Grasses and Trees, Part Eight

Lan Wangji, radiating an aura as cold as frost, stepped in front of Wei Wuxian. Xue Yang threw Shuanghua to block the sword strike for himself. The two famed swords clashed squarely and flew back into their wielders' hands. Wei Wuxian said, 'Isn't this what they call, better timely than early?'

Lan Wangji said, 'Mn.'

With that, he continued his duel with Xue Yang. Just moments earlier, Wei Wuxian had been chased around by Xue Yang; now, Xue Yang was being forced back step by step by Lan Wangji. Seeing the tide turning against him, Xue Yang's eyes flickered and he gave a slight smile. Suddenly, he tossed Shuanghua from his right hand and caught it with his left; his right hand then flicked inside his sleeve. Wei Wuxian tensed, expecting him to fling some poisonous powder or hidden weapon from his qiankun sleeve, but instead, another longsword emerged from the sleeve. Seamlessly, Xue Yang switched to a dual-sword offensive.

The blade of this newly drawn sword was sharp and darkly ominous, seeming to emit wisps of black mist as it was swung, forming a stark contrast with Shuanghua's clear silver light. Xue Yang wielded both swords, his left and right hands moving in perfect, fluid coordination, and his offense suddenly grew fierce. Lan Wangji said, 'Jiangzai?'

Xue Yang said, 'Oh? Hanguang-jun actually recognizes this sword? What an honor.'

Jiangzai was Xue Yang's personal sword. True to its name, like its master, it was an inauspicious blade that brought bloodshed and slaughter. Wei Wuxian chimed in, 'That name really suits you perfectly.'

Lan Wangji said, 'Step back. You're not needed here.'

Wei Wuxian humbly accepted the advice and withdrew. He retreated to the doorway and glanced outside. Expressionless, Wen Ning had Song Lan by the throat, lifting him into the air before slamming him into the wall, which caved inward in a man-shaped crater. Equally expressionless, Song Lan seized Wen Ning’s wrist in reverse and flipped him headfirst into the ground. The two Fierce Corpse, faces blank, traded blows—bang bang, dong dong, a constant thunderous din. Neither felt pain nor feared injury; unless hacked apart, even severed limbs would not stop them from fighting on. Wei Wuxian murmured to himself, ‘It looks like I’m not needed here after all.’

Suddenly, he saw Lan Jingyi waving frantically at him from a pitch-black shop across the way. He thought, 'Ha, they definitely need me over there.'

As soon as he left, Bichen's blade radiance surged, and in an instant, Xue Yang's grip slipped; Shuanghua flew from his hand. Lan Wangji smoothly caught the sword. Seeing Shuanghua in another's hand, Jiangzai swept straight for Lan Wangji's left arm that held it. The slash missed, and a flash of cold, malicious fury flickered in Xue Yang's eyes. He said darkly, 'Give me back the sword.'

Lan Wangji said, 'You are unworthy of this sword.'

Xue Yang gave a cold laugh.

Wei Wuxian walked over to the group of young cultivators and was soon surrounded. He asked, 'Is everyone all right?'

'We're fine!' 'We did as you said, held our breath.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Good, no one's hurt. If anyone doesn't listen to me, I'll make them drink glutinous rice porridge again.'

A few youths who had tasted it before made gagging gestures. Just then, the sound of footsteps came from all directions, and shadowy figures began to appear at the far end of the street. Lan Wangji also heard it. With a flick of his sleeve, he brought out the Wangji Qin.

He slammed the qin horizontally onto a table, tossed Bichen into his left hand—his sword intent undiminished—and continued his close combat with Xue Yang. At the same time, without looking back, he swept his right hand across the strings in a single downward strum.

The qin’s clear notes travelled to the far end of the long street, and what echoed back was the familiar bizarre sound of Walking Corpse heads exploding. Lan Wangji continued to battle Xue Yang with one hand while plucking his guqin with the other. With a nonchalant sweep of his eyes, he casually hooked a finger and plucked a string. Engaging on both fronts at once, utterly composed.

Jin Ling couldn't help blurting out, 'Impressive!'

He had watched Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao set out on Night Hunt, slaying monsters, and felt that his maternal uncle and younger uncle were the two greatest immortal sect masters in the world. Toward Lan Wangji he had always felt more fear than respect, terrified of the Silencing Spell and that cold temper, yet now he could not help but be won over by his bearing. Lan Jingyi said proudly, ‘That’s right, Hanguang-jun is certainly formidable, but he never likes to show off everywhere; he’s so low-key, isn’t he?’

