Ni Qinglan disappeared after the winter examination.
The letter had been sent to Ni Qinglan by a provincial candidate from Yanzhou who was on good terms with him. In the letter, he revealed that Ni Qinglan had left the inn on the night after the winter examination. The friend assumed that Ni Qinglan had performed poorly and was feeling dejected, so he wrote to him at the hometown address Ni Qinglan had once mentioned, carefully offering comfort and arranging to meet again in Yunjing the following year.
Judging from the tone of this Yanzhou candidate, Ni Qinglan had indeed failed the winter examination. But if his friend’s letter had arrived, why had Ni Qinglan still not returned home?
At first, Madam Cen could still comfort herself by thinking perhaps her son had been delayed on the road and might return in a few days. But one or two months passed, and Ni Qinglan not only did not come home, he did not send back even a single word.
Madam Cen’s health had never been good to begin with. Recently, she had been bedridden even more often, eating little and sleeping even less. She had grown much thinner than before.
She would not allow Ni Su to take her pulse, nor would she allow Ni Su to ask about her illness. The old physician who often came to examine Madam Cen was also tight-lipped, so Ni Su had no choice but to secretly take Xingzhu with her to inspect the medicine dregs. But while doing so, she was seen.
“Get up. I will not punish you.”
Madam Cen leaned against the soft pillow and studied the young girl kneeling before her couch. “But do not think you have done nothing wrong. It is only because you have recently been helping me block Ni Zong and his whole family from coming in and dirtying my ears and eyes that it can count as offsetting your punishment.”
“Mother…”
Ni Su raised her head. Madam Cen had grown so thin that even her eye sockets had sunken slightly. Looking at her, Ni Su felt increasingly upset.
“I asked the eminent monks of Dazhong Temple to consecrate a peace talisman. I have been so ill recently that I forgot about it. Go and retrieve it for me.”
Madam Cen’s weak, powerless voice carried a trace of authority that allowed no refusal.
At such a time, how could Ni Su be willing to go to Dazhong Temple? But since Madam Cen had spoken, she had no room to refuse. She could only leave the room, call the old housekeeper over, and instruct him carefully on the matters at home—especially to guard against Ni Zong bringing people over to cause trouble again.
Dazhong Temple was considered a famous temple from the previous dynasty. Within the temple was a large bronze bell engraved with many poems and writings by renowned scholars of that era. It stood on a quiet, secluded mountain, surrounded by mountain flowers and grasses, as though untouched by the years.
Because of this, Dazhong Temple was often visited by scholars and refined gentlemen, who left behind many excellent works there, allowing the incense offerings of the mountain temple to flourish without end.
Lately, Ni Su had been restless and uneasy. As she sat in the carriage, her mind was filled with thoughts of her brother’s disappearance and her mother’s illness. Suddenly, the carriage shook violently. Outside, the horse neighed. Without thinking, Xingzhu called, “Miss!” and instinctively pulled Ni Su into her arms to protect her.
There was a dull thud.
Ni Su raised her eyes and saw that Xingzhu’s forehead had struck the carriage wall. A bruised red mark appeared and quickly swelled.
“Xingzhu, are you all right?”
The carriage had stopped moving. Ni Su held Xingzhu by both shoulders.
Xingzhu was both dizzy and in pain. When she shook her head, her vision swam even more. “I’m fine, Miss…”
A rough hand lifted the curtain, and a beam of sunlight fell across the side of Ni Su’s face. The old coachman was covered in mud as he said to her, “Miss, one of the carriage wheels is broken. It rained yesterday, and now it’s stuck in the wet mud. I’m afraid we cannot go forward for now. But don’t worry, Miss. This old man can fix it in about an hour.”
“All right.” Ni Su nodded. This was not her first time coming to Dazhong Temple. Seeing that the stone steps up the mountain path were just ahead, she turned back to Xingzhu and said, “You are dizzy and uncomfortable right now. I will go up by myself. Rest in the carriage for a while.”
