The jar of Zhuyeqing that had been buried in the courtyard for seven years was dug out. After removing the sealing of xuan paper and glutinous rice paste, the aroma of wine overflowed. Wiping off the mud on the jar and lifting it up, the wine poured down like a waterfall and soaked the dry soil on the grave. Even the yellow earth beneath the withered grass stems turned into large patches of reddish-brown.
Zhou Shanheng put down the emptied wine jar.
Mother Zhou stood quietly beside him, wiping her tears. Grief had etched deep lines at the corners of her mouth and nose. “This is the Zhuyeqing your father buried before he died. I brewed it with him.”
When Father Zhou passed away, Zhou Erlang had not yet learned to speak. He had little memory of his biological father, but he noticed his mother’s sadness and held her hand, giving it a gentle pat. “Don’t cry, Mother.”
“Mother won’t cry.” Mother Zhou wiped her tear-streaked face and said, “This year is a good year. Your brother has made us proud and became the top scorer in our prefecture’s exam, and today he’s setting off to the capital for the imperial exam.”
Zhou Shanheng lit three sticks of incense in front of the grave and said. “Father, I’m leaving.”
He was wearing a double-layered blue jiaoling jacket, with a dark indigo outer robe that was almost black. His figure was tall and strong, like a proud pine tree on a cliff. He was no longer the panicked and helpless child from the past.
Mother Zhou draped a sheepskin fur coat over his shoulders. For ordinary families, winter clothing was typically made of ramie or kudzu cloth, which would certainly be inadequate for the cold in the north. Fur coats were usually only affordable for the wealthy, especially fox, mink, or otter furs. Common people could only afford sheepskin or pigskin coats.
The capital region would definitely be cold, so Mother Zhou had sold the cloth she had woven this year to buy sheep wool from a fellow villager who raised cattle and sheep, and sewed the fur coat herself.
Zhou Shanheng: “Mother, please take care of your health. Erlang, take good care of mother.”
Zhou Erlang nodded like pounding garlic.
Mother Zhou checked his written explanations, household documents, and the bond certificate once more. These were the credentials needed for a scholar to register once arriving in the capital.
At last, she watched Zhou Shanheng walk away from the courtyard, carrying the heavy bamboo box on his back.
It was only the fifth watch at this time; the sky was not yet to bright and the rooster had crowed once. But in the winter of Jiangzhou’s countryside, dawn was still a long way off. The rural surroundings were shrouded in dim light and the misty paddy fields stretched empty and wide. With each breath came the chill of frost from the grass underfoot and the rooftops.
The chinaberry tree had long shed its leaves, leaving only clusters of yellowed, shriveled berries hanging on the branches.
Mother Zhou suddenly recalled the early winter morning when her eldest son was carried away as an infant. It was the same kind of cold day, the same kind of scene.
Jiangkuo, Zhou Jiangkuo…this was the name she gave her son.
Though the two boys were twins, they didn’t seem entirely alike. Perhaps it was because both were still wrinkly newborns that it was hard to tell if they were truly identical.
The monk who took away her elder son said the older twin had been born with an incomplete soul, devoid of the seven emotions and six desires, and must not enter the mortal world, or disaster would befall him and his life would be lost.
Mother Zhou hadn’t believed it at first, but the other party was the national monk of Dacheng and she was just a peasant woman. She had no choice but to listen to the monk’s advice and placed her swaddled eldest son at Huifu Temple. The monk told her never to contact the child again, or it would only bring harm to him. When the child grew up, the monk would return during his travels in Jiangzhou and take the boy under his wing to be taught and to inherit the mantle.
So despite her endless longing, Mother Zhou had never gone to Huifu Temple to visit her child.
But one day, a traveling monk came by asking for water. When she looked out of her bedroom window, she instantly recognized her eldest son.
Zhou Jiangkuo indeed didn’t look exactly like Zhou Shanheng as typical twins might, but there were still some similarities in their facial features.
Mother Zhou looked at Zhou Shanheng’s back and suddenly called out the nickname of her younger son: “Ziyue.”
When Zhou Shanheng heard it, he turned his head and was about to walk back but Mother Zhou shook her head, “It’s nothing. Go ahead. Be careful on the road and be cautious. Don’t lose your documents.”
Zhou Shanheng nodded and silently continued forward.
He clenched the two red threads in his hand. They were taken from the Yue Lao tree at Huifu Temple. Back then, he and Xin Hexue had tied them together.
Xin Hexue hadn’t accepted the jade bracelet he gave, so these red strings could barely count as a token of love.
‘The Xin family in the capital…’
Zhou Shanheng silently repeated.
………
On the day of the Chongyang festival this year, the city was drenched in blind rain and the sky was overcast. The sparse wind and cold rain signaled that this winter would definitely be full of rain and snow.
