Marriage of the Ghost Chapter 6

That winter, the university was full of students. The uncle who was guarding the Sutra Pavilion was invited by an old friend to go to Kunlun to taste tea. For a while, the Sutra Pavilion was left unattended. After discussion, several masters decided that the disciples who had been in the sect for five years would take turns to guard it every night.

The Sutra Pavilion of the Zhongnan School is located in a tower on the Yingxu Peak, far away from the Sanqing Temple and where people live. It can only be reached by walking across a long iron cable suspension bridge.

He still remembered the feeling when he first stepped onto the suspension bridge. There was a vast sea of   clouds and a cliff, and his heart could not help but sway along with the wooden planks under his feet. He held on to the iron chain tightly, and was afraid that if he exerted too much force, the rotten wooden planks would take him down into the abyss. It was his senior brother who turned around, held his hand, coaxed him, and pulled him, protecting him all the way from one end of the cliff to the other.

This made the other brothers laugh at him for a long time. He widened his eyes, straightened his back, crossed his arms, and retorted frankly: "Don't think I don't know. Master told me that you wet your pants the first time you walked on that bridge." The brothers rubbed their noses and said nothing more from then on.

The senior brother sat beside him, put his arm around his shoulders, pinched his face, and smiled arrogantly: "My little junior brother has grown up!"

The winter night was extremely cold, and no one wanted to stand guard in the snow, especially since they had to pass the terrifying suspension bridge halfway. Moreover, the Sutra Pavilion was remote, and the night was long, with strong winds and heavy snow. Who knew what would happen at night? However, the senior brother showed great interest. During the day, he was often seen standing on the other side of the bridge, stroking his chin and thinking about the tower.

Seeing this, others rushed to push this hard task to him. He did not refuse at all and accepted it immediately. He did not show his usual cunning and calculating appearance.

Han Zhao was stunned watching from the side. He turned his head, raised his eyebrows, and smiled. His long arms were placed on his shoulders and he was completely embraced in his arms: "Junior brother, you can't bear to let me guard the cliff alone, right?"

"I..." Han Zhao wanted to say, what does this have to do with me?

He hugged him tighter, and his handsome face came closer and closer, about to touch his nose: "Junior brother, who does senior brother love the most on weekdays? How can you..."

The shameless junior fellow apprentice blushed in an instant, felt dizzy and dazed, and nodded his confused head.

So he spent most of that winter night with his senior brother beside the stove in the Sutra Pavilion. It had been several years since he first walked on the suspension bridge. When he stepped on the shabby wooden board again, his senior brother, who was walking in front of him with a lantern, suddenly stopped, turned around and held his hand.

"I'm not afraid." He tried to pull his hand away stubbornly, with some anger in his eyes.

The senior brother ignored his struggle and insisted on inserting his fingers between his fingers.

"My junior fellow apprentice has grown up," he said. But he was not showing off or exaggerating in front of others as he used to. He looked at him with a smile, a little bit of emotion, a little bit of sigh.

Han Wei was stunned for a moment, and turned away awkwardly, not daring to look into his star-like eyes. Night after night, he let him lead him, and they went back and forth in the sky. With his feet on the clouds, he thought he had reached a fairyland in the sky. Halfway through, there was nothing in front and behind, the mountain wind made the iron chain rustle, and the wooden planks under his feet creaked with every step. He held his brother's hand tightly. At this moment, only his brother's hand was firm, warm and generous, soothing his heart that was about to fall like a hanging bridge.

At that time, he firmly believed that they would continue to walk together like this. No matter how raging the rain or snow, no matter how steep the valley or the high cliff, his senior brother would hold his hand and lead him all the way forward.

There were countless books in the Sutra Pavilion. The senior brother told him that all the Taoist works, no matter how many words, were stored here. He had no interest in those yellowed ancient scrolls. He had already felt dizzy after listening to the master's lectures during the day. He flipped through the books and fell asleep by the stove. When he woke up, it was pitch black outside the window and the candle on the table had burned out halfway. But the senior brother was still holding the rotten bamboo slips and reading them, completely forgetting himself.

The Sutra Pavilion was not as cold as the other brothers said. The brother had brought a lot of charcoal to the building early. The huge stove was moved to the middle of the room, making the room warm as spring, more comfortable than his usual residence. Listening to the roaring wind outside the window, he tilted his head and looked at the brother's face, which was red from the fire. He looked at it and became fascinated.

Sensing his gaze, the senior brother raised his eyes from the bamboo slips and said, "Little Taoist priest, I am a monster. Your senior brother has been eaten by me. Now it's your turn."

He made a move to pounce, and he chuckled as he wrapped himself in the quilt. He laughed and fell asleep again. In his dream, spring was in full bloom and the sun was shining.

If we talk about the past, what is there to be nostalgic about? Perhaps it is the winter nights in the Sutra Pavilion that belong only to the two of them. Smelling the faint scent of ink, warming the fire, listening to the sound of the wind, night after night, peaceful and warm, quiet and beautiful like a picture.

