My Husband’s Ascension C21 (Part 1)
Chapter 21.1 Expecting
The cold moon shone bleak and clear, casting its pallid light upon the mountain gate of Cloudculm Abode.
That day, many had come and gone from Cloudculm Abode, yet Daoist Ming Jue did not permit Yao Ling and Rong Yu to receive the visitors. The two children hid upon the rooftop, prying up a single roof tile, their foreheads pressed together as they strained to catch the words of the grown-ups below.
“…Sect Master, please restrain your grief. Miss Immortal Hong Hong’s sacrifice was for the sake of others; we shall forever remember her boundless grace.”
“For Cloudculm Abode to have produced a disciple of such righteousness and valor…truly, it stands as a model for the cultivation world.”
“To have guided a disciple possessed of such character, Sect Master Ming Jue may depart this life without regret.”
When that company departed, another group arrived; disciples garbed in the sect robes of Kunwu, come to pay their respects.
“…Within the Blessed Land of Langhuan, it was thanks to Miss Immortal Hong Hong’s miraculous hands that the spirit gu within me was dispelled, else I might have wrought grievous misdeeds.”
The one who spoke was Ji Qian. He was the very cultivator who, under the gu’s control in the forest, had once raised a blade against Zhao Zhao and Shan Yu.
After parting from Zhao Zhao, Ji Qian and his two companions had joined Shan Yu’s company. Within the Blessed Land of Langhuan they gained much, acquiring many rare treasures, and had even resolved that, once all was concluded, they would share part of their spoils as a token of gratitude for Zhao Zhao.
Yet who could have foreseen when Soul-Summoning Forest was set aflame, they remained with the other Kunwu disciples to quell the blaze, only to hear thereafter, not of Miss Immortal Hong Hong’s deeds, but of her death.
…
“These things were meant to be given to her. Now that she has perished, let me entrust them to you, Sect Master. If Miss Immortal Hong Hong had any junior brothers or sisters she held dear in life, then I ask that you pass them on to them in her stead.”
At his side, Shan Yu’s face was heavy with grief, unable to believe that in the span of half a day, that young woman had already become nothing more than a handful of ashes scattered in the Soul-Shattering Abyss.
Rong Yu listened to their exchange, then turned his head toward Yao Ling and asked softly, “What does ‘perished’ mean?”
Lying flat against the tiles, Yao Ling thought for a moment before answering, “I think it means… to die.”
Rong Yu gave a faint “oh.”
The shapes of countless bodies welled up in his thoughts.
Since the death of his father, the Demon Realm had fallen under the grasp of his father’s former deputy general. Assassins came again and again, and almost without fail their corpses would be displayed in the Demon Palace (魔宫).
The dead…were always so unsightly.
Sometimes half a face was missing, sometimes entrails spilled out, but the most important thing was that they would never again awaken, never again speak to him.
Rong Yu kept silent, but tears welled up and pattered down one after another.
Though of the same age, Yao Ling did not truly grasp the meaning of death. She tilted her head at the boy, who was once more in tears, and with practiced ease drew out a kerchief to wipe his face.
“Why are you crying? They say that after people die, they go to a place most beautiful, where no worries remain. The only trouble is that they have no money, so we must light joss sticks and burn joss paper for them every year.”
Rong Yu harbored skepticism. In the Demon Realm, life and death were but common matters, and there were none of the human customs such as these.
“Really? What do you mean by ‘burning joss paper’?”
“It’s the currency that dead people use, made of yellow paper. Burn it with fire, and they can receive it.”
Enlightenment dawned on Rong Yu. He let Yao Ling finish wiping away his tears, then gazed at her with open admiration.
“You’re amazing. How come you know everything?”
Yao Ling puffed up with pride, giving a smug little hum.
Hand in hand, the two children made their way along the uneven, sloping eaves. From Daoist Ming Jue’s chambers, they snatched up a stack of talisman papers.
Wasn’t this ready-made yellow paper?
…
Zhao Zhao had only just returned to Cloudculm Abode when the first sight to meet her eyes was the two children in the backyard, ceremoniously burning paper.
They had somehow found a few dry stalks, twisted them together and set them alight with solemn little faces.
“…What are you two doing?” Zhao Zhao asked.
Yao Ling and Rong Yu looked up at the sound.
Beneath the round, high moon a figure astride a deer stood on the eaves, the pale radiance laying a sheet of silver across the tiled roof.
