The Only Problem

He Zhuoming watched Lin Qingyun lower his head, pressing his face close to the crabapple blossoms. The dense petals cast a faint, greyish-pink shadow on the white silk ribbon over his eyes.

He leaned in too close, the tip of his nose almost touching the flower cluster, bringing him near He Zhuoming, who held the branch. She saw him smile, dimples appearing at the corners of his lips—a harmless, endearing smile.

Perhaps because his eyes were covered by the white silk, his whole bearing seemed different from usual, fragile as glass. But strangely, that fragility made Lin Qingyun even more attractive.

It made He Zhuoming suddenly nervous, her heart thumping wildly. The hand holding the branch trembled twice. Afraid Lin Qingyun would notice, she quickly shoved the branch into his hands, letting him hold it himself, and asked in a deliberately loud voice, "Well? Well? Isn't it different?"

Lin Qingyun answered, "It's very light."

He Zhuoming said, "Very light? What a strange way to describe it..."

Lin Qingyun smiled and said, "Because I thought crabapple blossoms would feel soft to the touch, but they're not soft at all. They're light."

So flowers didn't feel as soft as Xiao He's skin; there was only a drifting, airy lightness, as if one breath would scatter them everywhere.

When He Zhuoming had pulled the branch from her sleeve earlier, several petals had shaken loose, some carried by the movement of air onto Lin Qingyun's face, then sliding down his cheek into the collar of his robes.

He reached up and pinched one petal from his collarbone. That touch, so light it barely registered, was a first for the puppet.

He asked, "Why go out of your way to bring me a different flower?"

He Zhuoming tugged at the single strap of her satchel. Her heart was still racing, but she deliberately put on a casual expression and tone. "Because I noticed they looked different, so I thought I'd bring one for you to see too. It was on the way anyway—I was coming to find you regardless."

Lin Qingyun said, "I can't see anyway. Even if they look different, it makes no difference to me."

A crabapple was just a crabapple. Whether the color was true red or pale pink, whether the flowers hugged the branch or hung from it—none of it mattered to him.

Even now, holding the real thing in his hand, with He Zhuoming describing the differences between the two kinds in words, Lin Qingyun still couldn't imagine what something he'd never seen looked like.

He Zhuoming slapped him hard on the back—harder than she meant to, so hard that Lin Qingyun's melancholy scattered and his spine straightened.

He Zhuoming said, "It's only temporary blindness, so why sound so gloomy! And even if you can't see for now, you can still touch and smell things! Oh right, the table—come on, get me the table. I need to copy scriptures. Let me get two pages done before I sleep."

Lin Qingyun lowered his head and weighed the crabapple branch in his hand. He was silent for a moment, and for once didn't mock the Two Principles Dao Lord as he usually did. In the center of the pure white room, a desk and chair slowly appeared.

He Zhuoming pulled out the chair and sat down, taking paper, brush, and the scriptures from her satchel. As she flipped through them, she spotted three math test papers tucked inside her English textbook.

She quickly pretended not to see them, pushing the papers deeper into the bag.

The scripture was obscure and hard to copy to begin with, and He Zhuoming's heart was still beating fast, so she kept making mistakes. In one short line of dense text, she copied nine out of ten characters wrong, then angrily blacked out the whole line with her brush.

Frustrated, she slumped onto the desk, her gaze wandering around the room. It made a full circuit before landing back on Lin Qingyun: he was still standing in place, head lowered, facing the crabapple branch in his hand.

Though his eyes were covered and he couldn't see, he was regarding the flower with a kind of serious "observation."

This suddenly made He Zhuoming feel a pang of guilt, because that branch wasn't deliberately picked for Lin Qingyun—she'd accidentally chopped it off while practicing her sword.

Many of the blossoms had been damaged in the fall, and after being stuffed in her sleeve the whole way, even the ones that hadn't broken were now wilted from being pressed against her.

He Zhuoming said, "Qingyun, why did you join the Pear Garden in the first place?"

Lin Qingyun's attention was still on the flower as he answered distractedly, "Because I'm from the Xia Kingdom, and people from Xia all believe in the Earth Immortal. If given the chance, they join the Pear Garden too."

He Zhuoming asked, "Is it against the law for people of Xia not to believe in the Earth Immortal?"

Lin Qingyun said, "Not against the law, but you'd be ostracized by your neighbors. The requirements aren't as strict for commoners, but nobles and royalty must pay homage to the Earth Immortal."

This requirement made He Zhuoming think of the Pear Garden Immortal's origins—it seemed the Xia Kingdom and the Earth Immortal really were deeply bound together.

He Zhuoming thought for a moment, then asked, "You've locked yourself in here since returning to Xia—not going out, not seeing anyone. Doesn't your family worry about you?"

Lin Qingyun's hand, which had been exploring the branch, stopped. His tone was flat. "My elders have all passed. There are a few younger relatives still alive back home, but we hardly ever see each other. No real feelings between us."

