Like one last gasp of summer, the mid-September weather turned blazing hot again without warning. Rong Chen Zi had not slept the entire night, and by now had sent He Bang off with a counterfeit “immortal’s meat” and was in the depths of sound sleep.
The summer heat shimmered and the cicadas sang without pause. Even the orchids in their pots at Qingxu Monastery had wilted leaves lacking all spirit, and not a soul was to be found in the entire monastery.
Fuya, still in her red dress, stopped the disciple Qingyun who was clearing away bowls in the meal hall with a charming, bright manner: “My summoning bell has gone missing. Could you help me look for it?”
Qingyun was the youngest disciple of the Qing generation at Qingxu Monastery, only fifteen years of age, and deeply influenced by Rong Chen Zi — warm-hearted and forthright. Upon hearing Fuya’s words he immediately nodded: “May I ask, shaman, whether you recall where you might have left it? That would make it easier to search.”
Fuya smiled brilliantly: “Perhaps somewhere near the rear mountain training ground.”
Without a second thought about the midday sun outside, Qingyun called out in acknowledgment and headed off to the training ground. Fuya followed behind him, the ritual staff in her hand casting a faint and eerie cold light.
From the meal hall to the rear mountain was a walk of nearly half a shichen, but Qingyun was a cultivator with excellent stamina and knew the route well — in just over a quarter shichen he had already arrived.
The mountain woods in September were lush with growth. He parted the surrounding grass, his pale blue daoist robe barely visible in the deep growth and brambles. Fuya gripped her ritual staff tightly and deliberately drifted forward: “I think I might have come around this way…”
Qingyun followed her forward. Ahead stood a row of willow wood posts, jutting three inches above the ground, laid out in a strange pattern on the ground by an unknown hand. Qingyun thought nothing of it and kept rooting around under the nearby trees, guessing that Fuya might have dropped something while resting under the trees.
Fuya stood behind him, her lips moving slightly — no sound audible — and the ritual staff in her hand emitted tendril after tendril of black fog. But the fog barely touched Qingyun before it dispersed and vanished entirely. A wisp of smoke curled from the protective talisman of dark wood hanging at Qingyun’s chest, and Qingyun became somewhat aware of it: “Something is wrong! There is an unclean thing on this rear mountain!”
Fuya’s expression did not change, and she pointed to the wooden plaque at his chest: “What is that?”
Qingyun no longer had the mind for searching for her chime bell: “It is a protective talisman personally bestowed by Master. This disciple’s abilities are limited, and should I encounter a powerful demonic creature, there could be danger. Better to return to the monastery first and inform Head Senior Brother before we do anything further!”
Fuya nodded: “Very well. But you go ahead — I’m a little frightened. Your Qingxu Monastery is a Daoist monastery, how can there still be monsters nearby?”
Qingyun walked ahead without suspicion; he was an open-hearted soul without guile, and at those words he answered readily: “My master’s constitution is unique — every year there are monsters who don’t care for their own lives and come looking for trouble.”
Fuya laughed softly, and the ritual staff in her hand silently extended three inches of gleaming bright blade. She suddenly thrust her hand forward at Qingyun’s back. The cold blade was nearly at his flesh — when ahead of them Qingyun let out a startled cry and pitched forward flat on his face, causing the thrust to miss entirely.
Fuya was taken aback and retracted the blade from the staff. Qingyun felt his shoulder and scrambled upright, his vision still sparkling with golden stars. He looked down and found that a giant river clam had fallen from the trees — a full four chi long, its shell pitch dark. He was thoroughly alarmed, and with no idea at all how troubled Fuya’s expression was beside him: “How — how did a river clam end up in a tree?!”
Fuya was thoroughly disgruntled. Qingyun was convinced something extraordinary had occurred: “One this big — could this be yet another demonic creature? This disciple must go back and tell Master!!”
He dashed hurriedly onward, and Fuya, unwilling to let her prey escape just like that, came after him in silent pursuit. Three strides out, the river clam transformed back into human form, and without any visible effort on her part, was already standing in Qingyun’s path: “Junior daoist — why don’t you get me two more passion fruits?”
The moment she appeared, Fuya stopped in her tracks, gnashing her teeth in silent fury. Qingyun had no particular fondness for He Bang, but he dared not offend her again either, and could only call out his agreement and bring her back to the meal hall for passion fruits. In the meal hall, her food and provisions were all charged to the Zhiguan’s account — Rong Chen Zi said nothing, and so everyone allowed her to have her way, giving her whatever she wanted to eat and however much she asked for.
