“Though the one I love is a thousand miles away, let me drain this cup of wine while I still live. Before the drink is done, my heart is already drunk; blood flows from my eyes, and my soul turns to ash...”
The aria was melodious and lingering. Wu Zixu sat beneath the veranda, a plain white paper fan in hand, eyes closed as he rested his spirit.
As the segment ended, he tapped his fan lightly. “One breath was off. Try that line of Yingying’s again.”
The courtyard was filled with Vermilion Bird flowers, their blossoms hanging in clusters amidst dense, lush foliage. Zhu Yinxiao stood beneath a tree, raising his hand to strike a pose. His features already carried a hint of the grace Wu Zixu possessed when performing.
The youth had just begun to find his pitch when a voice interrupted him. “Don’t you two get tired of chirping and warbling all day?” Song Wentong walked into the courtyard carrying a hoe, shirtless, with beads of sweat dripping from the tips of his hair.
“We find joy in it,” Wu Zixu said, waving his fan. “As for you, Second Brother—you tended the ginkgo trees back at the academy, and now that we’re at Kunlun, you’re fussing over the Vermilion Bird trees. I think you’ve plowed through half the soil on this mountain. Aren’t you exhausted?”
They had been at Kunlun for over a month. During this time, Wu Zixu, having nothing better to do, had begun teaching Zhu Yinxiao a few operatic tunes. The boy was a quick study and had soon captured the essence of the art.
“It’s something to do,” Song Wentong said, tossing the hoe aside. He grabbed a teapot from the table and gulped down the contents. “Of all the things you could teach, you had to choose this damn stuff.”
“What’s wrong with *The Romance of the Western Chamber*?” Wu Zixu smiled. “Old Fifth is at that age. When you were his age, didn’t you spend every day soaking in the Moon Over the Mountain Pass, listening to one Kunqu act after another?”
“I was visiting relatives, dammit!” Song Wentong kicked him, splashed the remaining tea over his face, and shook his head. He looked at Zhu Yinxiao. “Which part are you learning?”
Zhu Yinxiao replied, “The Long Pavilion Farewell.”
“Farewell?” Song Wentong frowned. “Why not sing ‘The Stunning Encounter’?”
“Because this fits the mood,” Wu Zixu said. “Besides, he’s already sung ‘The Stunning Encounter’ before.”
Song Wentong fell silent. He sat down and jerked his chin toward Zhu Yinxiao.
The youth cleared his throat, and his haunting aria echoed through the courtyard.
*Blue clouds in the sky, yellow flowers on the ground, the west wind blows cold. Northern geese fly south.*
*Who stained the frosty woods with wine-red at dawn? ’Tis but the tears of those who part.*
Song Wentong and Wu Zixu both lapsed into silence. They knew all too well—it was the forty-ninth day.
Yet, no one had visited Kunlun.
As dusk approached and the shadows lengthened, Wu Zixu finally spoke. “If he doesn’t come, what do you plan to do?”
“Nothing special,” Song Wentong said. “Settle the debts, avenge the wrongs, clean up the mess. Finally, I’ll dig a few holes at Baishui Temple and bury my brothers.”
“That works. We can build a thatched hut nearby and keep each other company,” Wu Zixu nodded. “Though, if you bury Old Fourth and the Master of Lingshu together, those two enemies probably won’t find peace even in death.”
Song Wentong snorted. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“If there’s still no news of the Master of Lingshu by tomorrow at the latest, I’m going back to Fengdu,” Wu Zixu said. “Everything that needs to be prepared has been prepared. It’s time to settle the accounts.”
He looked at Song Wentong. “Do you want to go to the Bridge of Helplessness? If he hasn’t crossed yet, maybe you can say goodbye.”
“Let’s wait a bit longer,” Song Wentong said. “I don’t think that man named Chai dies so easily.”
***
After nightfall, a boy in red robes entered the courtyard, inviting Song Wentong and Wu Zixu to the Star-Gazing Pavilion for a discussion.
The Star-Gazing Pavilion was the residence of the Zhu family elder, Zhu Baizhi. On the day Song Wentong and Wu Zixu had visited Chenque Terrace, it was Zhu Baizhi who had sent Zhu Yinxiao down the mountain to receive them.
The Vermilion Bird was a star deity, and the Zhu family excelled in the art of star-gazing. While they lacked the unerring precision of the Master of Heavenly Calculation, they focused on the vast and distant; after all, the lifespan of a Vermilion Bird was measured in millennia, allowing them to predict the incredibly far future.
Upon arriving at the mountain that day, the first thing Wu Zixu had done was visit Zhu Baizhi to hand over an item.
It was the blood-drop of Wunie.
