CH 35

Having had a unique lifestyle and divine status for most of his life, Xue Xian was an extremely dignified dragon –– or so he thought.

The term ‘dignified’ had a fluid meaning to him –– sometimes, he allowed himself to give up his dignity: for instance, when he sat on Xuanmin's hand, or when he ordered Jiang Shining around, or when he spent Xuanmin's money. But in other situations, he would rather die than put aside his pride, such as when it concerned the beauty and majesty of his outer appearance.

If Xue Xian had the full use of his limbs and his body was restored to its glory from head to tail, then others could look as long as they wanted. It was no big deal; he thought he cut a nice figure. Besides, he wasn't human, so he did not feel embarrassed about petty things like changing his clothes.

But, right now, Xue Xian was half-paralysed, and not nimble at all. If he had to be naked, that was fine, but he could not under any circumstances allow the bald donkey to see him. It would be far too painful.

Basically, even imagining the scene made Xue Xian cringe. Make him get naked in this state? You might as well hang him right then and there.

With a blank expression on his face, Xue Xian glared at Stone Zhang and said, "Please, if you don't mind, could you temporarily kick the bucket?"

Stone Zhang: “...” If I kick the bucket, I'll be dead. What do you mean, temporarily?

But the zuzong did not care. Without another word, he summoned a storm cloud from the heavens and, before anyone could react, sent down two shafts of lightning. Terrified, Stone Zhang's legs shot out from under him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fainted. 

This Stone Zhang had the courage of a sparrow –– so quick to cry or to faint. But Xuanmin was not the same...

Xue Xian glared darkly at him. "Tell me. How can I get you to faint? Shall I try a bit of everything?"

Xuanmin: “...” This niezhang was being unreasonable again.

The easiest way to make a human pass out was to thump them on the back of the head. Raising his claw, Xue Xian studied Xuanmin’s head and tried to estimate where he needed to strike, without a care for any consequences he might incur.

Xuanmin glanced at that short, stubby claw and pushed it away. Calmly, he said, "Junzi must conceal their swords and obscure their weapons."

Translated into words that made sense, it meant: Stop swinging that damn claw around.

Xue Xian scoffed. Mind your own business!   

But he did abandon that idea. Indeed, with Xue Xian’s current large size, it was hard to precisely calculate the strength required to perform tasks. If he lost control of his claw, then this day next year he would have to come visit the bald donkey's grave.

Although Xue Xian was in a bad mood and became irritated every time he saw the bald donkey, that didn't mean he wanted to kill him.

Without a way to make the bald donkey pass out, Xue Xian was deeply irked. He gave up trying to engage Xuanmin and turned around. He summoned a mass of clouds and, soon, humid white fog quickly clustered around Xuanmin, wrapping him up tightly and obscuring everything in his line of sight.

With a swipe of his claw, Xue Xian tore the packaging off the bundle of clothing. Next, his immense body was encased in a flash of white light. The light was normally eye-piercing, but from Xuanmin's point of view inside his cloud cocoon, he saw only a warm glow.

Within the white light, Xue Xian’s silhouette transformed into that of a human. As a dragon, he was an extremely powerful being –– although he had not yet fully recovered his physical body, he could still perform magic. [a] So despite being half-paralysed, putting on clothes was not a problem. When the white light slowly began to wane, he was already almost done getting dressed.

Initially, Xuanmin had planned to see if the niezhang needed any help with his clothes, but having seen Xue Xian's manner, he’d then assumed not. Standing inside the rather frosty and cold mist, watching that dying white light, Xuanmin stayed calm. He was not in a rush: he stood there quietly and waited.

But fog doesn't stay substantial for long. At first, it had formed a tight, opaque shell around Xuanmin, but by now it had become a thin and translucent sheet, and was slowly dissolving away.

When the fog had dissipated enough for Xuanmin to see his surroundings again, Xue Xian happened to be wrapping that loose, cloud-like new robe around his body. In one swift motion, his lean waist, slim belly, and –– appearing for an instant with the stretching movement of his arms –– the shapely bone of his flexed shoulder were all absorbed into the darkness of the robe.

