HCAW 102

Chapter 102: Dying Young, Yet Not Untimely

Another pitch-black dream shattered. Xiao Jiao awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. The maids, who had been waiting outside the curtains, were already prepared. They quietly brought in a bowl of licorice soup for her to drink, calming her spirit and soothing her nerves.

Xiao Jiao sat dazed on the bed, staring at the moonlight that looked like liquid silver. Lately, she had been plagued by frequent nightmares every night. Each nightmare was nearly identical: a shadow darting through a dark forest, mouth wide with bloodlust, taking the lives of all it encountered. And all she could do was watch helplessly as it happened, powerless to intervene.

She shivered and rubbed her fingers together, as if her fingertips still clung to the sticky sensation of fresh blood. Suddenly, a chill crept through her heart.

At dawn the next day, Xiao Jiao put on a grand display: first, she staged a divine opera, summoning several shamans in carved wooden masks to invoke the gods, beat earth drums, and blow bone flutes. She then invited a master to draw celestial warding talismans for her, to expel the Three Corpses and Nine Worms¹ malevolent spirits or entities believed to live inside a person’s body and cause harm. For a time, the Divine Maiden’s residence bustled with people, music, and ritual.

But even after the opera ended and the charms were pasted, the nightmares did not cease. Rumors, like rattling bells, spread throughout the Divine Maiden’s residence—saying that although Xiao Jiao held the exalted title of Divine Maiden, she was often startled awake by dreams and unable to subdue evil spirits. Her name was proving hollow. Though she was not physically ill, she could only give up with a sullen heart.

A few days later, Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang finally returned from the outskirts.

In the royal manor, the clear breeze stirred the bamboo, like green rainbows dancing. The Gu Bi Guard was brewing bitter tea in the pavilion, dressed in sky-blue brocade, graceful and at ease. He wore a smile—until Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang threw a bundle of people at his feet. His smile vanished without him realizing it.

It turned out these two had not brought back the true culprit, but instead had used a mountain-scouring net to catch a group of bandits, casually dumping them at his feet.

The Gu Bi Guard clasped his hands behind his back and smiled faintly. He neither interrogated the group nor asked a single question, as if everything were already clear to him. He said, “You two certainly have skill—netting a group of bandits. Only, they’re not the murderer I asked you to find.”

Chu Kuang placed one hand on his hip and the other over Fang Jingyu’s shoulder. Though they’d only been gone a few days, they seemed even closer now. Chu Kuang said boldly, “To tell you the truth, the two of us combed every inch of Daiyu, and we’re convinced there’s no killer here. If there is, it’s probably those so-called ‘Immortal Elixirs’ who suffered torment and finally fled.”

At those words, the Gu Bi Guard’s gaze sharpened like a blade.

“There’s a group of seven-eyed, nine-tentacled creature living in Yuanqiao,” Chu Kuang continued, unflinching. “They’re the so-called ‘Immortal Elixirs’ and kin to the venerated Great Immortal Yonghe you all worship. Am I right? You lot carved them up and angered them, and now they’re taking revenge. That’s why those black-mud monsters are going berserk and devouring people. Isn’t that it?”

“How laughable,” said the Gu Bi Guard with a full smile. “So, little brother, what you’re saying is—you trust those bizarre nine-tentacled beasts more than you trust ordinary men with two arms and two legs? Have they bewitched your mind so thoroughly that you speak on their behalf?”

Chu Kuang snorted. “Compared to those grotesque black-mud beasts, it’s the human heart that’s truly unfathomable—and infinitely more sinister. Look at these thugs—they trailed us to find them, wanting to eat their flesh, and even tried to ambush and kill us. Lord Gu Bi Guard, perhaps it’s your lax governance that’s let evil fester all across Daiyu.”

Tension flared between them. For a moment, Fang Jingyu thought: if this had been the Tianfu Guard and the Gu Bi Guard from long ago, they too might’ve stood locked in such confrontation.

At last, the Gu Bi Guard suddenly broke into a gentle smile, diffusing the taut moment. “No matter what, you’ve cleared up a puzzle in my mind. I’ll send people to continue searching for the true culprit. You two deserve a reward.”

He waved his hand, and a servant brought out a pigskin pouch. Chu Kuang dashed forward, grabbing it in an instant. Feeling the meat inside pulsing through the pouch, he finally let out a breath of relief. Then the Gu Bi Guard said:

“You’ve been away for quite some time. Rest for the next few days.”

When the two left the manor, Fang Jingyu glanced back—and saw the group of bound criminals still at the Gu Bi Guard’s feet. They had gathered together and were staring back at him and Chu Kuang, their silence eerie. Deep in their eyes was a glint of pitch-dark light, all exactly the same, deeply ominous.

