Chapter 45:
Peach Blossom Spring (Part 2):
Grotesque Tendrils Sprout from Chen Henian’s Back…
Chen Henian’s words stunned Zhao Cuicui. She stared at him, dumbfounded, thinking she had misheard. What guest demanded food the moment they arrived?
Ignoring the matter at hand and focusing on his stomach, a freeloader indeed.
“Granny is very busy,” she said.
“But I’m hungry,” Chen Henian replied, his voice low and insistent, not even bothering to open his mouth fully. “I need to eat now.”
Zhao Cuicui snorted, thinking him unreasonable.
But Chen Henian was like that. He wouldn’t let himself go hungry, even if it meant inconveniencing others. The cup of tea he had just drunk had only amplified his hunger. He couldn’t lose face by letting his stomach growl audibly.
Silence fell upon the room, only Zuo He, ever considerate, rescuing him from the awkwardness.
“We’ve been traveling for two days, haven’t had a proper meal,” he said politely. “Elder, please forgive our intrusion.”
His expression was sincere, respectful towards the elder, whose temperament was unpredictable.
Granny Zhao, however, didn’t put on airs. She smiled, a small, gentle smile, tapping the table lightly, her movements restrained, the glass beads around her neck undisturbed.
“Granny,” Zhao Cuicui called out.
The smile faded, and Granny Zhao shook her head gently. “Cuicui, we can’t let our guests go hungry. Bring some snacks.”
“Alright.” Zhao Cuicui nodded, surprised by her grandmother’s unexpected kindness. She wasn’t usually so accommodating. What was so special about these “old friends”?
She returned with two plates of fried dough twists and rice cakes, each as long as a hand.
Chen Henian took a bite. They were sweet and slightly salty, crispy and satisfying.
Zhao Cuicui placed three pairs of chopsticks on the table. Jiang Wan didn’t eat, and Cuicui asked, “Big Sister, why aren’t you eating?”
“I don’t need to eat, I don’t get hungry,” Jiang Wan replied.
“It’s alright to try some. We made them ourselves, they’re very good,” Cuicui insisted.
Jiang Wan, not wanting to be rude, took a bite.
She and Zuo He ate sparingly, but Chen Henian, true to form, ate with gusto, his appetite seemingly insatiable. Zhao Cuicui refilled their teacups.
Granny Zhao waited until they had finished. “Just a small snack, we’ll have a proper meal at noon.”
“Thank you,” Chen Henian said.
Granny Zhao, seeing his satisfied expression, remarked, “You’re just like your master.”
“How so?” he asked.
She saw a resemblance to an old friend, and he didn’t mind, but he was puzzled. His master, with his scruffy beard and unkempt appearance, was nothing like him. Their voices were different too. What had triggered her memory?
He thought for a moment. It must be his words, his demand for food. “Did my master also ask for food when he met you?”
“Yes,” Granny Zhao’s stern face softened. “He came here twenty years ago, still young, collapsed at my doorstep. When he woke up, he didn’t even thank me, just said he was hungry.”
Chen Henian frowned. “What’s your relationship with my master?”
Granny Zhao laughed. “Zhou Xianzhi’s disciple, there’s no need for speculation. We were just passing acquaintances.”
Her tone was firm, and Chen Henian was relieved. He had almost thought his emotionally stunted master had abandoned a lover here, leaving him to deal with the fallout. That would be truly despicable.
But Granny Zhao was already a grandmother, so it was unlikely.
“But I saved his life, so he owes me a favor,” she continued. “He promised to return and fulfill a promise he made.”
“He didn’t come, so you’ll have to do it in his place. It’s time to fulfill that promise.”
“What promise?” Chen Henian understood now. The note, the money, his master had sent him here to clean up his mess.
Damn you, Zhou Xianzhi, you sly old fox!
“Didn’t your master tell you anything?” Granny Zhao asked.
“He mentioned something,” Chen Henian said cautiously. “Since it’s my master’s promise, I’ll fulfill it. What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t worry, it’s a simple task, something you can easily accomplish,” she said. “Stay here for now. When the time comes, I’ll tell you. You’ll be safe here.”
