Chapter 107: Yet with the xiansheng's closed jade coffin (XIIX)

Translator's note: The next chapter is another long one (over 5.6k characters in the raws) so I've finished this one up early so I can work on that one over two days instead of one. This is the second to last chapter of the main novel, and once I've posted the final chapter, I'll start going back and editing the first couple dozen chapter I posted, and begin compiling everything into a single document to be shared as a PDF and document format, for ease of reading, and so I can make sure I normalise all the terminology and fix up some things that I had initially started using but later on realised weren't the best choice of translation. I'll post that once I've translated all the extras as well, which should only take three more weeks at maximum.

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Song Shijiu had a great, long dream.

In the dream, she and A Yin, A Luo, and Tu Laoyao were playing mahjong, clattering and scraping against the table; A Yin spat out a mouthful of melon seed shell, furtively glancing at A Luo, whose spirit returned; she was insisting that she hadn't taken care and would regret her move, and Tu Laoyao, having sat a while, was feeling off from dizziness, and wanted to get up and sit on a stool; A Yin scolded him, saying that he wanted to sit higher and sneak a look, and the two were arguing in a heated exchange.

Li Shiyi passed by, and placed a cup of warm water by Song Shijiu's bedside, and lowered her head, saying to her, "Don't sit for too long."

Song Shijiu held that warm water in her hands, as if holding Li Shiyi's warm, cosy heart.

Having held it a while, the water became the hot springs of Mount Zhongshan; her nude body was hot and lazy within it; she'd already drunk wine, and her cheeks were rosy red, her hair, which had been drawn up, was wet and dripping with water, and she pillowed her head on her arms, leaning against the edge of the spring, and asked the lovestruck Yushiqie, "You're talking about the heart being moved? A moved heart, what's that?"

And affection, what was that?

It was the willow leaves that were ruffled when the breeze passed by, the lingering droplets on the eaves when the rain fell, it was the warmth rising from the back of Li Shiyi's hand when she poured water, was the face that A Yin always turned to A Luo when spitting out melon shells, and Tu Laoyao's acquiescence to Tu Saozi, setting down the tiles with an "ai" and heading over.

The future brazen-faced, shameless apologies.

Tu Laoyao always liked apologising. With a couple interjections, he would draw his neck back, and say "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't take it to heart".

Song Shiji''s hand was white from its grasp, and her other hand clutched harshly at the wrist of the person before the bed, her face flushed red, her eyelids fluttering, and her lips trembled as she babbled; only on leaning in closer could it be heard that in her mouth was a single, dazed phrase: "I'm sorry."

Over and over, shivering and shaking; hearing it caused one's heart to tremble.

Another while passed, and only then did she stop; when she opened her eyes, it was all calm, such that even when looking at the head of the bed, she wasn't even dazed for a moment; turning her head, she looked at the person in the room.

It was still Douding's family's home, still the bed she and Li Shiyi had staid in together; the surface of the wall had some cracks, showing the maize-like faults within, and there was the scent of fodder in the room, brought in by the cold air of the winter's day, somewhat pungent to the nose; the table, chair, chest, and cabinets were all incredibly dilapidated, and moving caused a creaking, groaning sound, but in the middle stood a woman, her neck bent as she made tea.

Song Shijiu whetted her lips, about to call out to her, but didn't know what appellation she ought to call her by; she was attired entirely identically to how Li Shiyi had been before, but Song Shijiu actually was incapable of nesting in Ling Heng's embrace as she had the night before; with tearful, misty eyes, she called out to her. "Shiyi."

She started to feel embarrassed; it was just that she'd realised Ling Heng was alright, and Li Shiyi was good as well; she still liked the person before her the same; it hadn't weakened in the slightest. And, precisely because of this, she couldn't be as coquettish and recklessly silly as she had before; she wasn't dare to be certain about whether, after having been tempered in this sort of world-spanning calamity, Li Shiyi, who'd regained enlightenment, would still want her. She was no longer the courageous woman of before, unbounded by law and heavens; she'd committed a wrong.

The person before her turned her head, and seeing Song Shijiu was gazing at her, set the teapot down, picking a cup of tea and offering it to her, and said mildly, "You're awake."

Song Shijiu sat up, the smallest actions hurting such that she drew in a cold breath; she slowly shifted, and took the proffered tea, holding it in her hands, dazed for a while; and then, she shrugged her right sholder lightly, becoming aware that the shoulder which had been severed had unexpectedly been entirely reconnected. She cast a glance at the person by the bed, and in a small voice, asked, "How many days?"

"Seven days." The two characters were said with an intimate and eloquent air.

"Xiao Douding and the other…"

"They're better." Two more characters, lingering and drawn-out.

"I…" Song Shijiu lowered her head.

Yet she heard an incredibly light voice raise her chin. "You called out to me."

