Under the bright moonlight, the shops and houses stood clearly outlined. At the Myriad Bamboo Inn, the wind swept through the surrounding bamboo grove. The rustling of leaves in the night carried a hypnotic rhythm, lulling listeners into quiet ease.
Suddenly, a woman's furious voice rang out, accompanied by the sound of a door being pushed open and then violently slammed shut. A slender shadow launched itself from the Myriad Bamboo Inn, darting away into the night, leaving behind only a lingering, enchanting fragrance.
Inside a room on the second floor of the inn, a man remained, wearing a foolish smile. It was an indescribable smile—one that brought no joy to those who witnessed it. It was a smile of utter loneliness—so sorrowful it seemed almost like weeping, yet no tears fell. Tears fall in sorrow, and sometimes in great joy. That is simply their nature. But what of a smile? When a person is sad, they should weep, yet this man possessed only that foolish smile, befitting his title: the "Merry Meanderer" (Le You Zhe), Jin Tianwang.
The legend of the Merry Meanderer, Jin Tianwang, began six years ago. A young man wandering aimlessly, he performed heroic feats with a smile always etched upon his face. Even when surrounded by enemies intent on killing him, the smile never faded. Even when imprisoned and tortured, deprived of both food and water, Jin Tianwang never lost that smile.
He was remembered by many not for the beauty of his smile, but for the swiftness of his hands and feet. The Merry Meanderer rose to the ranks of top experts after a duel with Han Zhaoming, the "Heaven-Equaling Peak," leader of the Orthodox Martial World. To prove a friend's innocence, he had willingly broken into the Phantom Valley—the most dangerous place in the martial world—all for the sake of a man he had shared wine with only once.
On this beautiful moonlit night, his lips were still curled in a smile. The wine cup in his hand trembled slightly before he downed its contents in a single, rapid motion. At that very moment, a figure appeared silently at the door. It was a man in grey robes, resembling a bookworm. His hands were clasped behind his back, concealing a small jar of wine.
Jin Tianwang did not even glance up. He flicked his hand, sending a stream of wine flying from his cup toward the grey-robed scholar. The scholar did not appear to move at all, yet the stream vanished into his mouth as if drawn by an unseen force. He then stepped forward and sat at the table with the wine demon who knew only how to smile.
This bookworm possessed a dignified air—sitting upright, with broad shoulders and neatly gathered hair. He was no nameless student; in the martial world, he was known as the "Drunken Scholar," Ou Xiatian, a man of great talent who was never far from his wine.
Ou Xiatian took another sip from the jar in his hand and spoke, "She is gone."
"Gone," Jin Tianwang replied, his expression blank and foolish.
"Are you not heartbroken?"
"I am heartbroken."
"Then you should not have let her leave."
"I did not consent to her leaving, yet she has gone."
"You did not think to hold her back?"
"How can one hold back what is already gone?"
"Do you not have affection for her?"
"I do, but I cannot do everything for her sake."
"But in the past, you have done no small number of things for her."
"More than a few."
"You have stopped trying."
"I... I have no intention of deceiving her forever."
"If I were you, I would not do such a thing."
"Because you are a scholar, you naturally have a more noble path than a wanderer like me."
"Though we often drink together, we walk very different roads."
"I can only admire you from the bottom of my heart."
"In truth, you should not admire me. You do not know me well enough."
"I cannot know anyone well enough. I can hardly claim to know myself."
"You are a strong man."
"Am I? Just because she left, I nearly collapsed right here."
"You have not collapsed yet. We can follow her."
"Follow her? For what purpose? To deceive her once again?"
"You do not intend to deceive her anymore."
"I... I wish to drink."
"Then I shall drink with you."
Jin Tianwang and Ou Xiatian drank together for several days. They would meet at dusk and drink until dawn. When morning came, Ou Xiatian would excuse himself, and only then would Jin Tianwang sleep.
Today, the Merry Meanderer woke up and spent most of his time assembling colorful lanterns, each crafted with exquisite care. He later carried them to the market to sell to the shops. This was how the wanderer made his living—a humble trade that paid little, yet enough to sustain himself, to buy wine for himself, and to buy wine for his friends.
As he accepted the meager coins, he noticed a peculiar yellow-and-white lantern hanging in the corner of the shop. He asked, "Boss, how much for that lantern?"
"That lantern? A customer ordered it and paid in full, saying they would pick it up later. It has been three days now, and they still haven't come. They must have forgotten it."
Jin Tianwang smiled suddenly. He left the lantern shop and walked out of the city, heading straight for the edge of the forest to a dilapidated pavilion. He walked around the small structure once before sitting down inside.
He drew a letter from his sleeve. After scanning its contents, he let out a quiet sigh, and then a smile followed. Rising without a sound, he stepped out of the pavilion, headed into the forest, and soon vanished among the trees.
That evening, on the second floor of the Myriad Bamboo Inn, a grey-robed scholar sat drinking alone. Outside, the rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind sounded like countless whispered words.