In the dead of night, for a coffin one had brought oneself to suddenly emit the sound of a woman’s laughter — how terrifying a thing that was.
The few guests still in the old inn, already fearful, now shrank into themselves even further, not daring to breathe too loudly, cold sweat drenching their bodies until every hair stood on end, countable one by one.
A few of the more timid ones simply wet themselves on the spot.
The old man who’d been discovered up on the wall, his hidden mechanism exposed, came swaying down to the ground. By the light of the bonfires filling the courtyard, everyone looked closely and saw — sure enough, there really was a rope tied around his back.
No wonder he’d seemed like a ghost — a whole courtyard full of jianghu wanderers hadn’t been able to catch his movements.
This old man wore a long robe of blue silk, had refined, handsome features, an upright bearing, and hair white as silver. Before he’d been caught in the act, he looked every bit an immortal sage; now that he’d been caught, he was every bit a hypocrite.
And this shameless old man, once his feet touched ground, immediately said, “Ah well, I’m getting old, not what I used to be… climbing mountains at my age with a rope harness isn’t easy anymore. You won’t even let me hang up a rope? Come on out here, you—”
Before he could even finish speaking, he suddenly struck out at one of the coffins. In the space of an instant, the coffin shattered into several pieces, and a figure shot backward at tremendous speed. By the time everyone in the courtyard looked closely, they were startled all over again.
This was no young girl at all — it was an old woman, not very tall, her face a mass of wrinkles, dressed in burial clothes and burial shoes.
The old woman shot out, first retreating up onto the wooden wall, then using the leverage from a kick off it to launch both palms toward one of the bonfires. The fire exploded instantly, a fireball wrapped in sparks bursting toward the old man with a boom.
The old man had clearly been prepared. He stamped his foot and struck rapidly at the airborne fireball with both palms several times. In the span of a breath, no one in the courtyard even saw when the old woman had wrapped herself into the fireball — they only heard the rapid clap-clap-clap of palms and legs meeting, sparks scattering across the sky.
Old as the two of them clearly were, there wasn’t a shred of showy flourish in how they fought — every punch and kick was a killing strike, with no wasted movement at all. Yet in truth, the two of them were being rather courteous with each other, since both were aiming above the neck — which, in its own way, counted as fair and aboveboard.
Xin Yijian watched, utterly enthralled, and said to Xie Ximu, “Kid, don’t look down on the so-called Boxing Kings and Mountain-Splitting Palms of today’s jianghu — none of that amounts to much. If you want to talk about real skill, it’s the stuff from the old generations that really looks impressive.”
But in his heart, Xie Ximu thought: this was nothing compared to what he’d seen his father do with a blade, or what his mother did to Gaoxing — these two wouldn’t even survive one strike from his father’s blade.
Thinking of this, the boy found himself a little homesick.
The moves exchanged in the courtyard were fierce and biting, but perhaps because of their age, or because the firewood that had fallen produced thicker black smoke, the two elders suddenly began coughing.
Amid the coughing, the old woman flew back to stand by the coffin next to Xie Ximu. Wearing a pair of white burial shoes embroidered with cranes, she didn’t bother landing on the ground, instead settling herself right atop the coffin’s head, and, opening her mouth in a girlish voice again, giggled:
“Hee hee, cough cough~ Old fellow, if you’re just passing through our territory, then pass through — no one’s stopping you. You’re a man of renown too, Master Shibo, righteous and chivalrous your whole life — how have you come, in your old age, to learn the tricks of us old ghosts? And why must you bully the children at my grave mound?”
Having had his identity exposed like this, the old man’s face couldn’t help but look embarrassed, though he wasn’t about to lose the verbal exchange, so he sneered, “Heh, you young ones have no manners — even if your ancestors came, I’d still have something to say. Cough, cough. And who might I be speaking with? None other than the Six Ghosts of Fengshan, from beneath Fengshan, where ten went in and none came out. You lot are still alive?”
