CH 59

Chapter 59: Bone Threads (IV)

But as soon as the words came out of his mouth, Stone Zhang regretted them. He felt Xuanmin falter, and the monk's brows furrowed slightly.

Stone Zhang did not know what to say. It was just a casual question. You don't need to think that hard, Master... He slowly turned his head and exchanged glances with Jiang Shining, who stood by the stove as well, and mouthed, What do I do? I'm so scared.

Jiang Shining gave him a look. You brought this upon yourself.

When Stone Zhang turned back to the pot, Xuanmin had put his hand back and was frowning contemplatively at the pot of glue. His pristine white robes with not a speck of dust on them contrasted dramatically with the steam and grease of the kitchen stove, so that as he stood, even the flame seemed to retreat with shyness.

Stone Zhang couldn't begin to understand what Xuanmin was pondering, but from the look on the monk's face, it did not seem to be something happy. So he did not dare to disturb the monk by gently asking him to leave the kitchen. All he and Jiang Shining could do was stare and wait.

Fortunately, although Xuanmin was socially inept, he was still miles above people like Xue Xian, who loved to make trouble. As the glue in the pot began to gurgle, Xuanmin seemed to come back to his senses. He took one last look at the pot and said, "The heat is too weak."

Then he strode out of the kitchen, without even glancing back at Stone Zhang and Jiang Shining inside.

The snow-white robe swept past the doorframe, then vanished without a trace.

Stone Zhang let go of his breath. "Oh, thank god. I'm too old for frights like these. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest..."

Jiang Shining sighed too, and wordlessly began to add dry hay into the belly of the stove.

"But Master really is powerful. How does he know everything?" Stone Zhang added, mystified. "Like this thing––" He pursed his lips in the direction of the pot. "Like this mask. No one in our area works on these. One time, a patron brought me to Liangzhou, and that's how I got to know about the process. That city is close to a strategic mountain pass, and is a dangerous place to live. In order to protect themselves, some people learn to do such things. With this kind of thing, you need to have a wealth of experience under your belt. And if I may... Master is awfully young. Even though he's powerful, at this age, there's still only a limited amount of things he could have seen and places he could have been. How much experience could he possibly have?"

In reality, even Jiang Shining sometimes had his doubts –– he always got the feeling that the knowledge and stability that Xuanmin demonstrated far exceeded the wisdom of his years...

As a middle-aged man, Stone Zhang had few hobbies, but gossiping and speculating about people was one of them –– and he was very good at it too. He peered out into the courtyard and lowered his voice. "And look at Sir Xue... When he's with Master, sometimes it seems like he's the secondary one. Today, I got the feeling that he was following Master around. Think about it. A twenty-something guy, taming a dragon? That's a real live dragon –– he must be a million years old!"

That mouth really would not stop talking –– Stone Zhang was like a plucked sparrow with eight extra mouths attached to it. He couldn't help but add, "Right... How old is Sir Xue?" 

Jiang Shining patted his poor, worn ears and snapped, "How should I know?"

Although Stone Zhang did not know why Xuanmin would know how to make yirong masks, he nonetheless did exactly as the monk had instructed and made the flame hotter, then waited a bit longer.

Finally, he took the glue off the heat and carried a steaming hot bowl of it into the courtyard, slamming it down onto the table with a clang. Pinching his ear, he hopped up and down and said, "Okay, where are the other materials?"

Fang Cheng gathered the ingredients they'd collected and placed them onto the table. He'd already chopped what needed to be chopped, and juiced what needed to be juiced –– the little plates of materials were arranged immaculately across the table, like a meal.

Stone Zhang did not delay –– he began making the mask.

The others were extremely curious, but, knowing that it was a fine process and not wanting to disturb Stone Zhang, they all stood as far as possible and dared not ask any questions –– only stood there and watched.

Xue Xian found this all quite interesting too. He had heard of the so-called human skin masks, but had never seen one being made. But because of certain things on his mind that he did not wish to express, he could not sit still––

Every time he caught sight of Xuanmin, he would turn his wheelchair in the other direction and escape. Sometimes it would be to speak to the twins in the front shop, and sometimes it would be to bother the beggars. As he hid, terrified, from Xuanmin, he grumbled to himself, I just want to sit back and watch Stone Zhang make the mask! Is that so much to ask?

Because of all this, he naturally did not get to see the full process behind the mask. By the time he'd circled the compound and finally come back, Stone Zhang was already half finished –– all he needed now was the cast. The little beggar was still lying in bed, her face ravaged by the rash, and it was not the right time to try and touch her.

It was now that Stone Zhang could really show off his skill. He walked into the room and studied the good half of the girl's face for some time, memorising every detail. Then, he moved onto the ravaged half and studied that too, comparing the two sides.

When he came out, he seemed to know exactly what to do –– he immediately picked up the cast material and began to carve...

This was the most effortful and time-consuming part of the process.

It was only after many hours that Stone Zhang finally presented the onlookers with his product. But the product was different from what Xue Xian had expected –– he thought the mask would be a full face, but it was in fact two separate pieces, one slightly thicker and concave, and the other was as thin as a cicada's wing.

"Why is it two pieces?" Xue Xian couldn't help but ask as his wheelchair skittered to a halt.

