The country bumpkin Ren Yijue went off to attend to his business. Qian Xuelang had nothing to do in the City Lord’s Manor. Since they could not yet depart, he was merely passing the time for no particular reason.
To Qian Xuelang, going out or staying inside truly made no difference, so he began wandering around the estate again.
Quiet Mountain Cloud Residence had been reduced to broken walls and rubble, and naturally would have to be rebuilt. Though only a few days had passed since the demonic calamity, the manor had already set a great many tasks in motion, with large quantities of bricks, stone, and timber being brought inside.
Cui Xuanchan’s complete tolerance of Qian Xuelang did not mean he treated the entire manor the same way.
Besides, the Cui Clan possessed far more than Dongxun City alone. With so many people under its authority, its rules had inevitably grown exacting and complicated.
Rebuilding Quiet Mountain Cloud Residence called for carts and horses to haul timber, as well as a great number of craftsmen and laborers. All this coming and going caused a considerable commotion. Consequently, the workers were usually assigned a separate entrance so that they would not inconvenience distinguished guests.
Ordinarily Qian Xuelang would never have crossed paths with those craftsmen. But his temperament was unconventional, and he went wherever he pleased. By chance, he encountered them.
Dressed in fine robes and wearing a veiled hat, Qian Xuelang looked thoroughly out of place. The laborers had just finished moving stone and were eating and drinking during their midday break. At the sight of him, they all rose, exchanging bewildered glances. None knew what was happening. They lowered their heads fearfully and dared not speak.
The workers had no idea who Qian Xuelang was, but he knew perfectly well who they were.
Day after day and year after year, these were the people who had built the whole of Dongxun City with their own hands. In exchange, Cui Xuanchan gave them protection and wages.
Such were the conveniences of a prosperous place.
When a house in the mountains had collapsed beneath the weight of snow, Qian Xuelang had tried unsuccessfully to repair it for several days. Finding the work troublesome, he had simply given up.
He glanced over the ruins of Quiet Mountain Cloud Residence, thought no more about them, and turned down another path. The workers’ collective sigh of relief and the curious whispers that followed him were none of his concern.
Without making any effort to find his way, Qian Xuelang wandered through several more gardens. Flowers crowded his vision until he suddenly heard people talking behind a rockery. Their voices were low and some distance away.
Someone else passing by might have heard only an indistinct murmur, but with Qian Xuelang’s cultivation, the words were as clear as though spoken beside his ear. He had no intention of eavesdropping and quickened his steps, yet the three voices still reached him distinctly.
“Uncle Meng, Auntie Meng, let me see you out.”
“No, no need. Shensi, you’re a good child. These old bones of ours still have enough strength in their legs. Don’t trouble yourself. Go and attend to your affairs.” The woman wiped away her tears. “At least the Young City Lord came through all this safely.”
“Enough. Don’t say any more,” the man said gruffly. “Let’s go. There’s still work waiting at home.”
Qian Xuelang considered what he had heard, then sprang lightly to a higher vantage point. Below he saw Cui Shensi with an unfamiliar married couple.
The couple had packed a considerable number of belongings, each carrying bundles. A sword was strapped to the middle-aged man’s back, its weight bowing his shoulders slightly. He had knitted his brows so tightly that a deep furrow marked his forehead.
The woman held a parcel against her chest and took her husband’s arm. Smiling through her tears, she reminded Cui Shensi to look after his health. Then she went on wiping her eyes as she slowly departed with her husband.
Neither had much cultivation. They were plainly ordinary mortals, and their clothes did not suggest that they belonged to the City Lord’s household.
Qian Xuelang watched them disappear at the end of the path before turning his attention to Cui Shensi. The young man’s expression was unusually sorrowful today, and his steps were heavy.
After a moment’s thought, Qian Xuelang floated down and landed directly in front of him.
Cui Shensi was walking with his head lowered. At the sight of a pair of shoes before him, he stopped at once. Raising his eyes to the hat’s light veil stirring in the breeze, he quickly composed himself and bowed.
“Senior, have you…” Cui Shensi asked cautiously. “Lost your way again?”
“More or less,” Qian Xuelang replied casually.
Cui Shensi gave a bitter smile. The sadness had not yet left his face, but he forced himself back into his usual manner. “Where does Senior wish to go this time? This disciple will guide you there.”
“Take me back,” Qian Xuelang said, naming his lodgings. He did not wish to trample on another person’s grief.
He had walked the route once before and remembered it well, including how far it was to Bright Moon Mist Tower. Yet the manor had many regulations. Cui Shensi would surely lead him by another road, requiring several extra turns.
The two walked in silence for a while. Only after Cui Shensi had recovered some composure did Qian Xuelang ask a question.
“Who were those two people just now?”
Cui Shensi had not expected the question, but answered all the same. “They were Junior Brother Meng’s parents. Junior Brother Meng… was the fellow cultivator I mentioned who taught swordsmanship.”
“Were you close to him?”
“We could entrust our lives to each other, and whatever happened, urgent or otherwise, we would face it together.” A rare sharpness surfaced beneath Cui Shensi’s gentle exterior. “Fifteen people of one heart. How could we not be close?”
Qian Xuelang’s tone remained light. “Fifteen, you say. And what of Cui Jingchun?”
Cui Shensi fell silent. Perhaps the question reminded him of something unpleasant, for he became visibly uneasy. Only after a long while did he say, “The Young City Lord is naturally different from us. How could we describe that in terms of being close?”