At first, Zhu Baizhi had refused it. The remains of the Tai Sui were incredibly precious, capable of even intimidating Fengdu. Given Wu Zixu’s current predicament, he undoubtedly needed it more.
“You have known the Eldest for over a thousand years; you understand her temperament better than I do,” Wu Zixu had bowed deeply. “Fengdu is not her home.”
The white-haired elder had stood with his back to him, the vast galaxy overhead.
Now, Song Wentong and Wu Zixu ascended the Star-Gazing Pavilion. At the top stood a massive armillary sphere. Water dripped into a clepsydra, driving the gears to slowly open, close, and rotate.
Zhu Baizhi held counting rods in his hand, which were already spread across the floor in a dense, intricate pattern.
Wu Zixu’s eyelid twitched. For a calculation to cost Zhu Baizhi this much effort, something major must have happened.
Zhu Baizhi did not look up when they arrived. He went straight to the point. “In the northwest of the celestial realm, a Killing Star has manifested.”
Song Wentong and Wu Zixu were both stunned.
In years of war, the appearance of a Killing Star was not unusual, yet Zhu Baizhi’s expression was grave.
The study of the Five Elements was also a specialty of the School of Yin and Yang. However, the Yin and Yang practitioners had long resided in Fengdu, away from the sun. Wu Zixu’s mastery of celestial phenomena was not profound. He observed the movement of the bronze instrument, then looked up at the night sky, suddenly spotting a pale green star.
He immediately understood Zhu Baizhi’s meaning. In the northwest of the celestial realm, a Killing Star had manifested—it was an extremely rare Killing Star, one that any ancient astronomical text from the Seven Sages would document at great length.
Song Wentong was completely lost. “What does that mean?”
Wu Zixu steadied himself and said, “The Emperor spreads the four dimensions, moving them with the Dipper; the moon shifts one mansion each month, returning to its place. Only in the northwest of the celestial realm is there a Killing Star that remains motionless through the four seasons.”
Knowing Song Wentong wouldn’t understand, he translated: “The entire star field follows a pattern of movement. Even the natal stars of the Sages must rise at night and set at dawn. But there is one Killing Star that is different. Even if you watch it all night long, it does not move an inch.”
“It is a Dead Star. Because its aura of slaughter is too heavy, no matter how time changes, it remains anchored in the same spot until the star itself shatters and falls.”
“So?” Song Wentong understood only half of it. “Whose natal star is it?”
Wu Zixu’s throat moved. After a moment, he said, “The Rakshasa’s.”
The Licking Red Blade clattered to the floor.
“A year of great calamity,” Zhu Baizhi sighed deeply. “The seventh Sage has finally manifested.”
“Master of Impermanence,” he said, putting down the counting rods. “I invited you and the Master of Mo here today not just because the Rakshasa has appeared—look at the natal stars of the Sages. Do you notice anything strange?”
“...The Rakshasa has appeared, and the celestial signs are in chaos.” Wu Zixu pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “I am of shallow learning; I dare not make a judgment.”
“Then you have seen it,” Zhu Baizhi said. “The current state of the Sages’ natal stars is indeed preposterous, but it is the truth.”
Wu Zixu gasped.
Song Wentong was growing anxious. “What the hell kind of riddles are you two playing?”
Wu Zixu looked up at the night sky again. The conclusion he reached nearly made him lose his footing. It took a long time before he could speak. “The Lingshu star has fallen. Which is to say... Chai Shuxin is dead.”
“But that isn’t the most bizarre part.”
“There is another star that has nearly fallen: the Changsheng star.”
“Changsheng?” Song Wentong repeated. “The Master of Longevity?”
“Yes,” Wu Zixu nodded in disbelief. “The Sect Leader of Penglai, Master of Longevity Hua Bucheng, is at the end of his lifespan.”
The Master of Longevity was called so largely because cultivators had vast lifespans, nearly immortal. Hua Bucheng had succeeded as the Sect Leader of Penglai less than a hundred years ago—how could he be dying already?
*A life for a life.* That was Song Wentong’s first thought. Perhaps Mu Gesheng’s vengeful ghost had gone to claim him.
The Master of Longevity’s strength was unfathomable; even Song Wentong would have little chance of winning against him. It was hard to imagine who could take his life.
Wait. Song Wentong suddenly realized something.
He and Wu Zixu locked eyes. Clearly, they had both thought of the same possibility.
Before either could speak, Zhu Baizhi said, “At dusk, I received a white crane message from Penglai.”
“The Rakshasa broke through the mountain gates. The disciples of Penglai have suffered heavy casualties. The mountain was set ablaze; blood flows like a river.”