At the end of winter that year, a purple gold incense burner was lost in the storeroom. It was a relic inherited from ancient times. The twisted inscription on the wall of the incense burner clearly stated that it was taken from Kunlun, cast in Penglai, and stored in Zhongnan. Han Zhao had heard his fellow practitioners mention it in casual conversation. It was said that this item had magical powers. When practicing meditation, lighting the incense in the incense burner would achieve twice the result with half the effort. For practitioners, it was a rare treasure.

People searched the storehouse from top to bottom, but still couldn't find the incense burner. The headmaster came over after hearing the news, his face was very solemn. The uncles and uncles also had solemn expressions. The storehouse was also at the other end of the suspension bridge. It was bitterly cold in the winter night, and the cliff was thousands of feet high, so outsiders couldn't get in easily. The brothers discussed privately, saying that there might be an internal thief. Damien Han was the youngest in seniority, and he huddled in a corner alone, listening to them in a vague manner, "It must have been stolen by one of us. With the help of the magic weapon, the power will improve by leaps and bounds. By then, let alone Jin Yunzi, everyone in Zhongnan will be defeated by them."

Wuxin's heart skipped a beat when he heard this. He remembered that when he was on guard at the Sutra Pavilion, he would always smell a strange fragrance the next morning. His senior brother told him that it was the cold fragrance of plum blossoms. However, there were no plum trees on Yingxu Peak.

That night, the fire in the Sutra Pavilion was still burning brightly. He wrapped himself tightly in the quilt and closed his eyes as usual. His hands under the quilt were scratching the back of his hands, reminding himself not to fall asleep. After a while, there were a few slight noises, and a familiar fragrance came into his nose, like sandalwood but not sandalwood, like musk but not musk. He felt his mind calmed down and instantly became in a state of ecstasy.

He suddenly opened his eyes and saw his senior brother sitting in meditation with his eyes closed. Under his knees was the ancient scroll that he often read. Next to the scroll was a small and exquisite incense burner.

He sat there stupidly without saying a word. He didn't know how long it had been, as if his life had never been so long. The senior brother finished regulating his breathing, slowly opened his eyes, and met his wide eyes.

"Brother, where did you get this incense burner?" Panicked, as if he was the one who had done something wrong, he asked, his tone as ethereal as the smoke on the road.

That eloquent senior brother, in an instant, could not answer him a single word except for a pair of evasive eyes.

He understood immediately. Even though the stove in the middle of the room was burning hot, he still felt freezing cold all over.

"I... I won't accept it. Why do all of Zhongnan only praise Jin Yunzi to the sky? So what if he is gifted? Can't hard work make up for it? As fellow Zhongnan disciples, why must you and I be inferior to others for the rest of our lives?" The elder brother rushed over and firmly grasped his shoulders through the thick quilt. "Junior brother, I didn't mean it. It's just that I really can't understand this set of mental methods. Three days, no, two days. After two days, I will put it back after I understand the mental methods. Others will only think that someone moved the incense burner and will never suspect you or me. Junior brother, listen to me. Just two days!"

Han Zhi's mind was in a mess, and he could only stare blankly at this familiar yet unfamiliar face. Was this still the brother he knew, who was naughty and arrogant but also gentle and considerate? He half-opened his mouth, but his throat was so tight that he couldn't utter a single syllable. Outside the house, the sound of the wind pierced his ears.

Two days, two days, and two days more, the senior brother always said that he would return it tomorrow. Tomorrow after tomorrow, the mental method on the ancient scroll was still obscure and profound. Things are dead, no matter how miraculous it is, the benefits are limited, it is just an object.

The headmaster's face became darker day by day, and the elder in charge of criminal law suggested that a thorough investigation and severe punishment be carried out.

He stood outside the crowd and listened to the discussion of his senior brothers. Perhaps in two days, they would begin searching the disciples' dormitories, leaving no corner untouched. This included their residences and, naturally, the Sutra Pavilion. There was no way to avoid it. No matter what, someone had to give an explanation for this matter.

He looked up and searched for his senior brother in a daze. He was standing in the middle of the crowd, talking and laughing, as if nothing had happened. But from beginning to end, he avoided Han Chan's gaze.

After enduring for another three days, he went to find his master. The master took him to find the headmaster. There were a lot of people standing in the room. The headmaster lowered his head and asked him, where is the incense burner?

Han Wei was in a trance for a long time. His mind was empty, and the strange fragrance of the night seemed to still linger in his nostrils.

"Lost," he heard himself say.

No one believed him. So people came to question him one by one, some tried to persuade him with kind words, some scolded him harshly, and used both soft and hard tactics.

"Lost," he insisted, and didn't say another word.

According to Zhongnan Law, thieves are disgraced and are guilty of the same crime as humiliating their master. The person shall have one finger cut off and be expelled from the master's sect.

That day, after the last snow of winter, he let himself be dragged out of the mountain gate like mud and thrown under the stone steps. Regardless of the broken snow on his body, he struggled to raise his head and looked back at the slowly closing door for the last time. The headmaster with white hair and beard, the master with tears in the corners of his eyes, Jin Yunzi who looked down on the world... Only let his eyes stay on his senior brother for a moment.

It was his senior brother who saved him. Without his senior brother, there would be no him, Damien Han told himself.

