Chapter 110: 藏锋第二十二 4

Wei Wuxian said, "A coffin's for the dead, obviously. My guess is, what was buried here was the body of Jin Guangyao's mother, Meng Shi. He came here tonight to take his mother's body away — to carry it across the sea to the east along with himself."

Lan Xichen stood frozen, saying nothing. Nie Huaisang let out an "Ah," then said, as if it had just dawned on him, "Right, right. That does make sense."

Wei Wuxian went on, "So tell me — that person who dug up Jin Guangyao's mother's body, what do you think he'd do with it?"

Nie Huaisang said, "Wei-xiong, why do you keep asking me? You can ask all you want — I don't know, so I don't know, all right?"

He paused. "Although…"

Unhurried, Nie Huaisang gathered up his hair, soaked through by the downpour. "I'd think — since this person hates Jin Guangyao so much, then whatever he held as dear as his own life, this person would show no mercy. Be especially cruel about it."

Wei Wuxian said, "Something like a Five-Horse Dissection, body scattered across several places? The way it was done to Chifeng-zun?"

Nie Huaisang startled badly and stumbled back a few steps. "Th-th-that… that's just vicious…"

Wei Wuxian held his gaze for a while, and in the end was the one to look away.

A guess was only a guess, after all. Nobody had proof.

Maybe the blank, helpless look all over Nie Huaisang's face right now was a mask. Maybe he just wouldn't admit he'd used other people as chess pieces, treating their lives as nothing — or maybe his plan didn't end here, and he was hiding his true face to do more, to reach some higher goal. Or maybe it wasn't complicated at all: maybe someone else sent the letters, killed the cats, joined Nie Mingjue's head and body back together, and Nie Huaisang really was just a genuine, certified useless lump.

Maybe those last few lines of Jin Guangyao's were nothing but a lie thrown together on the spot once Nie Huaisang had blown his cover for the ambush — meant to rattle Lan Xichen and drag him down to die together. Jin Guangyao was a born liar with a long, ugly record, after all. There was nothing strange about him lying at any moment, about anything.

And as for why, at the very last instant, he changed his mind and shoved Lan Xichen away — who could ever know what he'd really been thinking?

The veins stood out on the back of the hand Lan Xichen pressed to his brow. In a muffled voice he said, "…What exactly did he want? Once, I thought I knew him well. Then I found out I didn't. Before tonight, I thought I'd come to know him again — and now I don't anymore."

No one could answer him. Lan Xichen said, lost, "What was it he wanted?"

But if even he, the one closest to Jin Guangyao, didn't know — then there was no chance anyone else had an answer.

After a silence, Wei Wuxian said, 'Let's not all just stand around. Send a few people out to find help, and leave a few here to keep an eye on this thing. One coffin and a few strands of Red String — that won't hold Chifeng-zun for long.'

As if to prove his point, another round of massive crashing came from inside the coffin, carrying a nameless rage with it. Nie Huaisang gave a shudder. Wei Wuxian glanced at him. "See that? We need to swap this out for a sturdier coffin right away — dig a deep pit, bury it again. It can't be opened for at least a hundred years. Open it, and I guarantee the spirit won't disperse, and the trouble will never end…"

Before he could finish, a loud, full-throated bark suddenly rang out in the distance.

Wei Wuxian's expression changed at once. Jin Ling, on the other hand, mustered a little spirit. "Fairy!"

The crashing thunder had passed, and the pouring rain had thinned to a fine drizzle. The deepest part of the night was over; the sky was going faintly pale.

The soaking-wet Black Mane Spirit Dog tore in on all four legs, a streak of black wind, and threw itself at Jin Ling. Its round eyes were wet and shining, its front paws lifting off the ground as it reared up and pawed at Jin Ling's legs, whining low. Wei Wuxian watched its bright-red tongue dart out from between snow-white fangs to lick at Jin Ling's hand again and again, his own face going white, his eyes glazing — he opened his mouth, and felt as though his very soul might curl up into a wisp of green smoke and fly off out of it into the sky. Lan Wangji silently put himself in front of him, blocking his line of sight to the Spirit Hound.