“The Master of Longevity took up his sword to meet the challenge. The two have been locked in combat for a day and a night. Now Penglai is in peril and has sent a plea for reinforcements.”
Zhu Baizhi looked at the two of them. “Whether to save them or not is for you two to decide.”
Song Wentong immediately said, “Save them.”
“You want to save them?” Wu Zixu looked at him. “That’s the Rakshasa!”
“Who gives a damn about Hua Bucheng’s life?” Song Wentong rolled his eyes. “But Old Fourth’s body is still on the Altar of Heaven. The Master of Heavenly Calculation can only be cremated forty-nine days after death. We have to move fast.”
“True,” Wu Zixu realized. “Then let’s go.”
Zhu Baizhi stepped in front of them. “Wait, you two. I haven’t finished.”
“Is there no end to this?” Song Wentong was impatient. Every second counted; he was in a rush to reclaim the body. “What else do you have to say?”
“Be at peace, Master of Mo,” Zhu Baizhi said. “This matter is of great importance. I truly do not know where to begin, and it is far too hard to believe.”
“The message from the white crane clearly stated the identity of this generation’s Rakshasa.”
Song Wentong: “Who?”
Zhu Baizhi was silent for a moment, then said, “The recently deceased Master of Lingshu, Chai Shuxin.”
***
A long time passed. The night had grown deep. Zhu Baizhi had left the top of the pavilion, leaving only Wu Zixu and Song Wentong.
Wu Zixu finished a pipe of tobacco, still feeling a sense of disillusionment, as if in a dream. “...I truly did not expect this.”
“I knew that guy Chai wouldn’t die,” Song Wentong said, scratching his head irritably. “But I never fucking imagined he’d become the Rakshasa. What the hell did he do?”
“Hard to say.” Wu Zixu shook his head. “Are you still going to Penglai?”
“No.” Song Wentong tossed the Licking Red Blade aside. “With him there, nothing will happen to Old Fourth.”
“I knew it,” Wu Zixu sighed. “But this matter won’t end well. You need to think about what to do next.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Song Wentong snorted. “I’m staying right here in Kunlun. If anyone wants to charge Chai Shuxin with a crime, let them go to him. Don’t come looking for me.”
Song Wentong had always been clear about his loves and hates, and his favoritism was blatant. He was clearly intending to shield Chai Shuxin.
Even if the Rakshasa had always been feared by the Seven Sages, Wu Zixu understood that Song Wentong had always considered Chai Shuxin a brother.
...And he could also guess why Chai Shuxin wanted to kill Hua Bucheng.
If even Hua Bucheng was no match for the Rakshasa, then looking across the Seven Sages, the only one who could possibly stand against him was the Master of Mo.
Yet Song Wentong was choosing to play the hermit. Chenque Terrace had its restrictions; as long as he didn't leave Kunlun, no one could force him to do anything.
But an explanation would have to be given to the Seven Sages eventually. Wu Zixu felt a headache coming on just thinking about it.
It felt like being back at the Ginkgo Academy years ago. Someone would stir up trouble, someone else would wash their hands of it, and all the messy business would fall on his shoulders.
...Only the troublemaker had changed.
The first time Wu Zixu had a deep impression of Chai Shuxin was after they had caused a scene in Fengdu.
Back then, to help him, Song Wentong and Mu Gesheng had set up a gambling den in the Ghost Market and raised hell in Fengdu. As punishment, the Master had sent them to the Bureau of Yin Laws to undergo the "Caning Law."
The Caning Law was a severe punishment. Although they had made arrangements beforehand, the two of them still went in walking and came out being carried, bloody and battered beyond belief. He knew at a glance it was bad. After settling them in, he hurried to find a doctor.
Everyone knew the best healers in the city were at the Chai Manor. However, Chai Shuxin was away that day, and the two were gravely injured. The punishments of the Bureau of Yin Laws were no small matter. The doctors initially treated them for ordinary trauma, but as time passed, the wounds worsened, eventually becoming life-threatening.
In the end, Wu Zixu had to light incense to summon ghost messengers and bring Chai Shuxin back from out of town overnight.
At that time, they weren't well-acquainted, having only met a few times at the academy. Both were Sages who had inherited their titles at a young age. But unlike Wu Zixu’s worldly experience, though Chai Shuxin was mature for his age, he carried a hint of a healer’s aloof pride—a temperament that seemed almost too rigid, prone to breaking.
Until that night when Chai Shuxin arrived. He checked their pulses, then without a word, grabbed an iron shovel and walked out.
Wu Zixu chased after him, asking what he was doing. The other didn't answer, heading straight for the outskirts of the city.
There was a graveyard there. Chai Shuxin looked at the tombstones, rolled up his sleeves, and began to dig.
