The following day, Qingxu Temple was to hold a discipline-taking ceremony for several disciples. Rong Chen Zi had not slept well for several nights running, yet he still mustered his spirits and presided over the fasting and disciplinary rites. This was the ceremony of entry into the Dao — Qingxu Temple had always held it in great esteem, and the occasion was quite lively.

Before the ceremony could begin, the atmosphere had to be warmed up first. All members of Qingxu Temple assembled, with the presiding officiant leading the chanting of scriptures. Chanting alone was not sufficiently animated, so instruments were employed as accompaniment: alongside the ritual instruments of bells, stone chimes, and hand bells, there were also sheng mouth-organs, xiao flutes, dizi flutes, and two-stringed erhus — a full complement.

The river clam found this very interesting. She perched in the branches of a leafy peach tree near the ritual space and watched from above, entranced by what she heard. Rong Chen Zi glanced up at her once, then returned to the solemnly bowed head of chanting scripture — the picture of undivided attention.

The music used was The Three Refuges. Rong Chen Zi’s singing voice was melodious, not rigidly bound to the score, with ornamental flourishes that made it genuinely pleasant to hear. When the scriptures were finished, the initiate disciples stepped forward to receive instruction.

The Daoist precepts were numerous: the Supreme Elder Lord’s Book of Precepts, the Laojun Yinsong Precept Scripture, the Compilation of Precepts of the Three Caverns, and many others. The river clam had done her best to pay attention at first, but after a while the whole thing began to sound like a lullaby.

By the time Rong Chen Zi reached the Three Refuges and Five Precepts, she had finally fallen asleep in the tree.

“The First Refuge is the body — the Supreme Limitless Great Dao, from which one attains eternal liberation from the cycle of rebirth. Thus it is called the Treasure of the Dao…” Rong Chen Zi’s robes were white as snow, his bearing solemn and dignified. In the tree above, the great river clam slumbered on, blissfully indifferent to the world of mortal and immortal alike.

“The Second Refuge is the spirit — the thirty-six divisions of the revered scriptures, from which one gains access to the orthodox teachings. Thus it is called the Treasure of the Scripture.” Rong Chen Zi’s voice carried a low, subdued quality as he spoke of these Daoist texts with the fluency of something as familiar as the lines of his own palm.

Only — glancing upward at the tree, he found himself, ever so slightly, curling the corner of his mouth.

This creature must not be allowed to sing. The more she sings, the more lively she becomes. Every scripture must be recited — the moment recitation begins, she falls asleep.

When the river clam woke up, the sky had already gone dark. She hugged the trunk and slid down, patted her rumbling belly, and was just about to head back to the room when she saw Rong Chen Zi sitting cross-legged in meditation on the ceremonial ground. The night had grown deep; all the disciples had dispersed long ago.

His hands were folded in a seal, still and silent, his horsetail whisk resting at his right side. This eminent Daoist master looked like nothing so much as a stone statue.

The river clam trotted over with quick, small steps. The golden bells at her ankle chimed brightly, and Rong Chen Zi opened his eyes. The creature had slept too soundly for him to rouse her, so he had simply stayed here and waited for her to wake.

Because of his unusual constitution, there were always demon creatures lurking in the vicinity of Qingxu Temple. Whatever abilities the river clam possessed or lacked, she was a woman after all, and he had no desire for any accident to befall her.

What he had not anticipated was that this creature would sleep for so many hours. It was nearly the third watch by now.

The river clam was entirely without remorse. She leaned her whole weight against him and burst into grateful tears: “Rong Chen Zi, thank heaven and earth, you’ve finally finished reciting scripture!!”

Rong Chen Zi blocked her off with his horsetail whisk. The evening breeze drifted gently past, carrying his fragrance throughout the night air. The river clam grew even hungrier: “What is there to eat tonight? I’m hungry!”

Rong Chen Zi shook his head and returned to the bedchamber. Inside, a table of vegetarian food had already been set out. Bearing the creature’s appetite in mind, Rong Chen Zi had specifically instructed his disciples to prepare a few extra dishes.

The attentive young acolytes at the dining hall had naturally noticed that the Zhiguan’s food intake had increased dramatically of late — but given his habitual sternness, none dared ask.