For three years, he settled quietly in a village at the foot of Mount Zhongnan. In that life, he had never been anywhere except Zhongnan. Sometimes, standing in the small courtyard surrounded by the old fence and looking into the distance, the mist and the mountains were still so familiar and distant.

Senior Brother often came to see him. In the past, he only knew that Senior Brother would often sneak down the mountain, but he didn't know that Senior Brother was so familiar with everything down the mountain. Even the house where he stayed was found for him by Senior Brother. However, later, Senior Brother came less and less. But every time he came, Senior Brother would always come to his side as usual, put his arm around his shoulders, pinch his face, talk to him, and make him happy.

Although he was expelled from the sect, Damien Han still lived a simple life and practiced the mind method every day. His senior brother taught him diligently and taught him the new lessons taught by his master. A short laugh could make him forget many things, such as where is the incense burner? For example, why don't you ask me why I do this? For example, the villagers whispering about him.

At first, people thought he was a stranger who had failed to find a family. After a while, a disciple of Zhongnan went down the mountain to buy sundries and met him on the road. Then, his identity as a deserted disciple of Zhongnan became known to the world. The villagers who were warm and friendly at first became distant from him and gradually stopped interacting with him.

"I've said before that he's weird. He ignores everyone except his senior brother. As the saying goes, a dog that doesn't bark is the most likely to bite. It turns out that he has such thoughts. He even dares to call himself a cultivator. Pah! He has a belly full of dirty and evil intentions. What did I say? Be on guard day and night, but you can't guard against thieves in your own home. It's true. How can he still have the nerve to live here? If it were me, I would have stayed away long ago."

Two young Taoists in Taoist robes were walking along the path between villages, mumbling to each other. Damien Han walked in front of them, listening to their not-so-quiet chatter, which was like a thorn in his back. He pulled his sleeve unconsciously to cover his right hand.

As time went by, the doubts in his heart became more and more uncontrollable. His mind would always pop up the scene of his senior brother in the Sutra Pavilion that winter night, reading the bamboo slips with his heart engrossed: "Senior brother, have you mastered that set of mental skills?"

The senior brother who was talking eloquently paused, his face turning pale and blue, and numerous emotions flashed through his mind. Finally, he forced a smile and said, "I have long stopped practicing such deceptive things. At that time, I was also bewitched by a ghost."

Next, we should talk about the incense burner. The senior brother couldn't continue, his eyes moved here and there, avoiding him and his right hand in a panic. Han Zhi felt indescribable, he forced a smile and replied stiffly: "Really? Haha... That's fine... Haha..."

After that, my senior brother didn’t come anymore.

The other Zhongnan disciples, however, were unusually friendly with him. When they passed by the village on their way down the mountain, they would always stop and greet him outside the low fence at the edge of the courtyard. Once, a few little Taoist children that Han Zhi had never seen before even cheerfully called him "Senior Brother".

Han Zhi was flattered and stood there in a daze, not knowing how to respond.

The fellow disciples who were familiar with the past were also stunned. They pulled the Taoist children's hands and urged them to walk faster.

When they greeted him, they would always mention his senior brother, intentionally or unintentionally: "Hasn't he come to see you? Not even once?"

Han Zhi was suspicious: "He is on the mountain. If you sneak down the mountain without the master's order, you will be punished."

They stopped talking, ended the topic hastily, and left quickly.

Damien Han's heart skipped a beat for no reason, his mind was in a mess, but he couldn't make any sense of it.

Soon, it was midnight and everything was quiet. A blood-stained senior brother stumbled into his courtyard. Han Zhi hurried to help him, but when he pulled him, he was horrified. The burly senior brother who was a whole head taller than him was so thin that his arms were like dry wood. He couldn't help but help him to the door to observe carefully. He saw that the senior brother's cheeks were sunken, his face was sallow, and his whole body was withered and only a skeleton was left. Han Zhi barely recognized him: "Senior brother, you..."

The dying brother was unable to speak, but his skinny hands, as thin as chicken claws, tightly grasped his shoulders, his long nails piercing through his sleeves and digging into his flesh: "Junior brother, save me..."

The noise came closer and closer, and he looked up at Zhongnan Mountain again. Under the blue night sky, the vast sea of   clouds in the daytime disappeared, and the fires all over the mountains illuminated half of the sky. As far as he could remember, his master had never done anything like this before.

"What happened? Are they here to see you?" He was puzzled, and his anxiety grew stronger and stronger.

"Humph, I guessed it. You are in the same group." Han Zhi could not recognize the person who answered him. But he remembered this voice. That day, it was him who walked behind him on the village road, mocking him all the way. These days, it was also him who frequently came to inquire about the whereabouts of his senior brother.

"According to Zhongnan law, those who secretly learn forbidden skills will be considered as deceiving their teachers and destroying their ancestors, and will be killed without mercy."

The noisy and chaotic sound filled his ears, and Han Chan couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Hand over the stolen items now!"

The torches connected to form a dazzling sea of   fire. The fire dazzled Damien Han's eyes: "I didn't do it." He instinctively defended himself.

He was answered with laughter: "You didn't? How come you are here if you didn't have one? Where did your finger go?"