In October, the maple leaves on Mount Buzhou had been frosted, turning a fiery red and scattering among the pines and cedars. From afar, they looked like corals burning in the sea.
The fifth day of October was what people called the “Five Wind Sign”. From this day on, there would be very cold winds.
With the Five Wind Sign came the distribution of winter clothes, and people gathered in warm rooms around stoves, watching the snow fall.
Snowflakes drifted onto the center of the lake, but the lake wasn’t frozen yet.
Two bubbles rose to the surface. A white butterfly koi stirred the ripples, its scales sparkling like silver in the dim sky and making it particularly conspicuous.
Xin Hexue transformed into human form and steadied himself with the bamboo by the lake’s edge.
He was wearing a thick snow-white fur coat that draped loosely over his slender figure. But underneath was only a thin single-layered robe, clinging to his back.
His white, slender fingers curled slightly, and against the cold bamboo, they looked like fine jade.
Xin Hexue calmed his mind. He could no longer remember how many cycles of seven days had passed. As he listened to K summarize the plot again, he followed the markings left on the path toward a dilapidated temple nearby.
This ruined temple sat on the outskirts of the capital, right in the forest between Mount Buzhou and the outer city of the capital. It was surrounded by pine and bamboo trees, and was peaceful and quiet.
On snowy or rainy days, with still some distance to the capital, and no villages or shops nearby, travelers…especially poor scholars on the road, could only rest here for a short while or spend the night.
The temple wasn’t large. It didn’t have any of the usual temple structures like a gate, a Garbha Hall, or a Dharma. Pushing open the wooden door, one would enter the front hall, where a Buddha statue stood directly. But even this statue had fallen into disrepair. The gold leaf that once covered it had long been stolen by thieves, revealing the clay beneath.
Because it was made of clay, if it had been bronze, it too would’ve also been stolen and sold off.
Past the front hall, the left and right sides were once monk quarters. These two rooms seemed to have been tidied by him. Inside was clean and the windows and furniture were spotless.
Xin Hexue ran his fingers along the table. There was not even a speck of dust.
He had cleaned it quite thoroughly.
K stayed silent. He just watched Xin Hexue’s actions and thought of the scholar who had been enslaved by a little cat, happily cleaning and tidying the room.
Xin Hexue noticed the marking he had left on the wall beside the bed.
Due to the restrictions of the laws of fate between heaven and earth, once a koi demon re-entered water to have its memory cleansed and reset, even any attempt to leave behind records or diaries of mortal names would be erased.
However, the mark left at the head of the bed was not a diary, nor did it contain key information like names, so it had slipped through a loophole in the rules of heaven and earth. That was why it had remained, along with the directional markings by the lake.
Xin Hexue studied it for a while. On the left was the calendar he had drawn. He seemed to have crossed off a number each day that passed. Today was the fifth day of October.
On the right was…
The character “zheng” had reached the third stroke?
What did that mean?
He looked at the drawn calendar again. He had arrived here on the nineteenth day of September.
After that, he had ticked off the thirtieth of September, the first, and the third of October, and had marked them with one, two, and three.
Xin Hexue lowered his gaze and thought for a moment.
It seemed he had already sent off three poor scholars.
And since these numbers weren’t specially marked, the ones he had sent off probably weren’t the target.
The calendar also had notations about when to sign in for the spring examination, when to appear at court, and when the actual exam would be held.
Sign-in had a time limit. Because of the varying distances that candidates from different regions had to travel to reach the capital, the registration was conducted in batches.
To give candidates from distant southern regions more time, the farther one lived, the later their sign-in time would be. But all of these procedures had to be completed by the end of November. Then on the first day of November, candidates would make their court appearance.
After that, they could focus entirely on preparing for the spring examination in January of the coming year.
It appeared that the three scholars he had sent off so far weren’t the intended target as their sign-in times were too soon. Although it wasn’t impossible that someone might arrive early and stayed at an inn in the capital while waiting and preparing for the exam, the later in October it got, the colder the weather became. Traveling in such conditions would be miserable.
But since he hadn’t made any special markings for numbers one, two, and three, for now, he ruled them out.
What he needed to do now was continue waiting.
Xin Hexue sat down on the bed, like a little cat hunter sitting patiently and waiting for its prey with its tail curled up.
Then, when the prey arrived…
He would hand them a ‘love-number’ tag.
K thought with sour bubbles.
………
In the evening, a cool breeze blew, and thunder suddenly boomed in the previously calm sky. Darkness fell over the land, and there seemed to be the scent of gunpowder in the fierce wind.
Then came a torrential downpour, even mixed with flurries of snow.
The bamboo forest behind the temple rustled.
Rain mixed with snow pelted down.
There was thunder, snow, and rain…perfect weather for a poor scholar to appear.
