Chapter 81: Dreaming nine times of the lord for ten nights in the pavilion (VI)

Only then, in A Luo's cough, did A Yin remember her cold, and she once more docily retreated into A Luo's embrace.

If it wouldn't work, then it wouldn't work; could she force herself on her? Unexpectedly, it was clear that she'd been hasty. She yawned, falling asleep in the scent of medicine on A Luo's body.

This sleep was comfortable and easy, even her curled shoulders growing buds, itching as they produced fruits of gentle feelings and honeyed intentions. A Luo and she nested together for a few days, and her illness was sheltered away, her face glowing and radiant, as if having been dropped and preserved in honey.

She watched A Luo write poetry and paint; looked at the painting, and then looked at her. She thought of how, when she'd been young, she'd always wanted to raise a snow-white rabbit, and then afterwards, had wanted to raise an awe-inspiring black cat; but when she'd been young, her family had been poor, and afterwards, she'd followed her shifu, wandering about in a desperate plight without a fixed residence, and had forgotten this extravagant dream.

Now, she gazed at A Luo, and felt that her wan cheeks were like a rabbit, her inky, satin hair was like a black cat, her glossy eyes the sugared hawthorn^[1] she'd craved countless times, even her eyelashes skewer after bamboo skewer of hawthorn; she'd satisfied all of her extravagant dreams, and had found all of her lost longings for her.

Actually, afterwards, she'd bought a number of items; Jinmen ready-made clothes, two-headed Taiping abalone, and German-produced osmanthus flower powder and Indian sandalwood scented vanishing cream. But she'd never before had the sense of satisfaction of "possession". Only now, having A Luo, she seemed to have truly came to the sense of something counting as her own, causing her to find it irresistible, causing her to be unable to shift her gaze away.

Every day, as a rule, A Luo had half a shichen she needed to be medicated by A Tao; although A Yin was jealous, because she was a girlfriend, she had to have a magnanimous attitude, and saying much of anything would be unsuitable.

This noon, she descended the stairs, and saw Li Shiyi sitting before the table, with an opened jar of crab roe sauce that had come along with Tu Laoyao's letter; Song Shijiu, beside her, was cutting paper figures diligently with a lowered head. The crab roe, like fine particles of sand, within the oil, were as bright as gold, the scent of meat heavier than that of seafood; naturally, it was the scent of first-grade delicacies. Li Shiyi only cast a look at it, and was just about to close the lid, when she saw A Yin swallowing a mouthful of saliva, and asked her, "Will you eat some?"

The kitchen still had the remnants of rice from the morning, and, mixed together, they'd be quite good.

A Yin cupped her cheek in her palm, and shook her head, sitting down. "I won't, these past few days I've gained some weight." Her mouth was complaining, but her peach blossom eyes were narrowed in a smile, a horse galloping in proudly in the spring breeze.^[2]

Song Shijiu, seeing this, was cheerful; A Yin liked to say nonsense, yet her face never told lies, and joy and fury were the ones which showed the most.

Li Shiyi cast her a glance. "What about A Luo?"

A Yin's left hand propped up her temple, her body half paralysed with laziness; first, she laughed meanderingly, and then stared at her right index finger drawing circles on the table. "Oh, our A Luo…she's just taken the medicine, she's resting now." The corners of her lips rose; this method of saying "our A Luo" made her incredibly delighted, such that to her, even the old-fashioned wood of the tabletop seemed a bit pleasing.

Song Shijiu smiled, and blinked her eyes at Li Shiyi, swaying her head and repeating in a low voice, "Oh, our A Luo."

A Yin straightened up, her arms crossing over her chest, and glared at her. "From childhood you liked learning, and now you're an adult, you're still like this. You'd better put your gaze on what's readily available before you; what are you doing imitating me?" Her brows rose, and she continued, "You ought to say—'our Shiyi', why don't you repeat it?"

She gazed at her, unruffled in the midst of chaos; the tips of Song Shijiu's ears were flushed pink, and she cast a glance at Li Shiyi; no matter what, she didn't open her mouth, and for a moment, everywhere was quiet, the awkward atmosphere wordlessly and silently diffusing; A Yin was just about to be proud of herself, when she heard a clear, cool voice to the side say, "Your A Luo's cold, it still hasn't gotten better?"