“This servant will accompany Miss.”
Xingzhu touched the red, swollen bump on her forehead and hissed in pain.
“When we return to the residence, I will apply medicine for you.”
Ni Su patted her shoulder lightly, lifted her skirt with one hand, and stepped down using the mounting stool the old coachman had placed for her. Fortunately, the wet mud was only in the puddle where the right wheel of the carriage had sunk. The mountain path itself had been dried enough by the sun, and when she stepped onto it, it was not too muddy.
Dazhong Temple was halfway up the mountain. By the time Ni Su climbed the stone steps, a thin layer of sweat had formed on her back. She knocked on the temple door and exchanged a few words with a young novice monk, then was invited inside to collect the peace talisman.
After praying to the Bodhisattva in the main hall and drinking a bowl of clear tea, the temple bell sounded, vast and lingering. It turned out that the monks of the mountain temple had reached the hour for their daily prayers. As they busied themselves, Ni Su no longer stayed.
After leaving the temple gate, below the hundred stone steps was a grove of cypress trees. The grove was dense, its branches thick and leafy enough to block the daylight. Within it, a cluster of firelight caught the eye.
She remembered that when she had arrived, the gold-painted lotus pagoda in the woods had not had any oil lamps lit. Inside the high walls, the monks’ chanting stretched on, while in the cypress grove, the flames were dazzling.
From a distance, Ni Su saw an old monk emerge from behind the lotus pagoda, holding a large black wooden box. After a few staggering steps, he slipped and fell in the wet mud.
He fell hard and could not get up for a while. Ni Su hurried over, lifting her skirt as she went, and helped him. “Master?”
It was actually the old monk who had given Ni Su the peace talisman earlier in the temple. His beard was snow-white, though for some reason it curled in little coils, making him look rather comical. Grimacing in pain, he did not have much of the bearing of an elderly master. When he saw the young girl’s plum-green gauze skirt brush into the dirty mud, he cried out, “Aiya, female benefactor, how could you dirty your clothes like this?”
“It is no matter.” Ni Su shook her head and helped him up. Then she saw that the box he had been holding had opened from the fall. From the crack, the edge of some animal fur poked out, stirring in the wind.
The old monk noticed her gaze. As he rubbed his backside, he said, “Oh, it rained continuously a few days ago and washed out the area behind the lotus pagoda. I was checking how it should be repaired when I dug this box out of the mud. I do not know which incense-goer had prepared winter clothes to burn for a deceased loved one.”
This cypress grove of Dazhong Temple was originally a place left for common people to burn winter clothes and spirit money for their departed loved ones during festivals.
Before Ni Su could respond, the old monk heard the faint sound of chanting coming from the mountain temple above. A troubled look appeared on his face. “The temple prayers have already begun.”
He turned back and pressed his palms together toward Ni Su. “Female benefactor, I looked at the memorial petition inside the box. The departed soul was a pitiful person who died young. These winter clothes are fifteen years late. This old monk had wanted to burn them on their behalf, but today’s temple prayers will likely continue until after dusk. Would female benefactor be willing to burn them in this old monk’s stead?”
The old monk’s words were sincere.
“I…”
Ni Su had only just opened her mouth when the old monk had already stuffed something into her hand. Then, holding his backside, he limped toward the stone steps outside the grove. “Female benefactor, this old monk must hurry to attend the temple prayers. I entrust this matter to you!”
He was entirely different from the monks Ni Su had seen before. His beard was white and he looked old, but he was neither steady, nor weathered, nor solemn.
Ni Su lowered her eyes to the carved wooden bead of a beast’s head in her hand. It was ferocious, every detail finely carved, yet she could not tell what fierce beast it was supposed to be. An inexplicable strangeness rose in her heart.
“This old monk’s beast bead is far more useful than the two peace talismans on you, female benefactor.”
