Zhou Fuxue bowed slightly and said, "Greetings, Senior Brother."
The youth appeared somewhat impatient. He gave a cursory nod, ignoring the greeting, and blurred into motion, weaving through the wisps of black smoke to enter Buzhiya. Soon, the eldest senior brother’s voice drifted out from within.
"Old Nine, what kind of ill wind blew you out of your courtyard today? Have you finished your research on 'No Wind Without a Cave'?"
Zhou Fuxue hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.
The layout of Ming Zhu’s Buzhiya was not much different from Wenxian Residence. Within the sprawling courtyard, aside from the paved bluestone paths, the ground was covered in layer upon layer of fallen leaves. It was unclear whether this was intentional or simply a result of laziness, but the effect was both cluttered and secluded.
Ming Zhu was standing in the pavilion of the long corridor extending from the house, his head tilted back as he hung wind chimes. The Ninth Senior Brother, Lu Qingkong, was leaning haphazardly against a small side table, listening with great annoyance to the eldest brother’s incessant chatter. He toyed with an empty cup in his hand, looking as though he were contemplating whether or not to smash it against the back of Ming Zhu’s punchable head.
Ming Zhu finished hanging the chimes and turned to see Zhou Fuxue. He immediately waved him over. "Come, come, sit here. Food will be ready in a moment."
Zhou Fuxue gave a quiet "mm" and sat down obediently. Lu Qingkong, however, seemed to frown, shifting away with a look of utter disdain that was almost palpable.
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
Zhou Fuxue looked at his own neatly arranged robes, then at the Ninth Senior Brother’s disheveled, unkempt appearance. For a moment, he couldn't fathom what the man found so distasteful about him. Was it his cleanliness?
Unaware of the undercurrents between the two, Ming Zhu hiked up his robes and sat down. "So, what brings you to my place?"
Lu Qingkong said nothing. He pulled two iron plates from his sleeve and set them on the table. The runes on the plates shimmered slightly, and then a string of voices emerged from thin air.
"...In my view, those demons capable of summoning wind and rain might only be hunted to extinction by humans because of some fabricated crimes..."
The more Ming Zhu listened, the more he felt something was wrong. By the end, he realized these were the very words of the nonsense he had spouted during the morning lecture. His expression changed instantly. He reached out, scrambling the two iron plates, and said with righteous fervor, "Ninth Brother, if you need anything, just say the word. I’ll go through fire and water to get it done for you."
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
He watched the entire process of his eldest senior brother transitioning from bold confidence to shameless cowardice, feeling a secondary wave of embarrassment on his behalf.
Lu Qingkong didn't waste words. "This trip to Baijian Mountain—I’m going."
Every two years, the Sect Leader of Rizhao Mountain would appoint disciples to go to the Sword Peak to find their own weapons. Once a weapon recognized its master, it would form a weapon spirit to follow them after they reached the Core Formation stage, remaining until death before returning to the Sword Tomb. Lu Qingkong had been at Rizhao Mountain for ten years, but because his cultivation was insufficient, he had never been permitted to go to Baijian Mountain.
Ming Zhu refused without a second thought. "No. Your cultivation is too low. A few years ago, when the Fifth Brother took people to Baijian Mountain, Master didn't let you go. This time, it just so happens that I’m the one escorting the group, so Master is even less likely to trust you to me. No, no, it’s too dangerous."
Lu Qingkong let out a cold laugh and tucked the iron plates away. With a thin, mocking smile, he said, "Then I shall take this Sound-Gathering Array to ask the old man himself if it’s allowed."
Ming Zhu: "..."
Though Ming Zhu was the head disciple of Rizhao, his backbone was weaker than that of an outer sect disciple. He stared blankly for a long while before finally groaning like a courtesan being forced to receive a guest. "Fine... I’ll... I’ll have a proper talk with Master about it."
Lu Qingkong was a straightforward person. Having achieved his goal, he stood up to leave immediately.
"Hey, hey!" Ming Zhu called out. "I’ve agreed, so give me the Sound-Gathering Array."
Lu Qingkong replied, "Once the matter is settled, I will naturally destroy the array."
Though Lu Qingkong’s methods were somewhat unscrupulous, he was a man of his word. Ming Zhu breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing toward the kitchen, he held no grudge and immediately offered a warm invitation. "Since you’re already here, don't leave yet. Have a meal with your senior brother. I cooked it myself."
Lu Qingkong seemed tempted to stay when he heard about food, but the moment he heard the last sentence, he bolted like a rabbit, vanishing in an instant.
Ming Zhu muttered, "No sense of appreciation. He runs so fast every time."
Zhou Fuxue, who had remained silent on the side, suddenly had a very bad feeling.
When the eldest senior brother excitedly brought out the prepared dishes, Zhou Fuxue’s face went cold. He thought to himself, *I take back what I said earlier. The eldest senior brother really has nothing going for him but his face.*
Every dish Ming Zhu had attempted to cook was a blackened, charred mess. Perhaps feeling a bit embarrassed himself, Ming Zhu ended up picking a few peaches from the backyard, giving one to Zhou Fuxue and keeping one for himself.
Looking at the peach still dripping with water, Zhou Fuxue didn't know what expression to make.
Ming Zhu seemed used to it. He devoured the peach in a few bites and said, "I’ll go change my clothes first. Then I’ll take you to the Hall of Everlasting Life to light your lamp."
Zhou Fuxue thought, *Why light a lamp in broad daylight? Is the eldest senior brother having another episode?*
As Ming Zhu finished speaking, he grabbed Zhou Fuxue’s pristine sleeve and wiped all the peach juice from his hands onto it before heading inside to change, looking quite satisfied.
