Chapter 80 – “I’ll Take You Away.”
“I learned a little trick in the illusory realm, too.”
Zuo Yuesheng plunged his hand into the sea and stirred. A massive vortex formed in the Cangming Sea with him at its center, the water at its edges taking the form of giant serpents, elephants, and ancient dragons, all running and roaring. Zuo Yuesheng sat in the very middle of the waterspout, then pulled his hand out. A water dragon let out a clear cry as it shot straight into the clouds.
The dragon’s song filled the heavens and the earth. A moment later, it dissolved into a torrential downpour that came crashing down on him.
“Impressive, right?” Zuo Yuesheng asked. The bronze pillar’s reflection shimmered on the surface of the sea as raindrops fell and splashed, each droplet reflecting a sliver of bronze light, hazy and fluctuating. “I was going to show off to you when I got out…” Zuo Yuesheng wiped the seawater from his face. “Forget it. I’m so impressive now, but you didn’t get to see it. I guess that makes us even.”
With his hair and clothes dripping wet, Zuo Yuesheng stood up and walked toward the majestic nine cities of Zhunan, which loomed under the sunlight.
“The Mountain Sea Pavilion is a huge enterprise. It’s my first time taking the helm, so I don’t know how I’ll do. But don’t worry, I won’t let anyone laugh at our Zuo family.”
After taking a step, Zuo Yuesheng stopped and turned back.
“Oh, right. You know Mom’s temper better than anyone. If she gets angry, I won’t be able to calm her down. You’ll have to take the blame for this one, old man.”
The sea gradually calmed, and the bronze pillar stood in silence. Zuo Yuesheng waited for a long, long time, but the man who would normally offer a hundred apologies if his wife so much as frowned remained silent. You were so afraid of her getting angry, you spent all these years carefully coaxing her, turning her into the happiest woman in the Twelve Continents. Why, in the end, would you make her the angriest she’s ever been?
How could you bear to do it?
Zuo Yuesheng didn’t understand.
Soaked to the bone, Zuo Yuesheng ascended the city wall of Zhunan. Suddenly, he heard someone behind him call out, “Greetings, Pavilion Master.” Zuo Yuesheng whipped his head around, but the corner tower of the wall was empty, save for a disciple from the Mountain Sea Pavilion’s Yinglong Division who was just straightening up.
“…Pavilion Master?”
The sunlight was blinding. Zuo Yuesheng’s expression was blank. It took him a good while to realize that the “Pavilion Master” the disciple was referring to was him. He mumbled a response and fled down the city wall in a panic. As he descended, he suddenly stumbled and pitched forward toward the ground. An arm shot out from the side and grabbed him.
“How is he?”
Lu Jing emerged from the shadows at the base of the wall and asked in a low voice.
“Why did he collapse?”
“He just received the inheritance, so his foundation isn’t stable yet. On top of that, he used his qi to control the water and has been awake for days. He’s completely exhausted.”
Lou Jiang supported one of Zuo Yuesheng’s arms and hoisted him onto his shoulder.
“Is it serious?”
Lu Jing, relying on his “Eleventh Master of Miraculous Healing” medical skills, gave a semblance of a proper diagnosis—observing, listening, and feeling the pulse—but couldn’t find anything wrong. He had no choice but to ask Lou Jiang.
“He’ll be fine after sleeping for a couple of days.”
With a practiced heave, Lou Jiang expertly lifted Zuo Yuesheng, who was several sizes larger than him, onto his back and started walking toward the Mountain Sea Pavilion. It seemed that what Lou Jiang had blurted out that day when provoked by Young Master Chou—”I was the one who fought his fights, I was the one who carried him home”—was not an exaggeration at all.
Lu Jing just said, “Oh,” and didn’t dare ask anything else.
Young Master Chou had been unconscious ever since returning from the Cangming Sea, and a certain Head of the Ten Witches, an enemy to gods and ghosts and a stranger to all living things, was guarding his room, allowing no one to enter. For the past few days, Lu Jing and the others had split up, taking turns to watch over both situations—checking on that side to see if he had woken up, and on this side to make sure nothing went wrong. Among them, Lou Jiang was the only one who never switched shifts. He had stood guard on the city wall for as long as Zuo Yuesheng had sat vigil before the bronze pillar. Lu Jing, Monk Budu, and Half-Diviner had been guarding the city, partly for Zuo Yuesheng, and partly for him.