Fang Jingyu shivered. That same shadowed glint flickered in the Gu Bi Guard’s eyes too.

Suddenly, a strange intuition struck him—he felt as if that group shared a single heart and body with the Gu Bi Guard. Though he looked like an ordinary man, the Gu Bi Guard was actually the largest seven-eyed, nine-tentacled monster lurking on this Xian Mountain. There wasn’t a single corner not swallowed by his shadow.

_____

During the rest days, Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang stayed at the Divine Maiden’s estate.

Xiao Jiao took care of them, ordering the servants to tidy up two clean side rooms for them. But Fang Jingyu couldn’t sit still—he often wandered into Chu Kuang’s room to chat.

One day, he entered to find Chu Kuang ignoring him, sitting alone at the lattice window, wiping his sword with deerskin. On the floor lay a stack of arrows—iron-tipped heads forged in rainy weather, with feathers from lost birds—gleaming with a fierce shine. They were the King Yama Whistling Arrows. Apparently, whenever Chu Kuang had spare time, he’d run off to the young boy’s shop to stockpile weapons.

Fang Jingyu asked, “So you’re preparing for battle?”

Chu Kuang replied, “That’s right—sleeping with sword in hand, ready for war.”

Fang Jingyu found it amusing. This was a man who, when they first met, was practically illiterate and rough as hoof and claw—and now here he was quoting phrases, not as if freshly learned, but as if remembered. He asked, “What do you think of the Gu Bi Guard? Seen anything suspicious?”

“He’s definitely wary of us. And there’s something strange—I’ve heard more than once from the locals that it’s like the Gu Bi Guard has eyes all over Xian Mountain. Big or small, nothing escapes his notice,” Chu Kuang said, biting his lip. “Did you notice, Your Highness? When we brought those criminals before him, he didn’t even ask—he already knew why we’d come.”

“Probably has spies all over the city,” Fang Jingyu said.

“I’m afraid it’s more than spies,” Chu Kuang murmured, then added, “Your Highness, this place—Daiyu—puts me on edge. Like a field of wild grass tangled in my chest.”

A cold breeze rose suddenly, as if someone had drawn a long brushstroke through the air. It swept through the hall. Chu Kuang suddenly hugged his arms and shivered, his brows scrunching tightly. “I keep feeling… like someone’s watching me. Everywhere.”

Fang Jingyu shuddered too. He looked around, but the courtyard was empty, not a soul in sight. He stepped forward and silently took Chu Kuang’s hand. The pulse beat beneath his palm, mingling both their unspoken fear. Then Chu Kuang said:

“And it’s not just the Gu Bi Guard that’s strange—the people of Daiyu are too.”

“In what way?”

“When they look at me, their eyes are cold—like it’s not dozens of people watching me, but just one.”

Fang Jingyu felt the same. Walking the streets, he had sensed it—Daiyu looked prosperous, but its people were each more uncanny than the last. At last, he steadied himself, gently squeezed Chu Kuang’s fingers, and said, “Don’t think about it. If you keep going like this, you’ll end up with nightmares again. It’s alright—no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side. I won’t leave.”

Chu Kuang looked back at him. His eyes, once full of doubt like snow swept by wind, gradually settled. Fang Jingyu’s gaze was piercing, able to calm hearts and shake souls—yet it brought peace. As Fang Jingyu leaned closer, Chu Kuang flushed slightly and turned his face away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much,” Chu Kuang replied, but he couldn’t help thinking about the absurd things that had happened in that shed on the outskirts. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

Fang Jingyu said, “I didn’t do anything to you—just looked into your eyes. If this were the battlefield and you couldn’t even meet my gaze, you’d be nothing but a coward.”

Chu Kuang flared up, turning his face toward him—only to have Fang Jingyu catch his lips in a kiss. After a series of pecking kisses like a little sparrow, all his grumbling turned into muffled murmurs. The two tumbled onto the bed like twisted rope. Chu Kuang shoved at Fang Jingyu’s chest, growling in a low voice:

“You again! Is your small thing cursed with a disease that can’t stand a single night of emptiness—must you put it in someone?”

Fang Jingyu bit his ear. “You defiled me—no one will want me now. If I don’t mess around with you, who else am I supposed to mess with?”

Chu Kuang fumed. “You damned horny brat—you keep calling me ‘brother,’ don’t you? And you’d still put your hands on your own brother?”

“You haven’t acknowledged it yet, have you?” Fang Jingyu said shamelessly, pressing in closer. “If you did, would I still come crawling into your bed?”

Chu Kuang fell back onto the bed, hair in disarray, eyes blazing with fury. Then Fang Jingyu added, “What’s more, in a few days the blood kin of the Bi Bao Guard and the Bai Huan Guard will be visiting the royal manor. By then, with so many people around, it’ll be hard to get anything done.”