The moment the old man announced this name, a collective gasp went up around him.
Xin Yijian’s expression changed dramatically as well, and he leaned in close to Xie Ximu’s ear to whisper, “Kid, be careful — this is a great villain whose reputation has spanned nearly a sixty-year cycle in the jianghu! The Six Ghosts of Fengshan!”
Xie Ximu blinked at this, and asked back in a low voice, full of curiosity, “Really? A villain? How villainous?”
This was rather an odd angle to question from, and it left Xin Yijian stumped — the Six Ghosts of Fengshan had left the jianghu before he was even born; how would he know what evils they’d committed?
As for the local jianghu folk, having heard so many legends of the Six Ghosts of Fengshan, in that instant even the gap-toothed Zhang Qixing clapped a hand over his mouth and shrank far away.
He was a man several feet tall, and he couldn’t quite understand why he was cowering — hadn’t he claimed not to fear even death? So why did his legs suddenly feel so weak beneath him?
The old woman called the Six Ghosts of Fengshan laughed, an eerie, spectral laugh brushing across everyone’s faces. On her ugly, deeply wrinkled face, a trace of bashfulness appeared, and she waved a hand casually. “What Six Ghosts of Fengshan, oh please — it’s been so many years, and you’re not dead yet, so why can’t we have even half a ghost left among us? There’s… there’s only this old woman left, just one ghost…”
Having said this, the old woman’s expression suddenly tightened, and she turned toward the corner of the courtyard, addressing the utterly bewildered, thoroughly innocent-looking, dazed young innkeeper Genbao: “Speaking of which, old thing, wait just a moment — this stinking brat and I have an account to settle. I said, you little grave-toppling wretch! Your family has such a big courtyard, and if you’re so restless, can’t you find yourself a fresh spot? Instead you go relieve yourself by this old woman’s grave mound every single day. If it weren’t out of respect for your grandfather, this old woman would—”
She spread her palm as if about to strike. The innkeeper’s wife was quick-witted and hurried over to shield Genbao, first turning to give her son a small slap, then turning back with an ingratiating smile. “My mistake, my mistake! Old Madam, the child doesn’t know better. I bring you meals every single day — why didn’t you say something sooner?”
The moment she spoke, the whole courtyard gasped again.
So — this century-old inn was actually run by descendants of the Six Ghosts of Fengshan?
The old woman looked a bit conflicted at this, her raised hand hesitating, before finally speaking honestly: “What’s there to say earlier? Once you’re old like this, maybe you get lonely. This old woman keeps thinking, when can I go home?
I’ve been a ghost my whole life, and I still haven’t even seen the Bridge of Forgetting, haven’t even seen King Yama’s hall… And now, with just this one lonely ghost left, what do I do all day? Besides waiting to be reincarnated, all I do is wait for this little one to come by, you know, and this child of yours, oh my! Don’t get me wrong, he’s not the least bit like his great-grandfather — silly boy sneaks food from the kitchen and eats it behind my grave. Whatever he does, he does it back there. He’s all grown up and still hasn’t figured out to pick a different spot…”
As old as she was, and dressed in burial clothes no less, whenever she opened her mouth it came out in this coquettish, girlish tone — which was somehow even more terrifying.
Sure enough, someone off to the side started sniffling, and after a couple sobs, covered both his eyes and ears himself.
The young innkeeper Genbao wasn’t young anymore — he’d already started looking for a matchmaker to find a wife. And here he was, being talked about like this in front of so many people; in that moment he wished only for death.
He thought of how, since childhood, he’d always squatted with his bare bottom at that mound behind the courtyard, doing his business… and now he was filled with despair, wanting nothing more to do with being human anymore.
The old man called Master Shibo, having heard the two women chatting on about household matters, cut them off, and after looking the innkeeper’s wife over a few times, asked the old woman, “Ghost Mother of Fengshan, I find this girl’s face somewhat familiar — whose descendant is she?”