A Yin turned her head, and saw that Li Shiyi had closed up the glass jar, her glance cast indifferently.

A Yin heard her implication. "What is it?"

Li Shiyi placed her fingers on top of the iron lid, her thin lips letting out three characters. "The Spirit Drinking Whip."

The fine hairs behind A Yin's ears trembled, and her heart also jolted, and she asked. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know what it means, it's just that, yesterday, when she was taking medicine, I faintly heard these three characters."

A Yin hissed, and sat upright, her brows thick with doubts. "These past two days, with the medicine, she doesn't make sound when moving, yet you managed to hear?"

Li Shiyi lowered her gaze, and then tilted her head slightly to the right, and said, "My sense of hearing, it seems, is also becoming more and more keen with each day." She could hear the patter of rain on the old tiles and bricks in the nextdoor alley, could hear swallows bringing back fresh mud in the eaves on the street corner, could hear Wu Qian's footsteps at the mouth of the street when he returned from buying groceries, and even…she raised her head, looking at A Yin, and tucked a faint smile away at the corner of her mouth.

That phrase of "not now" from those women as they'd shamelessly and unashamedly sought pleasure.

She hadn't spoken, but the small half curve of the corners of her lips were like the most frank speech, and they caused A Yin's cheeks to flush in a split second, bafflingly red, and red with tacit understanding. She raised her hands and held her face, palms pressing down the abruptly arising humiliation, and didn't dare to keep asking Li Shiyi further, only stamping her heels in place, and said with a thin voice, "I'll go ask now."

Once she'd finished speaking, she didn't mind the two's reactions, and cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders, and headed upstairs.

The disappearing figure took with it the attractive scent, and the hall once more fell silent; Song Shijiu, with a smile, withdrew her gaze, once more lowering her head to make paper figures. The sound of the paper being cut, ka-cha, ka-cha, was like hungry silkworms eating mulberry leaves, and the intermittent sound of a stopwatch, and even more the low chatter pointing at tranquility and calm. A cool shadow fell from between her fingers, moving back and forth, and she raised her head, bumping against Li Shiyi's gaze.

Li Shiyi stood by her side, her right hand propped on the back of the chair behind her, her gaze looking lightly at her, and she said, "She's gone."

Song Shijiu failed to understand the reason, and set the paper figure on her knee, raising her head and nodding. "En."

"You can say it now."

Li Shiyi's voice was very light, flitting by like the light and tender shadow held within her eyes; Song Shijiu stilled beneath her gaze, easily falling behind. "Say what?"

"What do you think?" Li Shiyi tilted her head slightly, and asked her in return.

By her ear, A Yin's sentence, left behind—"Our Li Shiyi, why don't you repeat it?"

Song Shijiu's fluid gaze flashed away, and she reached out to grab her cuff, stroking it a few times, a smiling expression entering her eyes, and she looked at Li Shiyi with curved features, not saying anything, only paying attention to smiling.

Li Shiyi smiled as well, her hand rising from the back of the chair, stroking at Song Shijiu's chin, and she nodded her head lightly. "I heard it."

The faint scent of medicine floated in the air on the second floor, causing the aged scent of the ancient wood to become blurred just right. A Yin pushed the door open; within was not dark as it had been that day a feew days ago; the curtains had been parted slightly, enough that the sunlight could expand its territory, and the inside was partitioned by the horizontal smoke of the censer; A Luo stood before the desk with the greatest brightness, her back to the window lattice, writing.

Her long hair docily laid against her back, and, in the shadows of the dark corner, it seemed as the order of allegiance; only that lesser half lit by the light could the not too orderly ends of hair be seen, a couple strands sticking up slightly, and in the tranquility of her heavy ghostly aura, a bit of charm had been added.

A Yin walked over to her side, her gaze seizing on this bit of improper charm. A Luo finished writing the right-falling stroke beneath her brush, and only then looked at A Yin, her smiling expression soft, and said, "Morning."