“Bi Bao Guard’s blood kin and Bai Huan Guard?” Chu Kuang was puzzled for a moment, then realization dawned. Fatty Ji, being Emperor Bai’s son, was about to ascend the throne. For this coronation ceremony, all of Daiyu was making feverish preparations. The remaining two Xian Mountain Guards and their representatives from the Three Xian Mountains were, of course, expected to arrive.

This might be a prime opportunity to obtain the blood vial—but going up against the three Xian Mountain Guards was bound to be bloody and brutal.

Chu Kuang shivered slightly, forcing down his anxiety. He stared at Fang Jingyu for a long moment, then, in surrender, wrapped his arms around Fang Jingyu’s neck and bit his lips—like a wild puppy refusing to be tamed. At last, he muttered sulkily:

“Fine. Go ahead with your beastly business.”

Fang Jingyu looked at him, throat suddenly dry, and his whole body turned inch by inch into a drought-stricken land. Behind the paper window, the silhouettes of the two leaned close together. The rest of the night was a tangled knot of entanglement—inseparable.

_____

A few days later, the royal manor indeed hosted a grand spectacle. Gold-etched plaques and powdered signs charged through the streets, Xian Mountain officials cracking whips as gongs, parasols, and fans filled the skies. Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang, dressed early in formal attire before dawn, waited at the front gate.

Today, the blood kin of the Bi Bao Guard and the Bai Huan Guard were to arrive. Gu Bi Guard and Xiao Jiao were also dressed to the nines, coming out of the manor to greet them. Thirteen gongs struck, and a green felt sedan chair slowly approached, borne by eight porters.

The turquoise gauze curtain fluttered, and a white-haired old woman with thick brows stepped down carefully using a footstool. She was short and small, with dainty hands and feet, like a plump round bean. Dressed in gold-embroidered green silk with a jade gourd at her waist, she had kind eyes and a gentle face—clearly the Bi Bao Guard’s sister. Yet she had no imposing air at all, smiling amiably like the granny next door.

Gu Bi Guard stepped forward with a respectful salute. “Honored elder, thank you for coming all this way to guide us. You must be weary—please rest a while. We’ll talk more during tonight’s banquet.”

The old woman chuckled. “No need to be so courteous, Lord Gu Bi. The journey was quite pleasant—I blinked, and here I was.”

Her gaze fell on Xiao Jiao, and she smiled as she asked, “Is this the Divine Maiden?”

Caught off guard, Xiao Jiao hastily offered a bow. But having once been a common country girl, her manners weren’t polished, and she ended up bobbing awkwardly like a duck. The Bi Bao Guard’s sister stepped forward and took her hand—her palm warm—and looked her over kindly.

“What a lovely young lady!” she said cheerfully. Then, with a tone full of understanding, added, “Oh dear, Divine Maiden—have you not been sleeping well lately? Those dark circles are quite something.”

Something stirred in Xiao Jiao’s heart. These past days she’d been tormented by nightmares and had indeed slept poorly. The Bi Bao Guard’s sister chatted endlessly, asking after her warmly like a nagging elder with no airs at all—making Xiao Jiao feel unusually close to her.

Just as they were exchanging pleasantries, another gong rang out from the street. A flag snapped into place, and the herald shouted loudly:

“Lady Bai Huan—arrives!”

Everyone turned to look. A blue felt sedan chair approached, swaying with only four bearers—far less extravagant than the Bi Bao Guard’s. It stopped at the gate, and a graceful young woman stepped out, just around twenty, her floating robe swirling in the breeze like a swallow in flight.

What stunned Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang was the person who followed her out—a man in brocade and silver-embellished sashes, dressed like a proper gentleman—it was none other than Zheng Deli.

Seeing him, several people exclaimed:

“Deli, what are you doing here?”

After much fuss, the Bi Bao Guard and Bai Huan Guard were ushered into the manor. In the tranquil courtyard where streams flowed over stones, they sat in a pavilion, reminiscing as they shared their recent experiences. Emotions ran high.

Xiao Jiao cut in, saying to Zheng Deli, “Eggless brat, we searched high and low for you—nearly turned Daiyu upside down. Thought you’d fed the fish already, we were just about to hold a funeral for you!”

Zheng Deli scratched his head sheepishly. “I woke up and found I’d been washed all alone to Fanghu. It was terribly lonely.”

As he studied Xiao Jiao’s face, he noticed her complexion was pale and sickly. He hesitated. “Miss Qin, you don’t look well—what’s going on?”

Xiao Jiao sighed. “Lately, I’ve had terrible headaches, and I’m plagued by nightmares. It’s been hard to bear.”

“I’ll check your pulse,” said Zheng Deli, placing two fingers on her wrist. But the longer he listened, the paler he became. Xiao Jiao asked, “What is it?”

