“I think Changshengzi has your best interests at heart,” Song Wentong said as he tossed ingredients into a wok, the flames licking high into the air. “Even if the fellow has a bit of a sharp tongue, he was speaking the truth.”
Mu Gesheng sprawled across the roof tiles. “Mhm, I could tell.”
“So, what do you plan to do?”
“I’m hungry.” Mu Gesheng poked his head over the edge of the eaves, looking through the window. “How can a single meeting last that long? What are we eating?”
Song Wentong swung his spatula at him, but Mu Gesheng dodged it nimbly. “I can smell it—braised beef pot. Remember to go easy on the chili.”
The gathering had lasted until the afternoon. The guests had only just dispersed, and Mu Gesheng, who hadn't expected it to drag on so long, was famished. He lay on the roof to catch the breeze, shaded by the lush, verdant canopy of the ginkgo tree. “Comfortable,” he sighed nostalgically. “It’s been years since I’ve lounged on a roof.”
“You were just making grand speeches in the water pavilion,” Song Wentong snorted. “And in the blink of an eye, you’ve reverted to your true self.”
“I’m just waiting for you to finish cooking. Stealing a moment of peace from a busy life,” Mu Gesheng remarked. “This is my last meal here for a while. I have to stay at the barracks for the next few weeks. There’s too much to do; I probably won't see you for a good long time.”
“If you want to eat something specific, send someone to Yeshui Zhuhua to let me know.”
“Understood. Do I have to pay?”
“Are you looking for a beating or what?!”
Song Wentong’s roar echoed across the courtyard, startling Wu Zixu just as he was about to push open the door. “What did Old Fourth do to you this time?”
“Old Third, you’ve come at the perfect time!” Mu Gesheng’s face lit up with joy. “There isn't enough food to go around. Tell Old Second to add more dishes.”
Before he could finish, Song Wentong flicked a chopstick behind him. It grazed Wu Zixu’s temple and embedded itself deep into the doorframe. “If you’re coming in, just come in. Why bring a ghost along with you?”
A figure stepped out from behind the door and bowed. “The Mozi is indeed sharp-eyed.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask since you arrived,” Song Wentong said, continuing to chop vegetables. “It’s one thing for Wu Nie to show up for the Seven Houses’ business, but what is a Judge of Fengdu doing here? Have you been dead so long you’ve grown tired of your existence?”
The man standing at the door held a black umbrella. He wore green robes and had a pale, porcelain face. He was none other than Cui Ziyu, a Judge of the Department of Infernal Law.
“This humble official did not mean to offend,” Cui Ziyu replied, his voice high-pitched and drawn out like a performer in a traditional opera. “Please, allow me to explain the circumstances.”
“Cut the nonsense. I’ve spent the whole morning listening to people drone on.” Song Wentong lifted the soaked beef from a basin and slammed it onto the cutting board. “If you dare try to perform a monologue here, I wouldn't mind using you as a side dish for my wine.”
The residents of the Ginkgo Study had a long-standing history with the Department of Infernal Law. Back when Song Wentong and Mu Gesheng had first caused an uproar in Fengdu, they had received their punishment at that very department. That was the first time they had met Cui Ziyu. The Judge had stood in the hall, reciting their crimes line by line, his theatrical drawl even more exaggerated than it was now. Mu Gesheng had nearly fallen asleep, while Song Wentong had grown so irritated he’d drawn his blade and thrashed the man. Afterward, Song Wentong had finished reading the list of crimes himself in one breath before heading off to take his punishment.
Assaulting a Judge in court should have added a level to their sentence, but Cui Ziyu had turned a blind eye and suppressed the matter. It was from that day forward that the Judge’s peculiar speech habit had improved slightly; though it was still agonizingly slow, at least he no longer took half a day to read a single indictment.
Mu Gesheng hopped down from the eaves and snatched a braised chicken foot from the stove. “What brings you here, Magistrate Cui?”
“Greetings, Young Master Mu.” Cui Ziyu bowed deeply. “I have come today to request a divination.”
Song Wentong’s temper flared instantly. “Are you asking for death?”
“Old Third, hold Old Second back.” Mu Gesheng waved a hand, then turned to Cui Ziyu with a smile. “Magistrate Cui, you saw what happened this morning. I have no intention of inheriting the title of Tiansuanzi. I am merely a rebellious disciple. If you ask me for a divination now, it will make things awkward for everyone.”