At the table, the river clam ate and drank with abandon. Rong Chen Zi took a steamed bun and chewed it slowly, his manner elegant and unhurried. The creature dispensed with all the dishes on the table in short order, and then she began to stare fixedly at the half-bun still in Rong Chen Zi’s hand. Rong Chen Zi found that gaze distinctly familiar — the stray dogs he encountered on the roadside when he ate out always watched him with exactly that same look.

“…” He gave a quiet sigh and held out the half-bun. The river clam broke into a grin: “Knew you couldn’t finish it! Don’t waste it — wasting is… munch… shameful!” She swallowed a mouthful of bun, the words barely intelligible.

Rong Chen Zi sighed, rose, and went to the dining hall to find some more stuffed buns and glutinous rice cakes to feed her. On his way out, fearing there might not be enough, he also brought along a few cucumbers and two eggs from the kitchen.

The river clam accepted all comers without discrimination — she was more fearsome than a slop bucket.

These past few days, she had claimed Rong Chen Zi’s chamber for her own. He had to avoid her even to comb his hair, and bathing was even more inconvenient. Since he was exceptionally fastidious about cleanliness, he had no choice but to bathe in the mountain spring behind the temple. Fortunately, as a man of Daoist cultivation his constitution was robust, and the cold water of the mountain spring posed no hardship.

The night was deep, the wind stirred through the mountain forest, and grasses and trees whispered to one another. Rong Chen Zi slowly removed his outer robe and set it, together with his inner robe, on the green stone beside the spring. The moon shyly showed half its face, then hid again behind layers of drifting cloud. The mountain spring water soaked through every pore; he exhaled slowly, letting himself relax completely.

And yet quiet lasted only a moment before the river clam came seeking him out, running and calling as she came: “Rong Chen Zi, so you’re here!” She dashed over, and in alarm Rong Chen Zi threw on his outer robe first without stopping to tend to his inner garments. He had barely opened his mouth to speak when the river clam was already gasping for breath and launched in: “Rong Chen Zi, in the name of all ancestors, can you help me wash up too?!”

The moment Rong Chen Zi heard this, a surge of irritation rose in him. He was a man entirely without romantic sensibility, deeply averse at the best of times to coquettish, deliberately enticing demon creatures — and now, upon hearing these words, he could not explain why his mind suddenly flew to that pair of delicate little feet bound with a red cord and golden bells. The thought left him with an instant and acute distaste for the river clam: “What sort of words are those…”

But the reprimand never left his mouth. The river clam had already pitched herself headlong into the mountain spring with a great splash. She flipped over, and turned into a large, dark river clam about four feet long. She scooted herself up beside Rong Chen Zi, perfectly at ease: “Zhiguan, help rub my shell!”

Rong Chen Zi felt a faint heat rising to his face — Rong Chen Zi, just what were you thinking!! He pulled off a length of dried loofah and began to scrub the river clam’s shell.

Though to be fair, the river clam bore some responsibility for this whole business — if you want your shell scrubbed, just say so — why throw in “washing up” as well…

Near the fourth watch, Rong Chen Zi had polished the river clam until her shell gleamed with an oily sheen, at which point the river clam fell asleep again — and began blowing bubbles in the water. Rong Chen Zi carried her back to the bedchamber. He had been sitting in meditation for several days, had to conduct ceremonial rites during the day, and was sleeping poorly at night — even a man of iron would be a little worn out. Looking at the river clam sleeping so soundly, he could not help but find an excuse for himself — she is nothing but a river clam; perhaps there is no need to be so particular.

The moment that thought formed, he came back to his senses. He carried the river clam to the secret room, then thought it over and pulled a quilt over her. Only then did he return to his own bedchamber.

He was exhausted from several nights running, and the moment he touched his pillow he fell into a deep sleep. He had no idea when the river clam had made her way onto the bed. He received quite a shock when he woke — but fortunately the creature had remained a four-foot river clam, so he let out a mild sigh of relief.

From then on, he established a three-clause agreement with the river clam: if she wished to sleep in his bed, she must revert to her clam form. If she wished to take human shape, she must sleep in the secret room on the ivory bed!