A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd — so this old woman really was the Ghost Mother of Fengshan, one of the Six Ghosts of Fengshan.
Especially among the locals — as children, when they wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, or stayed out wild and wouldn’t come home, their families would scare them, saying: Hurry up, or the Ghost Mother of Fengshan will come catch you, the Ghost Mother of Fengshan will come eat you… A nightmare of a memory, truly, and now they retreated several more steps, huddling together.
Among ghosts, a ghost mother was supposed to eat children — though this one was rather picky, and in fact only ate her own children.
This time, the Ghost Mother didn’t giggle. Instead she began to cackle, a laugh like an owl’s cry in the night, and once she’d finished, said in a rather smug tone, “Blind old man, can’t you tell? This is Dao Lao’s great-granddaughter — look at those proper features, so much like my old brother, that hooked nose, that big mouth that could eat from all directions…”
The poor innkeeper’s wife could only cover her face in misery.
Hearing this, Master Shibo sighed with a touch of nostalgia. “To think Dao Lao still has descendants after all… well, well, so it is, so it is… enough, enough.”
He looked deeply at the Ghost Mother once more, then reached back and gave a tug on the rope behind him. Before long, the person outside was pulling him away.
Wait — was that really it? He was just leaving?
The whole courtyard watched in disbelief as the old man drifted off, ghost-like and inhuman, until he vanished without a trace. Only then did the innkeeper’s wife ask curiously, “Old Madam, he — he’s really gone, just like that?”
The Ghost Mother waved her hand impatiently. “Should I have kept him around for you to look after in his old age? It’s hard enough for me to get one hot meal out of you. Hmph~ that old hypocrite!
Back in the day he owed a debt of gratitude to Jiuzhouyu — well, it wasn’t that big a debt, ancient history, not worth mentioning now. Anyway, the point is, that old bastard felt he had to intervene, had to protect Jiuzhouyu’s reputation. He’s not stupid — why else would he still be hanging around?”
Having said this, the old woman looked at the fearful faces filling the courtyard and cackled again, as if she hadn’t seen an expression of mingled terror and awe like this in years — she seemed rather pleased with herself. But partway through her laughter, her gaze fell on Xie Ximu’s face, brimming with excitement.
Sure enough, this foolish child wasn’t the least bit afraid — he was looking her up and down with fresh curiosity and interest instead.
So the old woman stopped laughing and lowered her head to ask Xie Ximu, “Little one, you’re not afraid of me? I’m a ghost, you know~ They say I eat children — didn’t you know that?”
What kind of question was that? Xie Ximu was startled for a moment, and paying no mind to Xin Yijian’s guarded expression, nodded honestly and said, “Old Madam, this junior is from out of town, and, well, I haven’t heard about your ghostly deeds before. Ahem, actually, looking at you, Old Madam, you have such kind, gentle features — not fierce at all.”
Just like my own family’s Old Ancestor — both of them just as childlike.
Xie Ximu grew more and more like his father as he got older — born with the kind of handsome face women naturally adored. And this old woman, having spent all her days on the mountain surrounded by what kind of company — who doesn’t love a pretty face? And so she immediately warmed to him. She almost laughed out loud, but remembering she barely had a few teeth left, grew shy and covered her mouth as she laughed. “You little life-claiming rascal, aren’t you sweet-tongued? You’re a scholarly type, aren’t you?”
What kind of question was that? Xie Ximu felt, in that instant, as if all the grandmothers from the alleys behind Quanhou Street had gathered together, and so he warmed to her in turn, saying gently, “Yes, I have studied for a few years.”
The old woman’s legs were short; pleased, she tapped the coffin board with her burial shoe. “Just as I thought! Just as I thought — this can’t be far off, this child clearly has a bright future ahead…” Suddenly recalling something, she fell into the classic old-woman affliction of asking, “Little brother, how many people are in your family? What does your family do? Have you taken a wife yet…”
Xie Ximu looked thoroughly embarrassed, thinking to himself: so it turns out old women everywhere are just like this.
