When she returned to Qingxu Temple, Rong Chen Zi was standing by the bed. Not knowing where He Bang’s soul had wandered off to, he saw her return with an expression of cold severity: “It seems Haihuang has recovered well enough to practice astral projection and wander about wherever she pleases. Since your injuries have improved, please take your leave.”

He Bang knew he was angry. As her soul settled back into her body, she immediately seized hold of his sleeve: “Zhiguan, I know I was wrong. I promise I will never sneak off to go wandering again.”

Rong Chen Zi let out a cold snort and withdrew his sleeve: “It is no concern of this poor Daoist where Haihuang goes or what she does!” He had come to bring He Bang something to eat, and when he found her soul absent, he had truly feared that the underworld had forcibly seized her spirit — a genuine fright. It was only after he examined her pulse and determined it did not resemble the work of a soul-hooking cord that he realized this great river clam had likely slipped out to amuse herself. His anger was entirely understandable — here one moment and gone the next, without so much as a word of warning! And to leave her body lying here without a sound — if someone harboring ill intent had come along, what then?

Even after his anger subsided, some worry remained — her soul, though considerably more resilient than her physical body, had still not fully recovered. If she were to encounter a formidable enemy, what then?

After hours of waiting in a state of alarm, frustration, and anxiety, it was only natural he should be furious. It was fortunate it was He Bang and not one of his disciples — by now any disciple of his would have been thoroughly scolded.

He Bang strained to sit up. Though Rong Chen Zi’s anger had not yet cooled, concern for her injuries still inevitably surfaced, and he leaned forward with a cold expression to help her. The moment she sat up, He Bang caught sight of the sesame sweet soup on the low cabinet beside her. Her arms wound around Rong Chen Zi like a water snake, gentle and clinging. Feeling Rong Chen Zi stiffen, she softly brushed her lips across his ear: “Zhiguan, don’t be angry anymore.”

Rong Chen Zi lightly removed her hands, aware too that he should not quarrel with this heartless creature. His voice finally softened: “The soup has gone cold. I’ve asked the kitchen to make a fresh batch and send it over.” He Bang held tightly to his waist. He stood still as a mountain. He Bang found this grounding and safe, like the very first time she had ever been held in his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, unwilling to let him go: “I want to go with Zhiguan.”

Rong Chen Zi picked up the bowl: “It’s cold outside. Don’t come out.”

He Bang did not dare provoke him further, and lay back down obediently. The life of a Daoist had always been austere, and it was only on her account that the Daoists of Qingxu Temple had lit the underfloor heating outside the rooms. Rong Chen Zi had — uncharacteristically — raised no objection, and the private chamber was now warm as spring. In the corner sat water purified by a Qingzhuo talisman. He Bang drew a thread of it over to play with. The snow continued without pause, its sound soft and murmuring. Occasionally a branch would snap or a solitary winter bird cry out — sounds desolate and sparse in the winter night.

He Bang lay beneath the crimson gauze canopy, listening to the wind and snow in silence, her heart filled with something she could not name.

Rong Chen Zi returned with the warm soup, walking quickly — but the path was so short that by the time he arrived, the sweet soup had cooled to just the right temperature for drinking. He Bang was very well-behaved this time, and without a word of complaint, drank every last drop. Rong Chen Zi wiped the corners of her mouth. He Bang watched him, her gaze luminous and soft, her allure natural and effortless. But Rong Chen Zi was not one to read such things. He rose and collected the bowl: “All right — sleep now.”

When the hour of Chou arrived, Rong Chen Zi had finished his meditation and had just put out the lamp, on the verge of sleep, when he felt the covers stir. A soft body wriggled in beneath the bedding and pressed against him like a slippery loach. “I told you not to move about!” He grabbed hold of the disobedient He Bang, though in the end he feared hurting her and kept his grip light. He Bang nestled into his arms, and being someone with skin thicker than a city wall, she paid no mind to his gruff tone and found herself a comfortable position beside him.

Rong Chen Zi exhaled softly. From youth onward he had encountered all manner of demons, yet against this particular one he was utterly at a loss. To drive her away by force — she was still injured, and besides, there had been a certain intimacy between them; he could not bring himself to be so ruthless. To push her out — she clung to him like a stubborn medicinal plaster come to life, simply refusing to let go.

He did not know what he felt toward her. He only knew he could not help being drawn in by her. Half a lifetime of devout cultivation — he had always considered himself chaste and self-possessed. Yet in her presence, he became like a young man tasting love for the first time, stumbling and bewildered.

The following morning, when Rong Chen Zi woke, He Bang was still nestled against him, sleeping soundly and sweetly. He carefully pried her hand loose and rose and dressed without a sound. Before leaving, he tucked the corner of the blanket around He Bang. She slept deeply, and in her dream she licked her lips and murmured his name. Rong Chen Zi glanced down at her — her cheeks were flushed like the petals of a Chinese flowering crabapple — and felt an inexplicable flutter of confusion stir in his chest.

