“You’re quite right. I have felt much better these past two months.”

Hearing him personally admit it, Bao Zhu became pleased and said cheerfully: “My luck has always been extremely good. Huo Qi Lang also said my appearance was born auspicious and wealthy. Sharing just one or two parts with you would be enough for your entire lifetime.”

She thought for a moment and added: “Chen Shigu is already dead. In the future you can change to a good name with auspicious meaning. I’ll help you think of one.”

Wei Xun laughed: “You’ve already named Xizhao, so I don’t need to. Besides, it’s just a form of address – as long as someone calls and someone responds, that’s enough. You clearly have a good name but won’t let others use it. Wouldn’t that only be carved on a tombstone to take underground?”

Bao Zhu fell into silence. After a long while, she said coldly: “The nobility of heavenly princesses – even court historians keep external and don’t record details. How do you know a princess’s name can only be carved on tomb epitaphs? Have you robbed other princesses’ mausoleums?”

Wei Xun felt a cold line pierce straight down from his head. He panicked and slowly sank into the water. Tonight’s casual, unrestrained chat had relaxed his vigilance. In a moment of carelessness, he’d revealed a secret he’d always deliberately avoided.

Chen Shigu’s tomb robbing was unscrupulous, especially enjoying destroying the mausoleums of emperors, generals, ministers, and high nobles. No matter how supremely noble they were in life, countless had their bones scattered and ashes scattered by him after death, among them many of Bao Zhu’s ancestors and blood relatives. Of course, this couldn’t be done without his chief disciple’s assistance.

In any context, “I scattered your ancestors’ ashes” was never good words.

But Bao Zhu wasn’t thinking that deeply at the moment. She only felt nameless anger surge up, wishing she could immediately dress and turn around to hit him. Indignantly, she questioned repeatedly: “I’m not the only princess? There are other princesses? Did you carry them out too?!”

Wei Xun was so panicked he tried to run away, but knew running would be the end. In extreme anxiety, he suddenly remembered his sect had a skill everyone knew – passing the blame. There was a thoroughly dead old ghost perfect for taking the fall. He urgently defended: “It was always Chen Shigu who identified burial sites. I was forced to follow as an assistant. I saw several former dynasty princesses who had rotted into bone fragments. Some coffins only had a few rotten teeth left – you couldn’t even tell the gender!”

Bao Zhu asked half-believingly: “Really?”

Wei Xun strenuously defended himself: “Really! Your tomb was the first and only princess tomb I ever touched. The wine in your underground palace was the most fragrant and mellow I’ve ever drunk.”

This kind of assurance couldn’t be judged true or false. Bao Zhu suspiciously pondered for a while. Her nameless anger slightly subsided and she felt she’d been somewhat improper. What meaning was there in caring whether other deceased princesses’ tombs had been robbed? Getting worked up over such strange possessiveness was simply inexplicable.

Legally, Princess Wangshou was already dead. The metaphorical meaning of “precious as treasure, beautiful as pearl” vanished with it. Her noble name, unknown to outsiders, would henceforth only be recorded in royal genealogies and tomb epitaphs. It wouldn’t be recorded in history books, nor would anyone remember it – truly everything at rest, completely finished.

Thinking that besides her brother, no one close in the world would call her Bao Zhu anymore, loss and loneliness immediately surged up.

Just as Wei Xun had said, a name was just a form of address. Regardless of its meaning’s nobility, if no one called it, its existence had no significance. Perhaps insistence on the taboo name was also a kind of attachment – time to let it go.

After thinking for a moment, Bao Zhu made a painful decision: “Since it’s Chen Shigu’s fault, I won’t hold it against you.” She paused, harboring a trace of shyness, deliberately affecting a generous tone: “You… from now on you can call me Bao Zhu.”

Water mist swirled and swayed in the night like a dream. After long silence, from the unlighted shadows on the other side of the bamboo wall came a soft call:

“Bao Zhu.”

“Mm…”

The power of a true name struck straight to the heart. Just the simplest call and response, yet it seemed like saying something extremely significant. The atmosphere became subtle. Realizing they were naked in the same pool of water, though they couldn’t see each other, both shyly curled up and tried hard to hide in the water.

Bao Zhu buried herself under the hot spring with only eyes and nose above water. Her entire skin was scalded red, her face even redder as if about to drip blood. In her dazed state, she felt like her heart was racing and head spinning as if drunk.

She thought that though this place had “hot spring water smooth washing jade skin,” there was no “servant girl helping up the delicate weakness.” If she fainted from the heat, only the young thief next door could fish her out – that would be too embarrassing.

After wordless silence for a long while, she suddenly heard Wei Xun say mysteriously: “Actually, there is one kind of ghost that can easily sneak into temples.”

Bao Zhu was startled: “What ghost?”

“A kind of insect called a hanging ghost.”

Hearing her two most hated things combined, Bao Zhu couldn’t help frowning.

Like a storyteller narrating horror tales, Wei Xun spoke in mysterious tones: “That kind of insect is born on pagoda trees. It hatches in summer and autumn, spits silk to stick to treetops, then slowly lowers itself down, twisting back and forth like a hanged person. That’s why common folk call this insect a hanging ghost.”

Soaking in hot water, Bao Zhu felt a chill in her heart. She didn’t know why, when they’d been chatting harmoniously just now, he suddenly brought up such a disturbing topic.

Before she could stop him, the story’s climactic ending came from the darkness: “There’s a pagoda tree right above your head.”