Chen Henian disliked riddles, but since she was his master’s acquaintance, he couldn’t be rude. He agreed to wait.
“This place is safe, outsiders rarely come here,” she said. “You can relax, no one will disturb you.”
She stood up, picking up her staff. “I have matters to attend to in the village. Keep Cuicui company, chat with her. Behave yourselves, girls, and listen to her.”
She left without looking back.
Zhao Cuicui, after seeing her grandmother off, turned to them, a smile on her face. “Are all outsiders as handsome as you?”
“Of course not,” Jiang Wan replied. “We’re exceptional.”
“Really? Then outsiders aren’t that different after all,” Zhao Cuicui giggled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Go change your clothes after you’ve finished eating, and I’ll show you around the village.”
“Big Sister, Big Brother, follow me.”
“My house is very big, even three of you can stay here comfortably.”
She led them to a two-story wooden house built on stilts above the river.
She opened the door, showing them the room, two bamboo beds with thin blankets, cool and comfortable in the summer heat.
She left them to change, returning with clothes a few minutes later.
Chen Henian did want to change out of his wet clothes.
She also brought towels and a basin of water, urging them to wash up.
Chen Henian and Zuo He entered the room, undressing behind a bamboo screen, the sound of water and rustling cloth filling the room. Chen Henian dried himself and changed into the local attire.
“Your master’s name is Zhou Xianzhi,” Zuo He said suddenly. “Which Zhou Xianzhi?”
“None of your business,” Chen Henian replied.
“Alright.”
A moment of silence, then Zuo He spoke again. “My master had a junior brother named Zhou Xianzhi.”
Chen Henian clicked his tongue impatiently, but Zuo He continued, “He left Mount Jielü a long time ago. Master never saw him again. I only heard stories about him.”
Chen Henian paused, his hand stilling as he tied his sash.
“I was just thinking,” Zuo He said, “you might be my junior brother.”
“I’m your senior brother.”
“Nonsense,” Chen Henian said loudly. “You call me Boss, understand the rules?”
Zuo He fell silent, the jingling of his accessories the only sound.
Chen Henian, annoyed by the talk of brotherhood, struggled with the silver ornaments, almost throwing them on the floor in frustration. He turned to Zuo He. “Where does this go?”
Zuo He, already dressed, walked over and took the ornament from him. “Around your waist.”
“I’ll help you.” He deftly fastened the ornaments, one after another.
“Hey,” Chen Henian said, his tone sharp. “Don’t get too familiar.”
“I understand,” Zuo He nodded.
But he didn’t seem to understand at all, his eyes filled with an almost paternal concern, the young Daoist’s demeanor oddly mature.
“Get lost,” Chen Henian rolled his eyes.
The local attire was complicated, adorned with heavy silver ornaments. His shirt was short, revealing his shoulders, a small silver snake ornament pinned to the fabric, the long skirt flowing over tight-fitting pants.
Finally dressed, they left the room, finding Jiang Wan and Zhao Cuicui braiding each other’s hair. After a while, Zhao Cuicui turned her attention to the men.
Zuo He, citing his sect’s rules, refused, so she focused on Chen Henian. “Can I braid your hair too?” she asked eagerly.
“No,” Chen Henian said flatly.
“But Granny said you have to stay here and play with me,” she said, her eyebrows raised, her youthful face like a child complaining to an adult.
Seeing his unwavering refusal, she softened her voice, pleading, “Pretty Brother, please?”
“Just agree, dear brother,” Jiang Wan chimed in.
Their alternating pleas and threats wore him down. He sat down, and Zhao Cuicui, her eyes shining, began combing his long, soft hair. “Granny says the longer your hair, the longer you live,” she said.
“My master said that too,” Chen Henian replied. “But it’s not true.”
“It’s fine as long as you believe it,” she said. “What’s your master like? Is he handsome?”
“Ugly,” Chen Henian said.
Zhao Cuicui frowned. “You’re so disrespectful. How can a disciple speak of his master like that?”
“What are schools like outside? Do the teachers teach well? What do they teach?”
Chen Henian didn’t answer, and neither did the others.
“Why aren’t you talking?” she asked.