That night, when Zuo Liangshi shattered his bones to pacify the sea, Lou Jiang had nearly fallen right off the city wall. After being pulled up by Monk Budu, he had been as pale as a sheet. Since he considered himself Yuesheng’s older brother, Zuo Liangshi must have been more than just a benefactor and Pavilion Master to him. But aside from that moment, Lu Jing and the others never saw Lou Jiang lose his composure again. After Zuo Yuesheng emerged, he quickly returned to his usual self.
When Zuo Yuesheng asked where his father was, none of the many Pavilion Elders present said a word.
It was Lou Jiang who answered.
Steady and calm, mature and rational.
Zhunan’s nine cities were immensely wealthy. The lightning from the catastrophe a few days ago had destroyed nearly half the city, but most of it had already been repaired. The ruins of the main Mountain Sea Pavilion had been cleared away, and new pavilions and terraces were sprouting up like bamboo shoots in spring. However, compared to the previous structures, these newly built ones were mere empty shells. It would take several years to restore the original Golden Feather Diagram. If one looked closely, one could still find traces of lightning on some of the rocks.
When they reached Wuye Pavilion, Monk Budu had just finished his meditation and was about to take over Lu Jing’s shift. As he stepped out of the courtyard, he came face to face with the three of them and was taken aback.
“Amitabha,” Monk Budu looked at Zuo Yuesheng. “Benefactor Zuo is…?”
Before Lu Jing could answer, there was a thud. Lou Jiang, with Zuo Yuesheng, had collapsed right at the courtyard entrance. Lu Jing was startled and, along with Monk Budu, scrambled to pull Zuo Yuesheng off him. Monk Budu checked Lou Jiang’s pulse and said, “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s just excessive worry and exhaustion.”
“Lou-mom, oh Lou-mom, you really are Fatty Zuo’s brother, his blood-unrelated real brother,” Lu Jing said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Together, he and Monk Budu carried the two into a room. Lou Jiang was manageable, but Zuo Yuesheng was the main problem. The guy was already chubby, and after a trip to the inheritance’s illusory realm, he had gone from puffy to solid. Not eating or drinking for days hadn’t made him any thinner. Lu Jing and Monk Budu, like Half-Diviner, had been fighting demons and saving people for days and had suffered considerable injuries that hadn’t fully healed. After settling the two, they were both exhausted and simply sat down against the wall to rest.
After catching their breath for a moment.
“Monk,” Lu Jing suddenly asked, “what do you think… about me studying the Poison Classic?”
Monk Budu turned to look at him.
Lu Jing looked down at the bright patch of light cast on the floor through the intricate wooden lattice.
“Amitabha,” Monk Budu thought for a moment. “Entering the Dao through poison is rare, but not unheard of. It’s just…”
“It’s just that Medicine Valley considers poison taboo, and anyone who refines it is expelled from the valley. I know!” Lu Jing cut him off, the lines of his face tightening slightly. “Poison refiners have a reputation no better than those who fall to evil paths; they’re all heretics that everyone wants to beat down. But who cares… Being a profligate doesn’t exactly come with a good reputation either. I was just thinking… a tiny Tu Xu Seed can bring a behemoth like the Mountain Sea Pavilion to a deadly standstill.”
“In the future, there must be a poison that can even kill gods, right?” Lu Jing turned to look at Monk Budu.
Monk Budu found that the young master of Medicine Valley’s gaze was suddenly very serious and profound.
Without any mockery, Monk Budu nodded.
He was uncharacteristically solemn. “There certainly will be.”
Lu Jing scratched his hair and grinned.
After a moment, Monk Budu slowly began to speak. “Actually, what I was trying to say just now was that the Poison Classic seems much harder to cultivate than the Medicine Codex…” Halfway through his sentence, Monk Budu changed his tune. “However, it’s not impossible that Young Master Lu has an exceptional talent in this area.”
