Chapter 12

“I didn’t expect you to be interested in her.”

Luo Jiao neither confirmed nor denied it.

Zhou Kong said, “Ye Qingzhou… now, where should I even begin?”

Luo Jiao’s expression cleared. “Then start from the very beginning.”

Zhou Kong asked no reasons and showed no surprise. She simply leaned back against her chair, let out a breath, and began to speak in a measured voice.

“Though there are now three great sects—Fengyi, Lanjie, and Longyin—a hundred years ago, there were five.”

“Mojiang City, Mount Sanqing, Fengyi Sect, Lanjie Prefecture, Longyin Island.”

“First was Mojiang City, vast in numbers and influence. The Gu Sorcery they practiced was domineering and brutal, and the world despised them in great numbers. Mount Sanqing, secluded from the world, concerned itself with no mortal affairs—yet it produced three peerless geniuses: the Sanqing Daoist, and her two young disciples, Luo Jiao of the Unending Sword, and Ye Qingzhou of the Everlasting Sword.”

Call it Luo Jiao’s imagination or not, but she thought Zhou Kong’s voice dropped slightly when she spoke the name “Luo Jiao,” and only returned to normal when she said “Ye Qingzhou.”

Luo Jiao paid it no mind.

Zhou Kong continued. “Lanjie Prefecture, then—pure ground of the Buddhist Sect, its people nuns and monks. It was divided into two lines: ‘Kunpeng’ and ‘Golden Crow.’ The former followed the realm, venerating eternity lasting ten thousand years; the latter followed the heart, venerating the fleeting instant. The abbot of the Golden Crow line was Master Wuwang—the State Preceptor you saw today.”

“And at the very bottom was Longyin Island, a sect that gathered the sons and daughters of wealthy families. It hung under the banner of the Imperial Family, but in truth carried no real weight, which was why it languished at the tail end of the five sects, barely scraping by.”

“As for Fengyi Sect… back then it was a great sect, just as it is now. The Sect Master at the time was Tang Yuanquan. He’s still around these days… but most affairs are managed by his cousin’s daughter, Tang Yi.”

“Tang Yi—she has some history with Ye Qingzhou, too.”

Zhou Kong hesitated, then asked, “This counts as unofficial gossip. I can’t vouch for whether it’s true or not… Should I say it?”

Luo Jiao asked, “Good things or bad things?”

Zhou Kong blinked, considered, and said, “It’s passable, I suppose?”

“Say it, then.”

Zhou Kong said, “Everyone says Ye Qingzhou wasn’t always mad—at least not on Mount Sanqing, and not when she first arrived at Fengyi Sect. Back then she was still that peerless Everlasting Sword, bright as the moon after rain.”

Obviously! Luo Jiao thought.

“Anyway, not long after she arrived at Fengyi Sect, she practiced the Fengyi Sword Art, which clashed with the Sanqing Daoist Art, and she suffered something of a backlash. She corrected it in time, though, so everything returned to normal. From what I’ve heard, Tang Yi was a very close friend of Ye Qingzhou’s at the time.”

Luo Jiao didn’t remember any “Tang Yi” at all, but she nodded anyway and pressed on. “And after that?”

“After that came the Battle of Qianli Slope.”

“Mojiang City—the first of the five sects I mentioned. Its City Lord, Lu Lixin, suffered a Qi Deviation, practiced an evil art, and refined the Living Human Gu, drinking blood and eating flesh, until everyone loathed and spat at her name. Later, the four remaining sects joined forces and destroyed her.”

At this, Luo Jiao suddenly smiled in silence.

That battle a hundred years ago—Blood Moon and Blood Tree—had been nothing short of a catastrophe that devastated all living things. Yet in the mouths of later generations, it amounted to barely three sentences.

Truly… a thousand autumns and ten thousand affairs, all destined to be chewed up and spooned into tea, to be laughed over after meals.

Zhou Kong continued, “The main force of that battle was the handful from Mount Sanqing.”

Then she sighed. “But Ye Qingzhou’s Senior Sister—the Luo Jiao of the Unending Sword…” Zhou Kong lowered her voice, “she perished together with the Demon Lord.”

Only now did Luo Jiao sense something off.

She shot back, “Why do you lower your voice when you say the name ‘Luo Jiao’?”

“You don’t know?” Zhou Kong looked at her in disbelief. “You just confronted those three at the teahouse. They said you lived in the teahouse—didn’t they?”

Luo Jiao said, “I did live there. But what does that have to do with any of this?”

Zhou Kong said, “Just these past few days, Ye Qingzhou stormed into that teahouse and beat everyone inside black and blue—all because the teahouse’s Storyteller mentioned the name ‘Luo Jiao’! In any case—in any case, a quarter of an hour later, she’d razed the teahouse to the ground.”

Utterly baffled, Luo Jiao said, “Why would merely mentioning ‘Luo Jiao’… get someone beaten up by her?”