Despite his words, Mu Gesheng was turning the matter over in his mind. Cui Ziyu was no fool; he understood the logic Mu Gesheng had just laid out. If he was still coming to ask for a divination, the matter must be of grave importance. Furthermore, since Wu Zixu had brought him here, it meant the issue concerned Fengdu and that the Wu clan was involved.
Fengdu was full of talented individuals, yet a Judge had gone to such lengths to enter the mortal realm and seek help. There were only two people left in the Tiansuan lineage: his eldest senior brother was confined to Penglai, leaving only himself.
What could possibly require a divination from the Tiansuan lineage specifically?
As Mu Gesheng’s thoughts raced, he heard Cui Ziyu ask, “Young Master Mu, are you familiar with the West Pass of Fengdu?”
The West Pass—the Land of Avici, where the Spectral Soldiers emerged.
The name carried immense weight. Even Cui Ziyu dropped his theatrical tone, speaking with somber gravity.
*I know it all too well,* Mu Gesheng thought. *If I told you what I did there, it would scare you to death.*
Even Song Wentong paused. “What’s wrong with the West Pass?”
“Since you know of the West Pass, you must know what resides within the Land of Avici,” Cui Ziyu said. “The Spectral Soldiers emerge whenever chaos reigns. In recent years, the world has fallen into great turmoil, and the earthly veins have become unstable. The movements of the Spectral Soldiers within the West Pass have become increasingly frequent. I fear a great upheaval is brewing within the gates.”
Mu Gesheng asked, “And?”
“An upheaval within the West Pass will directly affect Fengdu and even the earthly veins of China. The Ten Yama Kings are already making preparations. However, the will of Heaven is difficult to fathom. Thus, I was sent to request a divination from Young Master Mu—to calculate the time of the next spectral emergence.”
“If there’s an upheaval, just have the Yama Kings send people to suppress it early,” Song Wentong said. “Why bother calculating the time?”
“If the Spectral Soldiers do not emerge, even the Yama Kings cannot forcibly awaken and suppress them. Conversely, even if the Ten Yama Kings act, there is no guarantee of success. Once the Spectral Soldiers riot, it could endanger Fengdu itself.” Cui Ziyu bowed until his head nearly touched the ground. “In this moment of life and death, every bit of preparation increases our chances of victory. I beg for Young Master Mu’s compassion.”
Mu Gesheng fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly. “Magistrate Cui, what you are asking for is no ordinary divination.”
“This official understands.”
“Years ago, when Old Second and I were young and reckless, the Ginkgo Study owed you a favor.” Mu Gesheng sighed. “The changing of dynasties is nothing new, and the world has seen chaos many times before. But I have never heard of the West Pass acting up because of it, nor have I heard of Fengdu facing such a crisis.”
“Young Master Mu,” Cui Ziyu said, “such a sudden and violent shift in the winds is something China has never seen before.”
Mu Gesheng remained silent for a long time. Finally, he said softly, “You’re right.”
“This is no longer a simple matter of changing dynasties.”
A moment later, Cui Ziyu bowed in thanks and vanished on the spot.
The three of them each took a bowl and squatted on the steps to eat.
Song Wentong ate quickly. Before long, he went back to the kitchen for seconds and brought out a pot of tea. “By doing this, you’re looking for trouble.”
“Things have already come to this. Old Second, you might as well say something useful.” Mu Gesheng pushed all his vegetables into Wu Zixu’s bowl and swapped them for the meat in Wu Zixu’s. “I’ll need to find where Master hid the Mountain Ghost charms… I didn't take them with me when I went abroad; I left them all with him. Though, it would be best if I couldn't find them. That way, no one could hold it against me.”
“Stop entertaining such devious thoughts,” Wu Zixu said. “The Master left the Mountain Ghost charms in the care of the Abbot of Baishui Temple. All Seven Houses know this.”
Mu Gesheng was stunned. “Dammit, how come I didn't know?”
Song Wentong sneered. “You refuse to take the title of Tiansuanzi; do you really have the nerve to call yourself a member of the Seven Houses?”
“I’m not a member, yet I still have to do their work.” Mu Gesheng shook his head repeatedly, grimacing. “Every single one of them is a member of the exploiting class—Old Second, did you drop the entire jar of chili into the pot? Why is it so spicy?”