The old monk’s voice drifted over. Ni Su raised her head and looked back. In the cypress grove, the light and shadows were dim and bluish grey. At the far end, the branches and leaves trembled, but his figure was nowhere to be seen.
Just as the old monk had said, inside the wooden box there was only a cloak with an animal-fur collar, and a memorial petition dampened by moisture. Most of the ink on the petition had blurred, and only the date written on it could be faintly made out. It was indeed from fifteen years ago.
Having accepted the old monk’s carved wooden bead, Ni Su had no choice but to borrow the flame from the oil lamp in the lotus pagoda and light the thick, dark-black cloak inside the copper basin placed nearby.
Tongues of flame devoured inch by inch the crane embroidery outlined in silver thread on the cloak. Beneath the firelight, Ni Su made out two embroidered characters.
“Zi… Ling…”
They were the characters embroidered on the cuff of the cloak.
Almost the instant her voice fell, from behind the lotus pagoda came the light sound of a copper bell moving. It was tied to the coloured rope strung between two cypress trees, warning people not to approach the collapsed area.
It was the fifth month in the mortal world, yet the wind that struck her face seemed to have blown from some deep winter, stinging Ni Su’s cheeks with pain. Ash rose from the basin, and she lifted a hand to shield herself.
The ever-burning lamps inside the gold-painted lotus pagoda were all extinguished. The copper bells rang again and again.
The wind howled, growing increasingly bitter. Ni Su stood, nearly unable to keep her balance, and it became even harder to see. A cold mist suddenly rose in the forest. The force of the wind weakened slightly, but the sky grew even darker, a deep blue-green. Beside her ears, faint sounds rang softly.
Drops of icy cold fell into her thin summer blouse. Ni Su’s eyes stung. Only belatedly did she lower the arm shielding her face and look up.
If she had not seen it with her own eyes, who would believe that in the fifth month of midsummer, on a mountain temple afternoon, the sky could be black as ink and snow could fall like threads?
Snow grains landed on Ni Su’s dark hair at her temples. Her face had gone pale from the cold, the tip of her nose faintly red. She stood frozen in disbelief amid this sudden snowfall.
The chill seemed to creep up through the seams of her bones along her spine. Instinctively, Ni Su wanted to leave this place at once. But the fog around her was thick, wrapping the dark cypress grove in its folds. She could no longer even hear the chanting from the mountain temple.
In the blink of an eye, the sky turned completely dark. In her panic, Ni Su bumped into a cypress tree, scraping the tip of her nose. Without any light, she could not move an inch. She loudly called for the monks of the mountain temple, but after a long time, no one answered.
Unease filled her heart. She barely managed to grope her way forward.
Mountain wind, cold snow, and dense fog intertwined.
The faint rustle of someone stepping on fine grass drew near.
Behind her, a warm yellow glow spread to the edge of her skirt. Ni Su lowered her eyes.
The snow fell heavier, fluttering like goose feathers.
Ni Su stared at the unmoving firelight on the ground, then turned around.
The fog had thinned considerably, and snowflakes speckled the cypress branches.
The warm light spreading toward her narrowed back to a single lonely lantern not far away. Beneath the shadows of the branches stood a tall, slender figure. Almost at the very instant Ni Su turned around, he moved again.
She watched with her own eyes as he walked closer. In this entire world, he held the only source of light in his hand. Its warmth illuminated the dark-black cloak on his body.
A pitch-black animal-fur collar. Embroidered patterns on his robe shimmering with a cold silver light.
He had a pale, thin face; hair dark and lustrous; lashes thick and long. He came barefoot, yet the wind did not stir his clothes, and the snow did not fall upon his shoulders.
He drew near, carrying the chill of snow.
Beneath the lantern’s flame, he stopped and carefully studied Ni Su’s face, pale from the cold.
Ni Su’s pupils contracted. Snow struck her cheeks, and the freezing wind brought on a fierce ringing in her ears. Vaguely, she made out his clear, calm voice:
“Who are you?”
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