Wandering Spirits 【Your Friend Isn't...】

He Zhuoming didn't catch Tang Shuyu's snide remark at all—she was too busy crying.

Tang Shuyu finished applying the medicine, rubbing until the ointment was fully absorbed, then looked up to see Xiao He still sitting in the chair, tears streaming down her face.

He wanted to sigh again, but also found it amusing. He set the porcelain bottle aside, tore off a strip of bed curtain, and wiped He Zhuoming's tears with it.

His sleeves had already been dirtied by He Zhuoming's tears on the road, so they were no use.

He Zhuoming sniffled, actively pressing her dirty face into the soft silk cloth and rubbing it around, scrubbing until her whole face was flushed red. Her already messy hair, after a few shakes, became even more disheveled.

Tang Shuyu bent down, his tone gentle: "I'll go get you some clean clothes. Take a bath, have something to eat, and then I'll take you to visit... your friend, alright?"

He Zhuoming: "Her name is Xu Feixian."

Tang Shuyu, who indeed hadn't remembered the other woman's name, said perfunctorily: "Mm-hmm, I've got it."

He Zhuoming: "I don't want people in white robes to take care of me!"

Tang Shuyu: "Mm-hmm, I won't let them come over."

He Zhuoming thought for a moment, couldn't come up with any other demands, and obediently went to soak in the bath and wash her hair.

Before getting into the water, He Zhuoming agonized over whether her injured ankle could touch water.

She crouched by the hot spring and carefully examined her ankle. Whatever medicine Tang Shuyu had applied was surprisingly effective—in just this short time, her ankle was no longer red or swollen.

He Zhuoming reached out and squeezed her ankle. Feeling nothing, she hesitantly and cautiously got into the bath.

The spring water was warm. He Zhuoming lay on a rock by the pool, zoning out and pondering life—she wanted to think about something profound, like why there were ghosts in a divine palace.

But after letting her mind wander, she could only recall a few horror movie titles, which had no reference value at all.

She also thought about Tang Shuyu, but not to suspect why he always popped up in strange places—she was simply replaying the argument she'd had with him earlier.

As she thought, He Zhuoming began to regret bumping her head against his. Because now, on reflection, she realized his words weren't so indefensible after all.

They were people, not wandering spirits, so how could they fully understand the logic of wandering spirits? Even if they understood, forcibly snatching another living person's body was still wrong. Tang Shuyu's speech, which was so completely sympathetic to wandering spirits, was problematic in the first place...

In the distance, the crimson sun slowly sank below the mountains, and the sky turned a dull gray-blue.

Feeling dizzy from soaking, He Zhuoming climbed out, changed into clean clothes, and wrapped her dripping hair in a cotton cloth.

She rummaged through her discarded dirty clothes and finally found the protective talisman from her coat pocket.

The talisman had been kept safely at the very bottom of her pocket, clean and unstained by any blood. He Zhuoming carefully transferred it to her new pocket and smoothed her sleeves.

Food had already been laid out on the table in the hall, and He Zhuoming caught the aroma. Tang Shuyu sat with his back to the hall door, still wearing that bright, eye-catching red, his collar pulled higher than usual, nearly covering his entire neck.

Only when He Zhuoming drew closer did she see that Tang Shuyu was holding fruit in both hands, carefully arranging it on a plate.

The fruit plate before him already had a few pieces placed in it, all in vibrant colors—red like carnelian, green like jade, black like thick ink.

The three colors interwoven didn't necessarily make it beautiful, but the colors were certainly eye-catching.

When He Zhuoming sat down, Tang Shuyu casually handed her a red cherry.

Tang Shuyu watched her with a smile: "How does it taste?"

He Zhuoming chewed, chewed, chewed, spat out the pit, "So sweet."

Fruits offered at the Divine Palace naturally couldn't be bad—even the food was like that.

He Zhuoming belatedly realized she was hungry and buried herself in eating, forgetting about her hair. The half-wet cotton cloth slid off her shoulders as her head moved a few times, then rolled to the floor behind her.

Tang Shuyu circled around to sit behind her, picked up the cloth, and rubbed her still-damp hair—soon he found a tangled knot in her thick locks.

His fingers paused as they touched the knot, and He Zhuoming felt her hair being tugged slightly.

She swallowed the food in her mouth and complained to Tang Shuyu: "Why did you tie my hair in knots? I can't untie it, and I don't want to cut it..."

Tang Shuyu didn't answer, just slowly combing through the tangled hair with his fingers.

Because He Zhuoming was busy shoving a second mouthful of food in, she didn't have time to argue with him about her hair. As for the argument she'd replayed in the hot spring, that was easily forgotten.

Tang Shuyu gently flicked his fingers, and the curled, damp strands fell to the side of He Zhuoming's neck. He said, "Untangled."

He Zhuoming was surprised, reached back to feel: indeed, the tangled spots had all come loose, though because they'd been knotted for so long, that section of hair was now badly curled.

She tilted her head back, looking up at Tang Shuyu with a tone of disbelief: "How did you do that?"