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
Though he possessed a cold and detached nature, he was a person who kept a clear tally of debts and favors. Having suffered since childhood, even a small kindness could make him set aside past grievances to repay it tenfold.
Zhou Fuxue kept the fact that Ming Zhu had helped him this morning in his heart. Whenever Ming Zhu provoked his anger, he would replay that event from start to finish, comforting himself: *He’s still decent to you. There’s no need to get angry over such trifles.*
But self-comfort was one thing; he still pettily noted down the fact that Ming Zhu had used his sleeve as a rag. He thought, *Let the favor of helping me earlier cancel out a portion of the anger from being used as a rag.*
With that cancellation, his heart felt significantly lighter.
However, given the eldest senior brother’s penchant for seeking death, the credit from that favor would likely be chipped away to nothing by Zhou Fuxue very soon.
A moment later, Ming Zhu emerged from the room in fresh clothes.
Usually, he paraded around in robes as red as a blazing fire, gravitating toward wherever the crowds were thickest. One could spot that eye-searing figure instantly in a sea of people. Today, for some reason, he had actually deigned to set aside those flamboyant red robes in favor of the standard blue-and-white Rizhao Mountain uniform. Standing there quietly, he actually possessed the steady, composed air of a great sect’s eldest senior brother.
The "composed" eldest senior brother then said, "Oh! I just remembered that the Hall of Everlasting Life is right next to your Fifth Senior Brother’s residence. He’s currently in seclusion. Let’s go steal some food from his place."
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
The Hall of Everlasting Life was a towering, majestic building situated at the northernmost point of Rizhao Mountain. Because it leaned against the mountain wall, the frigid air and spring water from the summit flowed down, forming long, slender icicles on the eaves of the corridors. The entire structure was covered in a layer of frost, a truly magnificent sight.
Ming Zhu’s long hem trailed over the frost-covered steps as he led Zhou Fuxue step by step into the ice-clad tower. The two of them crushed the thin ice on the ground into powder, which was soon frozen solid again by the white mist—as if guided by an unseen hand—into the shape of a shattered ice flower.
A plaque hung at the entrance of the tower, bearing the words "Hall of Everlasting Life." Beside it was a line of small characters that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be Ming Zhu’s name.
Zhou Fuxue’s sharp eyes caught this. He looked at the tall, slender figure ahead with some astonishment. He seemed about to ask something, but Ming Zhu suddenly stopped and pushed open the massive, carved doors.
The doors, perhaps suffering from years of neglect, let out a weary, ancient creak. Then, soft glows of warm orange light slowly met their eyes. Simultaneously, a chill that seemed to drift from the depths of the underworld spilled out, its ominous aura making one’s skin crawl.
Zhou Fuxue was still too young; forced back by this aura, he instinctively took a step back, his fingers trembling slightly.
Ming Zhu turned slightly. At some point, he had produced an everlasting lamp shielded by white gauze. The lamp was not lit, yet for some reason, it cast a soft, warm glow over half of Ming Zhu’s face.
He reached out a hand to Zhou Fuxue and said softly, "Follow me."
Zhou Fuxue stared at him blankly. By the time he realized what was happening, his hand was already resting in the eldest senior brother’s slightly warm palm. He looked up and met Ming Zhu’s somewhat mischievous eyes.
Ming Zhu winked his right eye at him and whispered, "Don't be afraid. This is all just for show to scare people. I’m here."
Although the eldest senior brother’s various antics over the past two days had shown Zhou Fuxue that he was nothing more than a hollow shell—gold on the outside but rot on the inside—in this chilling atmosphere that felt like the road to the underworld, he miraculously gripped Ming Zhu’s hand tightly, as if clutching a lifeline.
Cold light poured down within the Hall of Everlasting Life. Two giant trees rose from the ground, their withered branches heavy with hanging icicles. The jeweled flowers and jade trees made the entire hall look even more exquisite and ethereal.
In the center of the hall stood a high platform from which water slowly trickled, flowing over the bluestone floor in shimmering ripples.
Zhou Fuxue summoned his courage to look around. Looking up, he suddenly realized that the ceiling was filled with row upon row of everlasting lamps.
The lamps floated in the air, their flames flickering slightly in the cold wind. From the bottom of each lamp hung a translucent jade plaque inscribed with a name.
Ming Zhu led his junior brother forward, stepping through the shallow water. Amidst the sea of fiery blossoms and silver trees, he tilted his head and smiled. "These are the everlasting lamps of all the disciples of Rizhao Mountain. An everlasting lamp connects life and death; when the person dies, the lamp goes out. You have one too. Once you light it with your spiritual energy, you will officially be a member of our Rizhao Mountain. Oh, watch out, don't hit your head... Ah!"
Just as he was warning someone else, he walked straight into a floating lamp. The cold jade plaque struck his wound, nearly making him jump off the ground.
"Hiss—" Ming Zhu clutched his forehead, forcing a smile as he caught another lamp drifting in front of him. He continued, "And lamps like this one, which have gone out, belong to those of Rizhao who have already passed. Once a lamp is extinguished in the Hall of Everlasting Life, even if that person were to be reborn through soul-possession, they would certainly never be counted among the disciples of Rizhao again."
Rumor had it that a hundred years ago, there was a Rizhao disciple who died in the mortal world but, through a stroke of luck, was reborn via soul-possession. The person was the same, but the Rizhao everlasting lamp would never burn for him again.
Zhou Fuxue looked at the name on the jade plaque of the extinguished lamp, then at the weak flickers of candlelight drifting all around. For some reason, an uncontrollable sense of sorrow suddenly rose in his heart.
Life is like duckweed, and life and death are like candlelight—seemingly brilliant, but destined to turn into a pile of ash and vanish from the world.
Dust to dust, earth to earth; birth, age, illness, and death—the falling leaves return to their roots.
***