"I..." He was speechless and lowered his head in frustration. His senior brother lay in his arms, the blood gushing from his chest and the approaching flames blurred his eyes.

"Junior brother is a thief, and senior brother is also a thief. Tsk tsk, if I don't get rid of you two rebels today, what will happen to the reputation of my Zhongnan lineage? How can my Zhongnan sect stand in the world with dignity?"

There were roars everywhere, and the overwhelming momentum pushed his head even lower.

"It's not me, and neither is it, brother. I want to see the headmaster." He insisted in a low voice.

But no one could hear it.

"Traitor", "Sc*m", "letting a wolf in the house"...all kinds of insults burned as fiercely as the torches in their hands.

They approached step by step, and Han Wei stared at the unsheathed long swords in their hands. The tips of the swords shone brightly under the light of the fire...

His arm was so painful from the grip of his senior brother. Their contemptuous gazes were as sharp as blades. Their words, their disdain, their indiscriminateness... his blood was boiling, his veins were bulging, and he angrily grabbed his senior brother's sword on the ground...

After that, Han Zhi knew nothing. His last memory was of the endless sea of   fire...

When Lucas Fu arrived, Han Zhao had already fallen asleep under the stone pavilion. The sound of the flute tonight was particularly sad, stopping and starting, and quietly awakening him from his meditation. He ran all the way to chase the sound of the flute, but the delicate melody like a gossamer stopped abruptly halfway.

The Taoist lowered his footsteps and walked gently to his side. The wine pot on the table was empty, the bamboo flute was carelessly thrown aside, and the ghost's hand was still reluctantly grasping a white porcelain wine glass, which was empty.

He couldn't drink alcohol at all. Lucas Fu remembered that he would blush after just one glass.

"Senior Brother..." A low sigh came from the drunkard's mouth.

Shaking his head, the Taoist reached out and tried to pull the wine glass from his fingers. The pale fingers moved suddenly, releasing the porcelain cup, but wrapped around his fingers like a vine, carefully hooking the first section of his index finger.

"You're here." Damien Han opened his eyes, his cheeks tinged with a hint of red from the alcohol.

"Yeah." The dull Taoist nodded.

Han Zhi's gaze stayed on their intertwined fingers. The drunken man was like a curious child. He carefully pinched the Taoist's fingertips with his index and middle fingers, and then rubbed his own fingers on them slowly.

The ghost's hands were cold, without any warmth. He plucked Lucas Fu's fingers one by one with great interest. The icy touch occasionally passed through the Taoist's palm, like snowflakes in the Zhongnan Mountains.

He is really drunk, Lucas Fu thought to himself. Otherwise, this ghost would have broken his fingers with a sly smile. He sat down on a stone bench beside him, relaxed his right hand, and let Han Zhao draw circles on his palm and back of his hand. A faint smile appeared on the drunkard's face, but he never spoke again.

Lucas Fu saw a small knife made of wood next to the overturned wine jug. It was a child's toy. Although the materials were simple, the workmanship was extremely meticulous and exquisite. From the tip of the knife to the handle, there was not a single splinter. "Did you make this?"

The Taoist made a bold guess and felt a little surprised.

"Yeah." Han Zhao answered nonchalantly. Playing with the Taoist's slender fingers, he seemed fascinated by the Taoist's warm palms. He raised his head slowly and said casually, "I did a lot more."

Whether it was because of his rare happy smile or because of his clever handicraft, Lucas Fu couldn't help but praise the ingenious toy in his hand. Seeing him stretching his arms and leaning on the table to grab the wine glass again, he quickly used his right hand to grab his hand and pulled him back: "Don't drink."

The drunkard obediently withdrew his hand, turned his head, and looked into his eyes. They were both speechless. Han Zhi slowly raised his lips, blinked, and his eyes flashed. He acted like lightning and unexpectedly snatched the wooden sword from Lucas Fu's hand, threw it casually, and threw it into the lake with a "dong".

"You..." Lucas Fu was very surprised. He wanted to grab it again, but it was too late. He could only look back at the innocent drunkard in confusion.

"Are you angry?" The drunken ghost didn't care about the anger on his face at all. The fingers entangled in his fingers climbed up his angular face more boldly. "Master Mu, are you heartbroken?"

The fingertips scraped across Gang Yi's chin, slid down along the tightly closed collar, and finally touched Lucas Fu's chest. The severe headache forced Han Zhi to close his eyes. Through his clothes, the blood flowing under the thin skin and the strong heartbeat shook his fingers: "Master Mu, does it hurt here?"

The finger went in an inch further, and the burning temperature passed through the fingertips to his empty chest. The finger suddenly tightened, and Lucas Fu held his hand, also stopping his desire to penetrate a little further.

"Yes." Holding Han Zhai's hand, the Taoist answered in a deep voice.

Han Zhi narrowed his eyes and tilted his head up. After a long effort, he finally met his wandering gaze with his deep eyes. The bright moonlight in the sky was reflected in Lucas Fu's pupils, sparkling like the lake at his feet. Han Zhi vaguely saw a confused look on his face: "But I can't do it anymore."

