Ni Su had never been as bedraggled as she was now—sheltering in a ruined temple, curled up in a pile of dry grass, pillowing her head on withered stalks as she quietly endured the long night.
That white candle lay forlorn on the ground. Ni Su stared at it, inevitably recalling that in nearly every supernatural tale she had read, ghosts consumed incense candles and absorbed vital essence.
But he was not like that.
She turned over, and the dry grass beneath rustled. Ni Su saw that the person outside the door had somehow already seated himself on the steps, his back lonely and bamboo-straight, sometimes thick and sometimes faint, as if he might dissolve into the mountain mist at any moment.
Before she knew it, Ni Su seemed to doze lightly, or perhaps she had merely closed her eyes in a daze for a while. When the sky showed the pale light of dawn and morning light spread across her eyelids, she alertly opened her eyes.
The early morning mist hung lightly, carrying a damp quality. Ni Su stepped out of the temple entrance and looked around, but didn’t see the man who had sat alone on the steps the previous night. Occasionally a breeze brushed her cheek. Ni Su heard the horse’s breathing and immediately went down to unhitch the animal.
The carriage contained belongings Nanny Qian had packed for Ni Su, including her jewelry and clothing, books she commonly read, and ink she regularly used, but none were convenient to bring now.
Ni Zong couldn’t possibly let her go easily, so Ni Su decided not to hire another coachman. Better to travel light and temporarily hide these things.
She only took the essential medical texts, the banknotes Cen Shi had given her, and a set of gold needles.
Que County also had places for horse riding. Ni Su had gone with Ni Qinglan before, though she had only watched him and his scholar friends ride horses, never actually riding herself.
She remembered her brother planting his foot in the stirrup and swinging onto the horse in one smooth motion, but now as she tried to imitate him, the horse refused to cooperate. Its tail swished back and forth, and its hooves stamped restlessly.
Ni Su struggled with the stirrup, unable to mount or dismount, working up sweat at her temples. Rustling sounds came from the forest. She suddenly felt a cool breeze supporting her, easily lifting her onto the horse’s back.
The morning sun’s golden light scattered about. The young, pale man stood to one side. Sensing her gaze, he lightly raised those eyes that were much clearer than the previous night. His slender fingers grasped the reins, his hand gently stroking the horse’s mane. “Horses are spiritual animals. To control one, you must first befriend it.”
Ni Su said nothing, only watching as he gently stroked the horse and pulled the reins forward. The horse truly seemed less restless and obediently followed him.
Somehow, watching him stroke the horse’s mane, Ni Su detected something different about him, as if this were a motion he had repeated countless times before.
He led the horse to where the grass grew lush. Ni Su saw it eagerly lower its head to graze and suddenly understood—from last night until this morning, she hadn’t fed it.
Ni Su grasped the reins he handed her. “Thank you.”
Early morning always brought scattered farmers from nearby villages up the mountain to gather firewood. Ni Su rode slowly along the mountain path. Meeting an old man, she asked a few simple questions and confirmed she had indeed taken the wrong road.
On the road to Bridge Town, Ni Su gradually mastered the essentials of horseback riding. Though she didn’t dare go too fast, she wasn’t too slow either. She didn’t linger long in Bridge Town, only buying some dry rations before continuing her journey.
Her mother’s recent death weighed on Ni Su’s heart, and the news that her brother might be suffering from soul-separation sickness pressed down on her until she could barely breathe. Ni Su wished she could travel day and night to reach Yunjing quickly.
But traveling at night was ultimately inadvisable. When Ni Su sat by a stream eating hard, dry flatbread, she was picked up by a farmwoman returning from gathering firewood on the mountain and taken home.
“Miss, you’ve come at a good time. The daughter-in-law across the way is giving birth right now. We might be setting out a feast tonight.” The farmwoman’s home had no tea leaves. She scooped a bowl of water with a gourd ladle for Ni Su.
Ni Su thanked her and gave all the malt candy she carried to the farmwoman’s little daughter. The girl was losing her baby teeth. Receiving the candy, she smiled brilliantly at Ni Su, revealing gums missing two front teeth.
“Changsheng? Changsheng…”
An elderly woman emerged from inside, trembling and unsteady, her clouded eyes not knowing where to look, calling a name over and over.
The farmwoman quickly set aside her work, gently coaxing while escorting the old woman back to her room. Only after quite a while did she emerge again.