The innkeeper’s wife, listening with embarrassment, finally couldn’t help but say, “Old Madam, why are you asking him that?”
Hearing this, the Ghost Mother scolded her a little angrily. “You short-lived thing, you’ve got property and business, your rice vat in the back kitchen is three feet deep, and your Grandmother Pipa’s eldest granddaughter is already nineteen, she—”
The innkeeper’s wife protested irritably, “She what? She barely knows her characters! Don’t go matchmaking recklessly — they’re not a match, not the same sort of people at all! Don’t go stirring up trouble — let’s hurry inside, now that you’ve finally come out, I’ll heat you up a tub of hot water and give you a good scrub-down, let’s get you all freshened up…”
Not wanting a bath, the Ghost Mother muttered, “You, you even know how to matchmake now, hmph~ I, I won’t bathe!”
Grumbling this, she lowered her head and kept pressing Xie Ximu. “Little brother, where are you from?”
Xie Ximu sidestepped the question and instead asked with a smile, “Old Madam, they say you’re… a villain?”
Xin Yijian was instantly filled with despair.
Even the Ghost Mother was stumped by this question from the young man. She blinked, tilted her head back to look at the sky as if recalling something, and after a long silence, slowly lowered her head and smiled at Xie Ximu. “Little brother, do you think I’m a villain?”
Xie Ximu shook his head frankly. “You don’t seem like one. And you’re not one.”
The Ghost Mother cackled again, though without her usual gleeful abandon, her nostrils flaring a few times before she pointed at the meat roasting by the fire and said, “This won’t do — hurry and turn it over, what a waste that would be, it’s about to burn.”
Having said this, she scolded the local jianghu folk gathered around with some irritation. “A bunch of useless things, bullied like this by some outsider old man, and you don’t even know where he’s gone? Hurry back and eat already — not afraid of death itself, yet afraid of this old bag of bones about to return to the wheel of reincarnation…”
After this scolding, Zhang Qixing and the others could do nothing but shuffle back to the bonfire, trembling all the while, at a complete loss for what to do — though they were rather impressed watching this pale-necked young master win the old woman’s favor so easily, truly admiring his fearlessness.
People really are different from one another.
Xie Ximu personally cut off the tenderest piece of venison, placed it on a clean board, and offered it to the old woman, saying, “This piece is quite good. Old Madam, would you like some?”
The old woman looked down at him and shook her head with a smile. “No thank you. A creature born to atone for sins doesn’t deserve such fine things. And besides, I’ve got no teeth left — can’t chew it anymore, long since past that. You’re young, this is the time for you to enjoy such things. Go on, eat up.”
She Ximu set the plate down, pointed to his own back molars, and smiled too. “You’re just like my own family’s Old Ancestor. She lost half her teeth the year before last — can’t chew her food anymore, doesn’t enjoy meals anymore, and says there’s no point living like this anymore…”
Every last child from Qinwei Lane, without exception, was a master at cheering up old women.
The Ghost Mother found this remark deeply agreeable, and clapped her hands. “Exactly right — if food doesn’t taste good, even being a ghost loses its charm…”
It was really just an ordinary old woman’s complaint, and yet it put everyone around them completely at ease.
And recalling what the Ghost Mother had just said — that they didn’t even fear death, so why fear an old woman — well, that settled it, didn’t it?
And so the fear passed, and everyone went back to eating and drinking, though no one dared raise their voices too loudly.
The innkeeper’s wife looked at her foolish son, saw him standing there silently with his head down, and smiled as she pushed him toward her husband’s side, thinking that tonight, no matter what, there were some things that needed to be explained to the children.
Once the father and son had gone off, the innkeeper’s wife pulled a half-broken wooden comb from inside her robe, climbed up onto the coffin, knelt down, and carefully combed out the Ghost Mother’s disheveled hair.