Zhou Kong was silent a moment, then curled her lips. “There are many theories. Some say they had a falling-out a hundred years ago; others say it’s some other reason. My own take: madwomen don’t need reasons.”

“Besides, you couldn’t guess even if you tried, could you?”

Luo Jiao let out an “Eh?”, frowned, then made a thoughtful “Mm.”

She closed her eyes in resignation. “Do tell.”

Zhou Kong continued, “At first, people assumed Ye Qingzhou went mad gradually because of the Battle of Qianli Slope—after all, at the time, on the surface…” She seemed to struggle over her phrasing, pausing for a long while before finally saying, “After all, everyone said back then… that she and that Senior Sister of hers were, on the surface, quite close.”

Because we WERE close! Luo Jiao thought. Extremely close!

“So the earliest rumors held that her Senior Sister died right in front of her, that the trauma broke her into this mad-or-dead temperament she has now. But later another story emerged: during the Battle of Qianli Slope, the Senior and Junior Sisters of Mount Sanqing fought the enemy together, so that Ye Qingzhou also wielded the Sanqing Daoist Art. This displeased the Fengyi Sect elders—and so after Qianli Slope, Ye Qingzhou’s position at Fengyi Sect, paradoxically, became dire.”

“Word has it that over the following decades she endured endless cold looks and torment, and that’s what shaped her temperament.”

“I won’t pass judgment on that point. But others also say that while there were people targeting her, it doesn’t necessarily follow that she was actually abused,” Zhou Kong said. “After all, by then the Old Sect Master who had targeted her was already ancient, and Ye Qingzhou’s abilities were at their peak. If there was anything Ye Qingzhou herself refused to do, no one could ever have forced her.”

“Later, Ye Qingzhou’s close friend Tang Yi finally rose to prominence among the Tang Family’s younger generation, gaining a pivotal position within Fengyi Sect.”

“Having gained power, Tang Yi naturally wasn’t going to treat her old friend too badly. And later, Ye Qingzhou also received her rightful place in the sect—for instance, Master of the Sword Pavilion, or… the seat of Elder.”

At this point, Zhou Kong shrugged. “She was just that strong, after all.”

Luo Jiao said, with a certain pride, “That she was.”

Zhou Kong said, “Eh?”

What does that have to do with you?

Luo Jiao hastily corrected herself, “Well, how else would she get to run around being a madwoman everywhere, beating this person and that, and never face any sanctions? Ahem. Go on, go on.”

Zhou Kong sighed. “In any case, what came after matches what you said. Ye Qingzhou grew madder and madder. Yet the more infamous she became, the more Tang Yi looked after her.”

“So some people say they must be…”

Luo Jiao pressed eagerly, “Must be what?”

Zhou Kong said, “That they must be Dao Companions. I don’t see it that way myself. In my view, more often than not, Tang Yi had no idea what to do with Ye Qingzhou. Protecting her like that—it looks more like… she owed her something from the past.”

Luo Jiao murmured without thinking, “Owed her something?”

Zhou Kong laughed. “Such a trivial detail—why would I know it?”

“About Ye Qingzhou, all you need to know is this. In all these years of madness, though her infamy has run wild, no one dares truly provoke her—for four reasons. One: she is very strong. Two: Tang Yi of Fengyi Sect would genuinely defend her unto death. Three: she is herself entangled in none of the factions vying in the shadows—not the court, not the cliques. And four… as far as I know, there’s never been word of her actually taking anyone’s life.”

Luo Jiao steered the conversation back to where it started. “Why break the array?—the Fengyi Sect’s Illusion Array.”

Zhou Kong said, “Not break it—merely undo it. Reason one: I once met with her through every means I could devise, intending to win her over. She told me… that she approved of me. But she had no interest in worldly affairs.”

“Yet there was still room to maneuver. She said that if I undid the Fengyi Sect’s array, she would conspire with me.”

“At the time, I took it as a polite refusal. After all, I’m nothing but a Mortal—compared to a Mighty Figure like her, whose Dao-road stretches broad and open, I’m small as an ant. The Fengyi Sect elders themselves have relied on that array for a hundred-odd years. How could I ever glimpse its inner workings?”

“Until I met you. My gut tells me you’re not from that world. Perhaps you have a way to explain it.”

“Reason two.” Zhou Kong coughed.

“The whole world knows that array conceals Ye Qingzhou’s deepest secret. If you really are curious about her, then that array… surely you ought to see it for yourself.”

Her deepest secret?

Listening to Zhou Kong, Luo Jiao’s gaze drifted, her thoughts scattering.

Inside the private room, silence fell.

In the end it was Zhou Kong who couldn’t bear it. “Oh, right—do you still have that Golden Leaf Token I gave you?”

Luo Jiao nodded.

“It’s a Magical Artifact made by Longyin Island. In moments of danger it can preserve your clarity,” Zhou Kong said. “Beyond that, it has one more use.”

Before Luo Jiao could respond, she saw Zhou Kong rise from her chair—and then watched, wide-eyed, as she leapt to the window and vaulted straight down!