Xin Hexue sniffed keenly.
He caught the faint scent of blood carried in on the wind.
In the cold wind, there came a soft creak.
As the wooden door was pushed open, the young man collapsed with a loud bang.
Xin Hexue hesitated before stepping forward.
Having barely escaped with his life from the snake’s mouth, Bu Jincheng’s consciousness was already blurry. In the final moments before his eyes closed, all he saw was a young man wearing a thick, snow-white fur cloak. Under the glow of candlelight, the skin looked like warm white jade.
His black hair gently floated down over his shoulders and brushed across Bu Jincheng’s face, making him feel a little ticklish.
The young man crouched down and waved a hand in front of his eyes.
In that last moment, Bu Jincheng finally saw the young man’s face clearly. Beautiful like a Guanyin of water and moon, like a dream.
‘A kind-hearted Bodhisattva walking down from the tall Mirror Platform?’
Bu Jincheng’s head tilted to the side, and he completely lost consciousness.
………
Bu Jincheng woke up in a wave of searing pain. His voice was hoarse and unpleasant from long hours without water, and he cried out with suppressed agony, “Ah!”
“Don’t move.”
A voice as clear and smooth as water.
The young man lowered his eyes, his lashes casting faint shadows, a slight frown between his brows. His expression was serious as he held Bu Jincheng’s injured hand. “You have a fracture. I need to apply the medicine first.”
Bu Jincheng’s vision was still a bit blurry. He leaned against the headboard and blinked hard several times. After adjusting, he finally saw the environment clearly.
There was a brazier burning charcoal beside the bed, so the room wasn’t too cold. It was only that the night wind occasionally slipped in through the cracks in the windows and door. Bu Jincheng had a strong constitution, so even though he had lost a lot of blood during his escape, his body temperature remained warm.
But the young man in front of him…his hands were a little cold.
Bu Jincheng looked up and said, “Your hands are so cold.”
Xin Hexue glanced at him.
He was already kind enough to treat his injuries, and now this guy was complaining his hands were cold?
Xin Hexue didn’t say a word as he applied the mashed rehmannia root to the fractured area of Bu Jincheng’s right hand.
Bu Jincheng used his left hand, which only had some minor scratches, to cover Xin Hexue’s. “Really, your hands are very cold. Are you feeling unwell?”
Xin Hexue thought this person was really strange. He himself appeared looking like a blood-soaked mess, and yet he was asking if he was okay?
His tone was not particularly warm, and he replied lightly, “I’m fine.”
Bu Jincheng nodded, then seemed to realize something and released his hand. “Gongzi, I was being rude.”
He raised his dark, thick sword-like eyebrows and smiled at Xin Hexue in gratitude. “Thank you very much, gongzi, for saving me tonight.”
Xin Hexue had originally intended to quietly wait for a poor scholar to take the bait. Instead, he’d picked up a troublesome, bloodied mess.
He handed a damp cloth to Bu Jincheng. “Wipe off the blood yourself. Wipe your face too…it’s very dirty.”
Xin Hexue had a slight obsession with cleanliness and couldn’t stand seeing someone covered in filth and blood.
Bu Jincheng took the cloth and casually wiped his face. With his sword eyebrows and bright eyes, he was handsome and dignified. There was a scar at the end of his left brow, so he didn’t look like a refined scholar. Every gesture he made was filled with the aura of a wandering swordsman.
Xin Hexue glanced at him indifferently. After applying the crushed rehmannia to the fractured right hand, he began to fix it in place with a bamboo splint.
Bu Jincheng was a little tense from the constant pain in his hand, and his eyes instinctively stayed locked on Xin Hexue.
In his field of vision, the young man lowered his head, and A few strands of the black hair he had tucked behind his ear drifted down. His profile was quiet and delicate.
Outside, snow pressed down the branches and inside, the candlelight flickered gently.
[Bu Jincheng love value +5]
‘The target?’
Xin Hexue’s hand suddenly applied more pressure, and Bu Jincheng let out a low hiss.
He tucked his falling black hair back behind his ear, his lashes trembling slightly before he slowly looked at Bu Jincheng. “Sorry.”
He folded his hands and rested them on his knees. There was a thick fur cloak draped over his shoulders, but it only made his frame seem even thinner. He lifted his eyes and said to Bu Jincheng, “You look a bit like my deceased husband… I just saw your face clearly and got distracted, so I accidentally used too much strength. It didn’t hurt too much, did it?”
Bu Jincheng stared at Xin Hexue, stunned and speechless.
The young man in front of him looked only just of age, yet he was already married…and widowed?!
Heavens, he was sharing a room with a widower…
Bu Jincheng stammered, “Is..is that so? I look like your deceased husband? I-I mean, I’ve never been married. I’m still a virgin.”
