Xun Ruosu drifted in and out of sleep until she finally drank some hot water and took her medicine. She didn’t wake up until ten o’clock, roused by hunger.
Ever since she’d met Xue Tong, her head had been in constant agony, throbbing like she was enduring a Tribulation Transcendence at the slightest provocation.
On top of that, her throat was parched and scratchy. The fever had broken, though, and the exhaustion from the night before had vanished. Her spirits were decent enough that when Xue Tong’s enormous face loomed over her, filling her vision, Xun Ruosu even remembered to croak out, “Pervert!”
It came out utterly flat, though—like she was just urging Xue Tong to hurry up and get it over with so she could have some water.
“…” Xue Tong felt like a fool for trying.
The teapot had been boiling the water over and over, but when it reached Xun Ruosu’s lips, it was still only lukewarm. Xue Tong was hopeless at caretaking. If Xun Ruosu hadn’t been able to flail her healthy limbs in protest, that cup thrust toward her mouth might have straight-up drowned her—
Who shoved a person’s nose and mouth right into the teacup like that?!
Xun Ruosu coughed twice from choking, then snatched the bowl away. She stared at Xue Tong in wary disbelief. “You don’t have any friends, do you?”
“Huh?” Xue Tong blinked, caught off guard.
“I’ve only known you a short while, and I’ve nearly met a gruesome end multiple times already. I’m afraid your friends wouldn’t survive past two days.” Xun Ruosu was still coughing, her words constantly interrupted by the hacking. After a moment, she added, “Is there any leftover breakfast? I could have a bit to tide me over before taking more medicine. I should be fine then.”
“Sister Xun! Your cold is serious! Isn’t your nose stuffed up? Doesn’t your throat hurt? Does your head not ache?!” Yan Qing suddenly crawled out from under the table. He looked like he’d been rummaging for something; his clothes were covered in dust.
“A bad cold doesn’t clear up overnight. I’d say at least a week… Boss, did the copper coin Sister Xun gave me drop around here? I can’t find it anywhere.”
Xue Tong ignored him and turned to Xun Ruosu for confirmation. “Is the cold really that serious?”
“Serious, but nothing to worry about.” Xun Ruosu sat up. She hadn’t bathed or changed clothes before crashing the night before, and now she felt a bit disgusted with herself. “Soaring Firmament Temple has such prosperous incense offerings; it must support plenty of shops. Are there any that sell clothes?”
“Aunt Fang stopped by this morning and dropped off a few outfits before heading back,” Yan Qing called from under the table. “Did you see the black suitcase by the door? It’s inside there.”
“…” The trip from Xue Tong’s villa to Soaring Firmament Temple wasn’t an insurmountable distance, but it wasn’t exactly a stone’s throw either. Aunt Fang was spoiling her rotten.
“Then I’ll go take a shower.” With that, Xun Ruosu slid out of bed and stretched her limbs.
Her nose was indeed congested, making it hard to breathe properly, but it was just a common cold from catching a chill—no full-body aches. Her mind felt much clearer than when she’d first woken, the dull throbbing fading away. As long as she didn’t bounce around, she could ignore the discomfort.
The bathroom in the Abbot’s Quarters was right next to the bedroom, separated by a sliding door with a simple latch rather than a lock—easy enough to manage.
Soon, the sound of running water echoed from inside. Xue Tong perched on the desk, watching Yan Qing still scouring the floor for that tiny copper coin. She crooked her finger lightly, and the air seemed to slice open with an imperceptible ripple of energy. In an instant, the coin shot out from under the bed and landed in her palm.
She rubbed it between her fingers, front and back. “Doesn’t seem all that special.”
Even so, Xue Tong rolled it between her fingers and pocketed it before saying to Yan Qing, “The Abbot’s Quarters is huge, full of nooks and crannies. Think you can really find a single copper coin in here?”
“What am I supposed to do?” Yan Qing crawled out from beside the cabinet, his face a mask of misery. “The Old Abbot said you all might have to stay on the mountain another night. Without the protective talisman Sister Xun gave me, someone as cowardly as I am would be scared to death.”
“…” At least he had an accurate sense of his own limits.
Yan Qing’s face was smeared with dust. He drooped his eyes pitifully, radiating the aura of an ordinary person. Standing next to Xun Ruosu, he might escape notice from wandering ghosts, but alone like this, he was nothing but sweet bait—devoid of merits or Buddhist Qi to protect him. Trouble would find him easily enough.
Xue Tong considered for a moment, then grabbed the scissors from the desk and snipped off a few strands of her own hair, handing them over. “Take these. Better than that copper coin.”
“For real?” Yan Qing eyed them dubiously. “Wow, Boss, you’re too stingy. Just three hairs, not even two inches long. The way you grabbed those scissors, I thought you were about to shave my head and make me a monk.”
The kid hadn’t been beaten down by life yet, bold enough to talk back like that.
Xue Tong shot him a sideways glare. “Don’t want them? Give ’em back. If something skins you alive and tears you apart tonight, don’t blame anyone.”
Yan Qing shuddered and clutched the three “lifesaving strands” tightly.
Who was he kidding? Young and full of ambition—he wasn’t about to go courting death!
