Chapter 24

When Xue Tong returned to the room, no traces of the living soul remained on the ground. Xun Ruosu leaned against the dressing table, yawning widely. This monk’s quarters were far too damp—mold covered everything except this spot, leaving scarcely any place to stand.

“It’s over?” Xue Tong asked.

“It’s over… I tampered directly with his soul. He’ll probably be an unlucky blind eunuch for several lifetimes.” With her handiwork complete and her burden lifted, a sickly pallor finally crept across Xun Ruosu’s face.

She looked as pale as a glass doll, though her eyelids were tinged red. Xue Tong grasped Xun Ruosu’s wrist. She was burning up with fever.

“There’s still Chen Huaiyue. She’s lingered so long—don’t delay her journey onward any further.” Xun Ruosu twisted her wrist free. “I’m your half-body now. As long as you’re fine, I can’t die no matter how much I push myself.”

Xue Tong had no rebuttal to that logic.

It was past three in the morning when the lights in the Abbot’s Quarters went out. Yuan Jie chanted scriptures in the pitch darkness when a sudden pounding shook the courtyard door. The noise outside was like bandits raiding a village—deafening enough to jolt even Yan Qing awake. He rubbed his eyes in confusion. “What’s going on? What’s happening? It’s these modern times with all our reforms, and there are still home invaders?!”

The room light flicked on then, and Yan Qing let out a miserable yelp. “My eyes!”

The Abbot’s Quarters blazed with light like a miniature sun, blinding even Yuan Jie for a moment. By the time he recovered enough to answer the door, Xue Tong had already barged in. Xun Ruosu was hardly innocent either—a yellow talisman was stuffed in the door’s lock, clearly her doing to let Xue Tong through.

Yuan Jie’s eyelids twitched. Xue Tong alone was hard enough to handle, but now she had an accomplice aiding and abetting. He wouldn’t even blink if she set the place on fire tonight.

Xue Tong was always one to settle scores.

“Buddha preserve us—may there be no wind if she decides to burn the place down.” The old monk’s wish was profoundly simple.

Chen Huaiyue was the last to step into the Abbot’s Quarters, a red silk thread bound around her wrist. Letting a ghost like her loose in the courtyard was far too risky. What if her amnesia and confusion were all an act? With so many monks and visitors in the temple, she could easily strangle a few without breaking a sweat.

Yuan Jie spotted Chen Huaiyue first. The old monk lowered his gaze and murmured softly, “Amitabha.”

It would be a lie to say he felt no stirrings of emotion toward her. But Yuan Jie could not return them.

What they offered each other was unequal. From start to finish, Yuan Jie had only wanted to save a soul suffering in torment. Chen Huaiyue’s feelings for him began as gratitude for heaven-sent grace, then deepened into profound longing etched into her bones.

Then Chen Huaiyue saw Yuan Jie. He was the only shadow left in her fragmented memories. She stared blankly for a long moment before murmuring, “Little Brother.”

“Xiao Yue.”

“Have you come to bid me farewell?”

Yuan Jie’s eyes held a pure clarity, tempered now by the gentle compassion of years.

Chen Huaiyue simply gazed at him, silent for a long while.

Time ticked by, second by second. Even Yan Qing, oblivious to the full story from his bed, fell utterly still. He sensed something momentous unfolding and held his breath, afraid to disturb the old abbot.

“Little Brother, if there’s a next life, will you promise yourself to me?” Chen Huaiyue asked.

“This body of mine has already become a novice monk before Buddha,” Yuan Jie replied, lowering his gaze. “Xiao Yue, I cannot promise you that.” He gave a soft smile. “Maybe in the next life, you won’t want to marry anymore. You’ll just find me annoying.”

“In the decades you were trapped, the outside world changed at breakneck speed. You’ll be shocked time and again. This poor monk hopes your suffering ends here—that from now on, your life is one of equality and freedom.”

Tears finally spilled from Chen Huaiyue’s eyes. They vanished before touching the ground, scattered by a passing draft. “I love you, but this is goodbye.”

She claimed burying these feelings in her heart would suffice, but obsession forms a cage born of the heart, not reason. She had always craved an answer—”yes” or “no”—to truly let go.

“Amitabha.”

The lotus lantern in Xue Tong’s palm suddenly glowed. Chen Huaiyue was gone.

Only then did Yan Qing belatedly feel a chill of fear. He drew a deep breath, his legs trembling so badly he couldn’t stand from the bed’s edge. He was just an ordinary man, nothing like the three seasoned veterans in the Abbot’s Quarters. When he glimpsed ghosts, he saw only faint outlines, their features blurred beyond recognition.

But Yan Qing was certain something had stood at the doorway just now. Light passed right through its body. It must have spoken to the old abbot… or else the old abbot had lost his mind, talking to thin air.

Xue Tong handed the lotus lantern to Yuan Jie. “Since it’s fated for you, leave it here at Soaring Firmament Temple. This lantern of hers is fragile—watch it carefully until it burns out.”

Yuan Jie took it with utmost care. “This poor monk understands.”

The room fell quiet once more. Neither Xue Tong nor Xun Ruosu showed any intention of leaving. They flanked the door, one on each side. Xue Tong spoke up. “The courtyard you arranged for us is cold as an ice cellar right now. What, do you expect us to go back and sleep there?”

Xue Tong often smiled and hated standing at attention, giving her an air of unseriousness. Now her smile faded, her gaze deepening until Yuan Jie’s back prickled. He blinked in surprise. “Doesn’t Laywoman Xue dislike sleep?”