Sighing, he pointed to his chest with his left hand: "There is nothing here, so it won't hurt anymore."

The moon was crescent-shaped, the willows were green, the lake and mountains were painted into overlapping shadows under the blue night sky, the wind carried the fragrance of flowers, lingering in his nose, winding into his heart. Lucas Fu also stared at him without blinking, this ghost with deathly aura around him but clear eyes and eyebrows, looked into his eyes, looked into his heart, and saw him suddenly smile inexplicably, his body swaying from side to side.

"careful."

Before he could remind him, Damien Han felt dizzy and tried to get up by holding the edge of the table, but his legs went weak and he fell into Lucas Fu's arms.

The strong smell of alcohol made the clean Taoist frown immediately. The drunkard, who was not good at drinking, was completely unconscious. He struggled for a while in Lucas Fu's arms, rubbed his shoulders, and buried his face in his neck comfortably: "It's so warm."

It was as if I was back to that night, inside the scripture pavilion, beside the stove, the ignorant young Taoist took off his Taoist cap, let his long hair down, and fell into a deep sleep hugging his quilt. In his dreams and in reality, there were flowers falling silently.

Really... Afraid that he would slip and sit on the ground, Lucas Fu helplessly folded his arms. Slightly, slightly, the corners of his lips that had never been raised drew a faint arc.

The drunken ghost slept peacefully, without making any sound or movement. His breath was also somewhat chilly and cold, falling on the Taoist's neck, causing a tingling sensation.

Lucas Fu turned his head to the side, and the ghostly sleeping face was close at hand. His breath slightly blew his scattered hair, and under the bright moonlight, the ghostly long eyelashes revealed a faint black shadow under his eyes. Stripped of the alienated defense in the daytime, Damien Han in his sleep seemed to be still the boy in Zhongnan Mountain who would fall asleep while reading the scriptures.

The master said in the letter that Damien Han, the abandoned disciple of Zhongnan, was only 23 years old when he was executed, two years younger than Lucas Fu is now.

"He is taciturn and unknown," wrote Jin Yunzi.

This adopted junior brother had a peculiar temperament. He could neither act like a spoiled child to please his master nor speak sweet words to please his senior brothers. In addition, he was the youngest and had the lowest cultivation level, so he naturally became the target of bullying. Over time, he became more and more withdrawn, gloomy, and always stared at people with his eyes wide open. Except for his senior brother, he never smiled at anyone.

Staring at him, Lucas Fu imagined him back then. The thin little Taoist boy, who looked even smaller because he was wrapped in a wide Taoist robe, stood far away from the crowd, with his eyes wide open, quietly watching others playing and laughing, listening to their fun and laughter. Year after year, until he was expelled from the sect, until he was pierced through the heart by a sword. Twenty years, not long, not short, but enough to leave a shocking mark on the wall.

I couldn't help but raise my hand to touch his face. The ghost with cold skin turned his head obediently like a cat afraid of the cold, and put his face into Lucas Fu's palm. The corners of his mouth relaxed slightly, and a satisfied smile bloomed.

The thin calluses on the fingertips gently touched his cheek. Lucas Fu moved his palm carefully, his index finger touched the shallow dimple, and his middle finger gently pressed on the upturned corner of his lips.

There were waves of water, waves rising and falling on the lake, and catkins flying in the willow forest outside the pavilion. The slender willow branches were lifted by the wind, as if to hook down the bright moon in the sky. In the dark night, the moonlight could see the wine residue on the ghost's lips, sparkling and gleaming with wet water.

He snuggled in his arms, he embraced the sleeping him, their bodies overlapping, their hands and feet touching. His middle finger slowly moved between the corner of his mouth and chin, soft and delicate, lingering. Lucas Fu pressed his face against Damien Han's, his eyes glued to his slightly opened lips. His eyes flickered, sometimes with pity, sometimes with confusion, sometimes with bewilderment, sometimes with determination... a thousand twists and turns.

Lower your head, just lower your head a little more, and he can K!ss him. Hold his hands, press them against his brows, get close to his heart, just lower your head a little more.

However, Lucas Fu never bowed his head in his life.

The inner room of the grocery store was still the same as when the Taoist took a quick glance at it that day, simple and small, simple and ancient to put it mildly, and shabby to put it bluntly. He gently laid the drunkard flat on the bed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Ghosts will not catch cold and get sick. Lucas Fu looked at Han Wei's pale face and the bamboo pillow on the bed, paused, stood up, took off his outer robe and covered him.

Although it was a midsummer night, the night in Qujiang City was still chilly.

"Is there any sobering tea?" Lucas Fu asked in a low voice.

The rabbit and the civet cat at the door were startled. Ever since the Taoist helped Han Zhi knock on the wooden door of the grocery store, Xingren and Shanzha had been standing trembling on the side, grabbing the door curtain of the inner room and peeking inside secretly.

"That... is for humans to drink. For ghosts... this... anyway, the master always does this, sleep on it, and everything will be fine by tomorrow night... Ouch! You pulled my hair again!"

