Rong Chen Zi woke earlier than He Bang, and went to the back mountain to supervise the disciples in their morning cultivation. Ye Tian brought the congee over, and without much patience shook the still-slumbering He Bang awake: “Up! Drink your congee!” The instant He Bang heard the word “congee,” she was ready to cry. She glanced left and right, realized Rong Chen Zi was not there, and held back her tears. Her eyes still shimmered like pools of water as they darted about: “Congee again! I’m not drinking it!”
Ye Tian was not someone easy to serve in the first place — let alone serving this He Bang whom she had never been able to stomach! She promptly exploded, hands on her hips and scolding: “You’re not some child of a few years old — does someone have to coax you just to eat? You’ve lived as long as this and you still put on this young and innocent act. It makes me sick just to say it! Get over here and eat your meal!”
He Bang stared at her with her large round eyes: “My chest is bigger than yours!”
Ye Tian choked so hard with fury she was ready to ignite: “You shameless old demon!”
He Bang was indignant: “My chest is bigger than yours!”
Ye Tian was so furious she nearly hurled the bowl in her hand at He Bang’s head: “This is outrageous! You, you, you… what good is a large chest if you have no brains?!”
He Bang curled the corner of her mouth into a grin: “Zhiguan likes touching the chest — not touching the brain!”
Ye Tian spat blood.
Rong Chen Zi returned to find Ye Tian absolutely seething with rage. He was still puzzled: “What has happened?”
Ye Tian was so furious her hands were trembling, and even turned her temper on him. She shoved the bowl in her hands into his, and stormed off in a fury. Rong Chen Zi sat down at the edge of the couch and scooped up a spoonful of congee to feed He Bang.
“How did you manage to upset Xiao Ye again?”
He Bang twisted her lips: “Who told her to call me old! Why does she get to be upset? What about whether I’m happy or not — you don’t care about that at all!”
Rong Chen Zi answered without sentiment: “This poor Daoist is her Senior Brother, so of course I take her side a little. As for you, Your Majesty the Sea Emperor — you are a guest in this monastery. It would be best to follow the ways of the house and not cause trouble.” He Bang glanced at him, opened her mouth to accept a spoonful of congee, and Rong Chen Zi’s expression remained tranquil. After a long awkward silence, He Bang tentatively ventured: “Does that mean you’d rather touch brains!”
As afternoon arrived, Qingsu returned with a three-eyed serpent — and to everyone’s surprise, it turned out to be the very one that had previously impersonated Liu Qinfang. During the great battle against the mother of the Calling Serpents, it had gone into hiding; now, hearing that He Bang needed to borrow a life, it reappeared of its own accord. Its natural lifespan was already long; if it further cultivated into a demon, it would be beyond calculation. If it lent to He Bang, perhaps it could trade for a personal favor — perhaps this He Bang, when in good spirits, might help it cultivate a human form.
The life-borrowing ritual was not especially complex. Rong Chen Zi brought He Bang to Wuliang Cave, laid out a ritual formation, drew two circles within it, and had Ye Tian stand guard as protector. The three-eyed serpent obediently stayed within its own circle, but was still a little uneasy: “Zhiguan, you’re really only borrowing half the lifespan?”
Rong Chen Zi carefully helped He Bang settle into her circle, fearful of her moving about carelessly and increasing blood circulation beyond what her heart could bear. Now hearing the three-eyed serpent’s question, he said simply and evenly: “Yes.”
That settled the three-eyed serpent’s mind. It then went to fawn on He Bang: “Hehehe — Sea Emperor, I’m the nicest one to you! Hehehe!”
He Bang rolled her eyes: “Fifty years until I help you cultivate a human form. I’ve kept count.”
The three-eyed serpent rolled gleefully around in its circle, beaming with delight: “Thank you, peerlessly beautiful Your Majesty the Sea Emperor! Thank you, handsome and dashing Zhiguan!”
He Bang had no energy to retort, and muttered: “Blimey — quite the silver tongue on it.”