The 'right?' was directed at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian said, bewildered, 'Are you asking me? Why ask me?'

Lan Jingyi grew anxious: 'Don't tell me you think Hanguang-jun isn't amazing?!'

Wei Wuxian rubbed his chin and said, 'Mm, yes, amazing, of course, very amazing. He's the most amazing.' As he spoke, he couldn't help but laugh himself.

This heart-stopping, perilous night was about to end; dawn was near. But that was not good news. With dawn, the demonic fog would grow thicker. When that happened, every step would be a struggle again!

If it were just Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, it wouldn't be hard to manage. But with so many living people here, if they were surrounded by a horde of walking corpses, even wings wouldn't get them out. As Wei Wuxian's mind raced through countermeasures, the crisp tapping of a bamboo pole against the ground—clack, clack, tap, tap—sounded again.

That blind, tongueless girl's spirit had come again!

Wei Wuxian made a snap decision: 'Go!'

Lan Jingyi said, 'Go where?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Follow the sound of the bamboo pole.'

Jin Ling was slightly taken aback: 'You want us to follow a ghost? Who knows where she'll lead us!' Wei Wuxian said, 'Yes, follow her. Ever since you entered the city, this sound has been following you, hasn't it? You tried to go deeper into the city, but she kept leading you toward the city gate. When you ran into us, she was trying to drive you out—she was saving you!'

That eerie, unpredictable bamboo tapping, now near, now far, was her way of frightening the living who entered the city. But her intention in frightening them might not have been evil. The paper head of a Yin Enforcer that Wei Wuxian had kicked earlier might also have been tossed there by her to warn and startle them. Wei Wuxian added, 'And last night, she clearly wanted to tell us something urgent, but she couldn't express it. Yet the moment Xue Yang appeared, she vanished. Most likely she was hiding from Xue Yang; in any case, she's definitely not on his side.'

'Xue Yang?! Why is Xue Yang involved again? Wasn't it Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan?'

'Uh, I'll explain later. In short, the one fighting Hanguang-jun in there isn't Xiao Xingchen; it's Xue Yang posing as him.'

The bamboo tapping continued, seeming to wait, seeming to urge. Following her might lead them into a trap; not following her would mean being surrounded by walking corpses that sprayed corpse poison powder, which was no safer. The youths made a decisive choice and ran after the tapping sound with Wei Wuxian. Sure enough, as they moved, the sound moved with them. Sometimes they could make out a faint, petite silhouette in the thin fog ahead; other times, they could see nothing at all.

Lan Jingyi, after running for a while, said, 'Are we really just running off like this?'

Wei Wuxian turned and shouted, 'Hanguang-jun, it's in your hands. We're going on ahead!'

A string of the qin twanged, sounding very much like someone saying 'Mn.' Wei Wuxian burst out laughing. Lan Jingyi said, 'Just like that? Not going to say anything else?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'What else is there? What else should I say?'

Lan Jingyi said, 'Why didn't you say things like "I'm worried about you, I want to stay!" "You go!" "No! I'm not leaving! If we go, we go together!" There should be lines like that, you know.'

Wei Wuxian nearly choked. 'Who taught you that? Who told you there should be that kind of dialogue? Forget about me—can you imagine your Hanguang-jun saying such things?'

The junior Lans all said, 'No, we can't...'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Right? What a waste of time. Your Hanguang-jun is such a reliable person. I trust he'll handle it. I'll do my part and wait for him to come find me, or I'll go find him. That's enough.'

They had followed the bamboo tapping for less than half an incense stick's time, turning several corners, when the sound abruptly stopped ahead. Wei Wuxian held out a hand to stop the youths behind him and took a few steps forward. A solitary house stood in the ever-thickening demonic fog.

'Creak—'

The door of the house had been pushed open by someone, silently waiting for these strangers to enter. Wei Wuxian had an intuition that there was something inside. Not the dangerous, life-threatening kind, but something that would tell him certain things, solve certain mysteries.

He said, 'We're here now, might as well go in.'

He lifted his foot and stepped inside. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he warned without turning back, 'Mind the threshold; don't trip.'

One youth nearly tripped over the high threshold and grumbled, 'Why is this threshold so high? It's not even a temple.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Not a temple, but it's also a place that needs a high threshold.'

A few people lit five or six fire talismans, and the flickering orange-yellow light illuminated the room.