By the time He Bang woke, Rong Chen Zi had not yet finished his morning recitations. With nothing to do, she upended everything from his qiankun pouch onto the bed. Out tumbled all manner of paper talismans, an ink-line tool, coffin nails, and a box of cinnabar — a whole bedful of the things he carried on his person at all times. She looked at them with curiosity, turning each one over in her hands one by one. Finally she shook the pouch again. A familiar jingling rang out, and a string of golden bells fell from it, the red cord between them as vivid as ever. She picked it up, studied it for a long while, and then gently tied it around her ankle.

She had barely finished fastening it when Qingxuan came in carrying a bowl of century egg congee. Taking one look at the chaos across his master’s bed, he went pale with alarm: “You’re causing trouble again! Master will scold you when he sees this!”

This time He Bang did not misbehave. She helped him pack all the paper talismans and everything else neatly back into the pouch. Qingxuan fed her the congee, and she drank it obediently. Qingxuan felt there was something different about her today — though if she was always this well-behaved, it would certainly save his master a great deal of effort in looking after her…

At the end of the Hour of Chen, Jiaye Zhenren came to call. The chaos caused by the serpents had spread throughout the entire Daoist order, and Jiaye Zhenren had naturally heard of it. Rong Chen Zi received him in the guest hall, only to find he had brought someone along. This person wore a purple-gold crown and a long gold robe, with full cheeks and narrow eyes, a fine beard beneath his chin — he cut quite an imposing figure. Beside him stood a woman, hair piled high in an elaborate coiffure, dressed in brilliant finery, radiant and dazzling. Rong Chen Zi’s expression turned puzzled: “May blessings be boundless — and these two are…?”

The man gave a slight nod in return. Jiaye Zhenren hastened to step forward and make introductions: “This is a close friend of this humble monk — Jiang Haoran, Lord of the Jialing River. Brother Haoran, this is the esteemed disciple of Daoist Master Zixin and Zhiguan of Qingxu Temple, Daoist Rong Chen Zi.” The two exchanged courtesies, perfectly correct and proper. But as to the purpose of this visit, Rong Chen Zi could not quite fathom it. Jiaye Zhenren took it upon himself to state it plainly: “Having heard of the serpent matter, Brother Haoran made a special journey here to offer the Daoist Master his assistance.”

Rong Chen Zi, being a person of straightforward character, at once found himself warming toward this visitor upon hearing his purpose, and called for Qingxuan and Qingsu to bring tea. The two parties took their seats. Jiang Haoran discussed the details of the serpent matter in full with Rong Chen Zi, and then, as if in passing, raised one thing: “I have heard that in subduing the serpents this time, there was an inner cultivator by the Daoist Master’s side. Inner cultivators are exceedingly rare in this day and age — but if one could be enlisted, I imagine the effort would be halved with twice the result. Would the Daoist Master not invite this person out to meet us?”

A look of difficulty crossed Rong Chen Zi’s face, and even Jiaye Zhenren glanced at Jiang Haoran a few times: “Even when we were still at the Jiang estate, I heard Brother Haoran ask about this inner cultivator on several occasions. Could it be that she is an old acquaintance of Brother Haoran’s?”

Rong Chen Zi felt a quiet unease settle in his chest. The expression of the beauty standing behind Jiang Haoran was also shifting in ways difficult to read. Jiang Haoran did not deny it: “I would ask the Daoist Master to please invite her to come out for a meeting.”

Rong Chen Zi’s brow furrowed: “To be honest, this temple does indeed have one inner cultivator. However, she is presently unwell. Moreover, she does not care for strangers. This poor Daoist can only extend an invitation — whether she is willing to appear cannot be compelled.”

Jiaye Zhenren naturally had no objection. Jiang Haoran considered briefly, his expression grave: “May I ask the Daoist Master — is this inner cultivator one who carries a serpent-bone staff and is particularly skilled in water-element arts?” Rong Chen Zi’s expression shifted subtly. Jiang Haoran understood at once. He turned his right hand over and drew an object from his sleeve: “Please be so kind as to convey this on my behalf. Just say that an old acquaintance has come to call — there is no reason she would refuse to see them.”

Rong Chen Zi took it and looked — it was a short conical blade, entirely transparent, and exceedingly delicate. Guessing at the nature of the relationship between this man and He Bang, he felt, for no clear reason, a slight restlessness — though not a trace of it showed on his face. He carried the blade to find He Bang.

He Bang had fallen drowsy after eating, and was at this moment asleep on Rong Chen Zi’s bed. Rong Chen Zi shook her awake, and without a word, handed her the blade from within his robes. She blinked in mild surprise, then took it and turned it over in both hands. From how familiar she seemed with it, it was clearly once her own possession. Rong Chen Zi noticed, to his own quiet displeasure, a faint thread of annoyance stir within him. His voice came out cool: “This person is here in the temple now. If you wish…”

He had not finished speaking when He Bang cut him off: “This was a gift from my master — I lost it some time ago. How did Zhiguan come to have it?”