Qian Xuelang showed no reaction. Instead he asked, “I thought all of you in the unit were Cui disciples. Why was there someone surnamed Meng?”
“Senior must have heard the rumors in the city,” Cui Shensi said. Glad to leave the uncomfortable subject behind, he relaxed slightly. “Actually, those are mistaken. When the Young City Lord established the spirit cavalry, he didn’t restrict admission by family background. He assessed only ability and character. There are Cui Clan disciples, but also many disciples of other surnames.”
“It’s only that the Young City Lord will one day head the family. People in the city assume that joining the spirit cavalry makes someone a member of the Cui family. That isn’t so.”
Cui Xuanchan alone was sufficient to represent the entire clan. As the saying went, when one person attained the Dao, even the chickens and dogs rose to Heaven. Taking the Cui surname in Dongxun City would be no different from rising to greatness in a single step.
The spirit cavalry guarded the safety of the surrounding region and was commanded by Cui Jingchun. Its members could be considered part of the inner circle. No wonder the townspeople had made that assumption.
“Then…” Qian Xuelang suddenly asked, “Was it Cui Jingchun who would not allow them, or the outsiders who would not accept it?”
Cui Shensi stopped dead, a chill crawling down his spine. His lips trembled. “W-what? Shensi doesn’t understand what Senior means…”
“You understand perfectly well.”
Qian Xuelang glanced at him coolly.
After a silence, Cui Shensi said quietly, “The Young City Lord has never brought it up, and none of us have ever entertained the idea.”
It was an interesting answer to say, but an unsatisfying one to hear, like a slippery cooking pot being passed from hand to hand, with no one actually taking hold of it.
Qian Xuelang was not intimately acquainted with every rule governing such things, but he had grown up among them. Precocious from birth, he had seen through many such matters long ago. That he did not care for them did not mean he knew nothing about them.
“Those two were dressed very plainly. Is your spirit cavalry so poor?”
Cui Shensi reddened. He did not know this senior’s background, and found it unnerving how the man’s questions sometimes struck so sharply at the heart of things, yet at other times sounded as innocent as a child’s. He felt both afraid and amused. “Not at all. Uncle Meng has always been like that.”
“Junior Brother Meng was naturally steadfast, a trait he learned from his father.” Cui Shensi spoke slowly. “He worked hard and lived frugally, sending his savings home. But Uncle Meng refused to spend the money. The very next day he brought it back to the manor, saying that city living was expensive, whereas in the countryside they grew vegetables and raised silkworms themselves. What need did they have to spend money on food and clothing?”
At first those words were hard to speak, but once Cui Shensi started, they came more easily. He remembered the scene and smiled. “Junior Brother Meng said there were older and younger sisters at home whose marriages had to be arranged, and the money could help with their expenses. Uncle Meng scolded him for meddling, saying, ‘Your father isn’t dead yet! Can’t I provide for my own daughters?’ We all wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare. We nearly suffocated holding it in.”
He burst into laughter, bending forward and backward, tears welling in his eyes before he knew it.
“Uncle Meng was stubborn, and Junior Brother Meng was even more stubborn. In the end the Young City Lord had to step in and settle the matter. He persuaded Uncle Meng to save the money for Junior Brother Meng’s future bride-price. Only then would Uncle Meng let it rest. He put the silver away and, once he said he wouldn’t touch it, he absolutely wouldn’t.”
Death could come so lightly. In an instant, Junior Brother Meng was gone, devoured by Yin Wuchen.
Qian Xuelang had witnessed it himself. He had felt little at the time, and even now, listening to Cui Shensi, he could not claim to know much about Junior Brother Meng.
He did not know what the young man looked like, which horse he had ridden, or what skills he had excelled at.
All Qian Xuelang knew was that he had a stubborn father, a gentle mother, and sisters who would someday marry. In ordinary life he had been hounded by little children and complained to the other disciples that teaching made him want to tear his hair out.
Yet he was dead, and now he could only be replaced. The children would have a new teacher, and the spirit cavalry would appoint another disciple. After mourning him, his parents would still have to go on living.
So this was what it felt like to see a person?
Bright Moon Mist Tower came into view almost before he knew it. Qian Xuelang said quietly, “Thank you for telling me all this.”
He gently removed his veiled hat and looked closely at Cui Shensi. The young man was grief-stricken. He had wiped away the two tears that had fallen, and was presentable enough, but his sadness was unmistakable. Qian Xuelang asked, “Would you like to come inside and wash your face?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Cui Shensi nodded.
They entered Bright Moon Mist Tower together. Qian Xuelang asked nothing more, and Cui Shensi was in no mood for conversation. He washed his hands slowly in cold water and splashed some over his face. At last his mind began to clear.
Qian Xuelang stood by the window, his frost-white hair stirring in the breeze, making him look still more like an immortal descended from Heaven.
Cui Shensi hesitated, then carefully dried his hands and asked, “Forgive this disciple’s presumption, Senior, but why did you wish to ask those questions?”
“Both you and Cui Jingchun are heartbroken. But your sorrow is simply grief, and that’s easy enough to understand,” Qian Xuelang said. “Cui Jingchun’s grief, however, holds anger and bitterness too. I truly cannot understand why, so I asked a few more questions.”
The cold cloth fell from Cui Shensi’s hands and struck the washbasin, sending water splashing everywhere. He stared in astonishment. “The Young City Lord?”