Straw was scattered on the floor. At the far end stood an altar table, beneath which lay several small stools of varying heights. To the right was a dark, small room. Aside from that, seven or eight black wooden coffins were placed around.

Jin Ling said, 'This is one of those mortuaries? A place to hold the dead?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Mn. Unclaimed bodies, bodies considered unlucky to keep at home, and the deceased awaiting burial are usually placed in a mortuary. You could call it a way station for the dead.' That small room on the right was probably the resting place of the mortuary's caretaker.

Lan Sizhui asked, 'Senior Mo, why is the threshold of a mortuary made so high?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'To guard against those undergoing corpse transformation.'

Lan Jingyi asked blankly, 'Can a high threshold stop corpse transformation?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'It can't stop the transformation, but sometimes it can prevent low-level ones from getting out.' He turned and stood before the threshold and said, 'Suppose I die and have just undergone corpse transformation.'

The youths nodded eagerly. He continued, 'Just after transforming, wouldn't my limbs be stiff? Wouldn't I be unable to do many movements?'

Jin Ling said, 'Isn't that obvious? You can't even walk, can't lift your legs, you can only hop...' At that, he had a sudden realization. Wei Wuxian said, 'Exactly. You can only hop.' He pressed his legs together and tried hopping over the threshold, but because it was so high, he couldn't make it over each time; his toes hit the threshold. The young cultivators found it very amusing, imagining a newly transformed corpse trying so hard to hop out, only to be blocked by the threshold. They all laughed. Wei Wuxian said, 'See? Don't laugh. This is folk wisdom. It may seem crude and simple, but it's truly effective against low-level transformed corpses. If the transformed corpse trips on the threshold and falls to the ground, it won't be able to get up quickly because of its stiff limbs. By the time it's about to rise, either dawn is near and roosters will crow, or the person tending the mortuary will discover it. Those ordinary people who aren't from cultivation sects came up with this method—it's quite impressive.'

Jin Ling, who had been laughing just now, immediately sobered and said, 'Why did she bring us to a mortuary? Could this place really not be surrounded by walking corpses? And where did she go herself?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Probably not. We've been standing here for a while now—does anyone hear any movement from the walking corpses?'

As soon as he spoke, the girl's spirit suddenly appeared on top of a coffin.

Since Wei Wuxian had earlier guided them to carefully observe this girl's appearance—even the state of her bleeding eyes and torn-out tongue—no one felt nervous or afraid upon seeing her again now. As Wei Wuxian had said, being scared often enough makes you braver; you can face things calmly.

The girl had no physical body; her spirit emitted a faint, ghostly light. She was petite, with a small face; if cleaned up, she'd be a pitiable girl next door. But her sitting posture, with legs wide apart, was anything but demure. The bamboo pole she used as a blind cane leaned against the coffin, and her thin calves hung down, swinging restlessly.

She sat on the coffin, gently patting its lid. Then she jumped down, circled the coffin, and made a gesture at them. This time the gesture was easy to understand: it was an 'open' motion. Jin Ling said, 'She wants us to help her open this coffin?'

Lan Sizhui guessed, 'Could her own body be inside? She hopes we'll help her bury it for peace.' That was the most reasonable guess; many spirits were restless because their bodies hadn't been properly buried. Wei Wuxian stood on one side of the coffin, and a few youths moved to the other side, intending to help him open it. He said, 'No need to help; stand back. If it's not a body, it might spray corpse poison powder all over you again.'

He opened the coffin alone and pushed the lid to the floor. Looking down, he saw a corpse.

But it was not the girl's body; it belonged to someone else.

This person was a young man, laid out with his hands folded in a peaceful gesture. A horsetail whisk was pressed beneath his clasped hands. He wore a snow-white Daoist robe. The lower half of his face was fair and refined, with a pale complexion and faintly colored lips. The upper half was wrapped layer upon layer with a bandage about four fingers wide. Where his eyes should have been under the bandage, there was no expected bulge, only empty hollows. There were no eyes at all, just two empty sockets.

Hearing that they had opened the coffin, the girl groped her way over. She reached into the coffin and fumbled around until she touched the corpse's face. She stamped her feet, and two streaks of bloody tears flowed from her blind eyes.

No words or gestures were needed for everyone to understand. This body, lying alone in a solitary mortuary, was the real Xiao Xingchen.