For all her age, the Ghost Mother had a fine head of white hair, long and flowing when let down.
Watching the two of them carry on like this made Zhang Qixing quite uncomfortable — this was, after all, someone’s coffin.
He felt in his heart that it was inauspicious, but he didn’t dare object either. Just then, he heard the terrifying Ghost Mother ask, in a rather affectionate tone, “Xianhua, are you going up there tomorrow too?”
So the innkeeper’s wife’s name was Xianhua.
The innkeeper’s wife’s hand paused on the comb, and she said with a smile, “Mm, it’s all been arranged. Genbao’s father isn’t going, so I’ve, I’ve prepared a coffin.”
The Ghost Mother smiled. “You, well then, that settles it. For hundreds of li around, I’m the only old thing still hanging on here — the coffin’s ready-made anyway.”
The innkeeper’s wife, unhurried, kept braiding the hair, humming in agreement, looking every bit the same as any unassuming, virtuous housewife from the back alleys.
Xie Ximu watched this mother-and-son pair with curiosity — they were nothing like what he’d imagined jianghu people to be. Not quite as good as he’d thought, but not quite as bad either — really, they were just ordinary people.
Hearing that the Ghost Mother and the innkeeper’s wife were going too, everyone grew somber. Zhang Qixing licked at the gap where his tooth was missing, saying nothing, but got up, filled a bowl of wine, and offered it up to the Ghost Mother with both hands.
The Ghost Mother, quite pleased, pointed at herself and asked, “For me? This is for me?”
Zhang Qixing nodded.
But the Ghost Mother shook her head. “Can’t drink it, never had it before, and it’s such an expensive thing besides. Just pour this old woman a bowl of water instead — I’m actually a bit thirsty.”
Overjoyed at this, Zhang Qixing nodded repeatedly, tipped his head back and drank the bowl of wine himself, then took the empty bowl over to the fire and scalded it thoroughly several times before carefully bringing back a bowl of hot water to offer to the Ghost Mother.
And so the Ghost Mother took the water, savoring the attentiveness of her juniors as she began recounting some old stories.
“If we’re talking about Jiuzhouyu, back in the day, that really was a good place for good people to live.”
Seeing the disbelief on the younger ones’ faces by the fire, she laughed. “You foolish young ones have only suffered a few years of hardship — at least once you were old enough to hold your own, you had some uprising come along to save you, and from then on you had good days. But back then, what did we have? Nothing at all!”
She wet her lips with the water. “The kind of hardship we knew back then, you couldn’t even imagine. Ah well, no point going on about it — you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway…”
“We want to hear it! We want to hear it!”
Xie Ximu, looking like someone with absolutely no knowledge of the world’s hardships, quickly urged her on when he saw the old woman hesitate.
This old woman, in truth, was just waiting for someone to egg her on — and luckily, she’d found a good audience.
And so she said, “You really want to hear it?”
Everyone around nodded eagerly, and the Ghost Mother, giving them face, spoke as though she had no choice in the matter. “All right, fine, let me tell it then… Back in those days, that Emperor Youdi was no good at all — actually his father and grandfather were even more disgusting. Anyway, that whole family was rotten to the core, couldn’t get anything right, always up to no good — that family of bastards did more harm to the world than anyone.
Take our area around Fenglan Mountain — in my whole life as an old woman, the most human presence I’ve ever seen has been these past ten-odd years. All these people coming up the mountain, traveling far, staying at inns — only now does it feel like a place fit for the living. Before, what did people call this place? They called it Ghost Mountain…”
Someone choked on their wine but didn’t dare cough loudly, just suppressed it quietly.
“Back then… back then, there was never this kind of liveliness, never! And you all say Jiuzhouyu was so great — well, back in those days, the only ones who dared talk back to the imperial court weren’t the Huguo Temple monks, who were just farmers, after all — it was truly Jiuzhouyu who kept things in check.”
