"He's awake!"
Ming Zhu drifted back from the depths of a nightmare, his mind a haze as he stared at the person hovering over him. For a moment, he couldn't quite process his surroundings.
Zhou Fuxue helped him sit up, propping him against a soft pillow. With lingering fear in his voice, he said, "Shixiong, you’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for two days."
Ming Zhu stared at him blankly. As if suddenly remembering something, he began to struggle, trying to get out of bed.
But having been unconscious for so long, his body was devoid of strength. He nearly tumbled off the bed, but Zhou Fuxue caught him in a frantic rush. "Shixiong, what are you doing?"
Ming Zhu’s eyes were hollow. He looked at him dazed and murmured, "I need to find Hong Chuan."
Zhou Fuxue froze, his expression turning grim.
Unaware of the change, Ming Zhu grabbed his sleeve and shook it, pleading, "Hong Chuan... Hong Chuan is at Biri Cliff. He’s hurt."
Zhou Fuxue pressed down on Ming Zhu’s struggling shoulders, his eyes filled with pain. He spoke with brutal honesty: "Shixiong, Seventh Shixiong is dead."
Ming Zhu froze. The hand gripping Zhou Fuxue’s sleeve fell limp. He repeated vacantly, "Dead?"
"Yes."
Ming Zhu let out a hollow "oh." He went rigid where he sat, his eyes fixed and unblinking.
Zhou Fuxue tentatively reached out to pull him into an embrace. Seeing that Ming Zhu didn't resist as he had before, he tightened his arms, shielding him protectively in his chest.
Hearing the commotion, Lu Qingkong hurried into the room. He paused at the sight.
Zhou Fuxue whispered, "Keep it down."
Lu Qingkong stepped forward cautiously. Seeing Ming Zhu curled in Zhou Fuxue’s arms with vacant eyes, his heart ached. "What’s wrong with him?"
"A nightmare," Zhou Fuxue replied. "It’s alright. He’ll be fine soon."
Lu Qingkong nodded. "We’ve already passed the Withered Wood Forest. We’ll be landing at Rizhao soon."
Whether it was the word 'Rizhao' that acted as a catalyst, Ming Zhu’s empty, unfocused eyes moved slowly. He sat up from Zhou Fuxue’s embrace and murmured, "Rizhao?"
Seeing him conscious, Lu Qingkong immediately chimed in, "That’s right, Da-Shixiong! We’re going home. Master will be so happy when he finds out. Your Buzhiya has been kept empty all these years; Master wouldn't let anyone else move in. He must have known you weren't dead and was waiting for your return."
Lu Qingkong’s face beamed with excitement.
Only then did Ming Zhu realize they were aboard a Skyship. Clouds drifted past the window; he didn't know which day's dawn it was.
From outside came You Nü’s cheerful shout: "Ninth Shixiong! I’ve already sent word to Shijie that Da-Shixiong is alive! They’ll be there to meet us the moment we land!"
"Good!" Lu Qingkong called back.
He turned back to Ming Zhu. "Da-Shixiong, you fainted so suddenly. Little Shishu hadn't even finished speaking before you passed out—you scared us half to death. Although the Soul Lamps of Fifth and Third Shixiong went out, they didn't fall from the Hall of Longevity. Master suspects that Na Lian might have dragged them into a pocket realm, severing their connection to the lamps. It doesn't necessarily mean they’ve lost their lives."
Ming Zhu forced a faint smile. "I just felt a bit unwell."
Lu Qingkong could see that his body was even weaker than before, so he didn't press further. After giving Zhou Fuxue a few instructions, he ran back outside.
Perhaps it was the trepidation of a returning traveler, but as Ming Zhu stepped out of the cabin, his heart hammered against his ribs, making it difficult to breathe.
He didn't say a word, however. Discreetly clutching his chest, he walked to the railing of the Skyship and looked down at the lush, green forests of the Rizhao mountains.