Song Shijiu looked at her, her eyes glossy and wet, and blinked weakly a couple times, whetting her wan lips. The inverted image of the woman in her eyes tilted her head, watching her tenderly.

"Shiyi." Her eyes flashed in the swaying of the lantern, her hand unconsciously twisting at the bedding; just because these two characters had just been uttered, Li Shiyi, by the bedside, raised her fingers, placing them in her palm and gently kneading. From the body of her fingers to the joints, then to the limp and numb heel of her palm, rousing her fingers cun by cun, and avoiding the injuries on her hands with incredible delicacy.

These actions had been done the first time Li Shiyi had become aware of her identity, back during the Teng serpent's cave, and now, she repeated them again, like a wordless reminder.

She'd purposely changed, inviting the address she'd wanted, and the skilled actions, all of it had been caressing Song Shijiu's memory, entirely telling her—don't be afraid.

In a flash, because of these actions of hers, Song Shijiu's heart softened unspeakably; an aching sensation in her nose choked her throat, and she bit her lower lip, lowering her head and not speaking. Out of the corner of her eye, Li Shiyi seemed to be drawing the corners of her lips inwards, and she said gently, "You didn't call out wrongly." Without waiting for Song Shijiu's spirit to return, she drew out something long from behind her, the other hand spreading Song Shijiu's fingers open, and pressed that thing into her palm. Alongside what she'd just said, it sounded as if it were a token of her affections.

Song Shijiu looked over it carefully; it was a fan, the same size as the one she'd used before, but it was a bit darker; the surface was thee same as the woven glimmers of the first rays of morning sun on Mount Zhongshan, yets its frame had been changed; the black metal frame of before had now been switched with a wooden one, black as lacquer, giving off a faint, dense, archaic light; she extended a hand to touch it; within it was some blood, and the tip of each strut, along with the bottom, was engraved with tiny dragon's scales.

She looked at the scales, and then looked at Li Shiyi once more; she felt that she was, really, being coaxed. Those dragon's scales had clearly been carved by Li Shiyi's hand, and the intent was both subtle and strong, as if a towel for sweat, prepared by an adult for a child, embroidered with a tiny name. She shot another glance at Li Shiyi; Li Shiyi merely gazed at her with a pair of tender eyes, but the corners of her lips drew inwards, as if she were waiting for her evaluation. Song Shijiu suddenly had a fantastic intuition; she felt that this woman, who wasn't fond of speaking, and the apathetic, disaffected goddess within her, were both using an unfamiliar ploy to comfort her.

Or, that was to say, redeeming her.

So, Song Shijiu stroked those tiny dragon's scales again, her teeth bitting at the inside of her cheek, and only after a while, did she carefully ask, "What's this?"

"The Jiaolong's right foot."

When it had been cut off, it was half a person's height, and, after having been affected by magic, it had become quite small; Li Shiyi had drawn out the finest bones of the talons, and had remade this small fan, Fuguang, for her.

Song Shijiu drew a small breath, wanting to say something, yet hesitated, stopping. That day, she'd passed out, and didn't know how the Jiaolong's talons had been left behind; originally, she'd wanted to ask a couple phrases, and then remembered Tu Laoyao, and then couldn't raise any sort of interest anymore. Her eyes were hazy, the unannounced story finally hidden, causing all the brilliant light that radiated all about to be enclosed, enclosed by a lonely lantern, carried through day and night.

Li Shiyi didn't console her any further, merely pressing her lips together, and said, "If you were to smile."

Song Shijiu inclined her face, looking at her.

Usually, this character of "if" would be followed by "then" or "just", but Li Shiyi hadn't added anything at all, only tranquily and calmly raising the corners of her mouth, drawing her along with her fluid glance.

Song Shijiu let the lower lips she'd been biting go, and stared at her, dazed, and then following the lifting motion of the corners of her lips, a smile, faintly showing unhappiness, emerged. She wwas somewhat annoyed; even if it had come to now, she was still obeying Li Shiyi's words; in fact, she was obeying them even more.

Li Shiyi raised her hand lightly, and touched her chin, saying softly, "I can see it."

Song Shijiu was disappointed, but she wasn't a fool; she stared at the face before her alertly, fearing that she'd lost some tiny clue. Yet Li Shiyi, smiling, knocked against the Shentu command on her waist, and, from outside the door, a rapping knock on the door arose. Pitter-patter, tha-thunk, without the slightest bit of manners. Yet Song Shijiu's heart rose at the sound of the knock on the door, as if it had been placed in a pot of oil, being fried in a disorder with whatever fruit and vegetables, the fire which rose and fell burning her to confusion and disorientation, such that it was hard to evade the black smoke, which caused Song Shijiu to be choked until she coughed faintly.