Tang Shuyu smiled lightly, poking her cheek with his damp fingers that had just touched her hair, and said, "Untangled it with my hands."

He Zhuoming: "Ugh..."

Tang Shuyu pressed her head, turning it back forward, "Eat properly. Don't talk while you're eating."

Some habits of the original body extended to the puppet, like not talking during meals, and so on.

But He Zhuoming had always been free-spirited at the dinner table since childhood—as long as she wasn't talking with food in her mouth, no one cared.

So even with her head straightened back, He Zhuoming's mouth didn't close, and she asked, "Aren't you eating?"

Tang Shuyu said, "I'm not hungry."

He Zhuoming: "Because of fasting?"

He looked down at the top of her head, and after a moment of silence, asked, "Is that what I told you before?"

He Zhuoming nodded, saying, "Did you forget again? Your memory is really bad."

She tilted her face up again, looking at Tang Shuyu with concern, "Will you get middle-aged dementia later and forget me too?"

Tang Shuyu pressed her head back down again, saying, "I just don't bother remembering unimportant things. Xiao He—"

He seemed about to say something, but after calling her name, he stopped.

He Zhuoming waited for a while, and when the rest didn't come, she went back to eating.

Tang Shuyu had been waiting for He Zhuoming to ask more questions—if she asked on her own, he could casually bring things up. But he waited and waited, even braiding two crooked pigtails for her, until He Zhuoming set her empty bowl on the table, wiped her mouth, and stood up: "I'm full! I'm going to see Feixian!"

Tang Shuyu: "...Together."

He Zhuoming: "Sure, sure!"

The two walked out of the hot spring palace together. Outside it was already night, but not quiet—He Zhuoming could hear the sound of drums and music from afar.

As they neared the main hall, He Zhuoming looked up and saw colorful banners drifting past on the distant wall. She stood on her toes, jumping to look out—but the wall was too tall, and even jumping, she couldn't see the full view, only catching glimpses of gaudy painted statue tops floating by.

There was also a raucous clamor of voices, oil lamps lit everywhere. Even out in the open, He Zhuoming could smell a very thick "incense and offering" scent.

It was the smell from the Earth Immortal's main hall.

He Zhuoming: "So many people..."

Tang Shuyu explained: "On the last day of the Day of Divine Celebration, there's a procession to see off the gods. There'll be fireworks later too—it'll be very pretty."

He Zhuoming thought for a moment and found it strange: "Then why don't they come into the main hall area?"

Tang Shuyu: "The god-sending is a performance for mortals. The Earth Immortal doesn't care to watch."

He Zhuoming: "Is it like that at the other True Deities' places too?"

Tang Shuyu: "I don't know. I've never been to the other True Deities' Divine Palaces. Every True Deity has a different personality; maybe some who love excitement allow the sacrificial procession into the main hall."

The reason the Pear Garden Divine Palace didn't allow entry into the main hall was that the puppet left behind couldn't see anything. Things that couldn't be seen, making a racket while parading around one's own home, would only create noise—who could tolerate that?

The other one with decision-making power, the original body, didn't care about such things.

The original body took most matters with the attitude of watching if it was interesting, ignoring it if not.

As for He Zhuoming—she was young, at an age that loved joining in the excitement. After jumping a few times and finding she still couldn't see clearly, she took a little running start, jumped up, grabbed hold of the wall, and cautiously poked her head out from the smooth tiles.

A paper-mâché divine statue was just being carried past in front of He Zhuoming. The statue was surrounded by all sorts of colorful lanterns, and the people around the flower carriage wore white robes, their faces painted, dancing and singing.

There were also people on the flower carriage beating drums and striking bells. The two sounds mixed together, producing a tune that was weighty yet carried a hint of subtle eeriness.

He Zhuoming watched, entranced. Tang Shuyu also jumped up beside her, mimicking her posture as he leaned on the wall, and asked, "What's there to see?"

He Zhuoming: "There are so many people..."

Seeing that everyone was wearing white robes, He Zhuoming hesitated again: "These are people, right?"

Tang Shuyu let out a chuckle—he just smiled without speaking, which made He Zhuoming feel uneasy. She turned to look at him.

The colorful lights flowed across his face like silk. He slowly turned his head, tilting it at a slightly odd angle to glance at He Zhuoming.

Shadows gathered in his deep-set eye sockets, and the shadow of his jaw covered part of his collar. His smiling, curved eyes looked handsome and harmless, but the words he spoke were quite frightening.

"Xiao He, don't keep asking stupid questions. In the Divine Palace, aside from sect disciples and the occasional noble who comes to pay respects, nothing else can be human! Humans are fragile; they can't serve a True Deity up close for long."

"As for what those white-robed attendants are—haven't you already figured it out clearly enough?"

He Zhuoming shrank her neck, her mood for watching the procession ruined. Dejectedly, she slid down from the wall.

Tang Shuyu jumped down after her, wiping his palms with a handkerchief. After wiping his palms, he folded the handkerchief and used the clean side to wipe his eyes.