Before the raccoon finished speaking, the rabbit yanked the few remaining hairs on his head. Xingren grabbed Shanzha's collar, baring his two big front teeth and trying his best to drag him out: "Yes! It works! We don't have it at home, but Aunt Xia next door has it. Let's go get it now..." He backed away, bowing to Lucas Fu repeatedly to please him.

The two monsters pulled each other and walked out noisily, "You fat cat, you only know how to eat. Your brain is covered with white rice cakes, stupid!"

"Who is stupid? You are the one who doesn't know what is good for you! Master, Master, he still... Ouch! Why are you pulling it out again? You are already bald..."

"It's better to be bald. You stupid raccoon cat, even if you pluck out all the hair on your body, you won't become smart. Don't you have a Taoist priest?"

"But that Taoist priest..."

"Shh... stop talking nonsense? Remember what the master told us?"

The noise gradually faded away, and then could no longer be heard. Han Zhi turned over on the couch, his quiet face half bathed in candlelight and half still hidden in darkness.

Lucas Fu took the candlestick, and the light beside the couch suddenly dimmed. The ghostly figure instantly merged into the huge shadow beside the wall.

Looking around, the small inner room was square in shape, with almost nothing except a few simple pieces of furniture. There was a lattice window on the wall facing the bed, through which one could see the tall ginkgo tree in the center of the backyard.

The square table that was originally placed under the window was moved to the wall on the right side of the couch. Two armchairs were placed on it. There was also a teacup that Han Zhao had used during the day on the table. On the other side of the lattice window was a large wooden cabinet with peeling paint. The cabinet was locked. Lucas Fu walked closer to take a closer look, and with a flick of his right index finger in the air, the lock opened silently. Inside were some neatly folded clothes, one side was worn out, and the other side was made of crisp fabrics that had never been worn. And in the depths of the cabinet, Lucas Fu found a package buried under the clothes. Slightly opening the knot on top, a piece of clothing immediately leaked out. The white background was inlaid with a pale blue piping, and the dark patterns could be vaguely seen in the candlelight. This was the Taoist robe he gave him. Guimei had never worn it once, so it was neatly folded, heavily wrapped, and hidden deep in the cabinet.

Lucas Fu seemed to have burned his hand, and he had no intention of looking through it anymore. He quickly tied the package again and put it back in place. He closed the cabinet door and made another stroke with his finger. Everything returned to the original state, including the dark yellow silk thread wrapped around the chain.

Han Di was lying on the couch, unconscious and sleeping soundly with the chirping of insects outside the window as his pillow.

Pushing open the back door of the inner room, Lucas Fu walked into the small courtyard behind the house. The courtyard was also simple, with swaying shadows of trees and tall ginkgo trees stretching their branches wantonly in the night sky.

Lucas Fu walked slowly along the courtyard wall. The Taoist looked stern and sharp, looking at every blade of grass and tree by the wall, then stood under a tree, looked up at the dense leaves that blocked the moonlight for a while. He squatted down, picked up a little soil with his fingers, and rubbed it carefully between his fingers. After finishing all this, Lucas Fu brushed off his clothes, stood up, and went back into the house.

Han Zhi was still in the same posture as before, lying on his side on the couch with his face towards the lattice window, showing no sign of waking up.

Lucas Fu blew out the candlestick and stood silently beside the couch for a while. His dark and gilded eyes never blinked, like a deep and bottomless lake, staring at the sleeping ghost. After a moment, his expression changed, and all thoughts in his eyes disappeared. He was cold and indifferent again. Lucas Fu suddenly turned around and walked out the door.

Han Zhi moved slightly, and one hand fell along the edge of the couch. His fingertips touched the Taoist's fluttering clothes, and passed by him as he left.

Lucas Fu walked calmly and steadily, passing the crowded shelves outside the room, passing the copper bell hanging in front of the door, and opened the half-closed wooden door, bringing a breeze. The copper bell rang twice, and after the hoarse sound of the door closing, everything in the darkness returned to silence. Han Zhao turned over, facing the roof shrouded in darkness, and opened his eyes.

At the end of July in the sixth year of Ningyou in Fengtian Dynasty, Alexander Qin, the King of Langya, led his troops eastward, captured Ruicheng, and crossed Dongting Lake, and was unstoppable. The army of King Victor Lu stationed a million troops in Yucheng and met them with heavy equipment. After several years of twists and turns, the uncle and nephew finally met in battle. Back then, the founding emperor of Fengtian Dynasty fought bloody battles for seven days in Jinzhou, killing people with piles of bones and changing the situation, and then he settled down a vast land. Three hundred years later, in Jinzhou again, a hegemon was about to emerge. The world said that the world was about to change. Decades of chaos finally came to an end.

Smoke billowed and rumors spread. Merchants from afar slapped their chests and exclaimed how terrible it was when they mentioned Jinzhou. He said that there was smoke everywhere and that the outside of the gate of Yucheng was a scorched earth. There was no grass growing on both sides of the road. Body parts were scattered all over the ground, some with heads and bodies separated, some with limbs missing, and some even cut in half. Within a radius of 20 miles, there was not a single intact corpse. Some even swore that they had seen with their own eyes that the moat of Yucheng had been dyed red with blood, and even the wells in the city were emitting bursts of corpse stench.