“It serves you right. Eat it or starve.”
“If it’s not spicy, why are you drinking tea?”
The two began poking at each other with their chopsticks. Wu Zixu, caught in the middle, said helplessly, “You’re grown men. Why do you still eat like children? Do I have to coax you both?”
Mu Gesheng held his bowl out to him. “Then you tell me, Old Third, is it spicy or not?”
Wu Zixu replied, “I was listening to Magistrate Cui just now. It’s possible Old Second’s hand slipped while he wasn't paying attention…”
Song Wentong slammed his chopsticks down. “Then don't eat it.”
Wu Zixu immediately defected. “It’s not spicy.”
“No way, no way!” Mu Gesheng started shouting. “Old Second, is this how you run your business at Yeshui Zhuhua? Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?”
Wu Zixu added, “Does he even have such a thing?”
Song Wentong snapped, “I fed it to you!”
The three of them were on the verge of a full-blown argument when the courtyard gate was pushed open once more.
“Pardon the intrusion.” It was Chai Shuxin. “The Abbot of Baishui Temple requests Mu Gesheng’s presence in the meditation room.”
“Midwinter, you haven't left yet?”
Chai Shuxin remained expressionless. “I was just finishing a game of Go with the Abbot.”
“Then you haven't eaten?” Mu Gesheng stood up and pointed behind him. “Old Second made braised beef. Want to join us?”
Wu Zixu nodded in agreement. “Perfect. It’s been a long time since the four of us shared a meal.”
“You should have said so earlier.” Song Wentong kicked Mu Gesheng. “That was the last bowl. It’s gone.”
“That huge pot is empty?” Mu Gesheng asked in disbelief. “Old Second, how many bowls did you eat?”
“I made the food. Do you have a problem with that?”
“I counted,” Wu Zixu raised a hand. “Six bowls.” He was promptly shoved face-first into his own bowl.
“Old Second, it’s a good thing you’re handsome. With an appetite like that, you’d never find anyone to marry you.” Mu Gesheng clicked his tongue in mock sympathy, deftly dodging a chopstick thrown by Song Wentong. Then he frowned. He was the one who had invited Chai Shuxin to stay, and the man didn't look like he was planning to leave. What could he serve him? Should he go into the kitchen and whip something up himself?
Chai Shuxin seemed to read his mind. “No need to go to any trouble.”
“Old Fourth, you also ate three bowls, didn't you? How do you have the nerve to talk about me?” Song Wentong was still shouting.
This reminded Mu Gesheng of something. “This is the bowl I just filled. I haven't touched it yet. Why don't you try some?” He thrust his bowl and chopsticks into Chai Shuxin’s hands. “Old Second’s braised beef pot. The flavor is actually quite good.”
Song Wentong went silent instantly, shooting a look at Wu Zixu: *Is this guy insane?*
Wu Zixu also looked astonished. Although they had been friends since youth and their bond was deeper than most, and the three of them often snatched food from each other’s bowls, this was Chai Shuxin. The members of the Medicine House were notoriously fastidious about cleanliness. When Chai Shuxin had stayed at the Ginkgo Study for a month years ago, his room had made theirs look like dog kennels by comparison.
Under everyone’s watchful gaze, Chai Shuxin took Mu Gesheng’s bowl without a change in expression and began to eat.
The courtyard fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Everyone watched as Chai Shuxin finished the entire bowl of rice. Even Mu Gesheng was a bit stunned; he had intended it as a prank, but the fact that it had gone so smoothly was entirely unexpected.
Chai Shuxin handed the bowl back to Mu Gesheng. He was about to speak when he suddenly broke into a fit of coughing. Wu Zixu immediately turned his head. “Old Fourth, are you playing tricks again?”
“What?”
Wu Zixu pointed at the incessantly coughing Chai Shuxin. “Did you put medicine in the bowl?”
“Are you joking? Am I that kind of person in your eyes?”
“Aren't you?”
However, Chai Shuxin waved them off, struggling to catch his breath. He rasped, “Is there any tea?”
Wu Zixu blinked. “Tea?”
“It’s too spicy.”
Song Wentong: “...”
Mu Gesheng’s triumphant laughter rang out through the courtyard.
***
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Of Weddings and Wakes | Chapter 24 | A Spicy Request | Novela.app | Novela.app