“You damn bald donkey, don’t think I can’t tell you’re mocking me.”
“Amitabha,” Monk Budu said with a sincere expression. “This humble monk has simply long admired the great name of the Eleventh Master of Miraculous Healing.”
“…”
Lu Jing rolled his eyes.
Monk Budu turned his prayer beads, preparing to continue chanting a few more calming sutras, when he heard Lu Jing beside him say softly.
“I’m not not learning medicine, I just don’t want to save people. Not a single person.”
Monk Budu turned to look at him, but saw Lu Jing’s gaze was fixed on the window, his thoughts unknown, his eyes vacant. As Monk Budu looked over, Lu Jing stood up and, tossing out a “I’m going to ask Half-Diviner if Young Master Chou is awake yet,” he hurried away. Monk Budu fingered his prayer beads and softly murmured the word “difficult.”
Buddha, oh Buddha, saving the world and its people is difficult.
Difficult.
***
Clear light filtered through the screen, casting the shadow of the white crabapple flowers outside onto the bed.
In his sleep, Chou Bodeng turned onto his side, rolling to the edge of the lacquered, mother-of-pearl inlaid bed. A well-defined hand reached out from the side and gently nudged him back toward the center. Shi Wuluo leaned against the headboard, his face mostly hidden in shadow, his head lowered as he gazed at the sleeping person resting on his lap.
A long time ago, Chou Bodeng would often take short naps directly on the branches of the Fusang tree. Back then, Shi Wuluo was always worried he would fall. Whenever he turned over, Shi Wuluo would always want to reach out and pull him back, but he could never touch him. At that time, they were inseparable, yet as far apart as a thousand li, so powerless.
Shi Wuluo’s fingertips touched the flower shadow on Chou Bodeng’s eyelid, gently tracing it.
After so long, he could finally touch the person he had always wanted to touch.
The wind was light, the day was quiet.
So quiet that even the flowing water seemed to have stopped.
“Why did you stop the ritual?” Shi Wuluo asked in a low voice. “Did you remember?”
There was no answer.
Chou Bodeng showed no signs of waking, and Shi Wuluo only dared to ask when he was asleep. Sometimes, Shi Wuluo felt that he did remember, but other times, it seemed he truly remembered nothing. Shi Wuluo hoped he remembered nothing… Forgetting everything was for the best.
He hoped he remembered nothing, hoped he would let everything go.
Just as he had once hoped he would be free of sickness and disaster, hoped he would be happy.
“I’ll take you away,” Shi Wuluo said. “I’ll take you back to the Witch Clan.”
It was no longer “I want to take you away.” It was low and firm.
Hopes were always dashed, dashed to the point of fear, fear that one day everything his fingertips touched would again become a fleeting illusion. Rather than waiting for his consent, waiting while watching the world collapse once more, it was better to just take him away… Shi Wuluo’s fingertips traced the faint shadow of a slender, tilted branch downwards. As they reached the corner of his lips, his hand was suddenly caught.
“You haven’t even passed yet, and you’re thinking of skipping the exam?”
Chou Bodeng opened his eyes, a speck of shattered light in his beautiful black pupils.
Shi Wuluo didn’t speak, just looked at him for a while. Finally, Chou Bodeng let go of his hand and looked away. He didn’t get up, but traced the flower shadow on the edge of the bed with his finger. Shi Wuluo reached out and pulled the fallen brocade quilt up a little. Seeing his fingers sliding along the edge of the bed, he took his hand, and after confirming it wasn’t as cold as it had been the past few days, he didn’t let go.
Chou Bodeng looked up at him.
“I can’t pass, but I still want to take you away,” Shi Wuluo said, looking down at him without avoiding his gaze. “Flowers, grass, trees, mountains, rivers, white stones… only by touching them can one know what feelings they hold… I don’t want to touch them, and I don’t want to know.”
He wanted to touch the flowers, grass, trees, and birds because he wanted to know how a certain person felt when they touched them. But if the person who touched all things was gone, what meaning did all things have?
I don’t want to touch all things.
I only want to touch you.
“I’ll take you away,” he said, his voice soft but stubborn. “I’ll take you back to the Witch Clan.”