The bed in the river clam’s secret room was actually quite fine, but the river clam clearly found Rong Chen Zi far more interesting, and slept in his bed every single day. She might have simply slept there, but when she transformed into a clam her shell would not close all the way, and she frequently drooled in her sleep. And being an aquatic creature with an evidently excessive supply of moisture in her body, whenever she drooled it was by the half-basin.

So much so that the young acolytes who came lately to make the beds, upon confronting the spreading stains on the snow-white sheets… wore expressions of remarkable inscrutability.

One day, Rong Chen Zi was invited to attend a ritual assembly and would be away for three or four days. He decided to bring his second disciple, Qingsu, along with him. When leaving, fearing the river clam would want to follow, he said nothing to her about it. After seeing to the temple affairs, he gave instructions to Qingxuan: “The river clam in this master’s chamber will probably sleep until late afternoon. If she wakes, make sure to send meals. Her body is that of a demon creature, and it is prone to being affected by the world’s turbid energies — make sure to give her the demon-warding talisman water before feeding her, and don’t let the demon-warding incense in the room go out.”

Qingxuan had no fear of managing the temple, but the moment this particular glutton was mentioned, his head felt like it would split in two: “Master, if she wakes and finds you gone and starts making a scene…”

Rong Chen Zi also sighed: “What choice is there? Whatever she wants, just humor her and don’t start an argument. Remember to add sugar to the talisman water. If all else fails, feed her candied fruit — she has a sweet tooth.”

Qingxuan made a note of all this, and then Rong Chen Zi descended the mountain.

The river clam slept until mid-afternoon. Qingxuan, dreading any mischief, hurried over with food enough for four people. She looked around, and it did not take her long to notice something was off: “Where is Rong Chen Zi?”

Qingxuan served her dishes with careful attentiveness: “Master has gone out — he’ll be back soon.”

She made no fuss, stuffing food sulkily into her mouth.

In the evening, as Qingxuan led his fellow disciples through the evening lessons, he happened to look up — and there was the creature, bounding toward them. Her black hair fell to her waist, her gauze robes were pure white as swan feathers, and despite eating so enormously day after day her waist remained remarkably slender. To make matters worse, she was barefoot, and with every step the golden bells at her ankles chimed like the sound of precious metal and jade.

None of the disciples in the temple had ever laid eyes on such a figure. Every single pair of eyes promptly went round as a startled hen’s — this… this is the legendary cultivation vessel our master spoke of? My word. For all that our master presents himself as so indifferent to desires, it seems his eye for women is something else entirely…

Qingxuan was filled with despair. Abandoning all pretense of scripture-reading, he rushed forward and asked in a low voice: “Why have you come out? Master said before he left that you’re not to go wandering around.”

“Who told him to go out and leave me behind!!” The river clam snorted, and her voice began to rise: “In the name of all ancestors, just a few days ago he talked such a fine talk at bedtime — and then the moment he gets up he’s off without a word! I’ll never trust him again!!”

“…” Every disciple in the temple abandoned their scriptures. Lacking instructions from the senior brother, none dared rise from their seats — yet every set of ears stretched as long as could be. Goodness. So our master, usually so composed and collected, was also capable of making rash promises in bed…

Qingxuan nearly fainted: “Keep your voice down! Won’t you go back to master’s room? This trip of master’s really is just to recite scripture — not the least bit fun. The next time he goes out he will certainly take you along. Shall I speak to him myself to make sure he brings you with him?”

The river clam’s brows rose and her eyes went wide: “Not interested!” She huffed and plunked herself down on a vacant meditation cushion. The layers of her feathered skirt spread out around her like a blooming lily. Qingxuan could neither drive her away nor risk truly angering her, so he had no choice but to let her sit.

That day, every disciple recited scripture with remarkable enthusiasm.

That evening, the creature wanted to dine with everyone in the dining hall. The dining hall was something like a communal canteen — a large kitchen, with a row of great stone water vats outside and inside a massive stove large enough to feed over a hundred people, a large ceramic rice barrel, and abundant supplies of flour and beans. Adjacent to the kitchen was a vegetable garden, tended in turns by the disciples, who drew water and chopped wood every morning and looked after the garden as well. Sharing a wall with the kitchen, there were more than ten large round tables, with a large wooden rice barrel set on a nearby counter.