He Zhuoming was startled. "Then your parents—"

Lin Qingyun was perfectly calm, answering frankly, "My parents died when I was very young."

He Zhuoming said, "...My condolences."

He raised his head toward He Zhuoming, and the lower half of his face not covered by the white ribbon broke into a bright smile. "Don't worry about it. We had a terrible relationship anyway, so I'm not all that sad, hehe~"

He Zhuoming sat up straight, feeling both surprise and a sense of "I knew it."

He Zhuoming asked, "You had a bad relationship with them?"

Lin Qingyun walked over and sat down across from her—this was his first time using a chair; before He Zhuoming arrived, he'd been used to sitting directly on the floor—but he showed no sign of being a first-time chair user. He sat upright and natural, both hands resting on the desk, leaning slightly toward He Zhuoming.

He countered, "Is that all you're going to ask?"

He Zhuoming hesitated. "Is there something else I should ask?"

Lin Qingyun shrugged. "I thought you'd call me an unfilial son."

He Zhuoming shook her head. "Why would I scold you for that—and having a bad relationship with your parents doesn't necessarily make you unfilial. It could just as easily be the parents' fault."

This time it was Lin Qingyun's turn to fall silent.

Because he didn't actually have parents—he was merely reciting the original's past. Based on the tens of thousands of devotees' prayers he'd heard, a normal person would have condemned the original at this point.

...But Xiao He was so accepting of new things, which left the puppet at a loss. It was only a puppet, after all. Even knowing the original's past, affected by the original's emotions toward those events, it could only feel a little.

Even for a wooden puppet, it was hard to feel strong emotions toward things it had never possessed, things that had died so many years ago. In fact, before He Zhuoming had brought it up, he hadn't even paused to recall the roles of "father" and "mother" for a single moment.

In the prolonged silence, He Zhuoming, unaware of Lin Qingyun's inner turmoil, asked, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Lin Qingyun said, "...Can we not talk about parents?"

He hoped Xiao He would talk about something he himself had experienced—like how to spend five years in an empty white room.

*

Xu Feixian was on her way to the Demon Suppression Bureau's temporary residence.

The Demon Suppression Bureau belonged to the imperial court, and many Pear Garden disciples served within it, but unless there was a special reason, its agents were not permitted to enter the Pear Garden Divine Palace freely.

This time, they'd been allowed inside the Pear Garden itself, even to occupy a temporary office in the East Hall. First, because with so many outside sects gathered for the Day of Divine Celebration, the Bureau's manpower could be of use here.

Second, because recently the Bureau and Moyi's Pear Garden musicians had joined forces to severely wound a Corrupted Deity—they'd cleaned up all its followers, and its believers had been imprisoned or executed; not a single one had escaped. But the one that should have been killed most of all, the Corrupted Deity itself, had fled.

Under the tight pursuit of agents and musicians, the Corrupted Deity had fled into the Pear Garden Divine Palace and vanished without a trace.

The musicians knew who was stationed at the main hall and the western side, so they confirmed the Corrupted Deity must be hiding among the outside sects.

The Day of Divine Celebration was too sensitive a time. Whoever could be staying in the East Hall now was either an elite disciple of a major sect or the cream of the connections; any trouble befalling any of them could trigger serious diplomatic incidents.

The Bureau agents couldn't forcibly search every guest—especially the temporary shrines the sects had erected, for those housed True Deities. So they could only strengthen patrols of the East Hall alongside the Pear Garden musicians.

If that Corrupted Deity couldn't hold itself back and made a move before the Day of Divine Celebration ended, they'd strike then. If it had enough patience to lie low, they'd have to wait until the celebration ended, when the other sects left, and then search each hall one by one.

That said, Xu Feixian didn't connect the Corrupted Deity that her group was hunting with Huang Mibo's strange behavior that day—even if it was only a temporary shrine, it was a True Deity's temporary shrine. Even without the True Deity himself present, it was hardly a place a mere Corrupted Deity could easily contaminate.

But being a True Deity didn't guarantee safety.

Any anomaly in a temple could be equated with danger, so it was best to dump this troublesome matter on the people who specialized in dealing with trouble as soon as possible.

As Xu Feixian walked, she suddenly stopped at the door of a side hall: the door was open only a crack, with a bright red lantern hanging on each side.

On the left lantern was written: Bet and Win Every Time.

On the right lantern was written: Quit While You're Ahead.

Bright light spilled through the crack, along with the faint sound of people shouting out bets. This was the betting house—for the past few days, bets on the arena matches were placed right here in this side hall.

This year, for some reason, the betting atmosphere was especially intense. Many people found betting on the arena alone unsatisfying, so at night they'd started additional games like liubo and dice, gambling all night long.

Xu Feixian should have walked past without a second glance—an occasional bet on the arena was one thing, but dice and such were best avoided.

