Xiao Kun thought to himself: The cured meat from your dreams—I’d like to see how you get the money for that.
“Khotan!” Xiang Xian suddenly remembered the three words from his own situation. “Khotan!! I got it!”
Xiao Kun: “??”
“It’s the mural style of Khotan.”
“Oh—” Chaosheng looked at Xiang Xian with full admiration. “What is that?”
It was really hard on Xiang Xian. In Chaosheng’s eyes, he was nearly omniscient and omnipotent. He knew food and fun, was proficient in music and painting—in short, everything useless in Xiao Kun’s eyes, Xiang Xian knew thoroughly.
“A western foreign land,” Xiang Xian casually promised Chaosheng. “When we have time, I’ll take you there to play.”
They finally reached the foot of the mountain and returned to Erwang Temple. Tonight’s temple fair was still grand, with lanterns hanging before the stalls, reflecting off the river. Xiang Xian said, “You two head back to the inn first. I’ll be right there.”
But Xiao Kun insisted on following Xiang Xian. They led their horses and saw Xiang Xian go find the abbot first. When he came out, he had a piece of paper with addresses written on it.
Half an hour later, at the gate of a certain household, Xiang Xian knocked a few times and shouted, “Open up! Exorcists!”
Xiao Kun: “Staying here?”
“Call your master out.” Xiang Xian signaled Xiao Kun to wait and said to the servant, “The young master is back? Good that he’s back!”
This family was a small landlord in Guanjiangkou—not wealthy beyond measure, but quite well-off. Not long ago, their eldest son had been abducted by Lady Hua Rui’s subordinates into Qingcheng Mountain. The whole family had been like ants on a hot pan, not knowing what to do.
Now that their beloved son had finally returned safely—though he looked kidney-yang deficient, pale-faced, and trembling-legged—he hadn’t lost limbs or been possessed. He could recover slowly at home. They had just summoned relatives to welcome him back. When Xiang Xian arrived at the door, a dozen or so people poured out.
“Nothing wrong, right?” Xiang Xian said seriously. “Payment of two hundred taels owed. Who will settle the fee?”
Xiao Kun: “………………”
“Daoist priest, please come inside!” The master of the house was terrified. But Xiang Xian said he had other matters and clearly intended to take the money and leave. The steward hurried back inside to fetch it.
“See? Money.” Xiang Xian tossed the package of two hundred taels—over ten pounds of silver—to Xiao Kun, who was immediately speechless.
“Next house. Young master back? Oh, master it is. Come on, payment… Your family doesn’t look well-off. Five taels of silver.”
Xiang Xian went door-to-door with the list of addresses, collecting fees alongside Xiao Kun and Chaosheng.
“Enough!” Xiao Kun really had no way to deal with Xiang Xian. This went against an exorcist’s true heart, and yet Xiang Xian was utterly righteous about it.
“Do we collect from this one too?” Chaosheng looked at one particularly poor family on the list. They made a living gathering firewood. The family of three lived in a thatched hut by the river, moistening each other with what little they had. They were starting a fire to cook dinner. When they saw the exorcists arrive, the man of the house—who had been abducted—hurriedly brought out a prepared sack full of food. “Benefactor! Benefactor! I didn’t know where to thank you!”
“No trouble!” Xiang Xian generously crossed out the life-saving debt. He even took a pound of silver from the earlier thanks fees— he always spent by the pound, not the tael—and placed it on their low table. “You’ve been gone for over half a year. Nourish your body well. Buy some deer penis to eat.”
When they returned to the inn, Xiang Xian naturally fulfilled his promise. He treated Chaosheng and Xiao Kun to a sumptuous feast.
“Drink some?” Xiang Xian shook the wine pot at Xiao Kun twice.
Xiao Kun originally wanted to say there might be trouble tomorrow, but upon meeting Xiang Xian’s gaze, he changed his mind and drank two cups with him.
Sated with food and wine, Chaosheng lay on the table watching the river outside, nearly asleep.
“Go inside to sleep,” Xiao Kun said. “It’s too cold out here.”
Chaosheng mumbled in agreement, and Xiao Kun carried him into the room. Xiang Xian thought he wouldn’t come out again that night. As he instructed the staff to clear the table, Xiao Kun emerged once more. He hesitated, glanced at Xiang Xian, and still went to the elegant seat by the railing overlooking the river and sat down.
Xiao Kun didn’t know why, but he felt that without sharing another cup with Xiang Xian, the night wouldn’t end.
“Don’t always look so worried,” Xiang Xian laughed. “Cheer up.”
“I’m just like this by nature,” Xiao Kun replied. “I’ve been unhappy since birth. There’s nothing in my life worth being happy about.”
These words made Xiao Kun recall his own past. It seemed true enough. Had he ever been happy? Maybe, but mostly fleeting moments, long forgotten.
From his observations, Xiang Xian must have lived carefree since childhood. For him, living itself was probably joy.
Xiao Kun sized up Xiang Xian and found him a bit annoying, always dancing on the edge of a beating, making one want to punch him.
Since he appeared, everyone liked him. Chaosheng seemed soul-snatched upon seeing him. At first, Xiao Kun felt displeased, but gradually grew accustomed. After all, White Jade Palace had only entrusted him to look after Chaosheng—he wasn’t a pet, so he couldn’t stop him from making friends.
Xiang Xian was like sticky candy, righteously clinging to them. Though their goals aligned, it always irked Xiao Kun a bit. He had a Pure Yang Body, carrying a Blazing Flame-like aura. He lived carelessly, his most common words “whatever,” disregarding what Xiao Kun cared about, playing in the human world, free and easy.
Xiao Kun didn’t want to give him a good face—as if focusing on Xiang Xian meant yielding to his charm, becoming an admirer like Chaosheng. This made him especially unwilling to yield.
Xiang Xian said, “Drinking so dry is boring. Can you sing?”
“No.” Xiao Kun replied.
“I’ll play a tune for you.” Xiang Xian said, then had the innkeeper bring a qin.
Xiang Xian plucked the strings and sang earnestly: “Chill cicadas mournful, facing the long pavilion at dusk, sudden rain just stopped…”