Wrapped in a black cloak, his long hair fluttering in the wind, Ming Zhu stood at the edge of the vessel. His eyes were misty, like the fog atop a mountain peak that might scatter with a single breath.
Looking at Ming Zhu’s clouded gaze, Zhou Fuxue felt a surge of foreboding. He couldn't put his finger on what was wrong, so he simply gave Ming Zhu’s shoulder a gentle pat.
Ming Zhu turned his head to look at him.
"Shixiong," Zhou Fuxue said softly, "don't be afraid."
Ming Zhu nodded.
Soon, Lu Qingkong steered the Skyship to a halt on the open ground near the Rizhao mountain gate. As soon as the vessel stabilized, the restless Lu Qingkong and You Nü leaped down, happily running off to find the others.
Ming Zhu and Zhou Fuxue walked down side-by-side. Looking at the Rizhao mountains, which had changed so little, he felt as if a lifetime had passed.
Fifty years had slipped through his fingers like sand.
Ming Zhu ascended the Disciples' Steps one by one. Seeing the familiar Linglong Tower nearby, he thought of something and his lips curved into a slight smile.
The pear trees were in full bloom, their branches heavy with blossoms like a landscape of snow.
Ming Zhu crossed the Disciples' Steps and moved toward the Main Hall of Rizhao, only to suddenly collide with an invisible barrier. The impact sent him reeling, nearly tumbling back down the steps.
Zhou Fuxue rushed to steady him.
Ming Zhu stared at the Rizhao barrier before him. He reached out and gently touched the void, confirming that he was indeed being barred by the sect's protection.
Zhou Fuxue realized what was happening and said quickly, "Master must not know it's you yet. I—I'll go find him right now and have him lower the barrier."
Ming Zhu nodded. Zhou Fuxue watched him carefully to ensure he was alright before hurrying away. Ming Zhu was left standing alone under a pear tree, staring blankly at the delicate white petals on his fingertips.
Since when did he, on Rizhao Mountain, have to be kept out by a barrier?
Standing on the steps, Ming Zhu’s eyes were filled with a watery haze.
The spring breeze still carried a bite of cold. Moments later, a fine drizzle began to fall, coating his long hair and robes in a thin veil of mist.
He didn't use his spiritual power to ward off the growing rain. Instead, he tilted his head slightly to look at the grey sky, letting the raindrops fall on his face and trail down his pale cheeks like tears.
Only Ming Zhu knew that no matter how much grief this body felt, it would never shed a single tear.
He remembered Ye Weiyang’s comment calling him a "disgusting monster," and a self-mocking smile touched his lips.
Before Zhou Fuxue could reach the Main Hall, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. Ignoring everything else and forgoing any formal announcement, he threw open the hall doors and rushed inside.
Master Guining sat at the head of the hall, dressed in robes as white as snow. His eyes were slightly closed, seemingly in meditation.
Zhou Fuxue rushed forward. "Master! Da-Shixiong has returned! Please, lower the Rizhao barrier and let him in!"
Guining did not open his eyes. He said coldly, "One who is blocked by the Rizhao barrier is no member of my Rizhao. Tell him to leave."
Zhou Fuxue was stunned, unable to believe Guining’s reaction. He stammered, "But he is Shixiong! Weren't you always the one who loved him most? He’s back now, and he’s alive and well."
Guining asked, "Is he Ming Zhu?"
Zhou Fuxue didn't understand why he would ask such a thing. "Of course he is! If you just see him once, you’ll recognize him. Shixiong hasn't changed a bit over all these years. You..."
"Silence." Guining snapped his eyes open, his gaze sharp and cold. "My disciple died fifty years ago at Biri Cliff. No matter how much he looks like him, he is absolutely not Ming Zhu. A dead man returning to the world unchanged? I will never believe it. Have him leave Rizhao immediately, or do not blame me for being heartless."
