Ling Wu glared at his retreating back and let fly: "Who are you cursing, huh?! What do you mean, no next life for me! When I ascend, I'll make you regret it! Just you wait!"
Cruel words wound the heart!
Unless soul and spirit scattered entirely, everything in this world entered the wheel of rebirth. Sixth Senior Brother's words were nothing short of cursing her to be wiped from existence! Heaven terrorize it—she wasn't some unpardonable villain. How would she come to such an end?
She silently paid respects to his ancestors eighteen generations back, and only then did her mood clear.
She was about to pull snacks from her storage bracelet when she remembered her master had seemed to praise almond pastries in the mortal realm.
So she drifted off toward Qingchen's chamber.
Before she could knock, a languid voice came from inside. "Come in, Ah-Wu."
Oh? How did he know she was here?
She pushed the door open and bowed respectfully. "Master."
"What brings Ah-Wu?" Qingchen glanced up, setting his scroll casually aside.
Seeing his bare table, Ling Wu produced her almond pastries like treasure and held them out.
"Your disciple remembers Master likes this flavor. I bought some before leaving the mortal realm, thinking we might enjoy them together."
His eyes lifted slightly. "Ah-Wu does love presenting another's flowers as her own gift."
Ling Wu froze, then caught his meaning. He was displeased she'd spent Yizhen's money!
But he was wrong this time—the pastries were bought with the silver Eldest Senior Brother had handed over long ago!
She hastened to say, "Master, these pastries were paid for with Eldest Senior Brother's money! Eat with an easy heart."
A smile that wasn't quite a smile. "Then this master wronged Ah-Wu. Allow me to apologize."
Ling Wu's head swam. One problem had become two.
She'd come looking for grief of her own free will. Had she known her master was this touchy about Yizhen, nothing on earth would have made her pull this stunt.
Clearly, her master didn't believe a word.
Truthfully she'd wanted to add that her inn stay in the mortal world had also been on Yizhen's coin. If Master truly minded, returning that gold ingot would be just fine too.
Fortunately the mood passed quickly. Qingchen raised a hand; the table filled at once with delicacies and tea. Tapping the table edge, he said, "Sit."
Ling Wu sat obediently at his side, eyes straying constantly to the table.
Mama mia—weren't these the very pastries she'd raved over in the Celestial Realm? Where had Master gotten them?
"Mortal food is fine in its way. Ah-Wu should keep hers."
That was a polite refusal of her gift. Her mouth turned down; she rose to leave—and was called back. "Isn't Ah-Wu hungry?"
"Didn't Master not want the almond pastries?"
Qingchen glanced at the spread. "Aren't these also to Ah-Wu's taste?"
Ling Wu loved food like life itself—mortal or immortal, if it was good, she loved it. She gazed pleadingly at Qingchen, then at the pastries, mouth watering.
But no matter what, she didn't dare compete with her master for food.
So she said sullenly, "You eat, Master. Your disciple wouldn't dare."
Qingchen looked at her again. "This was prepared for Ah-Wu. If you won't eat it, it gets thrown out."
Thrown out? Not on her watch!
Sweat drops fall upon the soil! Wasting food was shameful!
As if he'd foreseen her every thought, Qingchen propped his chin on one hand, lips curved. "Are you coming over or not?"
The table stood by the lattice window; moonlight poured through the slats. The pastries wore a soft halo, the teapot gleamed—and so did her master's face.
Ling Wu heard her own heart, thunderous.
As if possessed, she sat quietly back down, mind blank.
When she came to her senses, the pastries were annihilated. Meeting her master's indulgent gaze, Ling Wu was overcome with remorse. How could she not have left him a single one!
She couldn't remember how she got back to her room. She only recalled her master's parting words: "Next time Ah-Wu wants something to eat, come to me. Others' kindness is arsenic wrapped in sugar."
She couldn't shake the feeling those words were aimed at someone.
As for the Heart-Clearing Mantra he'd mentioned earlier—he'd probably forgotten. Half a day back and not a word about her copying it out.
She was relieved and worried at once. Best if her master never remembered.
She thought too much; her head grew heavy. She lay down and drifted into sleep before long.
She dreamed of Qingchen again.
In the dream she stood on the banks of the River of Forgetting. The water ran an eerie red, shrouded in mist, its current invisible. Now and then came the sound of water striking stone—like wailing, or weeping.
Along both banks, fields of red spider lilies bloomed, dazzlingly vivid.
Ling Wu stood among them; reaching to touch a petal, her hand passed straight through.
She'd seen this before, in the mortal realm. That was how Qin Zheng had been. A wisp of a soul—unable to touch the living.
When had she become a ghost?
She stared blankly at her pale palms, bewildered.
An illusion. It had to be an illusion.
She glanced left and right, made up her mind, and ran forward, searching for a way out.
But at the road's end, she saw a familiar figure.
Tall and upright, hair stirring in the wind, the whole of him frozen in place as if pinned there.
Then he sighed and said, sorrowfully, "A mortal's life is barely a hundred years. One turn of the wheel, and every trace of anger scatters. Will it be so for you as well?"
"I have waited for you a thousand years. Don't be so cruel to me, I beg you."
The words ended—and he seemed to sense something, turning slowly around.
Ling Wu stared across the distance at him, face drained with shock. It was Qingchen.
She didn't know whom he waited for, nor why he was here.
He looked at her—and smiled.
"At last—I have waited long enough for you."
There everything cut off. Ling Wu jolted awake, bolting upright.
This dream was as vivid as all the others—as if it had truly happened to her.
The River of Forgetting. The red spider lilies.
She remembered the Ghost Lord telling her that such places helped restore memories. At the time she hadn't understood.
Now she couldn't help but wonder. Could she truly have forgotten something?
She climbed off the bed, went to the table, and downed two cups of water before her nerves settled.
Outside, the moonlight was lovely; she had no taste for sleep. Her head was full of the dream—and of that scene in her master's room.
She must be possessed, she decided. All it took was one evening, and she'd lusted after her master countless times. Utterly irreverent!
Master and disciple had their proper order. She must restrain herself.
She decided to stroll the peach grove to clear her head. Maybe a cold wind would knock some sense back in.
No sooner said than done. A hand seal, and within a quarter hour she stood outside the grove.
But two steps in, she turned back, deflated.
There, beneath a peach tree in perfect bloom, a figure leaned against the trunk, face tilted to the sky, his handsome profile turned toward her—the very picture of an immortal. Who else but Qingchen?
In his hand he held a wine flask; his loose robes spilled across the ground as he moved, dusted with a few fallen petals.
Hazy moonlight fell across him. Ling Wu swallowed again. Truly a feast for the eyes.
If she stared any longer, she'd be copying that Heart-Clearing Mantra whether she liked it or not.