Reaching this point, the Ghost Mother, seeing the disbelief on the young ones’ faces, laughed. “I’m not lying to you. Back then there were villains up in the mountains, but the officials in the government offices weren’t even as good as the villains — they were a whole pack of living hell-demons!”
Someone else broke into violent coughing.
The Ghost Mother, oblivious, went on. “What were people supposed to do when they truly couldn’t survive? What were they supposed to do with injustices they’d suffered? Back then, if you managed to find Jiuzhouyu, they really would come out and settle things for you. That’s why, back then, even the imperial court feared Jiuzhouyu — because they really had fought them before… heh, that useless bunch lost every single time, and from then on the people stopped believing in the court at all…”
Hearing this, Xie Ximu couldn’t help but ask curiously, “If it’s as you say, Old Madam, then Jiuzhouyu really wasn’t bad at all.”
“Wasn’t bad!” The Ghost Mother laughed, smacking her lips. “Such childish talk. Whether a person is good or not, you can tell over time. But whether a particular matter was right or wrong depends on when you’re looking at it. Take now, for instance — what injustice in this world today is worth your whole sect coming out to disturb this peace?”
Xin Yijian, recalling something old Xin Ye had once said, chimed in, “This junior did hear an elder in the family say that, back then, if Jiuzhouyu had rebelled, it would simply have rebelled.”
He didn’t understand — if Jiuzhouyu’s reputation was so good, why had they never rebelled in the first place?
The Ghost Mother scoffed. “Maybe because the likes of us who suffered weren’t worth it to them. Living the good life as mountain deities, when they did come out it was only to act righteously and catch the likes of us — heterodox demons and monsters. Hmph~ a bunch of old bastards!
Just when this world could barely manage a bowl of rice to eat, they had to come out and knock the pot over…” The Ghost Mother pointed at the mountain nearby with a bitter laugh. “Back in our day, that was truly unbearable — words can’t even describe how unbearable it was!”
As bitter as her words were, her expression remained rather open and easy. “I don’t even remember exactly when it was — three or five years old? Six or seven? Anyway, there was a year when half the village starved to death. My mother woke us up crying in the middle of the night, saying people were going to starve to death. The elders in the clan discussed it and decided to send us children out — my mother told my older brothers to take us and run, so we ran…”
Xie Ximu had heard of the practice of exchanging children to eat during famines, and shuddered.
But the Ghost Mother spoke as though it were nothing. “That’s just how it was back then. We were scared out of our minds, and somehow ended up on Fenglan Mountain. Pipa’s older brother said there seemed to be an old grave mound that someone had dug a robbery tunnel into, and to hide from our own clan, we crawled inside… and that’s how we had our strange encounter, and from then on… we became ghosts.”
Reaching this point, she suddenly giggled again, looking at Zhang Qixing and the others, faces full of curiosity, and said, “Do you know how we got our nickname?”
Seeing Zhang Qixing and the others shake their heads, she laughed and said, “Heh! It’s not that we were young, or that we couldn’t hunt wild animals — we just went around digging up graves looking for things to trade for food down the mountain. That winter was bitterly cold, and we were freezing, so we put on the burial clothes buried with the newly dead, and snuck down the mountain under cover of darkness.
As it happened, that night an escort caravan was passing through Fenglan Mountain. By rights, it should have been us children who were afraid of them — but who could have guessed, the moment they saw us, they screamed ‘Ghosts!’ and dropped everything and ran. It was only then that we realized — in those days, it was better to be a ghost than a person.”
Xie Ximu thought this over deeply, swallowed, and said, “And so, from then on, you all became the Six Ghosts of Fengshan?”
Having finally finished arranging the Ghost Mother’s hair, the innkeeper’s wife smiled and said, “That’s right! My grandfather used to say, while he was alive, that pretending to be ghosts was a fine thing — you didn’t even have to spill blood, just give people a good scare and there was profit in it. But still, it was a sin, so to atone for it, the lot of them ate nothing but vegetarian food for the rest of their lives, never touching meat again.”
