HCAW 54

Chapter 54: Carving the Tortoise, Calculating the Plan

The rain had lessened to a fine drizzle, threadlike needles falling from the sky. Though there was never truly a clear day in Yingzhou, and the heavens remained heavy with dark clouds, the floating boats were already teeming with people.

Because of Chu Kuang’s illness, Fang Jingyu and the others had to remain in Yingzhou a few more days. Now that they’d left Lei Ze Camp, there was no more guaranteed food, lodging, or medicine—but fortunately, the violent sea roars beyond the great whirlpool made it impossible for pursuers to catch up. Mule suggested that while the storms had briefly cleared, they should take the opportunity to visit the large floating ship Fenglin and pay respects to the shaman, Ruyi.

Zheng Deli, still struggling to decipher the texts on his bone tablets, immediately agreed. Mule also said that without their honored guest, Fang Jingyu, it would be hard to justify the meeting, and after much persuasion, he finally forced Fang Jingyu to go. Fang Jingyu had been tending to Chu Kuang and was thoroughly unwilling, but in the end, he couldn’t resist. He entrusted Ling’er and Yan Xin with looking after Chu Kuang and went with the group to Fenglin.

All along the way, Fang Jingyu was absent-minded, haunted by the image of that portrait. He had examined the little painting over and over, and was now convinced—Chu Kuang’s features eight years ago were indistinguishable from his elder brother’s. Comparing the portrait to the unconscious Chu Kuang, the resemblance was undeniable. That sense of familiarity he’d always felt—it had come from this.

Could Chu Kuang be his brother?

That flawless bili melody, that eerily similar face—it was too much to ignore. If his brother had lived, he’d be about the same age now. Yet beyond the face, this man resembled Fang Minsheng not at all—he was uncouth, brash, constantly filthy and foul-mouthed. Chu Kuang excelled at archery, but knew nothing else. Fang Minsheng had been the opposite—skilled in everything but that.

He didn’t know who to confide in. When he told Ling’er, Ling’er stammered, “If Ah Chu really is your brother, miraculously alive, we’d be happy for you. But Your Highness, didn’t you see his body with your own eyes? Forgive me for saying it, but maybe you’re haunted by a spirit.”

Ling’er added, “We’ve had soldiers lose limbs, and soon after, they’d start acting strange—dazed, talking nonsense. A few even got gutted because their minds wandered during drills. It’s what happens when spirits take hold. Don’t overthink it, Your Highness. The dead are gone. To dwell on it is to grieve for nothing.”

Fang Jingyu then brought it up with Zheng Deli and Xiao Jiao. Zheng Deli didn’t refute him. “The world is vast. Who’s to say it isn’t your brother?”

But Xiao Jiao folded her arms and snapped, “You dumb gourd, have you lost your mind? That oaf who can’t even write ‘five’ is supposed to be your brother?” After hearing them, Fang Jingyu became even more uncertain.

Better to wait until Chu Kuang woke and ask him directly. Without hearing the answer from his own mouth, he doubted he would ever be at peace.

Fang Jingyu lowered his gaze. In a puddle on the ship’s deck, a lone little fish flipped its tail, seemingly lost.

They crossed a floating bridge. Above, terns cried out incessantly. After a few miles, they reached an enormous floating ship—the Fenglin, home of the shaman Ruyi. Its entire hull was painted with dragons, phoenixes, and cloud-birds, coated in a dark crimson lacquer, giving it a menacing aura. Mule gestured for the group to board the gangplank while he remained respectfully below.

Everyone felt uneasy. The Fenglin was eerily quiet, like a tomb, with not a soul in sight. When they reached the cabin, they found a young maid in a Guanyin hood and vest standing guard. The girl’s voice was overly composed, imitating the maturity of an adult: “Please wait here.”

She stepped inside to announce them and returned moments later. “Master Ruyi says Young Master Zheng and Young Master Fang may enter. Miss Qin is to wait outside.”

Xiao Jiao instantly flared up. “Why can’t I go in?!”

The maid replied expressionlessly, “To speak too plainly would hurt your feelings. In short, you are unclean and may not enter the Fenglin.”

This truly set Xiao Jiao off. “Pah! You filthy mutt! I bathe every day in clean water, I’ve no old dirt on me to scrub!”

But the maid remained firm. With no other option, Xiao Jiao had to sulkily disembark and squat beside Mule.

Zheng Deli and Fang Jingyu were confused, but just then, the cabin doors opened and a wave of agarwood incense wafted out. The cabin was lush and verdant. A large mirror stood by the door, and camphorwood and tung trees had pierced through the deck, their white candle-berries blooming among green leaves, making the space feel like a garden.

Amid the foliage sat an old woman on a chair made from mangrove roots. She wore robes of feathers and wide sleeves, cradling a black bird mask in her arms. Her face was dry and wrinkled like crumpled paper, yet her eyes were tranquil and deep, like a still sea.

“You’ve come. Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to two wooden chairs.

The two sat, still marveling at their surroundings. Zheng Deli scratched his head. “Are you the divine shaman, Ruyi?”

The old woman calmly replied, “That is one of my names. But I also have another—a three-character name.”

“Ruyi Guard… the sixth among the Xian Mountain Guards… That’s also you?”

The old woman slowly nodded in acknowledgment. Her gaze was kind and penetrating, as if she saw through everything. Zheng Deli couldn’t help feeling slightly reassured. Just as he was about to introduce himself and Fang Jingyu, he heard her say, “This old one already knows who the honored guests are. No need to trouble yourselves. Since fate has brought us together, if you have questions, please speak freely.”

After a moment’s thought, Zheng Deli asked, “May I ask, Lady Ruyi, you’ve lived long in Yingzhou—what is your connection to the Yu Jue Guard?”

