New Year's Eve

By the time Li Huowang woke again, it was still night. From the monk, he learned that he had been unconscious for three full days.

His stomach was fiercely empty, but his mind was much sharper than right after the skinning.

He pulled out dry rations and a water flask, eating and drinking in large mouthfuls as he walked toward his own skin. To his surprise, Mantou was still there.

The dog had curled into a tight yellow ball, head to tail, guarding Li Huowang's skin even in sleep. Two dead rats lay beside it, their necks bitten through.

At the scent of food, Mantou woke instantly, sat up, and wagged his tail steadily at Li Huowang.

"The more people I meet, the more I like dogs," Li Huowang said, stroking Mantou's head. He tossed half a flatbread far away and let the dog fetch it.

While Mantou gnawed on the bread, Li Huowang crouched and carefully pulled his skin free from the dirt.

He had considered other ways to peel himself, but without help, none were practical. This method was the easiest.

And the skin came off without a single tear—perfectly intact.

First, he poured out the quicksilver. Then he pulled out the Thousand Greats Record. Next, he brought it to the cart and stuffed it with dry straw he had prepared earlier.

He had to admit—looking at his own face like this was deeply strange.

He lit six incense sticks, planting three in each eye socket. Then he cut several strands of his hair, gathered cinnabar, and began drawing talismans on the skin.

"May the Heavenly Origin pervade all; the Ten Thousand Qi root here! Endlessly cultivating eons—Qian Luo Da Na! Within the Three Realms and without, I alone am honored. The body bears golden radiance, reflecting all around me!"

As the last syllable left his lips, the talisman was complete.

Watching the skin, Li Huowang tensed. "Did it work? It should have worked—I practiced this a long time."

The moment he spoke, white smoke began pouring from every orifice on the skin. The incense he had placed earlier seemed to have lit the straw inside.

As the smoke swelled, the entire skin shrank rapidly. When the white vapor cleared, only a palm-sized human shape lay before him.

"Success!" Li Huowang picked up the little skin and examined it closely. Now that it had shrunk, the features were blurred, and the color had turned a waxy yellow—it looked like a small paper doll cut from turmeric paper.

According to the text, carrying this consecrated artifact could ward off disaster and bad fortune, turning luck around in lean times. More crucially, when death was certain, it could trade the bearer's life.

He didn't know exactly how that exchange worked, but he was certain this was a life-saving talisman.

And it wasn't a one-time use. As long as he recovered, he could produce these nearly indefinitely.

With this in hand, Li Huowang finally felt he had some footing against the dangers ahead.

A pity that other Heart-Element artifacts were harder to forge. Either he couldn't find the rare ingredients required, or he couldn't understand the instructions. This one was by far the simplest.

"So... I finally have a golden finger?" he muttered, looking at the little skin in his hand.

"Dad? What's a golden finger?"

Li Huowang shook his head without answering Li Sui. He studied the skin, looking for a place to keep it.

Something this important couldn't be left lying around. After a moment's thought, he held the little skin to his navel.

A tentacle slid out, coiled around the skin, and pulled it back inside. "Thank you, Dad."

"Let's go." Li Huowang turned and climbed onto the cart.

As he drove, he bit into a hard piece of dry flatbread and washed it down with cold water. "Come to think of it—it should be New Year's by now, shouldn't it?"

"Oh yes, it's New Year's all right. I've been waiting for this day for a whole month."

Dressed in a silk jacket, Gouwa exchanged a few idle words with Zhao Wu, then sat down and grabbed a chicken leg with both hands.

Before he had even swallowed, his eyes were already scanning the other dishes on the New Year's Eve table.

Braised carp in soy sauce, lion's head meatballs, steamed pork with preserved mustard greens, spicy lamb tripe, four-joy meatballs, spicy trotters, stir-fried dandelion with cured pork, and white-cut three-yellow chicken.

Yang Xiaohai wasn't much of a cook, but every dish was a real feast.

It was New Year's. On ordinary days, you never got to eat this well. This was his favorite time of year.

He picked up the tenderest belly meat of the fish with his chopsticks and placed it in his wife's bowl. "Eat up! You and me, we're going to out-eat that big idiot Gao!"

Gouwa wasn't the only one. The others were the same, especially the troupe's new apprentices—their heads were practically buried in their plates.

"I wonder where Miao-miao is now... what she's eating," Chun Xiaoman said, picking at a bone with the tip of her chopsticks, the food tasteless to her.

Zhao Wu picked up a meatball with his chopsticks and dropped it into her bowl. "She has divine power, and Senior Brother Li is with her. Don't worry. Let's just get through this New Year first."

"Eat." A whole lion's head meatball landed directly in Chun Xiaoman's bowl. It was Gao Zhijian who had put it there.

In the middle of this warm, festive scene, a figure appeared at the entrance of the Bai family compound. "Oh my, you've already started the New Year's feast? Smells good—I could smell it from all the way out here."

The voice made everyone turn toward the door. When they saw Bai Lingmiao standing there with a smile, Chun Xiaoman was the first to react.

She rushed over, running her hands up and down Bai Lingmiao's body. Only after confirming that the other woman was whole and unharmed did she let out a sigh of relief.

Then she began to scold her, unable to hide her displeasure. "You had me worried sick! Next time you go somewhere, at least tell me first!"

Bai Lingmiao patted her on the shoulder, then walked right past her, striding toward the main hall.

Three tables had been set up in the hall. She didn't head for the smaller ones. Instead, she walked straight toward the biggest table, to the seat of honor facing the main door.

That seat belonged to the oldest man present, Lü Zhuangyuan. His left cheek was bulging with half a pig's trotter, and he stared in bewilderment as Bai Lingmiao approached and stood before him.

She said nothing, but the worldly Lü Zhuangyuan immediately understood what she wanted. He smiled, picked up his tobacco pouch, and shifted his hip to shove his son off the bench.

"Hehe, Miss Bai, you're back! Ah, your leaving really had everyone worried. Say, did that little Daoist come back with you?"

Bai Lingmiao raised a cup of wine, swept it in a circle over the entire table, and said with bold cheerfulness, "Come on—it's New Year's. Let me toast you all!"