All her meals had previously been prepared separately in the kitchen and sent to Rong Chen Zi’s chamber. But today she wanted to eat here, and the cooking-fire acolytes dared not be lax about it — even if she was a cultivation vessel, she was master’s cultivation vessel. Which meant she was more or less the master’s wife. And she looked so delicate. Master might put on a stern and dignified front in public, but in private he must dote on her enormously.

With this logic in mind, the several acolytes in charge of cooking brought out their best skills and prepared their signature dishes, setting out a separate table just for her. Naturally no one dared sit at the same table. Disciples from all around kept casting glances of every description in her direction. Qingxuan shook his head in mournful resignation: “Stop looking, everyone. You’ll only be disillusioned…”

And yet — in the face of a hundred or more pairs of eyes — the creature ate only half a bowl of rice, then set down her chopsticks: “They keep staring at me. I can’t eat.”

Qingxuan let out a breath of relief: “Go back to master’s room then. I’ll have food sent over in a moment.”

The river clam nodded and headed out. After a while she began to feel drowsy again, and went bounding off in the direction of Rong Chen Zi’s chamber.

That very night, Rong Chen Zi had barely set foot off the grounds of Qingxu Temple when demons came to cause trouble. The river clam was sleeping soundly when a great clamor arose outside. She yawned and got up. She saw Qingxu Temple ablaze with lantern light, the young acolytes pasting talismans everywhere.

She wandered through the temple without any particular direction. Qingxuan was leading two capable disciples to inspect every corner; the rest of the disciples, reluctant to engage with her, let her roam. The Hall of the Three Pure Ones, the Hall of the Four Heavenly Sovereigns, the Hall of the Jade Emperor — evil creatures did not dare draw near these places lightly, and she, cultivating along proper paths, had no fear of true deities either.

After roaming here and there for some time, she discovered that Qingxu Temple kept quite a number of abandoned cats and dogs. She crouched on the ground and played with them for a while. The night grew later still. The lights inside the halls of Qingxu Temple began to go out.

She spotted a young acolyte making his solitary way through the darkness, his steps unsteady. On impulse, she walked over and tapped him on the shoulder: “What is everyone trying to catch?”

The young acolyte spun around sharply — and his neck was completely bare, empty above the collar. His voice was cold and eerie: “My head… have you seen my head…?”

“…” The river clam was taken aback, then shook her head: “You’re looking for your head? Then let’s split up and search. I’ll look for food and keep an eye out for your head along the way — you look for your head and keep an eye out for anything to eat while you’re at it…”

The headless ghost appeared unsatisfied with this arrangement and immediately reached out to grab her by the throat. She seemed to have no particular power of her own, but it also couldn’t strangle her in a short while. After struggling for some time, she finally let out a shriek — which brought Qingxuan running.

Qingxuan had gone to check on her in the room before bed, and finding her absent had already been searching. As Rong Chen Zi’s senior disciple, dealing with a headless ghost was child’s play — he captured the thing in an earthenware jar in an instant.

The river clam was still wailing, and Qingxuan was genuinely puzzled — the Sea Emperor had alarmingly little courage! However formidable a demon creature, to be frightened like this by a minor ghost!

But the river clam saw it differently. She scrubbed frantically at her own neck, her face an expression of pure disbelief: “Qingxuan, it grabbed my throat!! Wuuu, it grabbed my throat!!”

Qingxuan sealed the mouth of the jar with a yellow talisman and offered a casual reassurance: “I’ll burn it right away!”

The river clam seized his sleeve with both hands, indignant beyond measure: “It grabbed my throat!! In the name of all immortal ancestors, how could it do that — it didn’t even wash its hands!!”

Qingxuan’s legs gave out.

The sky was almost light. In the wooded grounds of Qingxu Temple, two figures in Daoist dress quietly collected their ritual instruments, yellow talismans, and the ghost, and slipped away in silence — it appeared that the woman, after all, was not the Sea Emperor.