Xun Ruosu’s shower was quick; twenty minutes later, she emerged not only clean but in fresh clothes, her hair still damp. The temple was full of bald monks, so there were combs and lotions aplenty but no hairdryer. Luckily, Aunt Fang had thought ahead: the suitcase held towels and a toothbrush too. With the hot weather, a good towel-dry sufficed.
She’d changed into an oversized daisy-yellow T-shirt sporting a Pikachu mid-thunderbolt.
The elegant Xun Ruosu in her blue peony qipao felt like ancient history now.
In the meantime, the Old Abbot had stopped by, leaving two veggie-stuffed buns, a bowl of porridge, and half a plate of pickled sides. He’d even asked if there was enough medicine—only to get pelted with the instruction leaflet by Xue Tong.
Enough? There was way too much.
With hot porridge waiting right after her shower, Xun Ruosu filled her belly comfortably, took her medicine, and cradled the teacup in both hands. She zoned out for a bit before asking, “Has the hyacinth wilted?”
“Nope, still fresh.” Xue Tong had no pockets anywhere on her, but somehow she always managed to produce whatever she needed.
The hyacinth looked as vibrant as the day it was picked, its edges a deep, almost indigo blue. The petals were soft and unfurled, save for a ominous streak of blood running through the center.
Xun Ruosu prodded the blood mark with her finger. “Something happened again?”
“Nah. Last night, Yuan Jie had eighteen monks sit in the building where people died and chant sutras all night. I checked around eight, and there was no stench of blood or death qi… But resentful ghosts are tenacious. It won’t give up easily.”
Xue Tong eyed the blood streak with concern. “It’s bound to strike back today, most likely.”
“Isn’t your job ever off-season?” Xun Ruosu’s bones ached at the mere mention of “resentful ghost.” “No one who can fill in for you?”
“The Ten Kings of Hell each have their duties. Down here, there are people like you to help out. What gets passed to me are basically the stragglers… But people die every day, so there are always more stragglers than we can handle. Sometimes the Heavenly Dao sends down lightning to take care of a few.”
Xue Tong was unusually chatty today, twirling the hyacinth between her fingertips like a dancing butterfly. “Besides transcendence, we can trap them too. Didn’t Chen Huaiyue get stuck at the bottom of a well, silent for over thirty years? The work never ends, but the Heavenly Dao isn’t too harsh—we get the occasional day off.”
This line of work wasn’t just risking life and limb; afterward came the long slog of processing all the rage and resentment… Those who bore it were like landfills, forced to swallow every ounce of the dead’s unwillingness. Without that balance of tension and release, families like the Xuns or Zhongs—passed down through generations—would’ve crumbled under mental strain long ago.
Xue Tong’s alluring eyes fixed on Xun Ruosu. “Coming with me?”
Xun Ruosu pointed to the mark on her collarbone. “Do I have a choice?”
Her fingers were still cool from illness. The room’s AC hummed at twenty-one degrees—Xue Tong’s biggest concession. Xun Ruosu had layered on a long-sleeved athletic shirt from Aunt Fang’s haul too. Xue Tong talked tough, but she’d clearly called ahead with instructions.
Xun Ruosu’s fingertip lingered on the mark for a few seconds—three, to be exact; Xue Tong had counted—before she tucked her hand into her sleeve. “I don’t know much about this mark, but the old house library should have records. What I do recall is something about ‘half-body.'”
“It’s like an undying shadow. The two halves are linked, with a mutual sense—they can separate, but not for long, or both the primary and secondary will suffer backlash… Since you’re injured, I’ll inevitably take double the hit.”
Xun Ruosu had said she hated pain; she’d go out of her way to avoid self-inflicted misery.
“But you…” Xue Tong started to say, only for a frantic scratching to erupt at the door, accompanied by aggressive meowing.
Soaring Firmament Temple kept things rustic, and the door panels were thin with carved cutouts. The racket was tremendous—like a tiger bounding down the mountain. Yan Qing, who had been standing by the desk pondering how to store Xue Tong’s hairs, hurried over to open it.
A black shadow streaked inside and crashed straight into Xun Ruosu’s arms—Xue Tong’s cat, eyes bulging wide. It meowed urgently at her, rolling onto its back and laving her face with its rough, barbed tongue.
Xun Ruosu jerked her head back to dodge, terrified of being scratched to ruin before she even died.
“Really?” Xue Tong scooped the cat up by the scruff. “Just one day apart, and you’re this desperate? What about before…”
She trailed off abruptly.
Xun Ruosu shot her a suspicious look. “How’d it track us from that distance? Don’t tell me this cat of yours is…”
“Just an ordinary cat,” Xue Tong lied without batting an eye. “Takes after its owner—smart.”
Xun Ruosu: “…”
Did ordinary cats suddenly grow huge?!
Wuchang’s fur stirred without a breeze, black and white swirling like ink. The change rippled from its head down to its paws in an instant. A perfectly normal little kitten ballooned into a massive beast: tiger’s head, lion’s tail, kirin feet. It wrenched free of Xue Tong’s grasp and lunged at Xun Ruosu again.
Xun Ruosu caught it on instinct, tumbling backward onto the bed from the momentum. The enormous feline buried its head in the crook of her neck, tail wagging so furiously it nearly took flight—more dog than cat in that moment.
Yan Qing, a thirteen-year fan of Sailor Moon, froze in shock at the live transformation before him. Inwardly, he screamed, “I quit! I’m going back to science! This job is shaving years off my life!”