The design of the robe was extremely basic: it looked plain, with not a hint of extra color or decoration. It stood in high contrast to Xue Xian's daily troublesome behavior.

But it was exactly the kind of thing he liked to wear.

His ink-black collar set off a slip of white neck –– his skin was so pale that he looked almost to be ill. [b] When Xue Xian’s face was calm –– such as now –– unperturbed by a smile or a scowl, those black eyes were always lazily half-closed, condensing with his eyelashes into two straight lines like brushstrokes: graceful, but somehow intimidating.

Perhaps it was the unnerving pallor of Xue Xian's bare skin, or perhaps it was the coldness of his expressionless face caught in profile, but he was so different from the grinning man that Xuanmin had seen sitting atop the wall in Liu-shiye's compound... Seeing Xue Xian’s form, Xuanmin faltered.

But soon, the niezhang began to act up again.

Those black eyes swivelled around and saw that the fog had dissipated. With a casual sweep of his hand, Xue Xian buttoned his robe and haphazardly tied it. Then he nonchalantly procured a black ribbon from somewhere and, holding it with his teeth, he quickly combed his hair and tied it with the ribbon.

As Xue Xian's hands fell, he summoned another gust of wind to lift himself up. He flipped back, letting those black robes billow and then settle. Soon, he had used the wind to bring a wooden chair over and had settled in with a sigh.

What was the point of this pretense? Did he really think others would forget that he was half-paralysed?

Xuanmin: “...”

Xue Xian idly tapped the arms of the chair. "Can we go now?"

"Mn." Xuanmin glanced at him and took a step forward, seemingly about to reach out his hand and offer help.    

Startled, Xue Xian slapped the chair again and backed away. There was an ear-splitting grinding noise as the wood of the chair grated against the stone flooring. Staring at Xuanmin, he said, "What are you doing?"

Xuanmin's hands fell to his side. "How else do you plan to go back? Can you walk? Can you fly?"

I can fly, actually, thank you very much! Xue Xian grumbled in his thoughts. 

But he did not say it, because, indeed, he could not summon winds for himself to glide around on in broad daylight –– it would scare, well, the living daylights out of the townspeople.

As Xue Xian sulked, the bald donkey insisted on pouring oil into the fire and insulted him further: "Or perhaps... you plan to do as you just did: stay inside the chair and hop back, step by step?"

Xue Xian: “...” Why did I stop myself earlier? I should have just killed him, and then the bald donkey wouldn't be here provoking me with every word. And he acts so haughty and serious... Fuck off!

Finally, his face set, Xue Xian said, "Fine. If I may trouble you for a favor... Could you turn around and squat down, so you can carry––"

Xue Xian had wanted to say Carry me on your back, but Xuanmin was already striding smoothly toward him, putting one hand behind Xue Xian’s neck and the other beneath his knees, and delicately picking Xue Xian up in his arms. All this Xuanmin did as nonchalantly as if he'd simply found a fallen leaf on the street, and was not carrying a full-grown man.

As Xuanmin straightened his back, he said calmly, "This monk does not squat or kneel. When I walk, I do not bend my back."

Xue Xian wanted to spit his intestines out at him. "What the hell? You were perfectly happy to squat down when you shovelled me with a piece of scrap metal at the Jiang family compound!"

But now that his whole body was captive in the bald donkey's arms, Xue Xian could not move around at all without risking falling face-first on the ground –– and then he really would die of humiliation. As Xue Xian suppressed his temper, it was a miracle he didn't choke to death. He looked down at himself and cringed at how weak and frail he looked –– not majestic at all.

The niezhang’s eyeballs swivelled as he concocted a plan.

He picked up the bundle of clothes, took out another black robe, and used it to cover himself from head to toe.

When you have no choice but to humiliate yourself, remember one thing –– hide your face.

With his already all-black outfit and now entirely covered with another layer of black, the niezhang sat stiff as a board in Xuanmin's arms, as though he had just eked out his last breath.

“...” Xuanmin had to admire him for that.

The zuzong lay there for a while, pretending to be dead, then suddenly remembered Stone Zhang. A ghastly pale hand shot out from beneath the black drapes and beckoned. Subsequently, a bolt of thunder loud enough to wake everyone in a ten li radius boomed by Stone Zhang's ear and yanked the man awake.