Right after, hundreds of people surrounded the Guan Yin Temple on every side, swords drawn, faces wary, as if braced for a great slaughter. But when the first few who rushed inside got a clear look at the scene before them, they all stopped short. The ones lying down were dead; the ones not dead were half-collapsed, neither standing nor sitting. In short — corpses everywhere, wreckage everywhere.

The two charging at the front with drawn swords were, on the left, the steward in charge of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, and on the right — unmistakably — Lan Qiren. Lan Qiren still wore a look of shock and suspicion and hadn't yet spoken, but the first thing his eyes landed on was Lan Wangji, all but fused into a single person with Wei Wuxian. In that instant he forgot every question he'd meant to ask; a surge of fury rose into his face, his long brows shooting up, several huffs of breath bursting out of him, his beard trembling and floating upward. The steward hurried forward to support Jiang Cheng. "Sect Leader, are you all right…" Lan Qiren raised his sword and shouted, "Wei—"

Before he could finish the curse, several white-robed figures came bursting out from behind him, all of them calling out, "Hanguang-jun!"

"Senior Wei!"

"Old Ancestor!"

Lan Qiren got knocked by the last of the boys and nearly toppled over, smoke practically pouring from every orifice. "No running! No shouting!"

Except for Lan Wangji, who called out a "Uncle" to him, nobody paid him any mind. Lan Sizhui grabbed Lan Wangji's sleeve with his left hand and Wei Wuxian's arm with his right, beaming. "Wonderful! Hanguang-jun, Senior Wei, you're both all right. Seeing Fairy in such a panic, we thought you'd run into something truly impossible to handle."

Lan Jingyi said, "Sizhui, you're talking nonsense — how could there ever be a situation Hanguang-jun couldn't solve? I told you ages ago you worry over nothing."

"Jingyi, the one worrying over nothing the whole way here seems to have been you."

"Get off! Quit talking rubbish."

Out of the corner of his eye Lan Sizhui caught sight of Wen Clan, who'd finally managed to climb up off the ground, and immediately hauled him over too, stuffing him into the circle of boys, all of them chattering at once to tell the story of what had happened.

It turned out that after Fairy had bitten Su She, it had bolted off and found a branch family affiliated with the Yunmeng Jiang Clan stationed near this town, and barked nonstop outside their gate. When the young head of that family saw the special collar around its neck, the gold marker and clan crest and the rest, he knew this was a Spirit Hound of no small standing, whose master had to be someone of high rank — and seeing the blood on its teeth, claws, and coat, plainly from a fight, he feared that master was in danger and didn't dare drag his feet, flying off at once on his sword to the Lotus Pavilion to alert the true power over this region, the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. That steward recognized the Spirit Hound at once as Fairy, the dog of the young master Jin Ling, and immediately dispatched people to the rescue.

At the time, the people of the Gusu Lan Sect were also about to leave the Lotus Pavilion, but Fairy blocked Lan Qiren's path. It sprang up, bit off a narrow strip of white cloth from the hem of Lan Sizhui's robe, and tried to push the strip up onto its own head with its paws, as if to settle it around its skull like a band — then lay down on the ground and played dead. Lan Qiren was baffled, but understanding dawned on Lan Sizhui. "Teacher, doesn't it look like it's imitating our Blue Clan Forehead Band? Is it trying to tell us that Hanguang-jun, or someone of the Lan Clan, has run into danger too?"

So the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, the Gusu Lan Sect, and several other families who hadn't yet left finally gathered their people together and came as one to the rescue.

Lan Jingyi clicked his tongue in admiration. "All this time everyone's been calling it Fairy this, Fairy that — never thought it really was a proper Spirit Hound!"