Wu Zixu was stunned. He watched as Chai Shuxin dug up a corpse, sliced open the lower limb, and removed a section of leg bone. Then he dug up a second corpse and did the exact same thing. Then a third, and a fourth.
By mortal custom, desecrating a grave was a grave disrespect. Although the School of Yin and Yang didn't care about such things, Chai Shuxin had always been dignified and observant of etiquette. It was hard to imagine him doing something like this.
And doing it with such practiced ease.
After the flaying and deboning, Chai Shuxin was covered in filth. He shook his hands, appearing entirely unbothered, and said coolly, “I’m in a hurry. You’re responsible for burying the bodies back.”
It took Wu Zixu a long time to ask, “Can you tell me what this is for?”
“Their injuries are too severe; they need bone replacements. There are no matching bone materials in the pharmacy, so I have to make them now.” Chai Shuxin picked up several leg bones and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Their condition can’t wait any longer.”
Only then did Wu Zixu realize that before acting, the other had checked the tombstones, choosing youths of similar age.
However, it wasn't until several days later that Wu Zixu learned what Chai Shuxin’s “desperate measures” truly meant.
By then, Song Wentong had received his bone graft, his condition had stabilized, and he was recuperating in a side courtyard of the Chai Manor. When Wu Zixu went to visit, he found that the doctor treating Mu Gesheng had changed to Chai Rendong.
“The bone material Shuxin found didn't match Master Mu, so he had to find another way.” Chai Rendong was brewing medicine at the time and sighed. “That’s just his nature. There’s no helping it.”
Chai Rendong told Wu Zixu that Chai Shuxin had given his own leg bone to Mu Gesheng and was now also recovering from the surgery.
Wu Zixu was shocked and ran to see Chai Shuxin. The latter was sitting in a wheelchair, carving bone material, and said calmly, “My injury isn't serious. I can wait for bone material slowly, but if he didn't get the transplant now, he would have died.”
Wu Zixu thought to himself, *You didn't have to be that ruthless to yourself.*
“Since I took them in as patients, they will certainly recover.” His words brooked no argument. “The School of Medicine has no incurable diseases. That is the bottom line.”
It was then that Wu Zixu’s view of the youth changed. There was something indescribable in the other’s core—not simple integrity, but something much deeper and heavier. To achieve a goal, he disregarded bloodshed; it could even be called terrifying.
Song Wentong seemed to have grasped this fact even earlier than he had. His intuition was incredibly sharp, often piercing through the surface to the essence beneath: “Don’t provoke Chai Shuxin.”
A gentleman on the surface, a madman within.
Wu Zixu snapped back from his memories and let out a long sigh.
In the distance, the sky was heavy. A star fell from the night sky.
The Master of Longevity was dead.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 乌子虚 | Wu Zixu | Master of Impermanence (Wuchang-zi). |
| 朱饮宵 | Zhu Yinxiao | A youth of the Zhu family (Vermilion Bird). |
| 松问童 | Song Wentong | Master of Mo (Mo-zi). |
| 朱白之 | Zhu Baizhi | Elder of the Zhu family. |
| 柴束薪 | Chai Shuxin | Master of Lingshu (Lingshu-zi); later revealed as the Rakshasa. |
| 画不成 | Hua Bucheng | Master of Longevity (Changsheng-zi), Sect Leader of Penglai. |
| 柴忍冬 | Chai Rendong | A member/healer of the Chai family. |
| 乘雀台 | Chenque Terrace | A location in Kunlun associated with the Zhu family. |
| 观星阁 | Star-Gazing Pavilion | Residence of Zhu Baizhi. |
| 罗刹子 | Rakshasa-zi | The seventh Sage; a title associated with slaughter and a "Dead Star." |
| 灵枢子 | Lingshu-zi | Master of the School of Medicine/Acupuncture. |
| 长生子 | Changsheng-zi | Master of the School of Longevity (Penglai). |
| 墨子 | Mo-zi | Master of the School of Mo (associated with Song Wentong). |
| 无常子 | Wuchang-zi | Master of the School of Yin and Yang (associated with Wu Zixu). |
| 浑天仪 | Armillary Sphere | An astronomical instrument. |
| 舐红刀 | Licking Red Blade | Song Wentong's weapon. |
| 西厢记 | The Romance of the Western Chamber | A famous Chinese play. |
| 长亭送别 | Long Pavilion Farewell | A classic scene from *The Romance of the Western Chamber*. |
| 惊艳 | The Stunning Encounter | Another scene from *The Romance of the Western Chamber*. |
| 折杖法 | Caning Law | A form of corporal punishment. |
| 阴律司 | Bureau of Yin Laws | A department in Fengdu (the underworld). |
