The next day, Chen Fan got up early, well before dawn.

After getting ready, Yao Yao was still asleep.

Before leaving, Chen Fan thought for a moment, then walked over to the sleeping Yao Yao and gave her a vigorous shake.

Startled awake, Yao Yao, with a trace of drool at the corner of her mouth, rubbed her sleepy eyes and looked at Chen Fan in confusion.

"Come with me today. There’s a banquet."

As he spoke, Chen Fan hung the suona and gourd on his waist.

The collision of metal and wood produced a dull clinking sound.

At the mention of a banquet, Yao Yao immediately perked up.

A banquet… what could that be?

The best thing Yao Yao had ever eaten in her life was the candied hawthorn Chen Fan bought for her.

Sweet and sour.

The second-best thing was half a roasted chicken that Aunt Wang next door gave her one autumn night five years ago.

It was fragrant, though a bit dry.

Since then, Yao Yao hadn’t tasted anything like it.

...

Fukun Palace was about fifty li from Liuguang City.

The troupe had a dedicated carriage for such trips, so the distance wasn’t an issue.

However, when the others noticed that Chen Fan had brought along a little girl, they gave him puzzled looks.

Chen Fan, unconcerned, casually took the suona from his waist and hung it around Yao Yao’s slender, pale neck, explaining:

"My legs are bad, so I brought someone to help. Hope you don’t mind."

The large brass suona hung heavily around Yao Yao’s neck, and it was impossible for her not to feel its weight.

But Yao Yao bit her lip and persevered.

It wasn’t until they got on the carriage that Chen Fan planned to take back the suona.

However, Yao Yao shook her head and held onto it without saying a word.

Seeing this, Chen Fan gave up but couldn’t help the subtle smile that curved his lips.

Hearing they were going to play music for immortals, the troupe members chattered animatedly among themselves.

Chen Fan sat quietly in the carriage, listening to their conversation without a word.

The most talked-about topic was:

If they’ve become immortals, why do they still die and need a troupe to perform funerals like ordinary people?

Chen Fan was curious too and listened intently, but he didn’t catch any useful gossip after a long time.

Feeling bored, he tilted his head and was about to doze off when Hongyun, sitting at the front, sneered.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"These so-called immortals are just loafers who’ve had their fill and dream of immortality every day."

Hongyun had lived for decades and worked in the troupe for just as long.

He had seen it all.

True immortals lived in ethereal paradises, abstaining from grains, cultivating the Three Purities, drinking nectar, and listening to divine music.

How could mere mortals like them ever encounter such beings?

As for Fukun Palace, it was said that years ago, its leader had stumbled upon a fragment of an immortal text.

Through slow experimentation, he managed to grasp a bit of its teachings.

They weren’t true immortals, just slightly superior to ordinary people.

Listening to this, Chen Fan nodded quietly, finally understanding.

This must have been the case with the Liuyun Immortal Sect before.

No wonder those people like Er Biao were so weak.

They were just mortals holding swords, emboldened by misplaced arrogance, thinking they ruled the world.

In reality, they were nothing more than a group of pretentious mortals clinging to delusions before death.

With this realization, Chen Fan felt reassured and no longer regarded Fukun Palace as anything grand.

...

Fukun Palace.

Today, Fukun Palace was draped in white banners.

Everyone wore an expression of sorrow.

In the mourning hall stood an ancient bronze coffin, with a memorial tablet inscribed:

In memory of Fuyunzi, the first leader of Fukun Palace.

It was said that the leader of Fukun Palace had arranged a duel with the sect master of the neighboring Liuyun Immortal Sect.

However, as soon as they met, before the fight could even begin,

The Liuyun Immortal Sect launched a sneak attack, having secretly set traps at the battleground in advance.

The leader of Fukun Palace stepped on one, collapsed, and died on the spot.

As the saying goes, high-level combat often relies on the simplest methods.

Setting traps was efficient, convenient, and highly effective—truly a commendable strategy.

When Chen Fan heard about this cause of death, he was speechless.

To think that a dignified palace leader would die in such a pathetic manner.

But it wasn’t something that concerned him.

The troupe took their places, and the performance began.

As the music started and the curtain was drawn, everyone awaited the banquet.

Today, however, Chen Fan’s suona sounded exceptionally grating, his gaze repeatedly wandering toward the banquet tables in the distance.

Roast duck, roast chicken, steamed lamb, steamed carp...

At this moment, all he wanted was to finish the job quickly and eat.

He had come here for the banquet, after all.

Many guests weren’t interested in the performance anyway. As long as the atmosphere felt right, that was enough.

Coupled with Chen Fan’s overly loud and unpleasant suona,

The experience was not just physically uncomfortable but spiritually jarring.

It felt as though, instead of sending off the late palace leader, Chen Fan was trying to send everyone present to the afterlife as well.

Some guests had already covered their ears and fled.

On the temporary stage, Hongyun, who was singing, was visibly displeased.

He knew Chen Fan could play the suona, but he hadn’t expected it to sound this awful.

He was right yesterday—scatter some grain on a suona, and even a chicken could play better than Chen Fan.

In truth, Chen Fan didn’t normally play like this. It was simply that the pay was too low.

As a result, the mournful tune quickly overshadowed the sorrow in everyone’s hearts.

The only thought remaining was... when would the banquet start?

Fortunately, the performance didn’t take long. After the song ended, the music faded away.

A slightly older man, who had temporarily taken over as the leader of Fukun Palace, stepped onto a high platform and waved his hand.

The entire Fukun Palace erupted into cheers—the banquet had begun.

The troupe had a reserved table of food and drinks. After all, they were there to work and couldn’t be treated poorly.

Chen Fan put down his suona, stumbling as he led Yao Yao toward the table.

But before they could reach it, Hongyun blocked their path.

"According to the rules, you must stay by the coffin and continue playing the suona."

What kind of ridiculous rule was this?

Chen Fan frowned.

They paid for one job but expected him to do two?

Frustrated, he turned his head and snapped:

"I’m not doing it..."

"I’ll give you ten more coins," Hongyun interrupted, raising his hand with a gesture of ten.

"If I don’t do it, who will?"

Chen Fan’s tone shifted immediately, a sly smile on his face.

Why couldn’t he just finish speaking in one go? Changing his attitude was exhausting.

Chen Fan picked up the suona again and nudged Yao Yao, signaling her to go eat.

Then, he hobbled over to the coffin alone, taking a deep breath.

As the suona began to wail, the attendees dined amid the cacophony.

The Chen Fan of the past would never have agreed to such a demand.

But now... he was broke.

Money was hard to earn, and so was food.

For the sake of a drink, and because there was now another mouth to feed.

Fortunately, today’s performance was just a formality. All Chen Fan needed to do was blow randomly.

But as for that table of food, it had little to do with Chen Fan anymore.