Grimacing tragically, Stone Zhang clambered up and slithered obediently to Xuanmin's side, but was so terrified upon seeing the body in Xuanmin's arms that he began to tremble again.

Xue Xian's muffled voice came out from beneath the drape: "We're all set. Let's go."

Xuanmin shook his head, but strode out into the courtyard.

One had to admit, the zuzong’s idea was indeed effective. As they walked back to the Lu compound, not a single passerby dared to look in Xuanmin's general direction. As soon as they glimpsed some dead person in the monk's arms, they would turn their heads away and hurry as far away as they could, looking deeply unhappy.

By the time the two men and one corpse stepped back into the Lu compound, the sky had darkened above them. Jiang Shining happened to be walking out of the kitchen and jumped when he saw the body that Xuanmin was carrying. He had known Xue Xian for a bit longer than Xuanmin had, and the bookworm was generally a rather attentive person, so he quickly recognised Xue Xian's claw hanging out of the drape.

The lantern Jiang Shining held in his hand trembled –– he almost threw the object to the side to come running over. Thankfully, Xuanmin quickly explained, "He's alive and well. Only pretending to be dead."

“... What drama is he having now?" Jiang Shining said.

Xuanmin did not reply. Instead, he walked into the living room and put the zuzong down on a chair by the table.

It was only then that Xue Xian removed the cloth from his face and took a deep breath. "So stuffy," he complained.

Jiang Shining slammed the lantern onto the table in a huff. "You did that to yourself. You deserve it."

Then Jiang Shining’s eyeballs swivelled and looked anxiously at Stone Zhang. "And this is..."

Startled by those lifeless eyes, Stone Zhang stammered, "I'm just a stonemason. You can call me Lao-Zhang or Stone Zhang."

Xue Xian pointed at the stone lock that they had leant against the wall. "You made this, right?"

Stone Zhang recognised it immediately. He nodded. "Yes, yes, yes. Indeed that came from my hand. I can tell with one look."

"So... it's like this." Xue Xian gestured at Jiang Shining as he explained, "He's met the person responsible for the tomb at Gravestone Island, and he even has an item that that person touched, or at least someone who works for that person. When that Lu Nianqi kid wakes up, we'll ask him to take a look, see if any clues come up."

"Lu Nianqi?" Jiang Shining paused, then realised what Xue Xian meant. "Are you sure he has that ability too?"

Xue Xian nodded. "Most likely."

Sitting back in his chair, Xue Xian idly teased the lantern flame with his hand. Suddenly, he slapped the table. "Right! I almost forgot."

Both Jiang Shining and Stone Zhang jumped at the sound, then turned to Xue Xian, waiting for him to explain. But all the zuzong did was glare at Xuanmin and say, "Where's the food you owe me?"

Jiang Shining: “...” What the hell? 

Stone Zhang: “...” Oh mama, scared me to death.

Xuanmin stared back at Xue Xian, [c] then walked out of the room.

A short while later, [d] he stepped back inside carrying a box of food –– as he walked, he glided as light as a cloud, as though what he held was not food but the Buddha's own lotus. 

Jiang Shining took a look at Xuanmin, then glanced back at Xue Xian, who was languishing in his chair. Jiang Shining silently turned his face away.

There were four levels to the box, filled with six different dishes and a stack of crispy cakes.

Xue Xian took a look. The china plates were still flush with warmth, and the dishes gleamed colorfully. Laid out on the table, the meal looked beautiful and emitted a delicious smell –– indeed extremely appetising. And yet...

And... yet...

Not a single chunk of meat could be found on the whole table. It was all vegetarian!    

It! was! all! vegetarian!

When have you ever heard of a dragon munching grass?!

Xue Xian rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the table in anger. Then he looked up at Xuanmin hatefully, suddenly remembering all the things the bald donkey had ever done to wrong him.

Although Xuanmin did not have all of his memories, his habits were still the same as before his amnesia. It seemed that in the past, he did not eat meat –– or perhaps he did not eat anything at all, which would explain why he seemed so healthy and well despite not having been seen eating anything for days now. The point was, if you asked him to buy the food, you would not be getting meat. In the end, Jiang Shining had to go out again and bring back a few more dishes in order to satisfy Xue Xian's idea of a meal.