In the whispers of the world, everything in Jinzhou is a hellish scene. A blind old man singing in a teahouse in Qujiang City played the pipa and sighed: "When a country prospers, the people suffer. When a country perishes, the people suffer. So many achievements and fame in ancient times have turned into tears in the eyes of those who have left."

There were only a few tea customers chatting in the teahouse. In Yingzhou, the shadow of missing people still lingered. In fact, it became more and more serious as the battle in Jinzhou became stalemate. Not only in Yingzhou, but also in surrounding areas, there were reports of young men and women disappearing inexplicably. Especially children, in the moment of turning back, the child was gone. Not to mention people, even a shoe, a piece of clothing, or a finger could not be found.

The beginning of a prosperous era is often the end of the last era.

Half of the ten-day deadline agreed upon by Gabriel Helian and Lucas Fu had passed in the blink of an eye. For five days, the meticulous Taoist priest buried his head in front of the shelves of the grocery store, neither anxious nor impatient, but calm and composed.

Han Zhi no longer stood behind the door curtain to peek. The newly replaced bamboo curtain blocked the dazzling sunlight and cut everything in the store into countless fragments. The ghost in the room sat far away on the armchair, with his eyes downcast, wondering what he was thinking. Sometimes, there was no sound for the whole day. The strange silence suppressed Xingren and Shanzha and they dared not say much. The two shallow monsters stood behind the cashier's counter, looking at the Taoist's straight back, then at the shadowy ghost behind the bamboo curtain, and finally looked at each other and shut up tactfully.

After sunset, a question floated out from the inner room that had been silent for a long time: "Master, would you please stay for a drink?"

Han Zhai asked politely, and Lucas Fu answered awkwardly, "Excuse me."

The drinking place was either under the big tree in the courtyard or in the stone pavilion beside the lake. I don't know if it was a coincidence or the ghost's intention, the layout of the two places was the same, even the angles of the stone benches were the same. Seeing the deep thought in Lucas Fu's eyes, Han Wei explained nonchalantly: "There is also a stone pavilion behind the Siguo Cliff in Zhongnan Mountain."

Lucas Fu looked a bit confused. Damien Han laughed: "That's right, why did you go to the cliff of remorse?"

That was a place for disciples who made mistakes to sit and reflect on their mistakes. On the high cliff, there was nothing but jagged rocks. The sharp mountain wind blew on the face, as if it could scratch open bloody wounds. Behind a huge cliff, someone built a stone pavilion, close to the edge of the cliff. If you looked down, you would see a deep valley with no way out.

Lucas Fu asked: "What mistakes have you made? Why do you reflect on them?"

Han Zhi was in no hurry to speak. He held the wine pot, tilted the spout slightly, and poured the wine accurately until it was level with the rim of the cup: "If I tell you, can you also tell me why you like the tree in my house so much?"

Every time he stepped into the courtyard, the Taoist would raise his eyes to look at the ginkgo tree beside the stone table. Although he only glanced at it, his thoughtful expression could not escape the eyes of the ghost.

"You are overly suspicious, young master." Lucas Fu denied it flatly, without a ripple in his eyes or brows.

Han Zhi took a sip of wine and replied calmly, "The Taoist priest asked too many questions."

With a slight smile, he drank the wine in the glass in one gulp, then followed Lucas Fu's gaze and looked up at the tree.

The ginkgo trees beside him were sturdy, with broad canopies like umbrellas and dense, lush leaves. Lucas Fu followed his example and drank the whole cup in one gulp: "I've been to the Cliff of Repentance."

Han Zhai's bamboo chopsticks were suspended in mid-air.

Lucas Fu's upright face rarely showed a bit of embarrassment: "Master ordered me to check whether Junior Brother is truly repentant."

Sure enough, how could Lucas Fu, who was a role model in Zhongnan, make a mistake? Facing the teasing in the ghost's eyes, Lucas Fu remained silent.

"What happened next?" Damien Han asked.

The Taoist thought for a while and shook his head: "Wrong is wrong, whether it is intentional or not, there is no difference."

It can be imagined that the junior brother must have been punished again. If good and evil are really rewarded, how many sins must have been committed in the previous life to meet such a serious senior brother in this life? Damien Han sighed.

Lucas Fu on the other side had no idea why he sighed. He looked at him with a stern look, puzzled as he shook his head repeatedly: "If you make a mistake, you should be punished. How can you condone it?"

Damien Han sighed again: "You, the Taoist priest of wood..."

The drunk ghost was very talkative, as if he wanted to say everything he had been holding back during the day.

He pointed to the soil beside the tree and told Lucas Fu: "Originally, Chu Yu lived there."

The first rain is a bunch of hydrangeas, with a circle of light green on the edge of the petals. The woman transformed by the flower spirit has a sweet smile, curved eyebrows and deep dimples.

"At first, she said she didn't want to get married. Haha, how can a girl stay a girl all her life without getting married?" What's more, to them who are not human, a lifetime is equivalent to generations to come.