Rong Chen Zi’s focus, however, was on something else entirely. He pressed a hand to his forehead: “One illiterate is already frightening enough — and now there’s another. That character is pronounced ‘sǎ.'”
The three-eyed serpent panicked: “How would I dare call Zhiguan foolish! Hehehe!”
Rong Chen Zi: “……”
The ritual took over an hour, and He Bang was already quite exhausted. Rong Chen Zi carried her out of Wuliang Cave. Her water-colored skirt trailed long behind her, its fabric like rippling mist, her black hair dark as ink — beautiful as a dream, utterly unreal. Ye Tian stood at the mouth of the cave, not daring to approach for a long moment. He Bang’s arms were wrapped around Rong Chen Zi’s neck, her eyes shimmering with a liquid glow, alluring beyond words: “Zhiguan — I’m not going to die now, am I?”
Rong Chen Zi did not dare meet her eyes directly: “Mm.”
Her cheeks broke into a full smile, and she pressed a firm kiss to Rong Chen Zi’s chin. Rong Chen Zi had no time to dodge it, and his expression instantly changed: “Stop fooling around!”
Ye Tian stood where she was, and suddenly felt a flash of envy for He Bang — not because she was in Rong Chen Zi’s arms, but because she did such things without a moment’s hesitation, things that Ye Tian herself had never had the courage to do in all her life. And how many things in this world were lost forever, precisely because one could not take that one step?
Rong Chen Zi carried He Bang back to the bedchamber. He Bang wheedled: “Zhiguan, I haven’t soaked in water in so long!”
Rong Chen Zi’s expression was resolute: “The couch is cleaner than water. Your wounds are not yet healed — you cannot soak in water!”
He Bang pursed her lips: “Then can you scrub my shell for me? I’m itchy all over.”
Rong Chen Zi held her down: “Don’t revert to your original form. I’ll ask Xiao Ye to come in and help wipe you down.”
He Bang immediately wailed: “No! You saw how angry she was this morning! If she’s the one scrubbing my shell, she’ll definitely take revenge on me!”
Rong Chen Zi was exasperated and amused all at once: “Xiao Ye is not that sort of person.”
He Bang refused to accept this: “Then let Qingxuan help me scrub!”
Rong Chen Zi was beginning to believe this great river clam truly understood nothing: “Qingxuan is a man — men and women must observe proper decorum.”
He Bang grabbed his hand and swung it back and forth in a wheedling manner: “Zhiguan — then you do it for me!”
Rong Chen Zi could do nothing with her. He had no choice but to order Qingxuan to bring a basin of water, dissolve a Clarity-and-Turbidity Talisman in it, and then use a soft cloth to wipe her down. He Bang, feeling the cool clean water, groaned with pleasure. Rong Chen Zi wiped down her two white and tender little hands and her face, then made to carry the basin out, but He Bang protested: “Zhiguan, there’s still my feet.”
Rong Chen Zi hesitated briefly, then ultimately turned back and wrung out the cloth to wipe her feet. Her feet were still as petite and delicate as ever — her skin translucent and luminous as crystal, with faint pale blue veins faintly visible beneath. Her five little toes were a warm and even color, with only the very tips tinged in a trace of pale red, like winter plum blossoms touched with snow. Rong Chen Zi’s heart was beating hard. A man like him could not tolerate the slightest deviation in himself. And yet toward He Bang’s pair of feet, he had not the slightest resistance. His throat was a little dry. Without drawing attention to it, he swallowed.
He Bang was also quiet, making no sound, letting him hold her small feet in his hands. His palms were broad and rough, and still warm. For a soft-bodied creature, the feet were a vulnerable place — He Bang was baring her most delicate part before Rong Chen Zi and letting him hold them, yet felt not the slightest fear or unease. Rong Chen Zi was certain he had never looked into He Bang’s eyes, had never fallen under any soul-seizing technique. And yet the blood vessels at his temples were gradually swelling, the veins standing out. Within his heart — long calm as an ancient well — ripples were beginning to stir once more. Even a place long dormant began to stir into reaction.