The old woman answered slowly, “There is little connection. The Yu Jue Guard was the leader of the Yingzhou resistance. This old one is merely a wandering figure of the rivers and lakes.”

“Why did you abandon the title of the Xian Mountain Guard and retire under the title of shaman?”

She smiled. “Child, if the Yu Jue Guard was the light of Yingzhou, then this old one is its shadow. Yingzhou doesn’t need too many from the Xian Moutain Guards. The Yu Jue Guard alone was enough.”

Fang Jingyu quietly whispered to Zheng Deli, “Within the Xian Moutain Guards, Ruyi Guard stood neutral—belonging to no faction.”

That was both a good and bad thing. It meant she would not be their enemy—but neither would she offer help when lives were at stake.

Zheng Deli nodded and pulled a few bone tablets from his satchel, handing them to Ruyi Guard. “Lady Ruyi, we found these bone pieces back home. My father, once a supervisor in the Astronomy Bureau, gave them to me. He said they were historical records, but what’s written seems to speak of the future, and the script is difficult to decipher. Do you recognize it?”

Ruyi Guard took the tablets and examined them for a moment before saying, “These are ancient Yingzhou script, but they appear to come from several different hands.” She glanced at the young maid at the door and seemed about to say something, but stopped.

Then she slowly stood and searched through a redwood shelf, retrieving a bamboo scroll and handing it to Zheng Deli. Upon unrolling it, he saw a comparative chart between ancient Yingzhou and Penglai scripts, and his heart raced. Ruyi Guard closed her eyes and said:

“Since Young Master Zheng is intent on studying this, then allow this old one to share a few ancient tales.”

This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and the two immediately nodded eagerly. Ruyi Guard’s gaze drifted through the porthole, toward the dark Ming Sea. Her voice was soft, like gentle ripples:

“It is said that beyond the Ming Sea, above Guixu, lies a vast land called the Nine Provinces. Of all its splendid places, the most prosperous is Chang’an. Emperor Bai’s once sought this place and led an expedition to Guixu.”

Zheng Deli nodded. “I’ve heard of that. But the former emperor couldn’t cross Guixu, and had to return in defeat.”

“The tale I speak of takes place not in Chang’an, but elsewhere in the Nine Provinces. Do you know where the newly-risen Da Yuan Dao comes from?”

“I heard that the Da Yuan Dao refers to ‘Peach Source.’ They claim there is a Peach Source beyond Penglai, stirring people to cross the frontier and causing families to break apart,” Zheng Deli said. “But what does ‘Peach Source’ actually mean?”

“That,” Ruyi Guard replied, “is the story I mean to tell. It is said that within the Nine Provinces was a place called Wuling. A fisherman from Wuling lost his way and wandered into a forest of peach blossoms. At the end of the grove, he found a paradise called the Peach Source. There, people lived without war or suffering, with food and clothing in abundance, content and carefree. This is the pure land the followers of Da Yuan Dao seek.”

The two listened in fascination. After a while, Zheng Deli came to and hurriedly asked, “Then… does it really exist?”

Ruyi Guard only smiled in silence. After a long moment, she said, “Does it matter whether it exists or not? No one has ever crossed Guixu. Even the Nine Provinces themselves may be just legend. If you wish to confirm it, you’ll have to cross the Ming Sea and see for yourselves.”

She added, “The Taoyuan Stone Gate in Yingzhou is atop Qingyu Gao Mountain. You all will soon set out. I wish you safe travels.”

“I’ve heard your divinations are extremely accurate. Might I trouble you to cast one for us?” Zheng Deli asked.

Before they came to the Fenglin ship, Mule had told them that even among the many prodigies of the Xian Moutain Guards, Ruyi Guard stood out—not only a peerless archer, but also a diviner whose readings never missed. Zheng Deli still remembered what his father had told him before leaving home—that he would “die in a blaze of glory.” He was truly curious what that meant.

Ruyi Guard nodded. “To ride wind and waves to reach this place is no easy feat. Since fate has brought you here, this old one will do her best.”

She instructed the maid to prepare a table, then asked Zheng Deli to light incense and call the spirits. She produced fifty yarrow stalks. Ruyi Guard chanted: “With reverence I invite the gods of the Five Mountains, to report to the sun and moon, the stars and constellations—please grant us insight.” Then she began her divination: drawing hexagrams, burning tortoise shells, her fingers agile, her movements fluid.

At last she told Zheng Deli: “Both the divination and the shell reading speak of the Wood Sign, supported by Water. Water gives rise to Wood, but also binds it. You, Young Master Zheng, were meant to remain in one place. Now that you’ve set out, it marks a great misfortune, a disaster of bloodshed and calamity.”

The result echoed what his father had said. Zheng Deli stared in shock. After a long moment, he nudged Fang Jingyu. “That’s scarily accurate. My father cast similar hexagrams at home. Your turn.”

Ruyi Guard smiled. “Only one matter can be divined per day. Since your time in Yingzhou is short, there aren’t many readings you can ask for. Your Highness, choose wisely.”

Fang Jingyu hesitated, but seeing how startled Zheng Deli was, he began to believe that Ruyi Guard’s art was genuine. He didn’t care about his future; there was only one question in his heart.

But just as he opened his mouth, Ruyi Guard gently smiled and said, “What Your Highness wishes to divine… is it about your elder brother?”

Fang Jingyu trembled. He hadn’t spoken—but she had seen straight through him. Could she really commune with the divine? He nodded. “Yes.”

But Ruyi Guard did not lower her head to divine. She only smiled kindly. And her words hit Fang Jingyu like a plunge into an icy abyss:

“Your elder brother, Fang Minsheng, is dead. This old one advises Your Highness to mourn and let go.”