“My husband was swept away by floodwaters while repairing the river embankment last year. My mother-in-law was so traumatized that she often forgets her son is gone.” The farmwoman smiled, voluntarily mentioning her family’s situation.
Seeing Ni Su’s uncertain expression, the farmwoman continued while doing her embroidery work, “Fortunately, Minister Meng was still an official here last year. The relief funds from the court weren’t embezzled by those damned thieves, so I didn’t have to remarry and use the betrothal money to support my mother-in-law.”
Ni Su had heard of this Minister Meng.
Meng Yunxian came from military ranks but later became a civil official. In Great Qi where literati governed the country, he had claimed a place for himself. In his early years, he rose to vice minister and oversaw new policies, but fourteen years ago the new policies were abolished and Meng Yunxian was dismissed and demoted to the small Wen County.
“Sister Jiang, Minister Meng is no longer in Wen County this year?” Ni Su held her bowl and asked.
“He left a few months ago. I heard the Emperor changed his mind and recalled Minister Meng to Yunjing. This time it seems he’ll formally become prime minister.” Lady Jiang sometimes found dishwashing work at wine shops and teahouses in Wen County. She had heard these things from those crowded, gossipy places.
Under the blazing sun, beneath a canopy of deep green shade, a cool breeze blew. Sunlight filtering through gaps in branches and leaves fell in fragments on Xu Hexue’s shoulders.
The words “Minister Meng” reached his ears. He opened his eyes.
The cicadas were too close, clamoring incessantly.
“Zhang Chongzhi, he is your student. You should understand his character better than I. Even if you made him kneel here until death today, it would be hard to change his will! A young bird grows wings and wishes to fly against the torrent. Even as his teacher, how can you stop him?”
A summer evening, on Yunjing’s Yong’an Lake, in the Xiechun Pavilion—a fourteen-year-old boy kneeling on the steps heard this and looked up. The sound of waves rose and fell. Two scholars in wide robes glared at each other in argument, their silhouettes enduring.
Miscellaneous sounds beneath the tree recalled Xu Hexue to his senses. He lifted his eyelids slightly and saw the young woman who had just been sitting at the table hurriedly set down her bowl and run with Lady Jiang toward the house across the way.
Ni Su didn’t get to wait for the feast, all because the daughter-in-law at that household was having a difficult birth. Hearing the seated midwife inside the room cry out “Not good,” the woman’s husband immediately panicked and hurried to fetch a doctor, but was stopped by his own mother: “Son, how can we let those doctors go in and examine your wife?”
“But Yueliang…” The man was blocked by his old mother, sweating profusely in anxiety. “What about Yueliang? What about my son?”
“I’ll take a look.”
Ni Su had no intention of watching this family’s struggle any longer. Rolling up her sleeves with just one statement, she washed her hands and entered the room.
Everyone looked at each other, unable to recall whose family that girl belonged to.
“Lady Jiang, who is that girl?”
Someone noticed she had come with Lady Jiang and moved closer to ask.
“Well,” Lady Jiang wiped her temple with the back of her hand. She had just picked up this girl by the roadside—how would she have had time to ask about her family? “Her surname is Ni. She’s just passing through.”
A woman who had followed inside came running out. “She seems to be a medicine woman!”
What? A medicine woman?
Everyone looked at each other again. Lady Jiang also looked astonished. “What medicine woman is that young? She looks no more than fifteen or sixteen.”
Her manner also didn’t seem like a child from an ordinary farming family, but rather like a fallen gentlewoman. Yet what gentlewoman would do such work as a medicine woman?
The sky gradually darkened. People outside had waited a long time when they finally heard a baby’s cry. The woman’s husband felt the taut string in his mind loosen. He turned his head, staring intently at that door.
The midwife pushed open the door, carefully cradling an infant in her arms. She first glanced at the old woman, then walked smiling to the man: “Sun Family’s eldest son, it’s a daughter.”
At these words, the man was fine, carefully receiving the baby from the midwife to look at. But the old woman’s face darkened. She thumped her cane heavily and glanced at that door: “What use is giving birth to a daughter!”
The villagers couldn’t speak well, pretending not to hear. But the old woman’s voice wasn’t small. The young daughter-in-law who had just survived at death’s door heard it inside, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes, her pale lips trembling: “Thank you, Miss, for saving my life.”
“Rest well.”