The jianghu wanderers exchanged stunned glances — so the vicious ghosts that had terrified them half their lives had come about like this? For a moment, their hearts were filled with a complicated, indescribable feeling, and the human world suddenly felt even less real to them.
But that night was not an easy one for Xie Ximu either. He had a nightmare, seeing hazily a group of children running, running, while their own family members chased after them with kitchen cleavers raised… Before dawn broke, he heard the old inn’s wooden door creak open.
He sat up in the carriage, and, cold sweat covering his head, lifted the curtain to look out, and saw torches gathered in the courtyard. In the firelight, the Ghost Mother sat cross-legged atop an old coffin, while the young innkeeper Genbao stood quietly sobbing.
The innkeeper’s wife, called Xianhua, gave him a smack and said, choked up herself, “What are you crying for! All grown up and still crying — your mother isn’t even dead for sure yet, and you’re already crying as if for a funeral!”
Having said this, she put on a set of hemp mourning clothes, climbed onto the cart, and personally drove it, pulling the coffin out with her.
Xie Ximu got up hurriedly too and said, “Uncle Yi, follow — let’s follow along.”
Xin Yijian had been waiting for exactly this, and smiled as he climbed sideways onto the cart, driving the mule cart to follow at the rear of the procession.
Genbao was crying his heart out, and in the midst of his grief he heard the young master say to him, “Ah well, don’t cry. Your mother will be back before you know it…”
After that, those people set off…
Once they entered the mountain, they all raised their torches high, and the torches scattered across the mountainside looked like fire-serpents coiling through the peaks, coming from all directions, circling round and round without pause.
Genbao watched, transfixed, and then heard his father say, “Don’t be sad. Your mother will definitely come back. Didn’t you hear the noble lord say so? Your mother will come back…”
Before dawn had fully broken, the sky still dim and dark, the tower ship should have docked by now — but where had the old pier of Yiyuan Commandery gone?
Bai Ruyi and the monk Sikuo, growing uneasy, waded ashore to see what had happened.
Once on shore, they looked around in every direction, but saw only empty wilderness — an old pier without a single plank of wood left, desolate as though no human had ever set foot there.
Bai Ruyi said to Sikuo, “Monk, I heard them say the pier at Yiyuan Commandery has several hundred years of history? Is this the place?”
No one answered from behind him. Bai Ruyi turned to look for his companion, and saw Sikuo crouched on the ground, doing something or other.
He walked over to look, and saw Sikuo pulling a few things that looked like foxtail grass out of a clump of wild grass by the shore.
He asked, “Monk, what are you doing?”
Sikuo said, “My master said this humble monk is the most foolish, and might therefore achieve great things.”
Bai Ruyi had no idea what the monk was getting at.
Sikuo dug up a clump of damp earth from the ground and wrapped it around the roots of the foxtail grass, then carefully cupped it in his hands as he stood and said, “This humble monk was just thinking — since there’s nothing else we’re good at anyway, we might as well focus on just this one thing from now on.”
He held up the grass in his hand. “This is Yiyuan wild rice-grass — a bit different from the kind back home in Yandu, seems a bit sturdier than ours. This humble monk wants to go back and sort it out properly…”
Saying this, he looked around again in the dim light, and for the moment, whatever concerns he’d had about the young prince’s safety, or the troubles of Jiuzhouyu, he’d set aside and forgotten entirely.
All he could think about now was going back and putting this wild rice-grass together with the family’s own rice stock, sorting it out — perhaps he could cultivate a new strain of seed grain from it.
While he was still searching, Sikuo suddenly heard someone shout from the tower ship, unable to dock: “Quick, come look! Look over there on the mountain — what is that?”
And so everyone turned as one to look toward Fenglan Mountain.
She Wanlin, too, had been stirred by the commotion, and threw on his robe as he pushed open the window…
The torches on Fenglan Mountain glittered there like scattered stars.