Wei Xun entered his room, closed the door, and adjusted to the darkness for a moment.
Tomorrow was the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the Ullambana Festival. Tonight the moon was gibbous and bright. His ability to see in darkness was far superior to ordinary people – the little moonlight coming through the window lattice was sufficient for movement without needing to light a lamp.
Taking some clear water from a jar, Wei Xun pulled out the blue shirt Bao Zhu had worn during the day and soaked it in a basin, adding salt used for tea brewing and leftover tea leaves. Both salt and tea could remove odors. In the past, after finishing tomb robbing, he would always clean his clothes this way, except then he was removing the smell of grave soil and corpse stench – now he was removing her intoxicating fragrance that had soaked into the fabric.
Though it was regrettable, if the smell couldn’t be washed away, this garment could never be worn again. Wei Xun sighed almost inaudibly.
Untying his hair knot and removing his clothes, he first rinsed his body with cold water, then stepped barefoot into the outdoor hot spring pool. Embraced by hot water, the long-missed warmth gradually soaked through his cold, stiff muscles. He exhaled a breath of cold air, unable to help thinking – is this the comfortable body temperature normal people usually have?
Sitting in the water, he examined the meridians on the insides of both arms. Faint blue-black patterns flowed toward his torso, now spreading to the Zhongfu acupoint where shoulder and arm joined. The blue-purple blood vessels were just the surface manifestation – in reality, cold evil and pathogenic qi had penetrated deep into his body’s three yin and three yang meridians, entangling the eight extraordinary vessels. If not for practicing the Primordial Qi Innate Technique passed down by his master’s teacher since childhood, his corpse would probably have turned to white bones long ago.
His entire body was surrounded by vine-like blue patterns, leaving only a pure patch at his chest’s spiritual platform. Once the pathogenic qi reached his heart, making his heart tip blood-cold, it would be his death.
Strangely, he no longer felt anxious about this.
Having been tormented by this stubborn ailment since childhood, when episodes struck he could neither live nor die. His greatest wish in life was to find good medicine to cure himself. He dreamed about it day and night, fantasizing that when he was finally cured, he would surely be overjoyed, carefree, happy beyond imagination.
Now, staying by her side, he felt constantly overjoyed and carefree. Even though his life wouldn’t be long, the illness was already essentially cured. From this perspective, she truly was the cure for his terminal disease – the Phoenix Embryo Living Pearl. Whether he actually consumed it or not was actually irrelevant.
While deep in contemplation, suddenly came the sound of bare feet walking from behind the bamboo wall in front of him, warm candlelight filtering through gaps between the bamboo.
“All dharmas are empty in nature, neither arising nor ceasing, neither defiled nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing… If there are hell demons, netherworld vengeful spirits, listen to these sutras for salvation, do not come harm me…”
Behind the bamboo wall, the person holding a lamp tremblingly recited the Heart Sutra while slowly stepping into the hot spring water.
Wei Xun was stunned for a moment, realizing that although the rooms were separated by several chambers, they weren’t arranged regularly. The hot spring pools were connected – her room’s pool was actually joined to his, separated only by a row of bamboo planted in the water. Since he could see in the dark and hadn’t lit a lamp, she had no idea someone was next door.
She was afraid of both darkness and ghosts, chanting sutras while bathing. The sound of water rippled, and the spreading waves passed through gaps in the bamboo wall, extending to his side. Under candlelight, he could almost see the silhouette of a figure in the water mist.
In such circumstances, continuing to remain silent would truly be improper.
Wei Xun had to speak up as a reminder: “Do you know this is a monastery meditation chamber? Even if there were ghosts, would they come to the temple to eat vegetarian meals or worship Buddha?”
In the pitch-black night, Wei Xun’s voice suddenly rang out. Bao Zhu exclaimed “Ah!” and hugged her arms, submerging entirely in the pool water. In panic, she scanned the treetops and rooftop but didn’t see his shadow. After a moment, she realized the voice came from next door beyond the bamboo wall, immediately feeling uncomfortable and constrained.
After the reminder, he couldn’t continue staying there so casually. Wei Xun said decisively: “Withdrawing.” He stood up from the pool water, about to climb ashore and leave.
Hearing he was about to leave, Bao Zhu’s fear of dark spirits immediately overcame her embarrassment. She blurted out: “Hey, hey, hey! You… wait a while before leaving.” The meaning was a command, but the tone was trembling, nearly pleading.
Wei Xun was momentarily speechless. Who could have imagined that this master renowned throughout the martial world, this supreme expert who single-handedly destroyed the entire Raksha Bird sect, would become timid as a mouse once night fell, living in a temple yet still fearing ghostly harassment. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t understand how she could simultaneously possess abundant martial virtue, exceptional intelligence, and be so pitiable and adorable.
Unable to bear leaving her alone to suffer fear, Wei Xun sighed and could only return to the pool water.
The moon shone bright and clear, floating light leaping like gold. The gentle night became hazy in the water mist. The bamboo wall divided the hot spring pool into two sides – one half bright, one half dark. The two stayed in their respective domains, silently coexisting across the wall for a while.
Bao Zhu couldn’t help saying: “Not even lighting a single candle – you’re truly fearless. Forget temples – haven’t you seen ghosts in remote wilderness?”