Bao Zhu’s hair stood on end all over. Very reluctantly, she slowly raised her head and indeed saw several blue-green fleshy worms hanging on silk threads, swaying in mid-air, seeming about to fall on her head and face.

With a splash, Bao Zhu jumped out of the water, cursing: “Dog-bitten mischievous fox! You wait for me!” Then she hurriedly climbed ashore and ran back inside.

After two months among common folk, compared to before when she could only mumble “bad lynx,” her cursing skills had considerably improved.

However, at this moment, Wei Xun admitted he truly was a very, very bad lynx. His face didn’t wear the annoying mocking smile Bao Zhu imagined, but shameful embarrassment.

Though the bamboo wall could block sight, it couldn’t stop the rich fragrance steaming from her body in the hot water. The scent of Dragon Brain incense merged with her natural body fragrance, creating a unique aroma that engraved itself in muscle and bone, penetrating through with the water mist. The ripples she stirred came to his side like some invisible touch, causing his submerged body to react strongly.

Extremely embarrassed and unable to move, not wanting to slight her because of this, he could only use childish tricks to scare her away.

This wasn’t the first time. Recently, whenever they got a bit close, his internal breath would become chaotic. Blood would either surge up or rush down, forcing him to pull away and deliberately avoid her.

In past years learning martial arts at Remnant Sun Courtyard, when Chen Shigu taught profound techniques like Evening Mist Wave Palm, fellow disciples often said their minds learned it but their bodies wouldn’t obey. He usually scoffed, thinking they were making excuses for laziness. Now he knew they were just stating facts – his arrogance simply meant he hadn’t encountered real difficulties.

Sometimes not only his body was uncontrollable, but his mind too. At midnight, disturbing restless thoughts would emerge one after another, making him toss and turn sleeplessly.

Once Shisan Lang got up at night and saw him practicing breathing meditation, asking in surprise: “Senior brother practices so diligently day and night – do you really want to challenge for the world’s number one position?”

He was speechless. Practicing at midnight was just to avoid becoming the world’s most ridiculous person.

Wei Xun curled up and submerged in water, letting the pool water cover his entire body, isolating eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind, using the method of blocking the six senses to restrain desire.

Her voice, image, and fragrance all disappeared.

Yet a name repeatedly echoed in his heart – silent yet deafening, every hair and inch of skin wild with joy.

Bao Zhu.

Bao Zhu.

Bao Zhu.

Soul-stirring, turning a thousand times.

She allowed him to call her true name.

Nearly drowning himself in the pool, he finally managed to calm his agitated reaction. Soaking too long in hot water, the qi stagnation and blood stasis from his illness slightly dissolved, even the blue-purple patterns on his skin faded considerably.

He remembered there was still the task of painting over the mural unfinished. He redressed and tied his hair, wandered around the guest quarters twice, and procured a long rope and a jar of paint. He should have immediately set off for the Return to Impermanence Hall, but always feeling something was strange about the temple and worried about Bao Zhu, wanting to see if she was asleep, he leaped onto the roof and lifted a tile to peek.

Bao Zhu sat by the window, her long hair loose, drying her hair toward the open window while writing. A strung bow and arrow lay at hand.

Wei Xun grabbed the hemp rope and hung upside down from the eaves, lightly tapping three times on the window frame. Before he could show his head, as expected, she heard the sound, determined the position, and shot an arrow. Wei Xun silently retreated to the roof. After a while he tried again, this time extending into the window a budding lotus flower.

The word “lotus” sounded like “harmony” – this flower clearly meant reconciliation. After Bao Zhu saw clearly, she didn’t reach for her bow again, but didn’t acknowledge him either, lowering her head to continue copying sutras.

Wei Xun hung upside down, slowly descending from the window, extending his arm to gently place the dew-covered lotus on her writing desk.

Bao Zhu said coldly: “Wearing that blue shirt and hanging upside down like that, you look exactly like those hanging ghost insects on the pagoda tree.”

Wei Xun blinked and said: “Then let me apologize for them.”

Bao Zhu snorted disdainfully and said proudly: “Someday I’ll cut down all the pagoda trees within sight, never letting these disgusting vermin have a chance to appear before me again.”

Wei Xun was silent for a while, then said softly: “Though pagoda trees breed insects, they bloom with pagoda flowers in spring. Every year during food shortages, many people rely on eating these to barely fill their stomachs.”

Bao Zhu’s brush paused, that groundless feeling of guilt attacking her heart again.

“What other tree flowers and fruits can substitute for grain?”

“There are also elm trees. Half of Chang’an’s greenery is pagoda trees, half elm trees. Personally I prefer elm seeds – they’re more filling.” Seeing her eyes suddenly brighten, Wei Xun added: “But during food shortages, these substitutes get stripped bare early. It’s not the season now either.”

Bao Zhu felt disappointed, the light in her eyes dimming again.

The ancients said “peach blossom colors beautiful as horses, elm seeds newly opened clever as coins.” Those who had to fill their stomachs with elm seeds probably had no mood to appreciate peach blossom colors.

Finally, she picked up the lotus flower and sniffed it, saying quietly: “I take back my words… I forgive pagoda trees.”

Wei Xun understood, released his grip and dropped down. Relying on his flexible, agile skills, he twisted and turned in mid-air, landing silently on all fours.

He wanted to climb through the window as before, but the hot spring incident earlier made him secretly somewhat ashamed. Seeing Bao Zhu wearing only undergarments, he didn’t enter the room, instead propping his chin and lying at the window to watch her write.