After returning to his room, Zhang Chengling tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. The shadows of the tree with budding branches by the window fell across the paper, and when the wind started to blow, the rustling was non-stop. The "moon above the willow branches, the graceful sway of the shadows" of usual had, in this night, turned into "ghosts and demons, teeth bared and claws dancing".
At first, he still tried to recite the mantra as he sat there, head bobbing--this habit had been looked down upon innumerable times by those two men. Senior Wen had said, If you have to recite this thing to memorise it, stammering and without leaving a single word out, how can you integrate it into your understanding and know it inside and out? His shifu was even more direct, expressing in very simple terms that once he understood it and practiced it, he would naturally know it--in his life, he had never seen anyone memorise a simple mantra more strenuously than they memorised the Four Books and Five Classics. Evidently, Zhang Chengling's stupidity inspired innovation.
Then Zhang Chengling suddenly recalled that both shifu and Senior Wen had gone out, and it was almost as though he was all alone in such an enormous inn. He began to worry, the sense that something was about to happen hanging over him; feeling uneasy, he tugged the bed curtains closed and pulled the blanket over his head, as though he would be safe like this--his way of thinking was incomprehensible.
He waited for a long time, pricking up his ears to listen for movement in his shifu's room next door--of course, he had completely overlooked the fact that given his abilities, he could not have detected it even if Zhou Zishu had returned--like an anxious bunny. He waited for most of the night, but did not hear a single stirring. Eventually, unable to withstand the longing his upper and lower eyelids had for each other, he nodded off drowsily.
Only on the second morning, when he was roused by the noises of the guests in the other rooms rising from bed, did Zhang Chengling scramble from bed and run to his shifu's room. Subsequently, he discovered with disappointment that the blanket and the pillow were cold--the two men really had not returned for the night. The waiter of the inn came upstairs to greet him, and Zhang Chengling could not do anything but head downstairs on his own for breakfast.
He was dejected and unable to lift his spirits. He found himself to be a little useless; at fifteen, sixteen, he was already a grown youth, his trousers growing shorter by the day, but yet his abilities always seemed to be stagnating. Uncle Li had saved his life, then he had met shifu, and then shifu had escorted him to Taihu, he had followed Uncle Zhao to Dongting, and found shifu again…
It was almost as if no matter where he went, no matter what he did, it was never of his own volition, but he was merely following in someone else's tracks obtusely.
Zhang Chengling munched on the bun distractedly. For the first time in his life, he was contemplating this question of how he should make his own way in life.
Right at this moment, the sound of a small commotion came from the doorway. Zhang Chengling held the bun in his mouth, turned his head to look over in that direction, and was stunned along with the rest of the people in the inn.
He saw ten-odd women enter the inn; each and every one of the women was dressed in black, looking like a flock of crows that had flown in together as one. He couldn't tell their ages or see their faces either--because every one of them was wearing a mask that resembled those crudely-made faces of a smiling doll that one would buy at a street stall for children during festivities. However, apart from a smile, bloodstains hung on the corners of the lips of these tragically pale dolls too. With their wide eyes, they looked like little demons.
The person in the lead cast the stunned waiter a sidelong glance, and ordered coldly, "Serve a bowl of vegetarian noodles per head. If you take one more look, I'll dig your eyes out!"
Her voice was rough and hoarse with an indescribable malevolence to it, and sounded like an elderly woman's. One sweep of her gaze, and the people who were sneakily eying them lowered their heads immediately--this bunch of women did not look like the kindly sort, and, with much experience traversing the jianghu, no one wanted to attract trouble.
The black-clothed old lady who led them finally planted herself down domineeringly, gestured, and said, "Keep a close eye on that little bitch. We resume our journey immediately after we finish eating."
The black-clothed women under her command did not waste any time on nonsense. Like they were well-trained, they followed suit and sat. Zhang Chengling only noticed at this moment that there was still an extremely dishevelled and unkempt young woman behind them, who was restrained by them and shoved over to where they were. He focused his eyes on her and was taken aback, thinking, Isn't this Miss Gao, Hero Gao's beloved daughter? How has she been captured by this bunch of people in black?