Zheng Deli fell silent. He had forgotten—ever since she’d been struck through the heart by the Yu Ji Guard back on Yingzhou, Xiao Jiao no longer had a heartbeat or a pulse. Of course he couldn’t detect anything. So he said, “Hmm… the pulse is faint—blood deficiency.”

Xiao Jiao turned even paler. “Doctor Zheng, hurry and write me a prescription—please save me!”

Just then, a maid leaned in and whispered in Xiao Jiao’s ear. “Divine Maiden, the Xian Mountain Guards request your presence.”

Xiao Jiao had no choice. She turned to the others and said, “Anyway, as long as this bellyache Deli is alive, all’s well. Now hurry and write me that prescription—I’ve no time for small talk.” With that, she lifted her skirt and left.

The others remained in the pavilion, exchanging glances. Having been separated so long, their reunion now felt especially intimate. Fang Jingyu questioned Zheng Deli in detail about his time on Fanghu. Halfway through, Chu Kuang was also called away by a maid—Fatty Ji had summoned him to serve as a guard.

In the end, only Fang Jingyu and Zheng Deli sat in the pavilion.

Fang Jingyu looked relaxed, but Zheng Deli seemed troubled. He was thinking about what the Bai Huan Guard had told him back in Fanghu’s library—that the bone fragments foretold only one person could leave Daiyu. He looked at Fang Jingyu, thoughts tangled.

Fang Jingyu seemed to notice his turmoil. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Zheng Deli picked up a blue-and-white porcelain jug and poured them each a cup of wine. “Jingyu, what are your plans? How do you intend to leave Daiyu?”

“There are two things to do. First, figure out the route and defenses around the city gate. Second, we need to obtain blood from the Bi Bao Guard, Bai Huan Guard, and Gu Bi Guard to unlock the blood bait locks at the gate.” His brows furrowed. “Deli, you said the Bai Huan Guard took a liking to you. Is there a way you could get close to her and draw a drop or two of her blood?”

To someone like Zheng Deli—a frail scholar who couldn’t even truss a chicken—this was a daunting request. Fang Jingyu had doubts even as he asked. But to his surprise, Zheng Deli turned his wrist and handed over a blood vial.

“Here. Bai Huan Guard’s blood.”

His tone was casual, but Fang Jingyu doubted his ears. He turned the vial over and over. “You… how did you get it?”

“Just a lucky chance,” Zheng Deli said, though his heart was in a knot. The vial had been given to him by the Bai Huan Guard herself—she believed he was the one destined to leave Daiyu. But as the saying goes, a narrow trough can’t feed two strong mouths. If he was the only one who could escape… what about Fang Jingyu? Was he meant to die here?

Weighed down by his thoughts, he suddenly asked, “Jingyu, you’ve always been seen as the child of destiny. What do you think about that?”

Fang Jingyu shook his head. “It’s awful.”

“Why?”

“Because people keep seeing me as the ‘Emperor Bai,’ expecting me to achieve something earth-shattering. And I—like being chased by a branding iron—have no choice but to keep moving forward, forced to fulfill their hopes.” He turned toward Zheng Deli, his dark eyes hollow yet filled with a sorrow as cold as wind and snow.

“Deli, you know what? Not once have I ever felt like I was the son of Emperor Bai.”

A carp tail flicked in the pond, water droplets falling like the sound of tears. Zheng Deli was stunned. “Then why do you want to leave the city?”

Fang Jingyu’s gaze burned. “For the people—I want to find a way to stop the storms and spare them suffering. And for myself—I want to fulfill my brother’s last wish.”

Zheng Deli asked sorrowfully, “If only one person can leave… and that person isn’t you—what then?”

As he asked, it felt like lifting a thousand pounds. His tongue was heavy as stone. He knew how much Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang had sacrificed to get here. They were the rightful protagonists—yet now it seemed he, a side character, might steal the glory. It wasn’t fair.

But Fang Jingyu didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll be the stepping stone for that person.”

Zheng Deli’s throat tightened. The mountains were clear, the waters pure, and from beyond the peaks the sun bled a red thread of light—then burst into golden rays, setting the world ablaze. It felt as if even they were being burned to ash. Fang Jingyu’s eyes locked on his, gaze searing.

“Along the way, my empty title has cost countless lives. Why should others die for me—while I refuse to die for them? Deli, if someone can break through the city gate—even if it costs me everything—I will not regret it. I’m not the son of Emperor Bai. I’m Fang Jingyu.”

He lowered his eyes and looked into the rippling water. The waves shattered his reflection, fragmenting his face.

“I’m just a pawn to be cast aside in pursuit of a greater purpose.”

• 1
  malevolent spirits or entities believed to live inside a person’s body and cause harm