Wei Wuxian felt there must be something special about this place, but he was only able to take a quick glance, not examine it in detail. Hai time had already passed, and most of the Cloud Recesses had retired for the night. It was incomparably still and silent, and as Lan Xichen led them to the Library Pavilion, they did not encounter a single soul.
The Cloud Recesses had once been burnt to the ground. While this Library Pavilion was no longer the one of the past, its layout was no different from the original after its reconstruction. Even the magnolia tree outside the pavilion had been planted anew.
The three entered the pavilion, and Wei Wuxian voiced his doubt.
“Sect Leader Lan, can we find the source of that melody here?”
“Not here,” Lan Xichen said. He walked to a particular row of bookshelves and crouched down to lift a mat that covered a wooden panel. “…But here, yes.”
A secret door lay beneath the wooden panel.
“The Room of Forbidden Books,” Lan Wangji explained.
Under the secret door was a dark staircase that went on for more than fifty steps. The three descended the dark steps, and a dry, spacious underground stone chamber materialized before Wei Wuxian’s eyes. The sound of their footsteps resonated hollowly. Rows and rows of bookshelves towered in the Room of Forbidden Books. Sorted, dusty books lay sparsely on the shelves; it was clear no one had flipped through them for many years.
Lan Xichen brought them to a particular shelf. “All the books in this section are records of unusual musical scores.”
There was a single desk in the Room of Forbidden Books, which had only one paper lamp on it. Lan Wangji took the papers and brushes that had been untouched for many years from the shelf and made three copies of the score for the altered section of Cleansing from memory. The three of them sat around the desk and divided the work, with each responsible for a few dozen books. Book after book, page after page, they compared the melodies listed in the forbidden books to the transcribed section, looking for anything that matched.
After four hours, the three had still not found anything that matched that section of the song. In other words, they were unsuccessful in finding its source.
As Wei Wuxian quickly scanned the scores, he thought, Don’t tell me there’s no record of this song, even in the music section of the Lan Library Pavilion’s Room of Forbidden Books? That can’t be. If even the Lan Clan doesn’t have it in their collection, it’s impossible anyone else would have it.
Jin Guangyao couldn’t have composed his own magical melody, could he? It’ll be a pain if that’s the case. Unless we can find someone to test it by listening to it for months straight, we won’t be able to prove there’s anything fishy about it. But although he’s clever, he was never trained in this kind of thing. He can’t have been clever enough to compose his own…
After having stared at tiny, tightly packed words for so long, Wei Wuxian’s vision was getting a little blurry. He had several books still left in his stack, so he planned on coming back to them after he took a short break.
Lan Wangji had already finished reviewing his own pile. He quietly took the books that Wei Wuxian had set aside and lowered his head as he continued to flip through them.
Lan Xichen witnessed this scene when he glanced up. He seemed to want to say something but ultimately held himself back.
Just then, Lan Wangji said, “This one.”
He passed over the book he held. Wei Wuxian promptly perked up. He eagerly looked over the two pages Lan Wangji had presented to him, comparing it to the fragmentary score in his hands.
“…It’s not the same at all?”
Lan Wangji moved to sit down beside him and point out the detail he’d spotted. “Consider these pages in sequence.”
With their heads so close together, Lan Wangji’s voice was right next to his ear, low and magnetic. Wei Wuxian’s hand trembled slightly, and the book nearly slipped from his grip. With some difficulty, he collected himself and forced himself to tear his eyes away from Lan Wangji’s long, fair, slender fingers.
He carefully compared the pages before him. “Oh. The front and back.”
At first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything strange about the pages. But if those familiar with music were to pay close attention, they would notice that the tune on one page did not connect to the tune on the next.
Wei Wuxian took out his flute and followed along with the score. Sure enough, the two melodies were disconnected: the half score on the previous page did not belong to the same piece as the half score on the next.
There should’ve been another page between these two. Someone had very carefully torn it out without leaving any traces behind. The removal had been extremely meticulous—not a single shred of the page remained, making it difficult to notice.
Wei Wuxian flipped the book over to see its title. Four words marked the book’s dark blue cover.
He read the title aloud. “Collection of Spirit Turmoil?5 What is this book? The pieces in here sound a little weird.”
“A collection of secret songs from Dongying,” Lan Wangji explained.
“From Dongying?” Wei Wuxian echoed. “No wonder they don’t sound like anything from over here.”
Lan Xichen wore a complicated expression. “…It has been said that the Collection of Spirit Turmoil was compiled by a disciple of the Lan Clan of Gusu during his years spent wandering Dongying after drifting there by boat. It is a collection of wicked songs. If one were to infuse spiritual energy into any of the pieces in this book while playing them, the songs could be used to do harm to others. One could make them waste away, drive them to irascible moods, agitate their vital energy, lose their five senses… Those possessing great spiritual power could even end a person’s life within seven notes.”
Wei Wuxian smacked the desk. “This is it!”