An Old Acquaintance

Chapter 150: An Old Acquaintance

Swinging limbs, trembling and retracting white fangs—these things writhed in time with the clashing musical instruments.

In that moment, the three figures dancing the Nuo opera in the distance gave Li Huowang the feeling that they were no longer human, but like trees.

After twisting for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a kind of high-pitched aria came from behind their wooden masks.

“Wǒ shēn qū gū~~”

It was a style of singing that Li Huowang and the others could not understand. The pitch rose and fell with the instruments, carrying a unique, almost grating resonance.

They did not understand it, but the locals seemed to. Their eyes were half-closed, their fingers tapping out the rhythm on their thighs, and they hummed along under their breath.

“Zhuān~ wú zhōu! Sān zī wáng, ~! Wú ér wéi, lì!! Guī yú shī vì v suì……”

After listening for a while and failing to make any sense of it, Li Huowang lifted his foot and walked forward.

Strange or not, it had nothing to do with him. He wasn’t a performer.

But after only a few steps, he saw that Lü Zhuangyuan hadn’t moved.

“No rush. You go on ahead. Hmph. I want to see what this opera of theirs has to offer.”

Perhaps it was professional rivalry. He seemed deeply hostile to those Nuo dancers.

“Dad, maybe we can do this another day. We don’t know this place. It feels… unsteady.”

Lü Zhuangyuan’s eyes widened instantly. He raised his pipe at his eldest son.

“Aiyo! So now you’re telling your father what to do? The streets are full of people. What’s so unsteady about it?”

While they argued, Li Huowang led the others forward.

They walked for the time it takes half an incense stick to burn before finally finding an inn with the character for “wine” hanging by its door. They booked their rooms.

In a shabby bedroom, Li Huowang set down the items he was carrying on the table and let out a long breath.

Two swords. The Thousand Greats Record. The stone Heavenly Scripture. And the torture device. All of it together was no light burden.

He picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup of water. His brow furrowed the moment he took a sip.

Bai Lingmiao, who had been straightening the bedcovers, saw his expression and walked over. “What’s wrong?”

“Here, taste this. Doesn’t the water have a strange taste?” Li Huowang handed her the teacup.

She took it with both hands, took a sip, and nodded in surprise. “It does. A kind of earthy, muddy taste.”

“I thought I was just being too sensitive. Guess not. The water in Houshu isn’t good.”

Li Huowang walked to the window and used a wooden stick to prop open the paper window, letting the stale air out of the room.

“Tomorrow, have everyone spread out and ask around for news about Houshu. Best if we can find a detailed map, so we don’t take a wrong turn.”

“Mm, okay. Whatever you say.” Bai Lingmiao finished smoothing the sheets, then reached out to untie his Daoist robe.

“While you were tying up the horses, I saw a well nearby. Since I have the time now, I’ll do the laundry.”

“Oh, right, Li-shixiong. I remember one of the dead acolytes—I think his family lived in this town. Should we take his ashes to them?”

Li Huowang’s mind stirred. He remembered now; he had heard someone mention this before.

“Who’s keeping the ashes? I’ll deliver them.”

“Now? It’s so late. Maybe you should rest first and go tomorrow.”

In the end, Li Huowang still took the urn of ashes, along with Mantou and Yang Xiaohai, and walked out of the inn. He didn’t want to put off such a small task.

The reason he brought Yang Xiaohai was because the boy had been close with the dead acolyte and knew where his home was.

Of course, there was another unspoken reason: Yang Xiaohai was afraid that Li Huowang might lose his mind halfway and need someone to look after him. Li Huowang couldn’t be left alone; if something went wrong, the boy could run back and warn the others.

Holding the urn against his chest, Yang Xiaohai told Li Huowang the story of the dead acolyte.

“Back at Qingfeng Temple, we all called her ‘Braggart Mao.’ She loved to brag. She said her house was bigger than the whole temple and they kept over a hundred sheep.”

“She also said she was the only girl in her family, and her parents loved her the most. Whenever she wanted lamb to eat, her father would slaughter one just for her.”

Li Huowang glanced down at the urn in surprise. “That acolyte was a girl?”

“Yeah, Li-shixiong. Don’t you remember?”

Li Huowang shook his head. These children barely occupied a place in his mind. He rarely paid attention to the diligent little ones.

“Tsk… poor thing. She managed to escape Qingfeng Temple, only to drown.” Li Huowang felt a pang of regret.

“Hearing you say that—don’t you find yourself disgusting? What right do you have to say that? Do you even know how many you’ve personally choked to death?”

Jiang Yingzi’s voice stabbed into his thoughts, and a wave of intense irritation washed over him. “Shut up!”

The sudden outburst made Yang Xiaohai flinch. He and the others had seen Li-shixiong mutter to himself many times before, but it was still a hard thing to get used to.

His face dark, Li Huowang stopped talking and marched forward with his head down.

He tried as hard as he could to ignore the hallucinations, but that was no easy task.

They walked further and further toward the edge of the Gobi town.

The light was fading, and the streets were thinning out. Most people were hurrying home.

Just as Li Huowang was about to ask if they were even close, a joyful shout rang out from behind them.

“Daoist! Daoist!! It’s me!”

Li Huowang turned his head instinctively, and when he saw who had called out, a wave of pleasant surprise washed over him.

It was the old monk he had met back at Zhengde Temple.

Compared to his clean appearance inside the temple, he was now back to his usual shabby, disheveled state.

“Monk, how did you get here? Weren’t you staying at Zhengde Temple?”

Hearing this, the old monk immediately began to complain. “Don’t even mention it. I was suffocating in that place. Couldn’t do any good deeds, and they made me memorize sutras. How could I bear that?”

“In the end, I just packed up and left. Oh, right, where are you headed?”

“To… deliver something. Come along. Now that you’ve left the temple, did the monks there cause you any trouble?”

“Why would they cause me trouble? Not only did they not cause me trouble, they gave me a fair bit of money too. Monks are all good people. There are no bad monks.”

“Heh.” Li Huowang let out a dry laugh and didn’t bother arguing.

Meeting an old friend in a strange land—it lightened his mood in a way it hadn't been in a long time. Dealing with simple people was always so straightforward. He and the monk chatted amiably the whole way.

Li Huowang deliberately brought up things from their shared past, and the monk responded to everything.

Just when he was getting into the flow of the conversation, Yang Xiaohai’s voice pulled him back to reality. “Li-shixiong… we’re here.”