Song Shijiu looked at Li Shiyi beseechingly, as if waiting for her denial, but her penetrating gaze caused guesses to run about. It wasn't Xiao Douding; Xiao Douding wasn't this tall, and it wasn't Chun Ping; Chun Ping wasn't this vigorous, and it definitely wasn't another villager; they didn't have a reason, Song Shijiu knew.

She tugged at Li Shiyi's sleeve, just about to say something, but the door couldn't wait any longer, and with a "pa", it was pushed open, and what came in first was a basin of clothes, a face hidden behind the clothes, saying recklessly, "Have you woken up? What will you eat, will you eat minced meat noodles? There are tangyuan as well. I've knocked for half the day, and no one called to open the door; have you become a fool? Xiao Shijiu?" The face that grew large before her seemed to be as large as a pancake, the forehead large and the entire thing plump; the cheeks were pocked with pimples, and a tuft of bangs fell over the space between the brows, blown upwards by him, and the corners of the mouth were raised to his ears, smiling so broad his teeth were visible.

That stir-fry like steam stung her eyes; Song Shijiu gazed at Tu Laoyao's smiling face, her throat bobbing, and tears rolled down. She cried helplessly and silently, and her expression was also wooden, as if looking at a picture called Tu Laoyao, separated by glass.

"Foolish," Tu Laoyao said, pulling his smile back, and worriedly spoke to Li Shiyi.

Li Shiyi tilted her head slightly, indicating to him to leave; then, she sat down by Song Shijiu's side, supporting her on her own shoulder, and lightly patted her, only then saying, "This one, it was the Jiaolong's left foot."

Tu Laoyao had originally had the same origin as the Shentu command, and didn't count as the six paths of reincarnation; as a result, if his soul were to be kept behind, it wouldn't count as a hardship. She'd used the Jiaolong's other foot to weave a ghost's body for Tu Laoyao, allowing him to return to the mortal realm in a corporeal body; it was just that, in the end, he was a ghost, and every night, he had to return to the Shentu command to rest, or else his spirit would grow weaker and weaker each day.

Song Shijiu listened to her finish speaking dazedly, yet didn't show an expression of wild joy, still somewhat unable to draw her spirit back, still somewhat dizzy and confused; only because, for the first time, she'd truly experienced what was called "loss", and the first time she'd lost something and then regained it once more.

So, the sensation of loss wasn't because Tu Laoyao's tongue had gone stiff and his head had been severed, but rather merely because of these two characters—what if.

What if, then, she hadn't tried to be brave, what if she hadn't made a scene, what if none of it had occurred; then Tu Laoyao wouldn't have become this way, neither mortal nor ghost.

And what had been lost and then regained again wasn't actually Tu Laoyao opening his eyes and walking again, but merely these two characters—becoming foolish.

And, what was more, from between moist lashes, she looked at the bruises beneath Li Shiyi's eyes, and thought of how, when she herself had lost consciousness, she'd painstakingly carved the scales on the struts of the fan, and how she had, thread by thread, sewn Tu Laoyao a ghost's body; what she had sewn up wasn't Tu Laoyao, but her own error, the aftermath of the tempering of the world-great calamity, like delivering two convenient things, causing the regret for her past deeds to choke her in her mouth.

She heard Li Shiyi stroke her hair, and say softly, "Tu Laoya's been muddled and confused half his life; finally, he's become smart."

Although he'd lost a corporeal body, he'd saved Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu, and knew in his heart that Ling Heng had had what it took to save him.

She thought of when Tu Laoyao had first opened his eyes, grinning as he'd greeted her, hands clasped, and said, "Fujun-daren, I, Tu Laoyao, have become a ghost, and from now on, I'll be your Taishan seat's comrade; you'd better take care of me."

She'd asked him what sort of care he'd wanted.

He had scratched at his eyelid, and said, "Can you let me take care of my wife and Sishun?"

He'd thought it through; he'd go back and tell his wife that he'd eaten an immortality pill; his wife was a fool, and would believe whatever he said; otherwise, how else would she have been tricked by this impoverished loafer? And, after passing this life, when his wife breathed her last breath, he'd return to the Taishan seat, and guard Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu.

Like this, it was utterly wonderful. And the remainder, it was merely the details.

Thinking of this, Li Shyi began smiling faintly.

She heard the sniffling of Song Shijiu, limp against her shoulder, her awareness slowly returning, and her mind awakening as well; suddenly, she breathed out a hot breath, and said, "So, your magic, it's this powerful."

So, even A Yao and the Jiaolong would be afraid of the consequences to a degree; then…

"Then…" she said, and then hesitated.

She heard the sound of a mild laugh from above, and a continuation: "Then, back then, I didn't need to have fought with you for so long."

Song Shijiu raised her head, her heart thundering. "What does that mean."

"Think about it yourself."

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