“These clothes of mine don’t need changing! And it’s just the one room here?!”

If the old abbot hadn’t been bald, Xue Tong might have yanked out a fistful of hair. “With dawn still hours away, someone here can catch some rest… Besides, once the token reaches me, I only have two days and forty-eight hours to act. If I don’t handle it by then, someone will come knocking with blood on their mind. You knew I had urgent business and still dragged me into this. Be grateful I haven’t come after you for it—and now you can’t even provide a decent room?”

Xun Ruosu had already suspected there was a grace period. Otherwise, with Xue Tong’s temperament, she’d have torn the courtyard apart by now, pounding any living soul or malicious ghost that dared interrupt her work into oblivion.

“But the temple truly has no empty rooms.” Yuan Jie was helpless. “Perhaps this poor monk’s room—”

Before Yuan Jie could finish, he was shoved out—Yan Qing with him—and locked outside. Xue Tong’s voice was ice cold. “Sleep from nine to four. You’re a young man; the remaining time won’t leave you sleepy even if you sit through it.”

Xun Ruosu, meanwhile, tossed a blanket out the window to him. “The other side of the monk’s quarters is still livable. Summer snow melts fast—it won’t be cold for long, and no more strange things will happen. If you’re truly worried, put copper coins under your pillow.”

At night, Xun Ruosu couldn’t see Yan Qing. She held the blanket suspended in midair for a good while until Yuan Jie caught on and took the full weight, then she withdrew her hand.

Yan Qing nodded dazedly. He had a question burning in his mind but couldn’t voice it—why on earth was it snowing in the middle of summer?!

Decades ago, when Yuan Jie was still a young lad, he kept his room spotless. Age had only deepened his neatness obsession; the bedding was soft and fresh. Being summer, Xun Ruosu fetched a new bamboo mat and blanket from the cabinet. The night wouldn’t be too chilly.

But waves of chills racked her body now—not just fever, but at least 39 degrees. She lay flat on the bed hugging the blanket, her mind muddled from the heat yet wide awake. After a long pause, she asked, “I won’t die, but… will I burn my brain to mush?”

Xue Tong didn’t know how to respond. She fell silent before muttering, “Probably… Let me find some hot water and medicine.”

Xue Tong had lived so long without ever caring for anyone. Her longest acquaintance was with Aunt Fang, who was actually much younger but managed the household with steady hands. Even when ill, Aunt Fang could handle her own doctor’s visits.

As for Xue Tong herself… her constitution was peculiar. She could be injured, but never sick.

Yuan Jie’s room had an electric kettle and a private bathroom for water. But Xue Tong rummaged everywhere without finding a single pill. Her patience snapped. Glancing at the bed, she saw Xun Ruosu had finally drifted off, so the hand poised to flip the table eased down instead. She sulked behind the desk for a bit.

Xun Ruosu slept with perfect propriety: one corner of the thin blanket draped over her stomach, the rest clutched to her chest. No mumbling, no teeth-grinding, just shallow breaths. Cicadas droned in Soaring Firmament Temple, making the room seem all the quieter.

Unwittingly, Xue Tong found herself listening to Xun Ruosu’s breathing. When she missed a beat, her own heart stuttered. The sudden irritation within her soothed away.

She sat lightly on the bed’s edge. Xun Ruosu truly had no cares—like she hadn’t just exorcised Chen Huaiyue’s soul, thirty years of obsession unanswered by even a glance from Buddha. Someone as sentimental as Yan Qing, or any other soft-hearted type who teared up easily, might not sob endlessly but would at least sigh for ages.

“I hate you.” Xue Tong murmured suddenly, reaching out to trace Xun Ruosu’s closed eyes and brows.

The woman in her palm was strikingly beautiful, sharp yet not harsh. Awake, Xun Ruosu always clashed with her like a natural nemesis. Asleep, she turned docile, long distinct lashes quivering against Xue Tong’s palm. Xun Ruosu’s eyelids were thin and she disliked light even in sleep; with Xue Tong’s hand shielding her, she nuzzled closer in her dreams.

Her movement warmed Xue Tong’s palm.

Xue Tong’s intense gaze lingered on her a while longer before the murderous edge slowly faded. “But I really have missed you… After all these years apart, why’d you reincarnate into the Xun Family with such a frail body?”

On a normal day, Xun Ruosu’s light sleep might have caught those words. But fever-delirious as she was, she might not grasp them even awake—and now she slumbered deeply.

Xue Tong brushed the sweat-damp hair from her forehead. “I went to such lengths to avoid you, but we still crossed paths. Since escape is impossible, I’ll collect my due. You owe me too much—don’t think of weaseling out.”

Thump… thump-thump. A knock at the door interrupted Xue Tong’s gritted teeth. The courtyard gate stood open for easy entry. The old abbot called from outside, “I saw Laywoman Xun seemed to have caught a cold. I’ve brought some medicine.”

Xue Tong needed exactly that, though she’d never used any medicine in her life—not even cold remedies. When the old abbot stuffed a dozen packets of various kinds into her arms, Xue Tong mentally tallied more debts on her ledger—

She was too proud to ask Yuan Jie for help, of course. Staying up all night to pore over the instruction manual on behalf of the patient—that was an enormous favor.

From this, it was clear that Xun Ruosu probably wasn’t dodging her debt. No, it was Xue the Great Beauty who was being petty and nitpicky.