…

Apart from that day eight years ago, Lu Nianqi had never been through such a traumatic experience.

He slept for seven days straight as his fever attacked and retreated over and over. Sometimes, in his confusion, he would let out fragments of words in the middle of the night, saying "Dad," or "Shijiu," as if in refusing to open his eyes, he could make all the tragic events disappear –– and those that had left him would stay quietly by his bed, waiting for him to wake up...

On the seventh night, as the nightwatchman’s gong rang outside, Lu Nianqi's finger twitched and he awoke.

His eyes were still bloodshot with fever, and under the light of the lantern, there was a glowing layer of moisture across his eyes, as though they were brimming with tears.

"You're awake?" Jiang Shining happened to be replacing the oil in the room’s lantern, and saw that the boy had woken up. "Are you thirsty?"

He called out to the living room, then came to the bed and removed the hot, medicine-soaked towel from Nianqi's forehead.

The ghost's body was unnervingly cold, and as his hand touched Nianqi's face, Jiang Shining saw that the boy trembled, shaking loose those puddles of moisture in his eyes, which ran down his face and onto the pillow. "Is today... touqi [e]..." Lu Nianqi mumbled.

Jiang Shining faltered, then nodded. "Yes. The final night."

Mute, Lu Nianqi rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Then he pushed his blanket aside and sat up. "Is he still here? I want to be with him for the last night."

Jiang Shining wasn't sure if it was just him, but he felt as though, after this seven-day slumber, even Lu Nianqi’s manner of speaking was closer to that of Lu Shijiu. And as the boy climbed out of bed, Jiang Shining saw that his premonition had been correct: Lu Nianqi's slight frame had grown by multiple cun in the past week, so that instead of looking to be about seven or eight years old, he now looked twelve.

Lu Nianqi staggered out of his bedroom and weakly nodded in greeting at the group gathered in the living room. Jiang Shining guided him to the second bedroom, and, once inside, he shut the door, refusing to come out for the rest of the night.

That night, not a single sound came out from the room: not the sound of weeping, nor that of talking.

When Lu Nianqi had said Be with him, he really had meant being with him. Silently, he kept Lu Shijiu company: neither overly kind nor excessively clingy, just as he had been when Lu Shijiu was alive.

The next morning, a pale-faced Lu Nianqi walked out of the room, holding the bundle of sticks that Shijiu had left him. His black eyes fell upon Stone Zhang and he gazed at the man for a long time, then slowly said, "Please, sir, could I ask you to make me two wooden tiles?"

Although Stone Zhang was a stonemason by profession, he also knew his way around wood, but was nowhere near as talented with it.

Stone Zhang paused, surprised, then nodded.

"Don't just nod," Xue Xian piped up. "He can't see."

Shocked, Stone Zhang studied the boy's eyes. Afraid to say anything else, he replied, "Of course."

In all the years Stone Zhang had spent in Wolong County, he had met the Lu family a few times. They had never been close, but Stone Zhang could say he knew them. When he heard Lu Nianqi's words, he immediately knew what the boy was requesting. Stone Zhang was an expert craftsman, and wood was easier to carve than stone. In no time, he was able to whittle two grave tiles and decorate them with motifs on both sides.

"What should I write?" Stone Zhang asked.

"On one of them, write, Here lies my late father, Lu Yuan."

Stone Zhang did so. He first outlined the text, then carefully carved them in. When he finished, he blew the sawdust away from the tile and said, "And the other?"

Lu Nianqi fell silent.

What to write on the other tile? The full name? Shijiu had been too young, and had not had the chance to receive a proper full name. There was nothing to carve. And Shijiu was only a casual nickname: there were tens of thousands of Shijius in the world. If they all just reported that name in the afterlife, Yama, the King of Hell, would likely not be able to tell them apart. Besides, Lu Nianqi did not want to write Shijiu's name down –– he felt as though, with the stroke of that brush, his aloof and distant brother, his brother who had given his life in exchange for Lu Nianqi’s, would truly be gone. 

