Qinglong was indeed guarding outside the room, and upon hearing her call, he flipped inside.
“Will he be in danger, going alone?” Chuxia couldn’t help but ask.
“When the young master was sixteen, he single-handedly killed the Five Tigers of South China. You can rest assured, there’s no one in this world whose martial arts could surpass his,” Qinglong sat down on a chair, his expression somewhat casual.
“But… what if the opponent uses deceit?” Chuxia lowered her eyes, her expression unseen in the dark night.
“Evil cannot triumph over righteousness.” Qinglong grinned, “Don’t overthink it. The young master said he’d be back in a couple of days. Alright, you go to sleep peacefully.”
The night was cool and quiet, and in her half-asleep state, she could faintly hear the sound of horseshoes clattering on the cobblestones, crisp and pleasant… But these sounds had taken him away.
Chapter 33 tells us that the day after the young master left, Chuxia, accompanied by Baixue and Qinglong, found the days leisurely, yet she was restless. The next day after lunch, she overheard someone at the inn excitedly saying, “Tomorrow is the temple fair, it’s been a long time since our town was this lively.”
“Who isn’t? Tomorrow I must go to the Bodhisattva Temple to pray, oh, it’s once a year!”
After hearing this, Chuxia returned to her room and said to Baixue, “Let’s go to the temple fair tomorrow. They say there’s a very efficacious Bodhisattva there.”
Baixue, lounging lazily, glanced at her, “Better stay calm. The young master has repeatedly warned, if anything happens to you, he’d have our hides.”
Chuxia blushed slightly, muttering, “If not, then not,” but Qinglong quickly interjected, “If she doesn’t go, we’ll go.”
Chuxia was overjoyed, “Really?”
“There’s no one in this world I, Qinglong, can’t keep an eye on. Tomorrow, we’ll tie ropes around our wrists to see who can take you away.” Baixue shrugged, seemingly resigned, “Alright, but Chuxia, if you go, you must follow my instructions, no running around.”
Thinking of getting a peace talisman for the young master, Chuxia agreed to everything. The next day, she was up early. The temple fair was indeed bustling, especially the small mountain temple, though not large, was packed with people. Baixue held Chuxia’s hand, complaining under her breath, “What kind of place is this? It’s like dropping dumplings into a pot.”
Chuxia stood on her tiptoes to look around, “Where’s Qinglong?”
“Up in the tree,” Baixue pointed to the willow tree in the courtyard, “It’s easier to keep watch from up there.”
They slowly made their way into the main hall with the crowd. Chuxia held an incense stick, lit it in the incense burner, knelt before the Buddha statue, silently recited her wish, then stood up to insert the incense into the sand.
“What did you wish for?” Baixue asked with interest.
“For the young master’s safety,” Chuxia replied after a pause.
As they left the crowd, the air carried the sweet scent of osmanthus. Chuxia took a deep breath and said to Baixue, “It seems the osmanthus in the back garden is in full bloom. Shall we go take a look?”
Baixue scanned the surroundings and looked towards the willow tree, then said, “Alright.”
The back garden was serene and quiet, with a large osmanthus tree in full bloom. Chuxia was excited, “When I was little, the elders at home would collect the fallen osmanthus flowers to make osmanthus cakes, they were delicious.”
“What’s so hard about that? There are plenty of osmanthus trees in the Shu Garden of the Jun Mansion. If you want, the young master would probably even cut them down for you,” Baixue mimicked her deep breath, indeed, the fragrance was overwhelming. But moments later, she felt something was off. Her body went limp, unable to stand. Sensing something was wrong, she wanted to warn Chuxia to “hold her breath,” but not a single word could escape her lips. She closed her eyes and collapsed. Chuxia quickly supported her, calling her name urgently, but to no avail as she still fell to the ground. “Qing—” The word had barely left her mouth when she felt something cold and hard pressed against her waist. The laurel tree provided thick shade, and Qinglong was too far away to notice the commotion. After waiting for a while without seeing anyone, he lightly leaped forward and silently slipped into the crowd, heading towards the back garden.
Under the laurel tree, both Baixue and Chuxia had their backs to him, seemingly observing something. He approached with a smile, “What are you looking at?” Neither turned around, piquing his curiosity, so he moved closer. A small piece of the laurel tree’s bark had been peeled off, revealing four chillingly carved characters: “Slit throat, sever hair.” Qinglong was taken aback, realizing the danger, and he quickly grabbed them to retreat. But Chuxia seemed paralyzed, her eyes filled with warning and anxiety. Qinglong drew his sword, but “Baixue” suddenly turned, her palm lightly striking his chest, bypassing the sword. The unexpected attack caused him to drop his sword with a clang, and he slowly slumped down. His youthful, handsome face was filled with disbelief as his strength ebbed away, the toxic energy spreading towards his forehead. So, this is what it feels like to die… Qinglong’s arm twitched, as if trying to grasp something on his chest. Seeing this, “Baixue” moved to strike again, but a very familiar voice came from behind the tree, “Enough, he won’t survive.” “It’s you…” Qinglong was horrified, but before he could say more, he exhaled his last breath, his arm falling limp.
The young master, rushing day and night towards Yueyang, arrived at the end of August when the weather was getting colder by the day, often with heavy rains that made travel difficult. Jun Yenan stayed at a tea farmer’s house by Dongting Lake for the night. The host was very hospitable, serving a large pot of fish soup for dinner and chatting with him. “You don’t look like an ordinary traveler, perhaps a tea merchant?” The young master smiled slightly, “Indeed.” “Junshan Yinzhen, the silver needle tea, gets new leaves in spring, but smart merchants secure their orders for the next year right after the season ends,” the host chuckled. “Is this your first time here? You should come early.” “To get to Junshan, it’s best to rent a boat. You can do so at the small pier in front of our house tomorrow morning. A string of copper coins will do.” The young master nodded, “Thank you.”
The next morning, as dawn broke, the 800-mile expanse of Dongting Lake looked like a vast, clear mirror, gently rippling. The distant Junshan Mountain appeared and disappeared in the mist. The young master stood at the bow of the boat, hands behind his back, and casually asked, “Boatman, does anyone live on Junshan?” “No one lives there. There are tea gardens at the foot of the mountain, tended by farmers who come and go daily. As for the mountain itself… it’s haunted; who dares to go up?” “Haunted?” “Long ago, people saw ghosts building a palace there, and those who got curious and climbed up all fell to their deaths.” The boatman rowed, narrating as if telling a story, “Since then, everyone believes it’s filled with dark energy, so no one goes up anymore.” The young master pondered for a moment, then unfolded a silk painting, “Boatman, look at this mountain in the painting, is it Junshan?” The boatman set down his oar to look closely and exclaimed in surprise, “Yes, it is! This is Feilai Peak, the most perilous of Junshan’s seventy-two peaks. However… as far as I know, there are no tea gardens at its base.” With a thud, the boat docked at a pier, and the young master alighted gracefully, saying, “Thank you, boatman.” As he watched the tall figure depart, the boatman shook his head, “Recently, everyone visiting this island is quite strange.”