The emerald green dress she had worn earlier had long since been singed to tatters; now the young woman had changed into a moon-white monastic robe. A breeze lifted the hem; for a heartbeat she might have been a celestial maiden stepping down from an immortal court.
Zhao Zhao read the astonishment in the children’s faces and smiled inwardly; her cosmetic changes had, it seemed, worked admirably.
Then, as if seized by the same notion at once, both children raised their three burning stalks and bowed deeply three times before her, the knocks of their heads on the tiles crisp and decisive.
When the ritual was done, Yao Ling beamed with pride.
“See? I told you! A miser like jiejie…if someone burns money for her, even if she’s dead she’ll come back to collect it herself!”
Zhao Zhao: “…”
Truly, many thanks to you two.
“Jie jie, there’s still lots and lots of these yellow paper in the old man’s room.” Yao Ling stepped forward, head tilted back, her face all innocence as she declared, “If you want, I can steal it for you every day and burn it for you. Even if you’re dead… could you not leave us?”
The little girl, who did not yet comprehend the meaning of life and death, believed that with enough money, even the departed could be kept close. She could not grasp that once the flame of life was extinguished, one vanished like smoke in the wind.
Zhao Zhao looked at her, and suddenly recalled herself in those distant years, when her parents had only just passed.
Then too, she would slip out beneath the night sky to burn paper before their graves. A child of five, who trembled at thunder, yet felt no fear at all for tombs or ghosts.
All she wished was—
Not to be left alone.
Even if only as wandering spirits, could they not let her sleep without being alone in that empty house?
It was not until her marriage to Xie Lanshu that she had finally found the peace to rest without dread.
Xie Lanshu…
As she turned the name over in her heart, Zhao Zhao realized, with a faint start, that the old ache and bitterness no longer weighed upon her.
To her now, the name Xie Lanshu, though still worthy of cherishing, was no longer something to be set upon a pedestal; no longer a relic to be taken out daily, to be polished again and again, lest it gather dust.
At her ear came the tearful, tremulous voice of Rong Yu, “Jie jie, let me tell you a secret. My family still has lots and lots of gold. If you want, I can go back and steal it for you too…”
Hearing this, Yao Ling suddenly whipped her head around. “What family? What gold? Oh, so that’s how it is! Why have you never told me?! Rotten Rong Yu, I’m cutting ties with you!”
“Eh—”
The two children once more began to squabble, their voices rising and falling.
Zhao Zhao leapt lightly down from the eaves, her steps unhurried, and came to crouch before them, one hand resting gently on each small head.
“Alright now, speak nicely. No quarreling.”
Rong Yu blinked up at her.
“Jie jie, are you…not dead? A dead person’s hand is always cold, but yours are so warm.”
Zhao Zhao smiled and asked him softly, “If I’m not dead, would you and Yao Ling be happy?”
“Happy!”
“Of course we’d be happy!”
Zhao Zhao opened her arms, and the two children dropped the grass stalks and talisman paper, wrapping their tiny arms around her instead.
“Then I won’t die.”
“The three kowtows you just made…let’s call that your disciples’ salute. From this day forth, you’re my disciples. Though I may not be as skilled as other masters, I’ll give it my all.”
Yao Ling was the happiest of all. She shouted at once, “Who says?! Jie j—no—Master is the greatest Master in the whole world! Way better than the old man, that’s for sure!”
“——That’s far from the plea you made when you clung to these brittle bones’ leg asking to be taken as my disciple.”
The elder who had slowly stepped out from the main hall chuckled softly, surveying Zhao Zhao from head to toe. He then glanced at the celestial deer she had brought back and, calm and composed, he said, “As I expected… I knew you wouldn’t fall so easily.”
The dog yao following him folded his hands behind his head, rolling his eyes at the display.
“Give it a rest, old man. You’re only acting like that because you saw I’m unharmed.” He then turned to Zhao Zhao, “When this old man first heard the Kunwu envoy say you were dead, he very nearly passed out.”
A contract binds a yao familiar to its master.
If Zhao Zhao had perished, the bond would have forcibly broken, and the yao familiar would have suffered backlash.
Not only had Li Feng been unharmed, but he had also consumed three bowls that very night; it was then that Daoist Ming Jue discerned Zhao Zhao still had a sliver of life.
Hearing Li Feng’s words, Daoist Ming Jue’s beard twitched, and he began to play the fool.
“When did I ever pass out? Young one, don’t spread false tales…”
With Zhao Zhao back in safety, and a celestial deer in her keeping, the residents of Cloudculm Abode finally felt their hearts lighten.
