Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Zhaoge City experienced sudden snowfall in the beginning of summer.
The snowfall lasted three days.
The temperature dropped abruptly, and a thin layer of ice formed on the surface of the lake.
Jing Jiu went to Zhao Garden.
He used the conical hat to cover his face during day.
And he gazed at the stars at night.
The snowfall stopped, and the clouds dispersed. All of a sudden, the stars were smeared with a bloody coat. It was not a foreboding omen; it foretold the arrival of Zhao Layue.
The small boat sank a little along with a sound of ice breaking. Zhao Layue made the noise on purpose.
Jing Jiu spun his head around and said, “You came.”
Zhao Layue uttered “hmm” and sat down beside him. She held his hand and brought it to her cheek.
Hundreds of white rays of light appeared in the night sky; they were not the shooting stars, but the sword lights.
Many people came to Zhaoge City from the Green Mountain Sect and were to bring back their Master Sword Justice.
Though Yuan Qijing had departed and the wind and snow stopped, they still needed to bring back the formidable and pure intent.
Jing Jiu drew back his gaze from the night sky and asked, “How is Nan Wang?”
“She stays behind on Green Mountain to guard the mountain gate,” said Zhao Layue while putting down his hand. “She seems very sad.”
Nan Wang was the youngest disciple of the Immortal Taiping. Now that the two big brothers who favored and protected her had all departed, what would be her future?
She was someone in the Heavenly Arrival State now, and nobody dared to challenge her in the world; but how would she live her life in the future?
…
…
Jing Jiu and Zhao Layue left Zhaoge City. They didn’t go back to Green Mountain, instead going to the outskirts of Dayuan City.
They saw the aged wooden bridge after they crossed the stream full of lotus flowers, walked on the stone path in the mountain, and passed round the rocks lying amid grass. They arrived at the Three-Thousand Nunnery.
The Master Nun of the Three-Thousand Nunnery was probably a successor of many generations after the Old Master Nun, so she didn’t know who Jing Jiu was. The Master Nun guessed their identities when she saw Jing Jiu’s face without the conical hat on and Zhao Layue wearing a short and black hair, and led them into the courtyard hastily in a reverent manner.
The stream was flowing under the bridge. A forest stood by the stream where a house used to be, and a grave was in the forest. The grave looked lonely, but it was not desolate.
The Master Nun was well aware of Jing Jiu’s relationship with the nunnery and his connection with the Three-Thousand Nunnery. Seeing his gaze fall on the grave and fearing that he might be displeased, she explained hurriedly, “This is the grave of the Philanthropist Li. Seven years ago…”
Jing Jiu cut her off and led Zhao Layue to the front of the grave, saying, “He was the Young Master Li I had told you about.”
The name of Young Master Li was not written on the monument, there being a few words instead.
“Different paths lead to the same destiny.”
The different paths referred to the difference between mortals and immortals.
The “same destiny” referred to the fact that mortals and immortals would all have the same Dao in the end.
The Young Master Li ate magic pills, but he died still.
Lian Sanyue was the strongest swordsman in Chaotian, but she died as well.
Zhao Layue said suddenly, “I think the figure in the painting owned by his family…is Lian Sanyue.”
Many years ago the family of the Young Master Li was in financial trouble and a precious painting of the family was scammed by his “friend”. Later, Gu Qing got it back after sending people after the scammer. She had seen the painting on Shenmo Peak.
In the painting were the starry night, foggy cliff, and a young woman holding an umbrella among the mist.
The young woman’s eyes and brows were straight, her expression amiable and nonchalant.
Jing Jiu didn’t give a response, nor did he attempt to find the painting.
The painting was passed down in the Li family for many generations. If the young woman in the painting was Lian Sanyue from hundreds of years ago, it was understandable why the Young Master Li was so much in love with her.
Of course, such an understanding might not be correct, and it was unnecessary either way.
…
…
It was the first time that Zhao Layue came to the Three-Thousand Nunnery.
Walking over the small bridge and coming before the nunnery hall, she saw the round window and the lake outside the window. Like everybody else, she was in a much calmer mood now.
Her gaze moved downwards and fell on a bed in the nunnery hall.
Bai Zao was sleeping on the bed. It was unclear when she would be able to absorb all the fairy energy in her body.
It had been one hundred years; her face was exposed as some of the natural worm silks on her body had wilted.
She was furrowing her thin eyebrows slightly in sleep; she still had the look that was both feeble and adorable.
“It’s good to sleep like this,” Zhao Layue remarked.
Jing Jiu said, “Yes, it’s better to be alive.”
Zhao Layue turned to Jing Jiu and asked, “Where did she take her leave?”
“Right here,” said Jing Jiu.
The patch of morning sunlight had risen right under the eave.
It was the place where Lian Sanyue had departed.
Zhao Layue hugged him and then patted on his back, saying, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave.”
Jing Jiu stretched his right hand and patted on her back.
…
…
After that, they went to White Town. They met He Zhan and Sese after they landed in the courtyard on the edge of the snowland. Zhao Layue ate two barbecued fish and Jing Jiu took a few glances at the pear tree. After they came out of the courtyard, the two of them trudged on the muddy fields covered with remaining snow. “Gu Qing grew up in a large clan, so it’s harder for him to figure it out,” Zhao Layue remarked suddenly.
He Zhan and Sese had lived together for several decades already, and Liu Shisui and Xiao He had lived together for more than one hundred years. Both couples hadn’t had any marriage rituals, nor had they married formally. They didn’t care about what mortals thought about their relationship, and on the other hand, mortals couldn’t see them anyway. Living this way was more likely to be trouble-free anyhow.
Jing Jiu said, “Gu Qing likes to think too much of it; so it’s more likely for him to mess up things.”