There was no clean water left in the room. Ni Su’s hands were covered in blood, and her clothing was stained with quite a bit as well. She glanced at the woman on the bed and walked out the door. Hearing the old woman still muttering complaints about the baby girl in her son’s arms, she said: “Is Madam not also a woman?”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed, her gaze falling on Ni Su. At first startled by the blood covering her hands, she then scrutinized her. The girl’s features were well-proportioned, her clothing of fine material. She wore her hair in a triple-coiled bun. Though without ornaments, this only made the woman appear cleaner and more ethereal.
“Oh, Miss Ni, quickly come back to my house and wash up!” Lady Jiang knew exactly what sort of temperament this Sun family’s old woman had. Seeing her expression grow increasingly hostile, she hurriedly supported Ni Su through the crowd.
“At such a young age, becoming a medicine woman…”
The old woman snorted coldly behind them, staring at Ni Su’s back and muttering under her breath.
“Mother, she still saved Yueliang’s and your granddaughter’s lives. Please stop talking!” The man held his daughter, sighing helplessly.
“Miss, go wash your hands quickly and change clothes. We can’t eat at their house anyway—never mind. I’ll make you a good meal!” Lady Jiang brought Ni Su back to the courtyard and pushed her into the side room.
Ni Su had helped farmwomen give birth more than once. She naturally knew there was an unwritten rule that even when a household’s daughter-in-law gave birth, they wouldn’t keep the “six types of women” for dining and drinking.
Ni Su didn’t care. She entered the room and washed her hands clean, but just as she was about to unfasten her clothing, she suddenly stopped. Looking around, she called out tentatively: “You’re… here, aren’t you?”
Lady Jiang’s daughter was playing with pebbles in the courtyard. Suddenly hearing the wind stir, she lifted her head and saw the branches and leaves of the large tree in her family’s yard swaying. From beneath the tree’s shade, wisps of smoke-like vapor drifted out, fell into the light cast by the lantern, and disappeared.
Inside the room, Ni Su heard no sound. Only then did she relax slightly and pull at her clothing, but heard a “clang” as a wooden stool fell to the ground.
She jumped in fright. Through the simple screen, she could vaguely see a shadow standing by the table. His movements seemed strange, and those eyes also seemed wrong.
Ni Su refastened her clothing and walked closer with the lamp. She indeed saw his eyes vacant and lifeless, all spirit gone. She waved her hand before his eyes. The shadow swayed accordingly, but his eyelashes didn’t move—no reaction at all.
“Your eyes…”
Ni Su was stunned.
Clearly during the day he could still see things, but thinking of the night they encountered bandits, when he was outside the carriage he had seemed the same way. Ni Su suddenly understood: “Could it be night blindness?”
But could ghosts also suffer from night blindness?
Xu Hexue didn’t answer, but Ni Su saw him raise his hand. A breeze came, and the lamp candle in her hand extinguished. The room became much dimmer, with only the light from the lantern outside the eaves spilling through the window lattice.
Xu Hexue remained motionless, hidden deep in the shadows. Smelling the smoke from the extinguished candle wick, he said: “Light it.”
Ni Su didn’t understand but still retrieved a fire starter from her bundle and relit the lamp candle, placing it on the table. Then she looked up, meeting his eyes directly.
Spring light rippling on water—translucent and icy cold.
“You…” Ni Su stared at him in shock for a moment, then looked at the lamp candle, then at her own hands.
She finally understood.
Only when she personally lit a lamp could he see at night.
“Are all you ghosts like this?”
Ni Su found it strange.
“I sustained an eye injury while alive. Only when you light a lamp can I see at night.” Xu Hexue stated plainly.
He was originally a damaged soul. Unless he returned to Youdu, without the summoner personally lighting a lamp at night, he could not see.
Ni Su froze. After quite a while, she suddenly blew out the lamp candle.
Without warning, Xu Hexue’s vision returned to complete darkness.
“I’ll light it for you again in a moment.”
Ni Su spoke as she walked back behind the screen.
Xu Hexue heard the rustling of fabric. He roughly understood what she was doing. His slender eyelashes lowered as he turned his back.
“You needn’t have endured those criticisms.”
Ni Su had just removed her blood-stained clothing when she suddenly heard his voice from beyond the screen. Realizing what he was referring to, Ni Su turned her head. Through the gap, she saw him standing in that patch of shadow, like a frost-covered pine branch bearing snow.
“These words aren’t the first I’ve heard, but the women I’ve saved have never looked down on me. They treat me as their lifeline, and I’m happy to be their lifeline. As for what others say, I can’t control their mouths. I only ask that my actions be upright, leaving my conscience clear.”
—