile bloomed across his face—slow, indulgent and unmistakably pleased.

Chen Ren saw it clearly.

The pride. The satisfaction. The way the lie slid perfectly into place.

Just as he had expected.

Xiangrui had almost certainly already investigated Princess Yanyue. He would know royalty had entered the pagoda this time, and the man certainly didn't seem like the type to remember every climber. Hence, he would never know if her father had actually entered his city or not. The lie simply needed to feed his ego.

And it did.

Xiangrui lifted a hand at last, gesturing lazily toward one of the golden seats placed opposite him.

“You may sit.”

Princess Yanyue smiled at once. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, before taking her seat with composed grace.

Chen Ren, however, remained standing.

He positioned himself half a step behind her, and kept his eyes lowered just enough to sell the image of an advisor rather than an equal.

Princess Yanyue continued smoothly. “I had intended to visit earlier and pay my respects, but I’ve been… occupied.”

“With that little shop of yours,” Xiangrui said at once.

Chen Ren wasn’t surprised. Of course the man knew. There was probably very little that happened in Goldspire City that he didn't know about.

Princess Yanyue nodded. “Yes. It took more time than I anticipated to set it up.”

Xiangrui waved the matter away. “That’s completely fine. More business keeps my city alive. People need places to spend their tokens—market movement is profit. Stagnation is death.”

He paused then, his gaze shifting from the princess to Chen Ren, lingering for just a moment longer on him before returning.

“But tell me,” Xiangrui said, voice sharpening slightly, “are you here only to pay respects? If so, you may leave. My servants will see to your meal and escort you back.”

He leaned back into his seat, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.

“If there’s anything else,” he added, “speak now, Princess Yanyue. I have many important matters to attend to.”

Princess Yanyue straightened immediately, not expecting him to be this direct.

“There are indeed matters I wished to discuss with you, City Lord Xiangrui,” she said. “Matters in which I require your aid.”

Xiangrui smiled. “I thought as much,” he said lightly. “No one had seeked my presence in centuries just to ask how I’m doing. Everyone already knows—I’m doing exceptionally well.”

He leaned forward slightly, interest finally surfacing.

“So,” Xiangrui asked, “what do you want?”

Then his smile sharpened, turning faintly predatory.

“But know this first: whatever you ask must be interesting. And it must be paid for in something I find equally interesting. Just because your father admired me does not make me your uncle.”

Princess Yanyue inclined her head calmly. “Of course. I understand that well, City Lord Xiangrui. My request is actually very simple.”

She met his gaze steadily.

“I wish to learn more about the upper floors.”

Xiangrui raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Even his lips thinned.

“That is not an interesting request,” he said flatly. “If you search hard enough around the city, you can piece together scraps of information. You may leave.”

The dismissal came so easily that Princess Yanyue’s expression faltered for just a fraction of a second.

Their plan had been to flatter him, ease him into conversation, and slowly draw the information out. Instead, the man had shut the door almost immediately.

But they didn’t move out immediately.

Xiangrui waved his hand again, irritation creeping into his tone. “Why are you still here?”

Princess Yanyue glanced sideways at Chen Ren. He understood the cue at once and stepped forward quietly.

“May I speak?” he asked.

Xiangrui finally looked directly at him. “Not just anyone may speak to me. Especially not an attendant.”

Chen Ren straightened slightly. “I am her advisor,” he said calmly. “And currently ranked first among the climbers. I believe that qualifies me to address you directly, Your Lordship.”

Xiangrui paused. Something flickered through his eyes—interest, perhaps—before he gave a slow nod.

“I see,” he said. “You may speak.”

Chen Ren smiled faintly. “The reason we came to you is because the information we seek can only be given by you. And we understand its value. That is why we came prepared with things we believe will more than adequately interest you in return.”

Xiangrui laughed, lifting a hand to cover his mouth.

“Be careful with your words,” he said lightly. “Very few things have managed to interest me in centuries. And you”—his gaze swept over Chen Ren—“are barely a few decades old. Perhaps even less.”