But no matter how fairylike or how spirit-touched it was, to Wei Wuxian it came down to the same thing: it was a dog, the most terrifying thing in the world, and even with Lan Wangji standing in front of him his skin crawled all over. Ever since the Lan youngsters had come in, Jin Ling had kept stealing glances toward that side, watching them crowd around Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and clamor — and seeing Wei Wuxian's face go whiter and whiter, he patted Fairy's rump and said in a low voice, "Fairy, go outside for now."

Fairy wagged its tail and shook itself, and went on licking him. Jin Ling scolded, "Get out, now — you not listening to me anymore?"

Fairy gave him one reproachful look, then bounded out of the temple wagging its tail, and only then did Wei Wuxian breathe easier. Jin Ling wanted to go over, but felt too awkward to, and was still hesitating when Lan Sizhui suddenly noticed something at Wei Wuxian's waist. He went still for a moment. "…Senior Wei?"

Wei Wuxian said, "Hm? What is it?"

Lan Sizhui said, dazed, "This… this flute of yours — could I take a look at it?"

Wei Wuxian took it off. "What about this flute?"

Lan Sizhui took the flute in both hands, his brow knitting faintly, a kind of bewilderment in his face. Lan Wangji watched him, and Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji. "What's the matter with your Sizhui? He like my flute?"

Lan Jingyi said, startled, "Huh? You finally lost that busted, tone-deaf flute of yours? This new one's not bad at all!"

What he didn't know was that this "not bad" new flute was exactly the spirit-weapon he'd long been dying to lay eyes on — the legendary ghost flute, Chenqing. He just thought to himself, pleased, "Wonderful! At least now, when he plays duets with Hanguang-jun from here on, he won't make Hanguang-jun lose so much face. Heavens! That old flute of his really was both ugly and awful to hear!"

Lan Wangji said, "Sizhui."

Only then did Lan Sizhui come back to himself. He handed Chenqing back to Wei Wuxian with both hands. "Senior Wei."

Wei Wuxian took the flute, remembered Jiang Cheng had been the one to bring it, and turned that way, saying offhandedly, "Thanks." He gave Chenqing a little wave. "This — I'll… just keep it, then?"

Jiang Cheng glanced at him. "It was yours to begin with."

He hesitated a moment, his lips moving slightly, as though there were something more he wanted to say — but Wei Wuxian had already turned back to Lan Wangji. Seeing that, Jiang Cheng fell silent too.

Among those present, some were clearing the scene, some were reinforcing the seal on the coffin, some were working out how to move it safely, and some were just plain angry. Lan Qiren said furiously, "Xichen, what in the world has gotten into you!"

Lan Xichen pressed at his temple, a gloom too deep for words heaped between his brows, and said wearily, "…Uncle, I'm begging you. Don't ask. Truly. Right now I really don't want to say anything at all."

Lan Qiren had never once seen the Lan Xichen he'd raised with his own hands so agitated, so undone, so out of composure. He looked at him, then looked over at Lan Wangji, surrounded together with Wei Wuxian, and the more he looked the more his temper flared — feeling that these two once flawless, prized disciples of his had each slipped out from under his control, each become a source of nothing but worry.

The coffin sealing Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao was not only abnormally heavy, it also had to be handled with the utmost care, so the ones who volunteered to carry it were several clan heads. One of them got a look at the face of the Guan Yin statue, started in surprise, then — as if he'd discovered some novel curiosity — gestured for the others to come look. "Look at this face! Doesn't it look just like Jin Guangyao?"

The others looked, and all clicked their tongues in amazement. "It really is his face! What was Jin Guangyao doing making a thing like this?"

Yao Sect Leader said, "Setting himself up as a god — arrogance and conceit, that's all."

"Well, that is plenty arrogant and conceited. Heh heh heh."

Wei Wuxian thought to himself: not necessarily.

Jin Guangyao's mother had been seen as the lowest, most contemptible of prostitutes — so he had to carve a Guan Yin statue in his mother's very likeness, to receive the kneeling worship of the multitudes, the incense and offerings.

But there was no point in saying any of this now. No one understood it better than Wei Wuxian: no one would care, and no one would believe it. Everything connected to Jin Guangyao would be read in the worst possible light, and passed from mouth to mouth far and wide.