But somehow, her feet wouldn't move. Her mind drifted to the money she'd won during the day: not much, but it was still money.

She really could use the money.

"I'll just take a look. I won't bet," Xu Feixian told herself, and slipped inside.

Within the time it takes to burn two sticks of incense, she'd won twice and lost once. A vein throbbed at her temple as she was shoved out of the betting table by the crowd. Xu Feixian's first thought was that she needed to bet one more time—one more round, and maybe she'd turn it all around!

The only problem was she had no money left.

Just then, a young man with a warm, eager smile approached, reaching out to sling an arm around Xu Feixian's shoulder—she dodged, staring at him with a sharp, cold gaze.

The young man's arm closed on empty air, but he wasn't embarrassed. He smiled and said, "Running short on funds? I can lend you some. Look, I'm not a bad guy—I'm an inner disciple of Taixu Temple. Here's my sect token."

He pulled out a dark iron token, covering the name on it with his hand for Xu Feixian to see: though the name was blocked by his fingers, the emblem revealed was indeed Taixu Temple's.

The young man said, "Everyone else charges exorbitant interest on loans. Not me—I come from a big sect, honest and conscientious. Monthly interest of five percent; if you win and can pay back on the spot, I'll lower it to four. How about it?"

"I make it a point to be honest. I never lie. If you don't believe me, ask that fellow cultivator over there—she borrowed ninety-nine taels from me tonight, doubled her money at the table, and paid me back on the spot. I only charged her four percent interest. Everyone here saw it."

The young man, eager to earn Xu Feixian's trust, pointed to a ready-made example to persuade her.

But when Xu Feixian followed his pointing finger, she suddenly shuddered—the person he was pointing at was Huang Mibo!

At this moment, Huang Mibo looked nothing like a young miss of a wealthy family. She was pressed against the gambling table, shouting at the top of her lungs, her face flushed red, veins bulging on her neck and temples, her expression a twisted mix of excitement and distortion.

Huang Mibo didn't look anything like Xu Feixian. But at that moment, seeing Huang Mibo's face, Xu Feixian felt as if she were looking into a mirror, seeing her own expression from moments ago.

It was like ice water being poured over her head. She shoved past the still-chattering young man and ran out!

She ran all the way back to her room, collapsed onto the bed, her back soaked with cold sweat from the overexcitement, completely forgetting she was supposed to go find Lin Qingyun.

She kept replaying Huang Mibo's expression, then her own bewitchment—it was too strange!

Not only was her inexplicable walk into the gambling den strange; thinking deeper, even her decision yesterday to buy a bet on the arena match was strange!

Xu Feixian was certain she not only didn't have a gambling habit—she had no interest in gambling at all. Back then... back then it had been the same. She'd merely passed the betting house, and the thought "let's try once" had suddenly popped into her head.

It was as if she'd been possessed.

He Zhuoming finished her sword practice this morning and suddenly felt as if her whole being had undergone a wonderful transformation—she couldn't quite say what kind of transformation, only that it felt mystical, like those moments in martial arts novels when the protagonist suddenly achieves enlightenment. Her sword techniques flowed even more smoothly than eating!

She packed up part of her breakfast and hurried off, intending to share the news with Xu Feixian.

But no sooner had she stepped into the East Hall than she spotted a crowd gathered in front of one of the halls, clustered in a circle, buzzing with discussion.

He Zhuoming edged to the edge of the crowd, grabbed a random Pear Garden musician in white robes, and asked, "What's going on?"

The musician replied, "Two disciples of the Yuqing Sect got into a private fight last night. One was killed, and two who tried to break it up were injured."

He Zhuoming was shocked. "Isn't the arena tournament enough for them?"

The musician glanced back at her, and upon seeing the jade token at her waist, his attitude immediately turned friendlier. He covered his mouth with one hand and said in a low voice, "Word is they were fellow disciples gambling on dice. One of them lost badly, and the more he thought about it the angrier he got in the middle of the night, so he ambushed the winner and ran him through with a sword."

"The roommate was startled awake, thought he'd been possessed, and drew his weapon too. That's how the fight started."

He Zhuoming sucked in a sharp breath. Then she remembered her breakfast was getting cold, so she quickened her pace; now she was carrying not just breakfast, but a shocking piece of news she couldn't wait to share with Xu Feixian!

However, the moment she pushed open the door to Xu Feixian's quarters, He Zhuoming was immediately driven back by a cloud of thick smoke, coughing and retreating.

Once the smoke thinned a little, He Zhuoming covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve and cautiously peered inside, confused—luckily, it wasn't a fire, nor was Xu Feixian trying to burn charcoal in summer.

In the middle of the room, a platform had been built from camphor branches, with a low fire burning beneath it. On top, Xu Feixian lay on her back, looking serene.

The room was plastered with yellow talismans and strung with red threads. He Zhuoming took only three steps into the room before her head bumped into a red thread stretched horizontally across it.