He Zhuoming didn't see that he was wiping his eyeballs—she thought he was rubbing his eyes, and asked with concern: "Did you get sand in your eye?"

Tang Shuyu replied: "I saw something unpleasant. Better to wipe it away."

He Zhuoming thought back to the divine statue they'd just seen—it wasn't the Earth Immortal's iconic crimson statue, but the image of some attendant deity in the main hall.

She asked again: "You don't like that attendant deity?"

Tang Shuyu answered flatly: "I hate everything in this Divine Palace, except for Xiao He."

He Zhuoming was stunned for a moment, letting out a questioning "Huh?"

Tang Shuyu was telling the truth, but He Zhuoming thought he was saying something sweet. She felt a rare sense of embarrassment, lowered her head, and kicked at the air, shyness and excitement mixing into a subtle awkwardness.

Even though she knew no grade director or teacher would suddenly appear here, He Zhuoming was still strangely tense.

She tilted her head to glance at Tang Shuyu—Tang Shuyu had already finished wiping his eyes and casually tossed the handkerchief aside.

In the dark where the light didn't reach, a thin tree root hooked the handkerchief and pulled it into the soil.

He Zhuoming said reflexively: "Don't litter."

Tang Shuyu: "Litter?"

His gaze turned to He Zhuoming, his habitually smiling face showing a clear layer of confusion.

After all, in Tang Shuyu's mind, everything he did was natural and justified. The concept of littering had never existed in his consciousness.

He Zhuoming cleared her throat and said, "It means you have to deal with the trash you create yourself, not just toss it anywhere."

Tang Shuyu didn't understand: "I did deal with it."

He Zhuoming: "But you just tossed it carelessly—"

As she spoke, she turned to look at the place where Tang Shuyu had thrown it: it was empty, nothing there.

Now it was He Zhuoming's turn to be confused. She looked at the ground, then at Tang Shuyu. Tang Shuyu blinked slowly, and under He Zhuoming's gaze, spread his hands, looking utterly innocent.

His blink was very slow, not deliberately showing off his looks, but simply because he'd never made that expression before and was slowly getting used to it.

The two walked to Xu Feixian's quarters. He Zhuoming, worried about her friend's safety, quickly put the littering matter out of her mind.

She jogged into Xu Feixian's room, and the moment she pushed open the door, she was choked by a wave of thick smoke.

The walls inside were plastered with exorcism talismans, and this time even the windows were covered. Xu Feixian sat cross-legged on a smoking camphor wood platform, meditating.

He Zhuoming cautiously approached the smoking camphor wood platform, and Xu Feixian opened her eyes.

The moment she opened her eyes, He Zhuoming stopped advancing, looking at her with a serious, wary expression. Xu Feixian jumped down from the platform, picked up a white lantern hanging on the wall nearby, and handed it to He Zhuoming: "Borrowed your lantern, returning it."

He Zhuoming: "Are you the real you?"

Xu Feixian said expressionlessly: "Of course."

He Zhuoming reached out to take the lantern, brushing her hand across Xu Feixian's. Feeling her warm hand, He Zhuoming finally relaxed.

Xu Feixian's gaze passed over her, looking behind her—the red-robed youth who had come with He Zhuoming didn't come in, but leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his head tilted against the frame.

It was He Zhuoming's ambiguous friend, 'Lin Qingyun.'

Xu Feixian had seen this 'Lin Qingyun' three times in total, but the Lin Qingyun before her eyes this time... seemed not to be the same person as the previous two. Despite the same face, the features gave Xu Feixian a strong sense of dissonance.

The talisman on the doorframe flickered faintly for a moment, then quickly died, so fast it was as if that flicker had never existed.

Her gaze was subtle and cautious, but the other party noticed her immediately. The youth's gaze under his thick black lashes fixed on her, a slight smile curling at the corners of his lips, dimples showing.

Xu Feixian's eyelid twitched, and her already bloodless face grew even paler—just as her lips parted slightly, the youth gently raised his index finger and drew it across his own neck.

Xu Feixian felt a sharp sting on her neck, and a sweet, coppery taste surged in her throat.

He Zhuoming was still chattering away: "Feixian, how did you get out? I was going to bring people back to rescue you..."

Xu Feixian lowered her eyes, swallowing the metallic taste in her throat. "I don't know. When I woke up, I was already lying in the main hall of the Divine Palace. What about you?"

He Zhuoming set the lantern aside and told Xu Feixian about stumbling into a strange shrine and meeting a strange child.

That part was a bit long, and since He Zhuoming considered herself quite independent, brave, and resourceful in that solo adventure, she exaggerated the facts as she talked—Xu Feixian listened patiently, casually taking He Zhuoming's hand.

He Zhuoming spoke quickly, and Xu Feixian slowly wrote characters in her palm, each stroke landing as He Zhuoming's voice rose; because she noticed that whenever He Zhuoming spoke, 'Lin Qingyun's' attention would completely shift to the sound of He Zhuoming's voice.

[Your friend isn't the real one]