Zhou Fuxue grew frantic. "Master! He really is Da-Shixiong! I, Fuxue, swear it—"
"What use is your oath?" Guining said sternly. "You know the situation in Shou'an City. Countless demon cultivators have ascended from Biri Cliff, seizing cities and slaughtering great cultivators. Na Lian has vowed to grind the bones of everyone who participated in the siege of Guifang into ash. Are you not afraid that he is a demon sent by Na Lian, disguised as Ming Zhu to deceive you? Do you truly intend to put so many Rizhao disciples in danger for your own selfish desires?"
Zhou Fuxue stood frozen, looking at him in disbelief.
"Even if we assume he is Ming Zhu," Guining continued, "his return is far too suspicious, appearing just as the demon cultivators enter the world. Do you truly feel nothing is amiss?"
Guining’s words were like needles, stabbing deep into Zhou Fuxue’s heart. He even felt a flicker of lingering fear—thankfully...
Thankfully, he hadn't brought Ming Zhu here directly to hear these words with his own ears. If he had, how much more pain would he be in?
Zhou Fuxue gave Guining a long, hollow look. Without another word, he turned and left.
Waiting at the entrance of Rizhao, Ming Zhu seemed to sense something. He glanced toward the Main Hall and tilted his head slightly.
Ming Zhu didn't know what he was feeling. All his joys and sorrows seemed muffled by a layer of grey mist, leaving him in a daze.
*When I see Master, what kind of expression should I make?* Ming Zhu wondered curiously. *Should I bow first? Or should I just throw myself into his arms and cry?*
He recalled how he used to shamelessly cling to Guining and act spoiled. The memory made his skin crawl; he felt a mix of helplessness and shame, unable to imagine what he had been thinking to act so coquettishly back then.
The rain grew heavier. He didn't bother to shield himself, keeping his head lowered as if lost in deep thought. Soon, the sound of hurried footsteps came from the entrance of Rizhao.
Ming Zhu looked toward the sound and saw Ming Fuhua, dressed in white and drenched by the rain, walking toward him.
Ming Zhu stared at her blankly. For a moment, he was stunned. Then, it felt as if a great hand had slowly wiped away a patch of that mist. Emotions he had buried for decades began to seep out from that gap, bringing a swelling ache to the stone that was his heart.
Ming Zhu’s hands hung at his sides as the rain poured down.
Ming Fuhua walked quickly, reaching the bottom of the Disciples' Steps in an instant. she stared at him, her frost-cold face twitching with an unreadable emotion.
Ming Zhu, perhaps overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotion, failed to notice her strangeness. His entire body trembled, and his legs shook slightly as he began to descend the steps.
Those twelve steps seemed to drain every ounce of his strength. When he reached the sixth step, Ming Fuhua suddenly gasped. With a flick of her wrist, a longbow appeared in her hand.
That bow was one Ming Zhu had gone through immense hardship to find years ago. When he gave it to her, she had granted him a rare smile.
Ming Zhu’s pupils dilated. A wave of bitterness rose in his chest. His voice was choked with emotion; he hadn't even managed to call out "Fuhua" before he saw the sister he cherished like a treasure draw the bowstring. Without so much as a blink, she loosed an arrow at him.
Ming Zhu seemed to freeze. It took a moment for him to look down at the feathered shaft buried in his chest. He couldn't process it.
In quick succession, Ming Fuhua fired several more arrows without blinking. His chest, shoulder, and abdomen were pierced. Blood began to flow, merging with the misty puddles on the ground.
Ming Zhu felt waves of agonizing pain surge through his body, nearly forcing tears from his eyes. He looked at Ming Fuhua’s exquisite face in bewilderment. "Fuhua?" he murmured.
Ming Fuhua lowered her bow. Her eyes were like ice as she looked at him. Her thin lips parted, and she spoke.
"You..."
Ming Zhu’s body swayed.
Ming Fuhua said, "You monster..."
***