She was always polite towards A Yin, but her politeness held complete implication, causing the "morning" inappropriate for the occasion to also be a code word full of affection.

A Yin pierced right through A Luo's pretence. "Two shichen ago, you woke up, and also said this phrase."

A Luo smiled, lowering her head to dip her writing brush into ink.

A Yin wasn't willing to beat about the brush with her, and, paying attention to her motion of gathering her sleeves, said, "Your illness, about when will it be better, then?"

A Luo intently moved her wrist. "These past few days, it's gotten a lot better; another few days, and I won't need medicine anymore."

A Yin let out a "wu," her hands propped up on the edge of the table, and pressed her back against it, probingly asking her, "This medicine, I'll decoct it for you, alright?"

A Luo's motions paused, and she raised her head to look at her.

A Yin sat, without care, on the table, head raised and looking at her, the tips of her eyebrows rising lightly, and she bit her lip, only then saying, "Futi-daren, we spoke on it already; I won't be hypocritical, and I'll treat you candidly, right?"

Her words of "Futi-daren" fell upon A Luo's innermost feelings, her tilted face incredibly attractive, her naturally charming features plucked out by the sunshine, swallowing the hun and devouring the po like a spirit or a guai. So, A Luo set her brush down, picking up the handkerchief at the side and lightly wiping away the inkspots between her fingers, and with a low voice, said, "Don't ask; I also have something I want to speak of with you. It's just that, I don't really know how to start."

She lowered her neck slightly, her gaze falling onto the not yet dried traces of ink, and she slowly looked over those few characters once more; then she raised her head, and looked into A Yin's eyes, her chest depressing.

In the moment of her motion of opening her mouth, A Yin suddenly felt an unprecedented agitation; she clutched A Luo's hands, raising her voice somewhat. "What have you done?" She rapidly flipped through the huaben in her mind. "Cultivated a human form? Altered the registry in the seat? Or…you're going to rebel?" A chill ran down her spine, and her complexion paled slightly, her speech quickening like spilled beans. "Don't you dare play dumb; whatever disgraceful thing you've done, just be your Yama-laoye, that way I'll have a patron, you…"

A Luo's slim shoulders trembled, her laughter both delicate and neat, and she shook her head. "It's not because of you, it's because of my own reasons."

A Yin's heart, hanging, in a split second, fell halfway, neither high nor low; she saw A Luo withdraw her hands, returning to her own neck, brushing her hair to the side, and then, from top to bottom, she undid the toggles of her robe.

Her fair, smooth skin emerged cun by cun from within the inky robe, like a first rate painting revealing its talent; A Yin watched fixedly, her breaths pausing and starting, the tension at the seduction coming from her faintly parted lips; just as it emerged, it was struck stiff by A Luo's turning around.

With empty eyes, she gazed, barely believing, at A Luo's bared back.

The curve of the dimples on her back were still as pretty as if they'd been drawn, and her shoulderblades were like rising butterfly's wings, a shallow gorge between them, and an aloof shadow piled up on the muttonfat jade skin. This ought to be a body carved perfectly and finely, if one were to ignore the disordered and chaotic scars atop it.

Those scars were already very light, the edges suffused with a faint red, the delicateness of newly-grown flesh, but A Yin gazed at those scars' width, their intersecting, winding shapes covering its entirety, and could easily imagine what sort of torture the person before her had suffered.

She tightened her hands, and then drew a deep breath, loosening them, her fingers not moving in the slightest, not even having the bravery to stroke them, only firmly pressing against her faintly trembling thighs; she pressed her lips together, and only then did she make her tone not that harsh. "This is…the Spirit Drinking Whip?"

A Luo was startled, and she tilted her face partway, looking towards the corners of A Yin's lips, which she was restraining with great effort, and only after a while did she nod.

"I originally had a marriage."

As soon as the subject was broached, A Yin's face paled; she raised her eyes to gaze at her, even forgetting to temper her frenetic expression.