Speaking of Chu Yu, the drunkard's expression became unusually gentle, erasing his disguise of alienation and disdain. He sat at the stone table and looked down at the soil under the tree. Under the wind and sun, the soil had become the same as the surrounding area, without any trace of being dug up and refilled. However, in Han Zhao's eyes, the woman with half-lifted veil and a sweet smile was still standing there, speaking softly and singing softly.

Lucas Fu couldn't help wondering, what kind of time did Miss Chu Yu spend with him that made him miss her so much?

Han Zhao, who was still lost in his thoughts, could not see the doubt between Lucas Fu's brows. He bit the rim of the cup and chattered on about all the trivial matters, both relevant and irrelevant.

He said that Chu Yu was good at reading and needlework, and especially loved making clothes for him.

Lucas Fu thought of the new clothes in Han Zhao's closet that had never been worn. From inner clothes to outer clothes, summer shirts and winter coats, everything was complete.

But even a gentle and refined woman can have her moments of raising her eyebrows and roaring like a lion, and that must be when he has made a mistake again.

"She doesn't like to hear me talk about the past." Han Zhi said, his eyes turned from the wine in the cup to Lucas Fu under the moon, "She really admires you. I was teasing her. If True Lord Zi Yang really saw you, he would definitely disperse you with a palm of lightning and fire without asking the reason."

Lucas Fu lowered his eyes and stared at the broken finger on his hand.

Han Zhi stopped talking, turned the porcelain cup in his hand, and looked at the wine in the cup with his own face reflected in it: "She asked me in return, dying at his hands is at least better than being imprisoned, drowning in a sea of   blood day and night, crying and complaining, isn't it?"

"Hehehe..." After saying that, the ghost started laughing first.

He was just like Chu Yu as he mentioned, whose eyes would bend when he smiled. Lucas Fu drank wine silently and listened to his rambling drunken talk.

Almonds love money, and hawthorns are greedy. The happiest thing for the rabbit every day, besides brushing his front teeth, is to pick up a copper coin from the street. He is naturally fascinated by all shiny things. That is his nature, and he can't change it. It was because of his greed for a small piece of bronze mirror fragment in the haystack that he fell into the hunter's trap and almost lost his life.

The raccoon cat loves to be lazy. If it can lie down, it will never sit. If it can sit, it will never stand. Therefore, its cultivation has never made any progress. Apart from maintaining its human form, it can only do some small magic such as turning stones into steamed buns and making dry grass into pillows.

"Ever since you caught it last time and suppressed it with magic for a whole night, it can't even maintain its human form for long." Han Di blamed with a little grievance, a little regret, and a little anger.

The Taoist thought for a while with a stern face, knowing that he was at fault, so he stood up respectfully, picked up the wine pot, filled his glass, then raised his own glass, bowed and apologized: "I have wronged the young master's servant, the fault is mine."

This Taoist priest was extremely serious and could never tell what was a joke, what was a prank, and what had a deeper meaning.

Han Zhi waved his hands helplessly: "You... "What can I say about you? Everything I say about you is annoying.

Let's get back to almonds and hawthorns. Actually, they have their merits. Almond is a good accountant and never misses a penny in terms of income and income. Living in the world, there are always food, clothing and daily necessities. Turning stones into gold and beans into soldiers is just a legendary nonsense. The fact that I was able to buy this small shop and the backyard is all thanks to Almond's careful calculations.

After Chu Yu left, Shanzha took care of everything at home.

"Master, it's time to eat pears."

"Master, drink more old duck soup in the summer, it is very nourishing."

"Master, when the weather gets cooler, buy some mutton to go with the wine."

I get a headache when I think of its silly drooling, but it is also because of it that these long and boring years become interesting. The sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and all the flavors of life all spread from the tip of the tongue to the heart, and then I experience a hint of the vividness that only this world of fireworks can have.

"They say it's better to be a human than a monster," Han said.

When asked why, they couldn't explain. They tilted their heads and thought for a long time, then hesitantly said, "Nothing, just be a good person. It takes a hundred years to become like a human being, how precious!"

"They are very good." Han Zhi concluded.

Night after night, Han Zhi dragged Lucas Fu to drink, talking about these things over and over again, talking about the first rain, hawthorn, and almond, and occasionally even mentioning Li Ji, talking about their encounter, acquaintance, and getting along. The drizzle falling on the petals when the first rain bloomed, the bronze mirror fragments that filled a whole box of almonds, the snacks that hawthorn hid under the account desk and were dragged away by mice... He kept talking about being a ghost with no worries, and every word and sentence was full of worries, nostalgia, and yearning.

Lucas Fu stroked the wine glass in his hand and listened silently.

"They're not bad, really." Before he passed out drunk, Han Zhi tried to hold on to the table and said solemnly, "They know nothing and have done nothing."

He had seen anger, determination, and ridicule in his eyes. He had laughed, been hurt, struggled, and also seen the emptiness after he lost his mind due to being immersed in memories. This ghost had too many faces, so many that he was dazzled and could hardly tell the real from the fake. At this moment, under the bleak moonlight, the huge tree shadow was distorted and climbed from their feet to their shoulders. Ghostly, dead, demonic, evil, and resentful auras surrounded them.

The ghost ignored him and just stared at him with wide eyes.

Lucas Fu saw pleading in Damien Han's eyes.