His eyes revealed a look of shame and anguish. After wiping He Bang’s feet in two or three swift strokes, he turned to leave. He Bang caught his sleeve, her expression puzzled: “Zhiguan — you’ve only wiped one foot…”
Rong Chen Zi shook her hand off as though shaking off something bewitching, slowly retreating behind the door, not a single word spoken, then turned and stepped out of the inner chamber.
The bedchamber was empty. He shut the door firmly and leaned back against it, breathing hard. He had been abandoned at the monastery gate by his parents the moment he was born, and had fortunately been taken in by Zixin Daozhang. Because his constitution was unusual, Zixin Daozhang had been far stricter with him than with the other disciples, permitting him not a single lapse in propriety. From childhood onward, it had shaped in him a character that was upright and open, rigorous and self-possessed. Even upon encountering this He Bang, he could say with a clear conscience that he had done nothing wrong. But the one thing he could not speak of — was He Bang’s small feet.
He truly did not want to admit to himself that he was fascinated by them, in the same way a deity might dread others knowing they had touched themselves in private — but he could not deceive himself: he genuinely liked them. That feeling of wanting to turn them over and over in his hands, unable to bear putting them down — it was even more intense than the pleasure of direct union. He had abstained for many years; his heart had long since grown still as an ancient well. And yet now it seemed truly that a fire had been kindled within him.
“Zhiguan!” A voice from behind — both tender and sweet — drifted out softly. Rong Chen Zi’s heart gave a small start. He looked up and saw He Bang. Her long skirt trailed to the floor, her black hair hanging loose to her waist. She stood there prettily at the doorway of the inner chamber. Rong Chen Zi gathered his inner energy to quiet and steady his heart, and his voice returned to its usual calm: “You still cannot move freely. How did you come to be up?”
He Bang was very careful about her life. She had made her way to the doorway one tiny step at a time, which was why it had taken her so long. Now she spread her arms toward Rong Chen Zi, like a little bird opening its wings: “I was afraid something had happened to you.”
Rong Chen Zi sighed softly, and in the end carried her back to the inner chamber once more: “This poor Daoist is fine. Rest well.”
The moment he made to rise, He Bang wrapped her arms around his waist. Her voice was pure and clear: “Zhiguan — is it truly so difficult for you to speak of something you like?” Rong Chen Zi went rigid all over, his face flushing crimson in an instant. He Bang held on and would not let go: “Whether you are a person or a demon — even an immortal — everyone has their own preferences. Even a rabbit is allowed to like carrots. Why can’t you like my feet?” She raised her hand, her five fingers gently lifting his Daoist crown from his head — his black hair fell loose, flowing through her fingers.
She took Rong Chen Zi’s hand and gently guided it to touch her own slender feet: “Zhiguan, touch them — I promised you: as long as you saved me, I would let you touch my feet every day.” Rong Chen Zi’s five fingers moved, beyond his control, turning that pair of small feet over in his hands. His breathing grew heavier and heavier. He Bang softly kissed his cheek: “Liking something that harms no one and does no wrong is by nature a joyful thing, isn’t it? Why must you torment yourself…”
Rong Chen Zi leaned forward until he was nearly pressing down on He Bang. His five fingers gradually increased their pressure, kneading and turning He Bang’s small feet that were warm and smooth as fine jade — it was as though an army of ants had burrowed into his heart, making him itch with a restless, irresistible longing. He Bang could see his struggle, and softly kissed his sweat-dewed forehead. Her hands gently untied the silk sash at her waist. Rong Chen Zi abruptly seized her hands, his voice barely forming words: “No… you’re still not well enough.”
He Bang was not particularly moved herself — having one’s feet rubbed was not exactly exciting to her. She nodded: “Then Zhiguan, you keep touching them — I’ll go to sleep first.”
Rong Chen Zi forced himself to let go and instead tucked He Bang’s blanket around her properly. The sensation of that soft and tender warmth still lingered in his hands. Terror and turmoil rose unbidden in his heart — Rong Chen Zi: do you know what you are doing?