Wei Xun answered: “Forget remote wilderness – even in ancient tombs and graveyards, I’ve never seen half a ghost shadow. My master lived fifty years longer than me, experienced the Tianbao Rebellion, witnessed mountains of corpses and seas of blood at Xiangji Temple. Sometimes when his madness struck, he’d take soul-summoning banners and wander mass burial grounds all night, always returning disappointed. If there were ghosts in the world, how could they be so hard to find?”
Imagining a gray-haired old madman over fifty wandering burial grounds with soul-summoning banners, Bao Zhu couldn’t help shivering and asked: “How could such a deranged person suddenly develop great compassion to adopt you?”
Light laughter came from behind the bamboo wall: “He didn’t adopt me – he bought me. You saw that starving person selling his child with a carrying pole today. I was the child sitting in the basket then. He paid ten wen and bought me from my nearly starved parents, bringing me back to Remnant Sun Courtyard.”
Bao Zhu repeated in a daze: “Only ten wen.”
Wei Xun said: “He said I kicked and bit, refusing to go. My mother had no choice but to take one wen from the sale money to buy a malt sugar stick to coax me. Now I no longer remember my parents, only remember the taste of that candy – the sweetest thing in the world.”
Whether because they were separated by a wall, only hearing voices without seeing each other, or to say more to comfort her, Wei Xun was more talkative tonight.
He felt for his kneebones in the water, recalling his master’s account from years past. Chen Shigu hadn’t acted from kindness – he just accidentally noticed that the barely clothed hungry child, like himself, possessed the rare and extraordinary bone structure suited for martial arts, so he casually paid some money to buy him.
After hearing his true origins, Bao Zhu fell silent. After a long time, she said glumly: “I always thought you were surnamed Wei, perhaps like Shisan Lang from a noble family, a branch of the Jingzhao Wei clan, only separated from family and wandering the martial world for some reason.”
Wei Xun laughed again: “Don’t guess wildly. I don’t have any hidden identity as a young master or prince. When you called ‘hey, hey, hey’ just now – that’s the origin of the Wei surname. This name’s meaning is my master’s command: Hey! Listen up.”
At this moment, Bao Zhu actually felt hatred toward a stranger bandit chief she’d never met. Chen Shigu was exceptionally intelligent and could have given the orphan better treatment, yet deliberately used such a neglectful, contemptuous attitude in naming him.
She also thought of how she often confided about parental affection in front of him, frequently crying from sadness, not knowing he’d nearly starved to death as a child and couldn’t even remember his parents. Hearing someone confide about this – wasn’t that another kind of cruelty?
After a long time, Bao Zhu said quietly: “There’s something I’ve hesitated about for a long time, but still want to tell you honestly.”
“What is it?”
“Pang Liangji already told me – you’ve been doing the dirty work of tomb robbing to search for medicine to cure your illness.”
Wei Xun was momentarily surprised and secretly panicked, thinking could she already know about the “Phoenix Embryo Living Pearl”? Even Shisan Lang could guess it – with her ice-clear intelligence, how could she not associate it with her own name? This way, his journey of following and protecting would become harboring ill intentions, requiring desperate explanations to prove his innocence.
Wei Xun gritted his teeth, extremely annoyed at loose-lipped Pang Liu, wishing he could race back to Jade City right now to give him a good beating.
Bao Zhu continued: “I really didn’t want to remind you, but I have to say it. How could a miraculous elixir that cures terminal illnesses be hidden in ancient tombs? If the tomb owner had taken the medicine while alive, living free of all diseases, extending life, even ascending to immortality, how could they have died and been buried in coffins? This logic doesn’t make sense at all.”
Hearing her analysis, Wei Xun’s anxious heart settled down a bit. Pang Liangji seemed to have only mentioned the general idea without telling her the Phoenix Embryo’s name.
Bao Zhu continued: “I guess the news about medicine hidden in tombs was told to you by Chen Shigu. That person is so eccentric yet extremely intelligent – perhaps he just fabricated a lie to deceive you, making you become his tomb-robbing accomplice.”
The other side of the bamboo wall remained silent. Bao Zhu thought Wei Xun was greatly shocked by learning the truth and regretted speaking so directly, not knowing how to comfort him. But after a moment, Wei Xun’s clear voice came again, his tone unusually calm.
“I’ve long known he might be deceiving me.”
“You knew?!”
“There’s no one else in the world as moody, extreme, and eccentric as him. Tomb robbing requires at least two people working together. When he was in his prime, he could work alone, but as he aged and declined, he needed an assistant – that’s one reason he took disciples. We’re called disciples but are actually tomb-robbing subordinates.”
Reflecting on his life’s journey, he’d been told of the “Phoenix Embryo’s” existence since childhood, yearning and hoping for so many years. As he gradually matured and awakened to reality, his survival instinct was too strong to abandon this only hope for life.
A sigh came from outside the bamboo wall. Bao Zhu seemed to understand Wei Xun’s predicament and racked her brains for comforting words: “Maybe you don’t have any terminal illness at all – it’s just harm from yin qi and corpse poison from years in tombs. If you reform and never enter tombs again, and stop drinking that cold wine from tombs, the illness will gradually heal.”
Wei Xun looked at the vine-like blue-black meridian patterns spreading on his arms and suddenly laughed from the bottom of his heart: “You’re quite right. I have felt much better these past two months.”