Chen Ren didn’t hesitate. “That won’t matter if I can impress you, Lord Xiangrui.”

Xiangrui’s lips curved upward, amused. “Very well,” he said lazily. “Impress me.”

At once, Chen Ren reached into his spatial ring and took out a book, placing it gently on the table between them.

Xiangrui glanced down at it. “What is this?”

“I recently learned of your interest in the arts, Your Lordship,” Chen Ren replied. “This is a book I wrote myself. I believe it may suit your tastes.”

Xiangrui picked it up, eyes sweeping over the cover. He read the title aloud in a flat voice. “Liang Shan and Hua Yun.” He frowned slightly. “The title doesn’t sound interesting. What is it about?”

“A love story,” Chen Ren said, unperturbed. “Between two star-crossed lovers.”

Xiangrui tilted his head. “Star-crossed?”

“Lovers fated by the heavens themselves,” Chen Ren explained. “Bound so that they either remain together for life or die at the same time.”

Xiangrui’s brows knit together. “I have never heard of such a thing. It doesn’t sound possible.”

Princess Yanyue spoke smoothly from her seat. “It is very popular in the Empire. And as you know, City Lord, the ways of the heavens are mysterious.” She smiled faintly. “I believe you would enjoy it.”

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Xiangrui snorted softly. “I will be the judge of that.”

He opened the book.

At first, he flipped through the pages quickly, as if merely skimming—one page, then another, then several more in rapid succession. To anyone else, it might have looked careless.

But Chen Ren knew better.

The man wasn’t skimming. He was reading everything.

Xiangrui’s cultivation clearly far exceeded the limits imposed on climbers by the pagoda, and his eyes moved with practiced ease, devouring line after line without pause. Chen Ren watched him closely, trying to keep his racing heart steady.

This was a gamble.

Before coming here, he had deliberately tested the waters over wine. After bringing Guard Captain Lu Jianhong yet another expensive bottle, he had asked a few questions. Chen Ren hadn’t asked directly about Xiangrui. Instead, he had simply asked about the city's history, and that had told him enough about its ruler.

Goldspire city was prosperous, but what it lacked despite all its wealth and strength was art.

True art.

It was a city too stable, too prosperous, too controlled to produce stories with soul.

Apparently, this had been a sore point for Xiangrui for more than a century.

He wanted storytellers—real ones—but what he kept getting were sycophants. Every tale written in Goldspire eventually turned into a poorly disguised hymn praising him: his beauty, his power, his wisdom. At first, it was probably amusing. Then it became repetitive and unbearable. The guard captain told him about how the city lord's anger over this had driven most would-be writers either into silence or exile.

That was why Chen Ren had dared to bring this book.

As Xiangrui continued reading, Chen Ren became increasingly certain that the gamble had paid off. Because halfway through, his pace slowed. One page held his attention for nearly fifteen seconds.

Chen Ren met Princess Yanyue’s eyes when she craned her neck upwards to look at him and smiled faintly.

Both of them waited calmly.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Xiangrui finally reached the end. He didn’t look up immediately. Instead, he turned back several pages, rereading sections—lingering this time—before at last closing the book.

Only then did he raise his gaze.

His eyes settled on Chen Ren, and for the first time since they had entered the room, there was no arrogance in them.

He cleared his throat. “This is not bad,” Xiangrui said. “Better than most of the stories I’ve read from writers in Goldspire City.” He paused. “Did these two actually exist?”

Chen Ren answered without hesitation. “They did. I heard about them from my elders. I merely wrote it down. It isn’t my original story. I adapted it from tales I heard during my childhood.”

Xiangrui nodded slowly. “I see.” He glanced down at the book again. “I assume this is a gift. I’ll keep it. It's appropriate for some of my knowledge.”

Princess Yanyue straightened slightly.

“You want information about the upper floors,” Xiangrui continued, looking at her now.

She nodded. “Yes. I hope the story is enough.”

Xiangrui leaned back, tapping the book once with his fingers. “Enough to ask one question.”

Chen Ren frowned. “Just one?”

