Zhong Changrong gripped his chopsticks. This time he didn’t shovel more noodles into his mouth, his eyes uncertain and doubtful.
The voices around them answered for him.
“—General Chu Ling, you haven’t heard of him? Have you all forgotten? The first time he met His Majesty, he startled His Majesty right off his horse.”
“Hahaha, he was really reckless. So it’s not strange at all that his daughter now does such things.”
“But Chu Ling’s brave recklessness won His Majesty’s favor. At such a young age he was already leading troops as a general.”
“But Chu Ling also truly had ability. His military achievements were brilliant. If not for him, how would the King of Xi Liang have submitted and sent tribute every year?”
Hearing “Chu Ling, Chu Ling” over and over, and hearing about those events, it was certain, absolutely true—they were talking about their General, his elder brother, General Chu Ling.
Zhong Changrong bit his chopsticks, the scar on his face twitching, his eyes wide. Hadn’t things remained but people changed? Even the teahouse owner had changed, so why was the capital still talking about Chu Ling everywhere?
He almost thought time had flowed backward and he had returned to over ten years ago!
This was truly unbelievable!
……
……
Not just the roadside tea shed outside the capital—in many places still far from the capital, people were also discussing the fresh news from the capital.
Entering the Central Plains, even the smallest city was more prosperous and lively than the border commandery, with many exquisite taverns and teahouses.
In the most magnificent tavern in this city, customers came and went. One table had the most people, old and young, like a family—grandmother, grandfather, sons, and grandsons all present—but somehow something seemed off.
This large family wore extremely wealthy clothing, all in the city’s most fashionable styles. The fabric was excellent too, with gold hairpins, silver bracelets, and pearls. Even a seven or eight-year-old boy wore a heavy gold pendant—
The servants standing behind them were also dressed luxuriously.
These were wealthy people, very wealthy people.
“Don’t know which countryside nouveau riche they are,” a shop assistant chatted in a low voice with a regular customer, jerking his chin toward them. “As soon as they entered the city, they asked for the best tailor shops and gold and silver shops, then the whole family swarmed in and bought several chests worth, putting everything on their bodies at once.”
“What are they doing, traveling rich to appear poor?” The regular customer was puzzled. “This group has elderly and children—aren’t they afraid of flaunting wealth and getting robbed?”
The shop assistant smiled and shook his head: “Who knows? Maybe they’re used to being safe in the countryside and fear nothing.”
As they talked, they saw a young girl at that table beckoning.
The shop assistant quickly left the regular customer, calling out loudly, “Customer, coming!” and hurrying over.
These country folk were also quite generous with money. Good service could earn plenty of tips.
---
Hey, Jun Jiuling.
Jun Jiuling was my first novel to sell its film and television rights. For me, it holds extraordinary significance.
Although I know everyone has different views on adaptations, undeniably, film and television provide the strongest form of dissemination.
Of course, transforming words into images is a huge challenge, so I was quite anxious before it aired. But I was fortunate to meet a very good production company. President Gao was very sincere, screenwriter Shi Liang understands web novels well, and director Xie Ze has helmed period dramas, youth dramas, and the web novel adaptation Fuyao. They achieved maximum faithfulness at the intersection of television needs and the original work.
After it aired at eight o’clock tonight, I watched three episodes. Naturally it can’t be completely identical to the original, but when I saw the broken engagement, the pacing immediately picked up.
This is a different viewing experience. I know that for readers, there will inevitably be much discomfort, but I hope everyone will try to watch it. Speaking of this, when the broadcast was announced, I anxiously searched and saw someone say, “It’s Xi Xing! I read her books when I was young. A television drama is actually airing—I’ll watch it.” At that moment, my eyes became somewhat teary. I felt that youth hadn’t been wasted—it left a mark.
Friends, whether you like it or not, whether you look forward to it or not, please take a look. Friends who read Jun Jiuling back then, do you still remember our vote-seeking declaration when we pushed for first place in that chapter? I used Nalan Xingde’s poem:
I too am but a wild soul! By chance I find myself
In the dusty capital, among the gentry.
With wine I only pour libations on Zhao Zhou’s soil—who understands my intent?
I don’t believe we’ve truly become confidants.
With clear eyes and loud songs, we’re not yet old;
Before the wine cup, wiping away heroic tears.
Don’t you see? The moon is like water.
With you tonight I must get thoroughly drunk.
Let them—the slander of painted eyebrows,
From ancient times until now, all the same.
What does a floating life matter? Just laugh it off!
Thinking back, I regret from the beginning.
One day’s heart-bond lasts a thousand kalpas;
The next life’s fate may bind us in another existence.
Remember well: promises matter!
Jun Jiuling concluded four years ago. I hope more people will come to know it, and I hope those who know it will remember it longer, and longer still.
Thank you to all the production team’s efforts, thank you to the director and actors, thank you to the behind-the-scenes workers. Although by rights, I’m completely an observer to this drama and shouldn’t be the one giving thanks, after watching today, I still must say thank you.
Tonight, watching those moving figures on screen, seeing familiar names and familiar phrases, many memories surged up. I couldn’t help wanting to say: I miss you all, those of you who accompanied Jun Jiuling through its journey. Many are still reading Xi Xing’s works, many have grown up with other tastes and preferences, but in your memories there will still be those three words: Jun Jiuling. How fortunate Jun Jiuling is. How fortunate Xi Xing is.
Here, I bow in gratitude to you all.
I love you. Thank you for making Jun Jiuling what it became, for making Xi Xing the author she is.