"Never mind. Leave the other one blank. Don't write anything," Lu Nianqi said suddenly. He took the tiles from Stone Zhang and found a piece of cloth from the closet. Refusing any help, he collected some clothing and wrapped them up in the cloth, together with the tiles, tying a tight knot.

Next, clutching the bundle, he sat down by the table. He gestured at Xue Xian while holding the bundle of sticks. "I know what you're planning,” he said. “I've known since I opened my eyes. I'll tell your fortune on Shijiu's behalf, but I fear I may not be as skilled as he was. I only have one request for you. Please bury Shijiu."

Although Lu Nianqi hated to depend on others, a burial was not something a half-blind boy could do by himself.

"Consider it done," Xue Xian replied. [g]

The black cloth that Stone Zhang had coughed up had been kept in Xuanmin's pouch the whole time. Now, it was taken out and laid out across the table for Lu Nianqi to divine.

With his glazed-over eyes, Lu Nianqi inspected the cloth. He sprayed a fine layer of dust onto the surface of the table and began to sweep his sticks across it. From his movements down to his very manner, he was exactly like Lu Shijiu had been, as though both souls resided in that same single body.

When the sticks stopped moving, Lu Nianqi hovered a hand over the dust and frowned in concentration. Then he said, "I'm not as good at this as Shijiu. I can see that this person is currently by the river. I can sort of see what it looks like, but I don't know where it is. But I think I'd recognise the place if I went there."

He cleared the dust and tried again, but the result was the same.

Lu Nianqi did not seem surprised by this result. He patted his cloth bundle and said, "If you don't mind being burdened with me, I'd like to come with you."

Indeed, there was no longer any living person left for him in Wolong County. Without family, his roots were gone, and there was nothing keeping him there anymore.

Naturally, the group was happy to have such a useful soothsayer accompany them. They had already stayed in Wolong County for a very long time and had no reason to linger, so as the sun rose in the sky, they went to bury Shijiu next to his father Lu Yuan.

Lu Nianqi knelt down and kowtowed three times in front of each grave. Then, he calmly dusted himself off and, with the grave tiles in his bundle, departed with Xuanmin and the others.

By the time the group got onto a ferry to cross the river, the sky had darkened again and it had begun to snow.

As the blur of soft, light snow fell, half of it fell on that fresh, nameless grave on the mountain and half of it fell on the awning of their boat; half in the yellow springs of the afterlife and half in the red dust of the living realm. It was as though the snowfall were bidding a quiet farewell to that nameless ghost and the travellers both.

How do you tell someone you miss them, that you can't let them go? Perhaps the most tender way is to say, You're gone, but it's okay, I will become you, I will take you with me.

Time was no longer a concern. Regardless of the season or the year, they would remain together, to walk every path, to cross every river…

---

The author has something to say: 

End of Act II ~

Sorry, something happened on the way so this was delayed. Probably I forgot to check the calendar when going out today and it turned out to be a bad-luck day Orz

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[a] Musuli uses 玄术 (xuan2 shu4) here, literally “mysterious/esoteric arts/techniques”.

[b] In my original TL I was binge-reading/binge-translating this and had a note here about how every character has extremely pale, almost sickly-looking skin, and wondered what was in the Song Dynasty water lol. I stand by it tbh.

[c] Another footnote from my original TL: “Also thinking about the Portrait of a lady on fire levels of eye contact and Looking in this book.... the gaze... the Gays... coincidence??? i think not.” <- I stand by this too.

[d] Here, Musuli uses the phrasing she likes but that is difficult to render into English: “In the time it took to drink a cup of tea.” 

[e] 头七 (tou2 qi1), literally "first seven", indicate the first seven days after someone's death.

[f] In Chinese, Yama is known as 阎王爷 (yan2 wang2 ye2), literally “King Yan”. This figure comes originally from Hinduism and also features in Buddhism, but has also become a more local folk figure in Buddhist-practicing countries like China. 

[g] Musuli uses the chengyu 举手之劳 (ju3 shou3 zhi1 lao2), literally “work that is done by raising one’s hand”, which means a task/request very easily and willingly performed.