Chapter 81: The Magpie Bridge Immortal

Seeing Shen Xian take action, many people immediately raised their phones. Lin Zhixia’s gaze was also fixed on Shen Xian. Although she hadn’t paid attention to him in the ten years since their separation, she still knew a little about him. She knew he had attended the conservatory, studied music, become a musician, and started dating Liu Ruyun.

But what Shen Xian demonstrated today far exceeded anything she thought she knew about him. She suddenly realized that she didn’t know him at all.

After thinking for a moment, Shen Xian put Qingqing down. Qingqing stood beside him, clutching the hem of his shirt with one hand and playing with the gold bead around her neck with the other.

Shen Xian bent over, and many people crowded around, encircling him in the center. He first wrote three large characters on the paper: "Immortal at the Magpie Bridge."

This world’s history was strikingly similar to Earth’s, yet there were many differences. Still, the tale of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl was identical.

"Light clouds weave wondrous shapes, shooting stars bear messages of longing; across the vast, silent Silver River, tonight I cross in secret."

With just this line, Xu Zijian’s expression shifted, and a vivid scene immediately formed in his mind.

Next came the subsequent lines: "When golden wind and jade dew meet, it surpasses countless meetings in the mortal world." "Tenderness flows like water, our tryst is but a dream; I cannot bear to look back on the path across the Magpie Bridge."

The entwined affection was as endless as flowing water, while their reunion was as fleeting and illusory as a dream. At parting, one could not bear to look back at the bridge.

A rendezvous on Qixi, the night of autumn wind and morning dew, was worth more than all the countless couples who stayed together in name only.

This was the love story of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl! Many people understood the meaning.

"This isn’t quite right, is it? Magpie Bridge Temple wants sweet poems, but this one is so melancholy. Will they accept it?"

"Exactly, Magpie Bridge Temple is also called the Old Matchmaker’s Shop. It’s where people pray for love—you wrote something so sorrowful..."

"They want poems with happy endings, since it’s about bringing lovers together. Yours is off the mark."

The crowd voiced their opinions.

Even Lin Zhixia, who was highly educated though not a classical literature major, could see that Shen Xian had gone astray.

Only Xu Zijian’s gaze remained profound, because he knew this poem still had two lines left. Often, it was the final lines that brought the poem to life.

Unbothered by the crowd, Shen Xian prepared to write the last two lines.

Suddenly, a cool and clear voice rose from the crowd, "Shen Xian."

Everyone turned their heads toward the entrance.

A woman stood there, her entire body wrapped in sun-protective clothing, her face completely obscured. She wore sunglasses that hid even her eyes. All that could be seen was her graceful figure and fair skin.

"Mama!" At the sight of Zhou Wan, Qingqing immediately recognized her and spread her arms wide.

Zhou Wan walked over and picked Qingqing up.

Qingqing pointed at Shen Xian, "Daddy is writing."

She meant to say her father was writing, but she was too young to express herself clearly.

Seeing Zhou Wan arrive, Lin Zhixia narrowed her eyes, staring at her intently. So this was Shen Xian’s wife? Even though she couldn’t see her face, her air was remarkably elegant.

"Wait for me a moment," Shen Xian said with a smile, looking at Zhou Wan. Then he recited the final two lines, "If two hearts are bound forever, why dwell on morning and evening together?"

At these words, Zhou Wan’s eyes, hidden behind her sunglasses, narrowed.

Back when she was in school, she had been the president of the literary society; she instantly grasped the meaning of these lines.

What did it mean? Was Shen Xian confessing to her? She couldn’t let that happen! For Ning Cai had designs on Shen Xian, and besides, she herself liked the postman...

When the last two lines appeared, a look of awe came over Xu Zijian: "Amazing, Xiao Shen! The last two lines are inspired genius!"

The onlookers craned their necks, gazing at the poem "Immortal at the Magpie Bridge" on the paper:

Light clouds weave wondrous shapes,
Shooting stars bear messages of longing;
Across the vast, silent Silver River,
Tonight I cross in secret.
When golden wind and jade dew meet,
It surpasses countless meetings in the mortal world.
Tenderness flows like water,
Our tryst is but a dream;
I cannot bear to look back on the path across the Magpie Bridge.
If two hearts are bound forever,
Why dwell on morning and evening together?

"Wow, what a beautiful poem!"

"How does his mind work? He composed such graceful and exquisite lines so effortlessly!"

"This level of poetry rivals the great masters of the past!"

Though Shen Xian’s calligraphy was merely average, his writing was delicate and clear. He held up the poem: "Masters, please take a look!"

All six masters came over, scrutinizing the poem and reciting it softly.

Zhou Wan, holding Qingqing, also stepped forward, gently savoring the words: "Light clouds weave wondrous shapes, shooting stars bear messages of longing..."

Whether ancient poets or modern scholars, whenever they wrote of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl, they always lingered on the theme, "Joy is brief, sorrow long," imbuing their works with melancholy and pathos. By contrast, this poem was uniquely original and far-reaching in its conception.

This was a festival poem, illuminating both the Qixi tradition of "praying for skill" and the tragic elements of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl’s story—mature, yet achingly beautiful.

On which day was Magpie Bridge Temple most crowded with worshippers? Qixi, of course!

And when did Magpie Bridge Temple hold its grandest festival? The Festival of Skill, or Qixi!

So this poem perfectly matched the temple’s requirements, using the joys and sorrows of the legendary lovers to praise steadfast, sincere love. The closing line—"If two hearts are bound forever, why dwell on morning and evening together?"—was the poem’s pinnacle.

"This young man is truly remarkable—not only is his couplet skill outstanding, but his poetry is just as impressive!"

"It looks like the red thread of fate will be his again!"

The crowd buzzed with excitement, many onlookers feeling that today was well worth their time.

The six masters gathered to confer, then one in a purple robe approached Shen Xian: "We’ll take this poem. Can you guarantee it’s one hundred percent original, with no plagiarism?"

Shen Xian nodded, "I can guarantee it." In his heart, though, he thought: Qin Guan, forgive me. I’ll burn extra incense for you next time.

"If I ever find out it’s not original," the purple-robed master said, "we’ll have a little talk about it."

The Daoist sect differed from Buddhism and Confucianism. Buddhists preached laying down the butcher’s knife to become a Buddha, and Confucians believed a gentleman argued with words, not fists.

Daoists? They took life and death lightly—if you didn’t submit, you fought.

So the purple-robed master’s meaning was clear: if he found Shen Xian had plagiarized, he’d be coming for him.

That was the Daoist way: act on your impulse, and if you provoke me, I’ll deal with you myself.

"Will I be in trouble every time I come down the mountain?" Shen Xian smiled wryly.

The purple-robed master shot him a look. "On the mountain, you could call me ‘little Daoist,’ and I’d let it slide. But down here, you call me ‘Grandmaster.’ Think carefully about who you want to mess with."

As he spoke, he produced the pair of red threads and stood before Shen Xian and Zhou Wan. "Hold out your hands."

Shen Xian and Zhou Wan thought it was some kind of ceremonial handover and obediently extended their hands.

Without any visible movement, there was a soft click. Two golden bracelets were fastened onto their wrists. "A thousand miles apart, yet fate ties you together. May you two find happiness together for a hundred years!"