“Hey! This is the third floor—”

Luo Jiao jolted, rushed to the window, and leaned over the sill.

Only to see Zhou Kong land steadily below.

“What’s to fear?” Seeing her alarmed expression, Zhou Kong found it amusing instead. “You stormed the Zou Manor, stormed Mo Fishing Village, even broke into the array Ye Qingzhou laid down on Mount Sanqing, and walked out safe and sound—and a little three-story building scares you?”

Luo Jiao frowned. “I was worried about you—”

Zhou Kong brushed off her palms and clothes, and when she spoke, her tone was strangely proud. “When I was small, with nothing to do in the palace, I’d sneak out to play wearing my brother’s clothes. I’ve climbed walls even taller than this.”

She watched as Luo Jiao leapt down from the window after her, chattering on.

“Actually, even back then I never understood—why was it that when we both went out of the palace to have fun, Elder Brother the Crown Prince could go openly in ordinary dress, while I had to change into his clothes and climb the wall like a thief?”

“They said it was because I was a princess and he was the Crown Prince. Women and men are simply not the same.”

“I… hmph.”

Meeting Luo Jiao’s gaze, Zhou Kong seemed only then to come back to herself, and gave a slightly apologetic smile. “Never mind all that. Oh, right—that’s when I met Ah Yue, too. She was adorable as a child—pale-yellow dresses, two little braids. You can’t picture it, can you?”

Now Zhou Kong’s voice deepened, full of nostalgia. “Back then… she actually thought I was a young master.”

Luo Jiao laughed. “The Eldest Princess and her Prince Consort—what a fated match.”

But Zhou Kong lowered her eyes and pressed her lips together.

A light breeze drifted past. Luo Jiao suddenly noticed someone nearby selling sugar cakes and plum candy.

A craving rose in her. Weighing the bits of silver in her pocket and thinking of buying some, she turned to Zhou Kong and urged her along sweetly. “Weren’t you going to tell me about the Golden Leaf’s use?”

Zhou Kong nodded slowly. “For example, if you wanted to buy those plum candies over there, then we…”

Luo Jiao said, astonished, “You could tell that just from looking?”

“Long years at court,” Zhou Kong said with a soft laugh. “One picks up a bit of an eye for such things.”

They strode over to the candy stall. Luo Jiao had just reached for her silver when she saw Zhou Kong draw a gleaming golden leaf from her sleeve.

The afternoon sun fell at just the right angle, lighting up the Golden Leaf Token until it glittered like some rare treasure.

Luo Jiao’s hand froze mid-reach; then she switched pockets and drew out her own leaf.

Through all her travels, Luo Jiao had never known this golden leaf’s use, so in her eyes it was no different from an ordinary grass leaf.

Well—slightly heavier than an ordinary grass leaf, which had made her want to throw it away several times.

But on second thought, it was, after all, a gift from the reigning Eldest Princess; surely it couldn’t be some pretty but useless trinket.

And now…

Luo Jiao looked at her own golden leaf, then at the one in Zhou Kong’s hand, and silently lowered her hand.

The leaf in Zhou Kong’s hand gleamed gold. The leaf in Luo Jiao’s hand was a dull gray. Whether it worked or not, who knew—it had certainly stopped being pretty.

She watched Zhou Kong ask the stall owner for a bag of plum candies, then draw out the leaf and scratch a long line across the owner’s ledger.

“This way, there’s no need to pay silver out of pocket,” Zhou Kong said, handing the bag to Luo Jiao. “At month’s end, the officials will come settle the account for you.”

Taking the bag of hard candies, Luo Jiao’s eyes lit up. So it’s useful after all, even if it isn’t pretty.

“But don’t worry about anyone losing out over it. At year’s end, my Princess’s Manor balances the accounts. You’re not the only one who uses this golden leaf—mostly it’s my advisors and retainers. I guessed you were still being tormented by poverty, so I thought… you might need this.”

Luo Jiao smiled. “Your eye is quite accurate, then.”

She unwrapped a few candies and popped them all into her mouth.

Then, without warning, she heard Zhou Kong say, “Eat my food, and you’ll remember to work for me.”

“Eh?” Startled, Luo Jiao put on the face of someone nearly choking.

She swallowed hard and made a show of preparing to spit the plum candy back out. “Don’t—don’t play tricks on me!”

Zhou Kong said, “…I was joking.”

Only then did Luo Jiao nod in relief, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s, a loud crunching issuing from her mouth.

After a while, Luo Jiao’s brows smoothed. “I won’t guarantee success.”

Zhou Kong said, “What?”

“Fengyi Sect.” Luo Jiao lowered her eyes, but her expression was earnest. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

Zhou Kong pressed, “How will you go about it?”

Luo Jiao stopped in her tracks, turned back to look at Zhou Kong, stayed silent for a long while—then suddenly grinned, raising an easy, self-assured smile.

Luo Jiao said, “Win her over with love.”

Zhou Kong: “…………”