A spirit's tears cannot fall. The girl wept silently for a while, then suddenly rose, grinding her teeth, and cried 'Ah, ah' at them, urgent and angry, looking desperate to speak. Lan Sizhui asked, 'Should we perform Spirit Inquiry again?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'No need. We might not be able to ask the questions she wants us to ask, and I think her answers would be very complex and difficult to interpret.'

Although he didn't say 'I'm afraid you can't handle it,' Lan Sizhui still felt a bit ashamed. He secretly resolved: 'When I return, I must diligently practice Spirit Inquiry. I must reach the level of Hanguang-jun, playing it backward as fluently as forward, asking and answering instantly, understanding as quickly as the answers come.' Lan Jingyi said, 'Then what do we do?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Empathy, then.'

Every major clan had its own methods for extracting information and gathering data from resentful spirits. Empathy was Wei Wuxian's specialty. His method wasn't as profound as others', and anyone could use it: directly invite the spirit to possess him, use his own body as a medium to invade the ghost's soul and memories, hear what it heard, see what it saw, feel what it felt. If the spirit's emotions were especially strong, he would be affected by its sorrow, anger, ecstasy, and so forth; hence it was called 'Empathy.'

One could say this was the most direct, the simplest and fastest, and also the most effective of all methods. Of course, it was also the most dangerous. Everyone fears and avoids being possessed by a resentful spirit, but Empathy is like playing with fire; a moment's carelessness could lead to disaster. If the spirit turned on the practitioner, seized the opening, and counterattacked, the lightest consequence would be Body Seizing.

Jin Ling protested, 'That's too dangerous! This kind of wicked art, not a single...' Wei Wuxian cut him off: 'Alright, no time. Everyone stand ready, quickly. We still need to go back and find Hanguang-jun. Jin Ling, you'll be the supervisor.'

The supervisor was an indispensable role in the Empathy ritual. To prevent the empathizer from getting lost in the spirit's emotions, a secret signal had to be agreed upon with the supervisor—preferably a phrase, or a sound very familiar to the empathizer. The supervisor would keep watch at all times; the moment anything seemed off, they'd act immediately to pull the empathizer out. Jin Ling pointed at himself: 'Me? You want this... you want me to supervise you doing something like this?'

Lan Sizhui said, 'If Young Master Jin won't do it, I will.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Jin Ling, are you carrying the Jiang Clan's silver bell?'

The silver bell was a signature accessory of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. Jin Ling had been raised by two clans, spending time both at Koi Tower of the Lanling Jin Clan and at Lotus Pier of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, so he should have items from both. Sure enough, with a complicated expression, he took out a small, antique bell. The silver bell body was engraved with the Jiang Clan's crest, the nine-petaled lotus. Wei Wuxian stared at the silver bell for a moment; Jin Ling noticed his unusual expression and asked, 'What is it?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Nothing.' He handed the silver bell to Lan Sizhui and said, 'The Jiang Clan's silver bell has a calming, clarifying effect. We'll use this as the signal.'

Jin Ling snatched the bell back: 'I'll do it!'

Lan Jingyi huffed, 'First you don't want to, then you do. Hot and cold, such a young miss's temper.'

Wei Wuxian said to the girl, 'Come in.'

The girl wiped her eyes and face, then threw herself against him, her whole spirit crashing into his body. Wei Wuxian slowly slid down the side of the coffin. The youths scrambled to drag a pile of straw over for him to sit on. Jin Ling clutched the bell tightly, lost in thought.

Just as the girl entered him, a thought suddenly struck Wei Wuxian: 'This little girl is blind. If I empathize with her, won't I become blind too and see nothing? That would greatly reduce the effect. Oh well, being able to hear will have to do.'

After a dizzying whirl, his originally weightless soul seemed to land on solid ground. When the girl opened her eyes, Wei Wuxian opened his eyes with her. Unexpectedly, what he saw was not pitch darkness but a clear, bright landscape of green hills and blue waters.

He could actually see!

It seemed that, at this point in the girl's memory, she hadn't yet gone blind.

Within Empathy, what appeared before Wei Wuxian were the most emotionally intense fragments of her memory, the ones she most wanted to share with someone. He had only to watch quietly and feel what she felt. At this moment, all their senses were shared: the girl's eyes were his eyes, her mouth his mouth.