Before long, this coffin would be sealed inside a larger, sturdier outer casket, nailed shut with seventy-two peachwood nails, buried deep underground, with a warning stele raised over it — left to Subdue beneath some mountain.

And the things sealed inside it would, under layer upon layer of binding spells and the curses of countless mouths, be denied rebirth for all eternity.

Nie Huaisang leaned against the doorframe, watching several clan heads carry the coffin out over the threshold of the Guan Yin Temple. He lowered his head to brush the filthy mud from the hem of his robe, seemed to catch sight of something, and went still. Wei Wuxian looked over too. What had fallen to the ground was Jin Guangyao's hat.

Nie Huaisang bent down and picked it up, then strolled unhurriedly toward the door.

Outside, Fairy was waiting anxiously for its master and gave two yowling barks. Hearing the sound, Jin Ling suddenly remembered that back when Fairy was a clumsy pup not even as tall as his knee, it had been Jin Guangyao who carried it over to him.

He'd been only a few years old then. He'd fought with the other children at the Jinlin Pavilion, and even after winning he wasn't happy about it — back in his room he hurled things around in a frenzy and wailed his heart out, and not a maid or servant dared come near, afraid of being hit. His little uncle had ducked in smiling and asked, A-Ling, what's all this about? He'd immediately smashed five or six vases to pieces at Jin Guangyao's feet. Jin Guangyao said, "Aiyo, so fierce, you scared me half to death," and shaking his head, walked off as though truly frightened.

The next day, sulking, Jin Ling wouldn't leave his room and wouldn't eat, and Jin Guangyao kept drifting back and forth outside his door. Jin Ling, with his back against the door, shouted at him to leave me alone — and suddenly, from outside, came the yowling little bark of a puppy.

He opened the door, and there was Jin Guangyao crouched in front of it, a black-furred little dog with round, shining eyes cradled in his arms, looking up at him with a smile. "I found this little thing — don't know what to call it. A-Ling, would you like to give it a name?"

That smile was so gentle, so genuine, that Jin Ling couldn't believe Jin Guangyao had been pretending.

And all at once, tears came spilling down from his eyes again.

Jin Ling had always thought crying was a sign of weakness and incompetence, and sneered at it — but other than letting the tears pour down, there was no other way to vent the pain and rage in his heart.

He didn't know what to make of any of it. It seemed he couldn't blame anyone, couldn't hate anyone. Wei Wuxian, Jin Guangyao, Wen Clan — every one of them was, to some degree, responsible for his parents' deaths, every one of them he had reason to loathe to the bone, and yet every one of them seemed to have this reason or that, leaving him unable to summon the hate. But if not them, who else was there for him to hate? Was it simply his lot to lose both his parents as a child? Was it that he could not only never take revenge, never bring himself to strike — but couldn't even hate purely, completely, without restraint?

He just felt it wasn't fair. He just felt wronged. He almost wished they could all die together and have done with it once and for all.

Seeing him staring at the coffin and weeping in silence, Yao Sect Leader said, "Young Master Jin, what are you crying for? Crying over Jin Guangyao?"

When Jin Ling didn't answer, Yao Sect Leader spoke in the reproving tone of an elder scolding his own junior. "What's there to cry about? Dry those tears. A man like your uncle isn't worth anyone's tears. Young Master, I don't mean to lecture, but you can't be this soft! That's a woman's soft-heartedness — you have to know what's right and what's wrong. You ought to correct your—"

Back when the head of the Lanling Jin Sect was still the Chief Cultivator overseeing all the clans, these heads of other sects wouldn't have dared, with a hundred times their courage, to play the elder and lecture a child of the Jin Family. But now Jin Guangyao was dead, the Lanling Jin Sect had no one left to hold up its pillar, its name was about as thoroughly ruined as it could get, and it likely wouldn't rise again — so those who dared, dared now. Jin Ling's heart had already been a tangle of a thousand threads, a mess of every flavor at once, and hearing Yao Sect Leader wag his finger at him, a surge of fury rose up. He bellowed, "So what if I want to cry? Who are you? What do you count for? You'd even police whether I cry?!"