A Luo placated her with a look. "The Taishan seat controls the three spiritual realms, and of course all deities covet it. Six hundred or more years before, Mount Tu's fox clan sought a marriage alliance with the Taishan seat, and Ling Heng promised me to Mount Tu's clan; the wedding day was set for 1967, and was recorded in the seat's registry." She lowered her eyes. "When A Heng asked me, at that time, I had yet to meet you."

A phrase of "had yet to meet" fell into A Yin's heart, wrapping it up; atop was still marred with dust, stained and aching.

A Luo said, "Now, I don't want to get married." Her eyelashes fluttered, causing A Yin to see a bit of incredibly well-concealed arrogance and nobility; this pride caused her to only be able to say it to this point, and she wasn't willing to mention the other matters within it.

After she'd returned to the Taishan seat, she'd made a request to the registry within the seat to break off the engagement, and had been sentenced to eighty-one lashes of the Spirit Drinking Whip; when she'd knelt on the middle of the penalty stage, she'd still had some doubts; what the Spirit Drinking Whip whipped was the three hun and seven po, using the pain of stripping the bone and shaving the flesh to beat the mind into Buddhas sobbing and ghosts crying.

She was only an underworld spirit from the Yellow Springs; what three hun and seven po did she have?

When the whip, as thick as a finger, fell on her back the first time, in the midst of the pain that entirely rent open her liver and gallbladder, she saw, clearly, a silhouette with no difference from her tremble out from the space between her own eyebrows, letting out a sorrowful howl that caused the countless ghosts around the Yellow Springs to shake with shock.

The underworld trembled; Yama was punished; all kinds of ghosts were terrified; Taishan dried up.

She laid on the ground, cold sweat flowing, her back as if burning with thousands on tens of thousands of fires, burning her such that her mind trembled, no longer able to form words. The stabbing pain, tearing the heart and splitting the lungs, meant that she didn't even dare to draw breaths more heavily, causing her to barely be able to press her almost entirely bloodless lips together sluggishly as she recalled it.

Thinking back to the complete outline of the spirit just then, thinking back to that teardrop that had fallen onto the writing paper, thinking back to that woman by the side of the Naihe bridge, as if she were a fighting cock, her chest trembled heavily, as if there was something that had just put down roots. Just like the strands of light that poured in like silk.

A Luo's amber eyes glistened dazzlingly, beautiful and containing the reverse image of the woman stilled before her; she extended her right hand, her fingertips brushing against A Yin's cheeks, in their prime; she said, "You cried out my soul."

The disconsolateness in A Yin's heart rose with the situation; so, that day, her soft murmuring and gasps had been because of taking the medication; so, the ugly and painful way she herself had treated her, she had, from the outset to the end, still used the greatest degree of resolution and tolerance; she had started to be unable to inhibit her longing, and, when she herself had had Li Shiyi call A Luo back, how she had been barely able to support herself, yet she'd unrelentingly hurried back to her side.

Her distance and estrangement was because she hadn't wanted her to realise, fearing she'd be worried, but she herself was just as careless and negligent as she wished, believing that weakness that even Xiao Shijiu could see was a cold.

A Yin bit her lip harshly; she didn't want to cry, so she couldn't cry.

So, she only let go of her maltreated lip as softly as the wind and as lightly as the clouds, wanting to say something; she rooted about in her heart, yet she didn't have half a decent thing to say. She raised her head, and saw A Luo had long since been gazing at her, excessively quietly.

A Yin let out a breath, and asked her, "What are you looking at me for?"

A Luo replied, "I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid you'll be distressed." A Luo smiled faintly, and said, "And afraid you won't be distressed."

The bottom of A Yin's heart blossomed, and with a tight jaw, she asked her, "Then, what do you see?"

A Luo tugged at her hand, her smile that of having fulfilled her desires. "You're distressed, and you're afraid of me seeing you're distressed."

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Translator's notes:

[1]: 糖雪球 (tang xue qiu).

[2]: 春风得意马蹄疾 (chunfeng deyi matiji), from the Tang dynasty poem 登科后 (Deng Ke Hou, "After Passing the Imperial Examinations") by Meng Jiao.