That disheveled woman was none other than Gao Xiaolian, who had not noticed Zhang Chengling. The corner of her mouth was split, burning with a fiery pain, and she struggled vigorously. A burst of pain across her waist followed immediately after. Half her body went numb. One of the women who was restraining her by the shoulder retracted a long needle which had just been inserted into her waist, and spoke coldly next to her ear, "Which do you think is better: if I turn you into an invalid who won't even be able to stand with a jab of the needle, or make a few cuts across your smooth, delicate face?"
Gao Xiaolian did not dare to struggle any further, terrified and furious, her eyes red-rimmed. That woman stomped ruthlessly on the back of her knee, nearly making her fall flat on her face, and reprimanded, "Then stay still!"
Zhang Chengling hastily lowered his head, pretending as though he had not seen a thing, and avoided the gaze of that woman in black. He only raised his head cautiously after he saw that she had sat down, and scrutinised Gao Xiaolian closely.
His impression of Gao Xiaolian had always been good; he thought of her as a soft-spoken jiejie who was gentle and pretty. Seeing that she even had bruises on her face, obviously from someone's beatings, he privately determined that this bunch of black-clothed women was no good.
He glanced at the entrance again, anxiously wondering, Why are shifu and Senior Wen not back yet?
This gang of black-clothed people were clearly hurrying on their way; unlike Zhang Chengling's thorough chewing and leisurely swallowing, they filled their stomachs hastily, immediately set down money for the meal and made to leave, but there was still no sign of Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing returning any time soon.
Zhang Chengling could not sit and wait any longer.
Come to speak of it, it was odd--as long as Zhang Chengling was in Zhou Zishu's presence, he would seem especially useless. For one, the word 'useless' was often a catchphrase for his shifu, who ranked top in the world for impatience; for another, with shifu to rely on, he was like a child with a mother--for any insignificant, minor troubles, if he wailed "Save me, shifu", there would be his strong and powerful shifu come to rescue him, scolding and cursing as he did so.
Now that Zhou Zishu was absent, he was calm and daring instead. Discreetly calling the waiter over, he gave him some brief instructions, and then chased after the women with great prudence.
On the other side, Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing, who did not return for the night, encountered a strange happenstance too.
As Wen Kexing listened to the voices and creaking of the bed grow increasingly unbridled, he could not help but feel a little puzzled. Usually, in a brothel, these pleasant affairs took place in the private rooms of these maidens who entertained customers. Was this maiden was deaf, blind, or stupid, to be unaware of the empty space underneath the bed boards, and that it housed a large den of Posionous Scorpions?
He tugged Zhou Zishu's hand to himself and wrote on his palm, Whose room is this?
Zhou Zishu paused, then wrote, The head scorpion's.
Wen Kexing was even more baffled. Privately, he wondered--could the chief Poisonous Scorpion really have let a prostitute entertain customers in his own bedroom? He thought in shock, could this chief Scorpion be this penniless, that the main business of murder and arson was insufficent to maintain a living, and he had to resort to dealing in the business of pleasure too as a side job?
He wrote on Zhou Zishu's palm again. The head scorpion's wife?
Zhou Zishu shook his head, and Wen Kexing was even more baffled. After listening closely for a while, he discovered that there were actually three people in the room--it was just that the battle conditions between this man and woman were truly intense, and almost concealed the noises of the other person. Though that additional person's breathing was extremely light, he could tell that it was slightly rushed. Wen Kexing's shock was growing; he felt that this head Scorpion's hobby was...truly odd.
So he wrote, He can't get it up?
Zhou Zishu paused for a lengthier period of time. After a very long moment, he finally nodded his head gravely.
His side profile reflected the light from the moon that had just risen. His expression was businesslike, as though Lord Zhou was handling the major affairs of the country, and not eavesdropping on private ones. Wen Kexing looked at him and felt that of all the people who assumed a false outward appearance of propriety in this world, if this person claimed second place, no one could claim the first.
Finally, after a long while, the noises inside the room mellowed out gradually. Thinking that they were nearly done, Zhou Zishu patiently waited for them to leave. Yet, a moment later, the bed boards started to creak once more, sounding even livelier this time round--Zhou Zishu's brow furrowed. Were these two ever going to stop? How thick-skinned and shameless they had to be, to be able to give their all so enthusiastically while someone else was appreciating the show they were putting up!