Yao Sect Leader hadn't expected his lecture to earn him a bellowing instead. He was, after all, a clan head of middling note with a bit of a name, and his face fell at once. Someone beside him counseled in a low voice, "Let it go, don't stoop to a child's level."

Only then did he tuck away that flash of mortified rage, give a cold snort, and say, "Of course not. Heh — why bother stooping to the level of some wet-behind-the-ears brat who can't tell right from wrong, black from white?"

Lan Qiren oversaw the loading of the coffin onto the cart, then turned around and said, stunned, "Where's Wangji?"

He'd just been plotting that once he hauled Lan Wangji back to the Cloud-Deep Unknown Place he'd sit him down for a heart-to-heart lasting a hundred and twenty days — and failing that, lock him up in seclusion for another stretch. Who'd have thought the man would vanish in the blink of an eye. He walked a few circuits and raised his voice. "Where's Wangji!"

Lan Jingyi said, "Just now I mentioned we'd brought Little Apple along, that it was tied up outside the temple, and Hanguang-jun took… took… he went off with someone to look at Little Apple."

Lan Qiren said, "And then?"

And then — well, it didn't need saying. Outside the Guan Yin Temple, where was there any sign of Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, or Wen Clan?

Lan Qiren looked at Lan Xichen, who was trailing slowly behind him, still lost in his own thoughts, gave a heavy sigh, and stalked off with a sweep of his sleeve. Lan Jingyi glanced around and said in alarm, "Sizhui? What's going on — when did Sizhui disappear too?"

When Jin Ling heard that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were gone, he bolted out in a rush and nearly tripped over the threshold of the Guan Yin Temple. But hurry as he might, there was no catching even a shadow of those two. Fairy circled around him happily, tongue lolling, panting. Jiang Cheng stood beneath a tall, ramrod-straight tree inside the Guan Yin Temple, looked at him, and said coldly, "Wipe your face."

Jin Ling scrubbed hard at his eyes, wiped his face, and ran back. "Where'd they go?"

Jiang Cheng said, "Gone."

Jin Ling's voice cracked. "You just let them leave, like that?"

Jiang Cheng said mockingly, "What else? Have them stay for dinner? Finish their thank-yous and then say their sorries?"

Jin Ling got worked up and jabbed a finger at him. "No wonder he wanted to leave — it's all because of the way you are! Jiujiu, how can you be so insufferable!"

At that, Jiang Cheng glared and raised a hand, snarling, "Is that any way to talk to an elder? You're asking for a beating!"

Jin Ling shrank his neck in, and Fairy tucked its tail. But the slap never came down on the back of his head — instead Jiang Cheng's hand drew back, weakly.

He said, irritated, "Shut up. Jin Ling. Shut up. We're going back. Everyone goes back to where they came from."

Jin Ling went still, hesitated a moment, then obediently shut up.

Head drooping, he walked a few steps shoulder to shoulder with Jiang Cheng, then lifted his head again. "Jiujiu, weren't you about to say something just now?"

Jiang Cheng said, "Say what? No."

Jin Ling said, "Just now! I saw it — you wanted to say something to Wei Wuxian, and then you didn't."

After a long silence, Jiang Cheng shook his head. "Nothing worth saying."

Say what?

Say — back then, it wasn't because I'd insisted on going back to the Lotus Pavilion to retrieve our parents' bodies that I got caught by the Wen Clan Master.

In that little town we passed through on the run, while you'd gone off to buy dry rations, a patrol of Wen Clan Master cultivators caught up with us.

I noticed it early, left the spot where I'd been sitting, and hid at a street corner — I wasn't caught. But they were patrolling the streets, and before long they'd have run straight into you, still out buying the rations.

So I ran out and led them away.

But just as Wei Wuxian, who'd once cut out his Jin Dan and given it to him, could never tell him the truth — the Jiang Cheng of now had no way to say it either.