The girl was sitting by a small stream, tidying herself in the water. Though her clothes were tattered, she still wanted to stay basically clean. She tapped her toes to a beat, humming a little tune while twisting up her hair, never quite satisfied. Wei Wuxian could feel a thin wooden hairpin poking around in the hair. Suddenly, she looked down and saw her own reflection in the water. Wei Wuxian's gaze followed downward; the stream reflected a little girl with an oval face and a pointed chin.

This little girl's eyes had no pupils; they were completely white.

Wei Wuxian thought, 'This is clearly a blind person's appearance, yet I can see right now?'

The girl finished tying up her hair, patted her bottom, and jumped to her feet. Picking up the bamboo pole at her side, she bounced along the road. As she walked, she swung the pole, knocking leaves and branches overhead, poking at stones underfoot, startling grasshoppers—never still for a moment. When she saw someone approaching in the distance, she immediately stopped bouncing. Holding the pole properly, she tapped the ground slowly and carefully as she walked, looking very cautious. The people approaching were a few village women, who saw her and made way, whispering to each other. The girl nodded quickly and said, 'Thank you, thank you.'

One village woman seemed to take pity on her. She lifted the white cloth covering her basket, took out a steaming hot steamed bun, and handed it over: 'Little sister, be careful. Are you hungry? Here, take this and eat.'

The girl let out an 'Ah,' and said gratefully, 'I couldn't possibly, I... I...'

The village woman stuffed the bun into her hand: 'Take it!'

She took it: 'Aqing thanks big sister!'

So the girl's name was Aqing.

After bidding farewell to the village women, Aqing finished the bun in a few bites and started bouncing high again. Wei Wuxian bounced along inside her, getting dizzy. He thought, 'This girl is really wild. I get it now—she's faking blindness. These white pupils are probably natural; though she looks blind, she can actually see. She uses this to pretend to be blind and trick people, gaining sympathy.' As a little girl wandering alone, by pretending to be blind, others thought she couldn't see and would naturally let their guard down, but she could see everything clearly and adapt accordingly—not a bad self-preservation tactic.

But Aqing's spirit was indeed blind, which meant she had lost her sight before she died. So how had she gone from fake blindness to real blindness?

Could it be that she saw something she shouldn't have?

Where there were no people, Aqing bounced along; where there were people, she shrank back and played blind. She walked and stopped, and eventually came to a market.

In a crowded place, of course, she would show off her skills to the fullest. She made a great show with her bamboo pole, tapping here and there, pretending so vividly. As she shuffled slowly through the crowd, she suddenly bumped straight into a richly dressed middle-aged man. She looked terrified and apologized profusely: 'Sorry, sorry! I can't see, sorry!'

As if she couldn't see—she had aimed directly for this man!

The man, having been bumped into, turned around irritably, looking ready to curse. But seeing it was a blind girl, and a fairly pretty one at that, if he slapped her in the street, he'd certainly be criticized. He could only curse, 'Watch where you're going!'

Aqing apologized repeatedly. The man, still not satisfied before leaving, gave Aqing's bottom a hard pinch with his right hand. This pinch was felt by Wei Wuxian as if it were on himself, sending a dense layer of goosebumps crawling over his heart in an instant. He wanted nothing more than to smash the man into the ground with one palm.

Aqing cowered in a ball, as if very frightened, but once the man was far away, she tapped her way into a secluded alley, immediately spat, and took out a money pouch from her chest. She poured out the coins, counted them, spat again, and said, 'Filthy men, all the same. Dressed to the nines, but barely any coin on them. Shake 'em and you won't hear a clink.'

Wei Wuxian didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Aqing was only a teenager, probably not even fifteen yet, but she could curse smoothly and was even more adept at picking pockets. He thought, 'If you'd picked my pocket, you definitely wouldn't have cursed like that. Back in the day, I was also very rich.'

As he was still lamenting when he had become a penniless wretch, Aqing had already found her next target. Pretending to be blind, she emerged from the alley, walked a stretch, and repeated her trick, bumping into a white-robed Daoist with an exclamation of 'Ah', and said again, 'Sorry, sorry! I can't see, sorry!'

Wei Wuxian shook his head inwardly: 'You don't even change your lines, little beauty!'

The Daoist was staggered by the bump but turned around, first steadying her, and said, 'I'm fine. Are you also unable to see, miss?'

This person was very young, wearing simple and clean Daoist robes. A longsword wrapped in white cloth was strapped to his back. The lower half of his face was quite handsome, though a bit gaunt. The upper half was wrapped with a bandage about four fingers wide, under which a hint of blood could be seen.