Stone Zhang explained, "When it comes to making such masks, the approach is to add on, not to take away. For instance, you might make thinner parts fatter, and raise the bridge of someone's nose... The little girl is missing chunks of flesh on her face, and the two parts are not balanced –– they need to be balanced out. This thick one is to fill in the gaps caused by the rash, and the thin one is to bind the thick part to the rest of her face. The latter part is like a second skin on top of the mask."

As Xue Xian listened to him speak, he stared at the two masks in his hand. The colors had all been added on accurately by Stone Zhang so that, from afar, the masks looked exactly like real human skin...

Hold on––

Real human skin...

Xue Xian turned his head and immediately rolled himself to Xuanmin's side. He tugged at Xuanmin's sleeve, bringing the monk down to his chair level, and said, "Bald donkey, look at what Stone Zhang's holding. Does it resemble your memories from Wen Village? You said that in your memories from your youth, there were two images where you were holding human skin. Could this be it?"

Although he was asking a question, he felt almost certain that he was right. Indeed, how could a teenager, especially a teenager with a personality like Xuanmin's, end up holding someone's flayed skin in his hands? He hated touching even a drop of blood –– would he touch human leather?

But he might touch human-skin masks...

As he thought this to himself, Xue Xian suddenly realised that Xuanmin had still not answered him. When he looked up, he saw that Xuanmin was looking down on him too, and could not decipher whether the monk's face was a happy or unhappy one –– he seemed as cool and detached as normal, yet somehow different.

But how different, Xue Xian couldn't say. He just knew that, after being stared at like that for a while, he began to feel guilty, and wished he could roll his wheelchair away again.

"You're not running away anymore?" Xuanmin finally said. His tone was a bit... salty.

Now he was making Xue Xian sound like a coward. Xue Xian was irritated, but when he replied, it was to move the subject back: "So you really were holding human-skin masks? At that age, would you be making yirong masks instead of dutifully copying your sutras?"

"I don't remember," Xuanmin replied.

The fact that he did not deny the first part meant that he acknowledged Xue Xian's guess –– he, too, now thought that the objects he'd been holding in the memory were parts of, or entire, masks. But what would a thirteen or fourteen year-old be doing with that?

Xue Xian squinted and began to ponder, and as he did so, he felt the sleeve he'd been grasping between his fingers slip out of his grasp, followed by a hand arriving to pinch his chin, moving it back toward Stone Zhang before letting go again.

Beside him, Xuanmin's voice said, "First, do what you agreed to do."

Startled, Xue Xian absent-mindedly touched his chin where Xuanmin had pinched him. When he turned back, the monk was striding back into his room, with no intention of staying in the courtyard. And Xue Xian wasn't sure if it was just him, but...

The bald donkey seemed... unhappy?

Now that he had a similar-looking exchange item, Xue Xian effortlessly placed a spell on the two halves of the mask. Jiang Shijing obeyed Xue Xian's instructions and tested the mask on the back of her hand –– as soon as the mask came into contact with her skin, it looked exactly like a face growing out of her hand. The colors and wrinkles were all perfectly accurate –– even the small blemishes on the girl's face had been faithfully reproduced.

"Simply give this to the little girl when she wakes up. You should wait until her scars have healed, or if she doesn't mind the pain, then it doesn't matter. Stick it on her face and it will work just fine. As long as I'm alive, the object will work its magic," he said.

At that moment, Xingzi, who had longed for his attention the whole day, brightened, and her large eyes kept darting back to gaze upon him. Even Auntie Chen couldn't help but glance at him every once in a while and half-joke, "Young Master Xue, do you think you could give me a facelift? How about making me twenty years younger?"

Uncle Chen averted his gaze and led Auntie Chen away so as not to embarrass herself further.

Although the Fang family were a lively bunch, they all seemed to tacitly agree to close their mouths. They had witnessed Xue Xian perform powerful magic, but not a single one of them tried to ask him about it –– it was polite, and quite caring, of them to be so restraiend.

As the group tidied away the little plates on the table, Twenty-Seven, who had been curled up in the corner all day, suddenly waved manically at Xue Xian.

"What is it? Have you made progress?" Xue Xian asked.

Twenty-Seven nodded and said, "I'm not as good as Nineteen. I can't divine it accurately, but I can say that, at least during the period from last night to this morning, the person who touched this black blindfold was still at the location that I divined. Whether or not he'll still be here tonight, I can't be sure."

"No worries. Let's go take a look first. If we can seize him, that would be ideal, but if not, we'll know that he can't be far, and will have surely left some kind of clue." Xue Xian wagged his chin at him and asked, "Tell us –– where is it?"

Twenty-Seven said, "A mountain that looks like a dustpan."

"Looks like a dustpan?" Xue Xian was not familiar with the area.

"Oh, Dustpan Mountain!" Xingzi, who had been silently observing them, suddenly said. "I know, I know! Look –– if you walk straight in that direction, and take the southwest road once you leave town, it's right behind the forest."

Seeing that noon was about to come upon them, Xue Xian did not want to delay. He slapped his armrest, signalling that he wanted to get going. From what Xingzi had said, it did not seem like it would take long for them to get there.

"We must be almost there. It's right behind the forest." In the meantime, at the end of the southwest mountain road, the leader of the train from the Ministry of Ceremonies, Taizhu, lifted his head and looked at the mountain in front of him, and said.