Rong Chen Zi had assumed there must be some entanglement between the two, but had not expected her to be this indifferent to the man — she had not even asked about him. He could not quite determine what the quiet flicker of hope in his own chest was hoping for: “Someone sent this object over, and wishes to invite you to come out and meet them.”

He Bang pressed the conical blade beneath her pillow, drew Rong Chen Zi’s hand, and lay back down: “Didn’t you say I wasn’t supposed to go wandering around? He returned a found item — please thank him on my behalf, Zhiguan.”

Rong Chen Zi was pulled down toward her, bent at the waist. Her eyes shone like spring water, her cheeks rosy from ample sleep, and she was smiling brightly as she leaned up to kiss the tip of Rong Chen Zi’s nose. “Zhiguan, I want you to keep me company while I sleep.”

Rong Chen Zi did not know why he had not dodged — and she had kissed him squarely. He touched the tip of his nose, and only then did a trace of warmth enter his voice: “There are guests in the hall, and as Zhiguan, I cannot leave them unattended. Since you don’t wish to come out, be good and sleep. I will come check on you a little later.”

He Bang was very well-behaved today, and did not cling or make a fuss. She simply closed her eyes and went back to sleep. Rong Chen Zi kept watch at her bedside for a moment longer before leaving the private chamber.

At noon, Ye Tian brought congee. He Bang had been eating congee for meal after meal, and her appetite was declining by the day — she could barely finish half a bowl in several sittings. Rong Chen Zi said nothing of it aloud, but inwardly he was worried. It was for this reason that he had been asking Qingyin to vary the congee recipes, and he had even turned a blind eye to Qingyin’s secret business of making fish broth with the three-eyed snake. Ye Tian had lived in the palace for a time and knew a thing or two about liquid foods. She had asked Qingyin to prepare a bowl of honey-rose drink to send over. The moment she carried it to the bedside, He Bang’s eyes lit up and she let out a sound of delight. Her injuries had begun to mend, and Ye Tian no longer needed to feed her. She set the tray across He Bang’s lap and let her drink on her own. Watching her drink with such evident pleasure, Ye Tian suddenly spoke: “This time — have you truly made up your mind to follow my senior brother?”

He Bang was entirely unabashed: “Mm-hmm! Zhiguan is a good person — I like him!”

Ye Tian let out a cold snort: “No more deceiving him, and no more making him cut himself to feed you with his blood. Otherwise, I will make sure you regret it!”

He Bang paid her threat no mind and gave an answer that was wildly beside the point: “Damn it all, I’m a demon who keeps her word — I’ll let him feel me up every single day!”

Ye Tian looked at her wolfing down her food with an expression of pure disdain: “I genuinely have no idea what my senior brother sees in you!”

Rong Chen Zi returned to the reception hall. Upon learning that He Bang declined to come out, Jiang Haoran’s expression grew somewhat downcast: “So she is still angry with me. But I wonder — how are her injuries?”

Rong Chen Zi’s words carried a pointed undertone: “Your honored couple need not concern yourselves — her injuries are no longer a serious matter.”

At the word “couple,” Jiang Haoran’s face colored slightly, though he moved to correct it with deliberate calm: “She is not my wife. This is my inner cultivator, Gao Bixin.”

Rong Chen Zi offered his repeated apologies. After the group exchanged some pleasantries, Rong Chen Zi excused himself and withdrew. He had arranged three guest rooms, but Qingxuan — the little schemer — assigned only one room to both Jiang Haoran and Gao Bixin, and delivered the news in the most agreeable possible terms: “Master knows that martial cultivators and inner cultivators are inseparable. And as times are troubled, having Patron Gao and Patron Jiang share a room will give our master much greater peace of mind.”

The moment the door was shut, Gao Bixin’s voice could be heard from inside: “You keep talking about coming here to deal with the serpents, but your feet were barely steady and you were already asking after her!”

Qingxuan clapped his hands with satisfaction — just try and compete with our master for He Bang, just you try…

As evening fell, He Bang wanted to soak in water. Rong Chen Zi, seeing that her injuries had improved somewhat, instructed Qingxuan to bring some hot water. She transformed into a large gray-black river clam and soaked in the water. Qingxuan stood to one side, in full, resonant voice: “Master, Patron Gao Bixin also requested hot water and a large bathing tub, and says she and Patron Jiang intend to bathe together.”

He was spreading a perfectly shameless rumor, and Rong Chen Zi shot him a fierce look. The river clam, meanwhile, let out a contented sigh — and then had a further demand: “Zhiguan, scrub the shell.”

Rong Chen Zi helped her scrub her shell. She extended her soft muscular foot to tease his finger. Rong Chen Zi extended a fingertip inside her shell — and then suddenly noticed she had grown much thinner. The shell that had once felt snugly occupied now felt like a vast and cavernous dwelling.