“Yes,” Xiangrui replied. “But if you bring me more stories—stories I approve of—then I’ll allow you to ask more questions.”

Xiangrui paused, then turned his gaze back to Princess Yanyue, studying her with open interest.

“It would be even better,” he said casually, “if you left this man with me. I’ll give him an official position—something prestigious. He can promote art in my city. In return, I’ll answer all your questions.”

Princess Yanyue shook her head immediately.

“That’s not possible,” she said firmly. “He is his own man. And I need him with me on the upper floors.”

Xiangrui clicked his tongue. “Too bad.” Then he smiled. “I suppose you’ll just have to bring me more stories.”

Princess Yanyue didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to Chen Ren who felt the weight of her gaze.

Stories.

He could give them. He had dozens—no, hundreds—from his time on Earth. But every story took time to write, to adapt, to refine. And Xiangrui clearly wasn’t the type who tolerated mediocrity. One weak piece, and the door would close forever.

Worse, staying longer in Goldspire City just to feed this man’s appetite would slow down their plans to climb further.

No. That wouldn’t work.

There had to be another way.

Xiangrui wasn’t interested in cultivation manuals. If he were, they would have traded already. Pills, artifacts, techniques—none of it moved him. Only stories did. So, he needed to trade them, but in a way that didn't cost him his freedom.

Chen Ren kept thinking and thinking of a way to satisfy him until finally, something clicked.

He lifted his head. “I have a better offer for you, Your Lordship.”

Xiangrui raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Chen Ren met his gaze steadily. “Instead of trading one story for one question… how about this.” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “I’ll have my subordinates help establish a theatre in Goldspire City.”

Xiangrui blinked. “A theatre?”

“Yes,” Chen Ren said, nodding. “One that performs a play based on Liang Shan and Hua Yun.”

Understanding flickered in Xiangrui’s eyes.

Chen Ren continued. “Reading a story is one thing. But seeing it—watching the emotions, the conflicts, the tragedy unfold in real time—that gives an entirely different perspective. I believe you would enjoy witnessing everything that happened… as if it were real.”

Xiangrui seemed to mull it over. He put a finger on his chin, and his gaze sharpened as he looked at Chen Ren.

“But can’t I simply make it myself?” he asked coolly. “I already have the story now.”

Chen Ren met his eyes without hesitation. “You can,” he said. “But no one understands the story better than I do as the one who wrote it.”

He paused, then continued confidently.

“More than that, if you agree to this proposal, I won’t limit myself to a single play. I will write three plays, all suited perfectly for a theatre. Reading is enjoyable, but some stories cannot be confined to words alone. A battle between gods, the clash of fate and heaven—those things lose their weight when they’re only ink on paper. They need a wider canvas. Movement. Sound. Presence. I can’t do them justice with a novel alone, but a theatre play would.”

Xiangrui went silent.

His eyes dropped to the book on the table, his thumb brushing lightly against its edge as he clearly weighed Chen Ren’s words. The room remained quiet for several breaths before he finally looked up.

“Fine,” he said. “I will accept your offer. I already have a building suitable for a theatre. I’ll have it renovated immediately.” Then his gaze sharpened again. “But when can you deliver these plays?”

“This week,” Chen Ren replied without missing a beat.

Xiangrui nodded slowly. “Good. Once you deliver them, I will answer your questions. But remember this—” his tone hardened slightly, “—you will also be involved in the production. If not personally, then by giving precise direction to your subordinates. If these plays fail to meet my expectations, you will find me far less… amiable. Do you understand?”

Princess Yanyue rose at once. “You won’t be disappointed, City Lord Xiangrui.” She turned her head toward Chen Ren. “Right?”

Chen Ren nodded. “Yes. I’ll do my best.”

Outwardly, his expression remained calm and confident. Inwardly, his mind was already racing.

Three plays… a theatre… and a man who only accepts perfection.

As he stood there, Chen Ren genuinely wondered what kind of stories could truly satisfy City Lord Xiangrui. And how would he adapt more of them to this world.

***

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