At the rear mountain, Fuya caught a civet cat with furious determination, lit a fire beneath a scholar tree, and hung the civet cat over the flames, murmuring an incantation under her breath. The civet cat twisted and writhed in pain, its mouth opened wide yet unable to cry out, only two enormous eyes staring wide with all they had. After roughly two quarters of a shichen, the civet cat stopped struggling. Fuya finished her incantation, opened her eyes, curved two fingers into a claw, and with practiced ease gouged out the two bulging eyeballs.
She took out a small vial, poured out a grey-white powder resembling ash, drew a human face on the ground in the space between the row of willow posts, and placed the two cat eyeballs in the positions of the eyes on the human face. Then she took out another small vial, within which was a liquid as vivid red as blood, still beating with a faint pulsing rhythm. As though laying eyes on the thing she cherished most in the world, her gaze grew tender; she watched for a long while before tipping the contents of the vial over the two cat eyes.
The pair of vertical pupils seemed to recover their light in an instant, staring straight up at the sky with the agony and hatred of the last moments of life.
Ideally, the eyes of a person who died a violent death would be the best… Fuya dusted her hands off, musing with sullen dissatisfaction. She knew Rong Chen Zi suspected her now, but what did it matter? Everything that needed to be arranged had been fully arranged; it was just a matter of tonight now.
Back at the monastery, He Bang went bouncing and hopping back to Rong Chen Zi’s sleeping quarters, clutching three passion fruits. Rong Chen Zi was still asleep. His sleeping posture was exactly as rigid as one might expect — flat on his back, hands folded over his abdomen, and as long as He Bang didn’t stir up trouble, he wouldn’t shift position even once the whole night.
When she really made it unbearable for him, Rong Chen Zi would eventually turn over and lie with his back to her.
He Bang sat on the bed gnawing on her three passion fruits. Rong Chen Zi disliked her eating on the bed, but could never do anything about it. Having repeated himself many times to no avail, he’d given up saying anything. She was gnawing away quite happily when Qingyun came to report from outside that a large river clam had been discovered on the rear mountain.
Rong Chen Zi sent him on his way and began to wash and dress, asking He Bang in a mild tone: “What were you doing on the rear mountain again?”
He Bang finished her fruits and was casting about for something to wipe her hands on. Rong Chen Zi was genuinely wary of her now, and without thinking wrung out the cloth in his hand and passed it over. “I was hot. I wanted to soak in water.” He Bang wiped her hands on his cloth, then handed it back untouched.
Rong Chen Zi started washing his face: “Your eye still isn’t healed — don’t go bathing in the rear mountain spring water. The catalyst used in Southern Frontier shamanism is deeply malevolent; people who drink that water will fall ill.”
He Bang rolled back and forth on the bed: “But I’m so hot, so hot, so hot!!”
Rong Chen Zi sighed softly, and had the attending disciple at the door carry in a large wooden tub as tall as a person and fill it with clear water: “Soak in this for now.” He casually drew a cold ice talisman — the spring water that had been slightly warmed by the blazing sun turned instantly, wonderfully cool. “I’ll have Qingxuan bring people to dig a pond later, plant some lotus and water chestnuts or something — at least you’ll have somewhere to play.”
He Bang was not particularly enthused about the pond. “Rong Chen Zi, are you really going to wait for Qingsu to come back before dealing with Fuya?”
Rong Chen Zi tidied his attire without a moment’s hesitation: “But of course. Without definitive evidence, how could I act against someone at will? Moreover, cultivation is not easily achieved — how could this poor daoist destroy someone’s foundation on the mere basis of suspicion?”
He Bang soaked in the wooden tub, her skirt hems soaked through by the water, her black hair drifting like sea grass, her complexion as luminous and moist as jade. Rong Chen Zi glanced just once and did not look again. He was a true gentleman; a single licentious thought was something he would not even entertain. He Bang toyed with the water: “And you’re not afraid she’s already prepared something against you!”
Rong Chen Zi had already set his appearance in order and was about to step out the door, but at those words he merely said with calm: “If it truly comes to that, it would only mean this poor daoist’s cultivation is lacking and his skill inferior — there is nothing to be said about it. But to strike first without definitive evidence, on the pretext of taking the initiative — that I absolutely cannot do.”
He closed the door behind him on his way out. He Bang flipped over and transformed back into a large river clam, floating up and down in the water bucket.
“You keep me here with you, and could it be you are also waiting for definitive evidence?” She gave it rare and considered thought for a moment, and suddenly brightened with enthusiasm once more. “Well then, tonight should be quite a spectacle worth watching — remember to have good snacks on hand! Fuya, you absolutely must not disappoint this seat…”