This was the first time they talked about Gu Qing’s affair. “Is such an affair really fun?” asked Zhao Layue, still feeling baffled.
Many years ago, when they watched that building from the top floor of the Near-Star Building, she had asked him the same question.
Jing Jiu replied, “Liking, disliking, liking all, disliking all, and disliking what others like, all of these can form a variety of combinations; sometimes it’s pretty fun.”
Zhao Layue said, “I know what love is, but the love affairs in the books I’ve read are often the ones in which the involved always had poor judgment and ended up with heartache. Hence, I still can’t understand it.”
“The love is the result of attraction between a man and a woman and the promise of staying close together.”
Jing Jiu went on, “The promise is also a manacle and a sense of ritual. The promise is similar to cooking meat; the more it’s cooked, the richer it tastes. On the other hand, breaking the promise is also appealing for humans. All in all, like I said, a variety of combinations are rather interesting more often than not.”
Zhao Layue said after shooting a glance at him, “It seems that you know quite a bit about love affairs.”
“It’s not so complicated,” said Jing Jiu. “Anybody can make sense of it if they think about it hard enough.”
Zhao Layue remarked after some thought, “In this case, it’s still quite boring.”
“Yes,” Jing Jiu confirmed.
As the two of them were conversing, they had arrived in front of a plain Buddhist temple.
The Young Zen Master resided in the temple when he was in White Town.
It was quiet in front of the gate of the temple. A few monks were coming in and out of the temple in silence. A middle-aged monk suddenly halted his steps and turned to Jing Jiu.
Jing Jiu found this monk looked familiar and felt a sense of closeness.
The middle-aged monk saw Jing Jiu’s face, feeling bewildered for a moment; soon, he recovered his senses and grew excited, his eyes full of surprise and joy.
Jing Jiu had also recognized the monk. He was that young monk he had met a few times, but it happened over a hundred years ago. He didn’t recognize the monk right away because his face had many wrinkles now and that old monk was not by his side.
As the middle-aged monk attempted to say something, he covered his mouth with his hands reflexively. Then, he realized that his Master was already dead and nobody bade him to practice the Vow of Silence. Feeling sad, he cried out.
Though Jing Jiu hadn’t said a word, he could guess what had happened to the old monk by the changed expression on the face of this middle-aged monk. Jing Jiu reached out his hand and patted on his shoulder.
The middle-aged monk cried even more.
For some reason Jing Jiu always liked this monk and his Master. Learning that the old monk had passed away and seeing the middle-aged monk cry so sadly, Jing Jiu couldn’t bear it anymore and brought his palm downwards.
Zhao Layue widened her eyes as she wondered if Jing Jiu intended to kill the monk to end his pain now that he thought the life was filled with too much of grief.
Pah!!!
Jing Jiu’s palm landed on the head of the middle-aged monk.
The middle-aged monk fell down on his buttock cross-legged, and soon fell asleep, snoring soundly.
“Thanks.” The Young Zen Master walked out of the gate of the courtyard. After taking a glance at the middle-aged monk, it occurred to the Young Zen Master that it was indeed hard to predict where the fortune would come from; who would have guessed that this regular monk would acquire the Blessing over Head from the Immortal Jing Yang?
“No need to thank me,” said Jing Jiu. “And it has nothing to do with the Fruit Formation Temple either. I did it simply because I like this child.”
“Why?” asked the Young Zen Master.
Jing Jiu replied after some thought, “Maybe…I like his talkativeness.”
“But you always complained that I talked too much back then,” protested the Young Zen Master.
“I still dislike it,” said Jing Jiu.
The Young Zen Master sighed, “Oh, men are all wicked.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to make such a comment?” Zhao Layue chimed in.
…
…
More people were on the streets in White Town in summer; but the number of pilgrims was still low. The provisions required by the Divine North Army and the Cultivation practitioners of various sects drew many merchants from the south. No accumulated snow was seen on the streets, except for the messy mud on the ground after being stomped on.
Jing Jiu and Zhao Layue walked past the town and made their way up the stone path. A few moments later, they could see the patch of red cliffs in the distance and the upper part of that small temple.
“Were you awake seventeen years ago?”
“I lied to him.”
“But you could hear what Gu Qing said.”
“Hearing is not the same as being awake. In fact, my spiritual soul was in the Green Sky Mirror at that time.”
“Really? I reckon that many events must have happened in the Green Sky Mirror.”
“One hundred years is indeed a long time; but not so many events have happened there. I spent most of my time cultivating. It’s only that the son of the Grand Scholar Zhang had bothered me from time to time, making me feel annoyed, just like what Gu Qing did.”
“Is the eldest son of the Grand Scholar Zhang still alive?”
“Yeah, he is actually in good health. He was thinking of going to the ocean and finding that strange golden fish.”
“Speaking of which, can we find a way to bring the King of the Fire Carps to Green Mountain?”
“Unless we can bring the fire source at the bottom of the Cold Mountain with us.”
“There is no need for such trouble. We can simply occupy the Cold Mountain.”
As they exchanged a variety of meaningless and meaningful thoughts, the red color of the cliffs grew brighter and the small temple could be seen in its entirety.
After stepping over the doorsill and walking into the temple, Jing Jiu stood quietly for a while as he gazed at the chubby Buddhist statue with smiling eyes.
The blood seemed to seep out from the cracks on the golden Buddhist statue. The bloodstains grew lighter after so many years, and the iron broadsword, fifty feet long, in front of the Buddhist statue was full of gaps. It was unclear when the broadsword would show its former radiance.
Jing Jiu walked to one end of the iron broadsword and put his right hand on the blade; then, he walked to the other end of it.
The sparks came out between his palm and the blade, spreading and dropping down like fireworks from one end to the other.