“I didn’t go to school. My master taught me everything,” Chen Henian said, looking at Jiang Wan.
“I didn’t go to school either,” she replied. “I can’t answer your questions.”
She looked at Zuo He.
All eyes were on him. He hesitated, then said honestly, “My master found me when I was young. I never left the mountain until I was eighteen. You’re asking about ordinary schools, I haven’t seen one, but I’ve read about them.”
“What are they like?” Zhao Cuicui asked.
Zuo He struggled to recall. “Many people, wearing the same clothes, very… lively?”
He wasn’t sure, his knowledge limited, their world far removed from ordinary life.
“I imagine all schools are similar. Haven’t you been outside?” he asked.
“No,” Zhao Cuicui sighed. “I’ve never left the village. No one has, not for a long time.”
“I dream of going outside, of seeing the world. Granny has been outside, she brought back so many interesting things. I want to see them too.”
She had braided a small section of Chen Henian’s hair, but he refused to let her continue.
“Fine,” she said, tying a black string with a green, silver-rimmed stone around his forehead, the ornament pushing his hair back, the ends curling around his shoulders. He stood up, his tall figure, his colorful clothes, making him the most striking person in the village.
“See? See?” Zhao Cuicui giggled. “I knew our clothes would look good on you! So handsome!”
“Come to the village! Do you want to eat fish? I make delicious braised crucian carp!”
They followed her out of the house, the village large and well-organized, the terraced fields stretching across the valley, the sun shining through the clouds, the cool clothes comfortable against their skin.
As they walked through the village, the young women they encountered would stare at them curiously, then quickly turn away, their faces flushed, when Chen Henian looked at them.
This village was more prosperous than most rural areas. A young girl ran towards them, a small yellow flower in her hand, her face flushed, and offered it to Zuo He.
“For me?” Zuo He asked, surprised.
The girl nodded shyly, placing the flower in his hand and running away, giggling.
Zuo He, still stunned, looked at the flower, and Zhao Cuicui explained, “Here, giving someone a flower means you like them.”
Zuo He’s face paled. “I can’t accept this! I shouldn’t have taken it!”
“It’s alright,” Zhao Cuicui said. “We know you’re not from here. We don’t marry outsiders. It’s just a gesture of admiration.”
He was relieved.
More girls approached him, offering flowers, their smiles shy and hopeful.
He soon had a bouquet of yellow flowers, making him look rather popular.
“Why didn’t anyone give you a flower?” Jiang Wan asked Chen Henian, two flowers in her own hand, his empty. “Don’t they like your type?”
“I don’t need flowers,” Chen Henian said, his expression unchanged.
He didn’t want to hold a flower, it would be a nuisance.
Zhao Cuicui giggled. “He’s too handsome, the girls are too shy to approach him. They’re afraid he’ll reject them.”
She walked to the edge of the bridge, picking a flower.
She walked back to Chen Henian, offering him the flower. “But I’m the boldest girl in the village. Someone as handsome as you should have a flower. I have good taste, so this is the best flower.”
“Pretty Brother, Big Sister, don’t be annoyed with me, you’ll be leaving soon.”
Her eyes, as she smiled, were clear and sincere, like her name, Cuicui, like jade, her youthful face radiating warmth and kindness.
Just a flower. Chen Henian decided to accept it.
Flowers would wither eventually, not a lasting burden.
He took the flower, and the red string on his finger reacted, tightening, a warm, tingling sensation spreading through his body, black tendrils emerging from his back.
Zhao Cuicui gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “What is that?”
“Shh!” Jiang Wan warned. “Don’t move.”
Chen Henian didn’t know what the great ghost was doing, its form not fully materialized, only the tendrils visible, reaching towards the bridge, towards the flowers, seemingly choosing carefully, then plucking a flower.
A large section of the flowerbed was suddenly bare.
Eighteen flowers!
The tendrils retracted, shorter now, but still surrounding him, the flowers held aloft, a strange and unsettling sight.
Everyone stared, their eyes wide with shock and confusion. “What is it doing?”
Chen Henian, his hand clutching his throbbing forehead, said through gritted teeth, “I’d like to know that myself.”