Wen Kexing was nearly tickled by his conflicted expression. Listening to the noises from within the room and the intermittent song coming from the front yard, he looked at the person in front of him, his eyes roaming over Zhou Zishu's waist and legs in particular--those two inside the room were highly spirited, and since there was nothing to do at hand, Wen Kexing wholeheartedly fixed his eyes on a place that was impolite to stare at, and his thoughts turned towards the salacious.
He entertained his salacious thoughts for a while, then lifted a hand and placed it on the side of Zhou Zishu's waist. Zhou Zishu's brow furrowed even more tightly, and he turned his head to the side to sweep a glance over him. Smiling cheekily, Wen Kexing placed his index finger by his own mouth, his demeanour very innocent-looking.
Zhou Zishu thought that Wen Kexing's teasing had made him a little oversensitive to these matters. If Wen Kexing copped a feel, let him; Zhou Zishu was a man anyway, and it was still up for debate who was taking advantage of the other. Magnanimously, he ignored him.
Having taken advantage of him, Wen Kexing continued with his pretence of innocence and slowly slid his palm lower, increasingly satisfied as he found that this figure was pleasantly slender, though slightly too skinny. But there were benefits to a thin frame as well--if his clothes were off, this small waist could be enveloped entirely within Wen Kexing's grip, and it would feel even more enticing.
Unwilling to lose, Zhou Zishu retaliated by pinching his flank, timing it with a squeal from the woman within the room. He even rubbed his two fingers together, huffed a light stream of air from his mouth, slanted his gaze at Wen Kexing, and smirked.
The look in Wen Kexing's eyes darkened immediately. He hauled him into a tight embrace, and kissed him before that smile of Zhou Zishu's could fade. As neither of them dared to make any noise, they could only exercise the limited scope they had, pitting their skills against each other under great constraints. Zhou Zishu had not been able to react in time on the first occasion, and on the second occasion, he had been in agony from his injuries. This was the first occasion where they were on even ground.
Between the two of them, one flocked amongst beauties, acquainted himself with countless highest-ranking courtesans, and took up visiting all the brothels in this world as his duty; the other had escaped from the capital of the ten-mile Moon-Gazing River, and was long accustomed to such social entertainment and playing the role required of him. They were veterans of dalliances; even when it came to the slide of lips and teeth, if it wasn't one force prevailing over the other, it had to be the other force prevailing over him.
After an indeterminate length of time, when the breath of air in his chest nearly stifled him, when even those overly-enthusiastic noises from the two people in the room had quietened, Wen Kexing finally let go of Zhou Zishu, who was similarly trying hard to suppress his unsteady breathing, grasped his hand, and leaned in very close.
All of a sudden, he stopped smiling and looked at Zhou Zishu quietly, as though he had a thousand things to say in that instant, but ultimately resigned all of them to silence. As those in the room ceased their activities, the song coming from the front yard grew more distinct. A delicate feminine voice was singing softly, "Memories of plum bring me to Xizhou, to him in Jiangbei a branch of it goes…"
On Zhou Zishu's palm, Wen Kexing wrote, stroke by clear stroke, As long as your affection for me is as mine for you, I will not let it be in vain.
Zhou Zishu looked at him in silence for a very long time. Gently, his hand curled closed, and gently, he held Wen Kexing's finger in his palm. Yet, it was only a brief touch; in the next instant, their hands parted. He lowered his eyes, avoiding Wen Kexing's gaze once more, and sighed almost imperceptibly.
At this moment, within the room, a man said in a low and satisfied voice, "That's enough, you may leave." Thereafter, there came the sound of the door closing, and Zhou Zishu took the chance to rise into the air, as agile as a sparrow. Landing soundlessly on the roof, he pried a tile loose with light movements to produce a narrow gap, and peered in.
Wen Kexing looked at his own fingers, as though the warmth of that person's palm was still on them. But the night breeze was too cold; with a gentle waft of the wind, it dissipated without a trace. In that moment, he could not put words to what he was feeling, and could only--like he was mocking himself--smile bitterly.