The oil lamp crackled and popped, its wick sputtering rhythmically in the dim room. The wick had burned slightly askew, casting a flickering ring of warm yellow light against the wall.
Jiang Ci lay on the bed, and Lu Yan sat by her side. This posture was exactly the same as when he had first met her—
On the wooden table lay two packages of pastries from the Fu family. Lu Yan had brought them back, wrapped in oil paper and tied with thin hemp rope. Beside them sat a white porcelain plate with edges so thin they were translucent, the exact same style as the one used for his milk pudding. To be precise, that plate originally belonged to the Fu family; Lu Yan had forgotten to put it down when he left.
He had only noticed it in his hand on the way back and had intended to return it, but he had walked too fast and forgotten. Just now, the plate had broken, striking the green brick floor and shattering into three pieces. He had hesitated for a moment when he squatted down to pick them up, then swept the shards into the corner and retrieved the Cold Water Jade from among them.
He held the piece of Cold Water Jade, looking at it against the light for a moment. The pale blue crystal was semi-transparent, its edges worn smooth and round.
It had sat beneath the plate for a long time, unnoticed by anyone. Lu Yan gripped it in his hand and closed his eyes. Spiritual energy seeped from his palm like water flowing into a parched riverbed, slowly grinding it down.
He opened his eyes, crushing a small piece from the edge of the Cold Water Jade with his fingertips and grinding it into powder in his palm. The powder emitted an extremely faint blue glow on his fingertips, like a handful of crushed starlight.
With a gentle shake of his hand, he infused spiritual energy into the powder, causing it to disperse, reorganize, and connect into lines in the air. A pale blue formation line emerged, floating in mid-air and slowly rotating.
A Tier One formation, the most basic Spirit-Gathering pattern. He watched it for a moment, then scattered another handful of powder to begin nesting them. The first pattern sank down as the second overlaid it, like two intertwining vines locking together. Tier Two.
Just as the third pattern began to overlay, his hand faltered. The powder dispersed, scattering across the tabletop.
“Ten Thousand Formations Compass...” He uttered those words in a whisper, as if afraid of disturbing something.
The scene at the Fu residence earlier today replayed in his mind. When Fu Xingjian had stopped him, his voice carried a suppressed urgency that Lu Yan had anticipated for a long time. “Is the Ten Thousand Formations Compass still in your hands?”
“Whether it is or isn't, what difference does it make?” when he had asked this, his voice carried a calm that he had deliberately forced. He didn't want Fu Xingjian to see that he was nervous. But in truth, he already knew—what Fu Xingjian wanted was the Ten Thousand Formations Compass, not him.
“My dear nephew, it's not that I want the Ten Thousand Formations Compass. It is simply that your cultivation is currently meager. Without the Ten Thousand Formations Compass, I fear it will be difficult for you to repair higher-tier formations.” Fu Xingjian's words sounded sincere. He spoke slowly and in a gentle tone, as if soothing a throwing-a-tantrum child. But as Lu Yan listened, an image popped into his mind—a child telling an adult, “I only want a phone so I can study hard.” He almost laughed, but held it back, assuming a hesitant expression on his face. “Then what if I no longer have the Ten Thousand Formations Compass?”
Fu Xingjian answered almost without pause. “Then we would like to ask you to instruct the disciples of the Artifact Sect in the art of formations. After all, your experience in laying formations is more than enough to teach those completely ignorant disciples.” He spoke too quickly, likely having prepared this answer long ago.
Lu Yan chewed over those words repeatedly in his mind. He understood: Fu Xingjian had never expected him to be able to keep the Ten Thousand Formations Compass. In Fu Xingjian's imagination,
the Ten Thousand Formations Compass had either been confiscated by the Central Continent Alliance or blown up along with Lu Buqi. The probability of it remaining in his hands was tiny. Even if it were, he was a blind man at the Foundation Establishment stage; after ten years, it should have been snatched away long ago.
That was why Fu Xingjian had presented these two paths: one was to “produce the Ten Thousand Formations Compass,” and the other was to “come and teach.” The first path carried high risks, but the Artifact Sect would value him;
the second path was stable but yielded low income and low status. When he had asked “what if I don't have the Ten Thousand Formations Compass,” he was actually confirming whether the second option was viable.
“Uncle, I understand. I will think about it carefully,” he had said at the time. Then he had walked out of the Fu residence, taking the bag of spirit stones and the two packages of pastries with him.
And that plate he had forgotten to return. On his way back to Huamanlou, he had counted the spirit stones in the bag. There were over a hundred of them—not a lot, but at least enough to pay back a portion of his lodging expenses to Second Aunt.
He walked very slowly, yet his steps felt somewhat light. He looked up at the sky over Everspring City. Most of the sunset was blocked by the snowy mountains, leaving only a narrow strip of orange-red light at the edge, like a thread of silk about to burn out. He suddenly wondered if the old man were here, would he complain again about him walking too slowly?
As he walked, he muttered softly to himself, “Old man, have you been working hard lately? Keep it up, and I'll burn more paper money for you next time. Or if there's anything you want, just tell me in a dream.”
The wind swept in from the mouth of the alley, making the hem of his robe flutter. No one answered him, but his steps grew much lighter.
When he returned to Huamanlou, Yao Wu stopped him. Yao Wu stood at the entrance of the backyard and nudged his chin toward the inside. Lu Yan followed his gaze and saw Jiang Ci.
She was standing in the yard, holding the pine-nanmu sword, swinging it. One stroke, another, and another. Her arm was trembling, her shoulders were shaking, and the knuckles of her hand gripping the sword were white, as if she might let go at any moment.
Every time she raised the sword, it was like a struggle against her own body; every time she brought it down, it carried a stubborn resolve of “even so, I must continue.”
Lu Yan watched for a moment, and his feet moved. He wanted to walk over. Yao Wu held him back. “You cannot do everything for her,” Yao Wu said in a very low voice. “You see it. She wants to cultivate again. She doesn't want anyone to walk the path for her; she can walk it herself. At least, don't stop her right now.”
Lu Yan stood there, looking at Jiang Ci's back. She was still swinging the sword, unaware that anyone was watching her. She didn't know she had become a scene in someone else's eyes; she was simply doing what she had resolved to do. “She needs medicine,” Lu Yan said.
“She needs to ask for it herself, or earn it herself. You cannot just hand everything to her.” Having said this, Yao Wu let go of his hand. Lu Yan did not walk over.
He watched Jiang Ci swing the sword, watched her shoulders tremble more and more violently, watched the wooden sword freeze mid-air, watched it slip from her palm, watched her bend down to pick it up, and then fall flat on the ground. He saw her crawl back up from the ground. He did not watch any further. But in the end, he still took action.
Sitting by the bed, the Cold Water Jade powder in his palm coalesced once more. The blue formation lines flowed across the tabletop like a quietly running river.
It was just a medicinal bath, a few Blood-Vitality Pills. It wasn't very expensive. A bottle of Blood-Vitality Pills was less than fifty spirit stones. He could afford that money. It was more than enough.
But who was he to her? Why should he spend this money on her? In what capacity was he buying her pills and helping her?
The formation line in his hand shattered during the third nesting. The Cold Water Jade powder scattered all over the tabletop. The cold-attributed spiritual energy waves it emitted made the flame of the oil lamp flicker back and forth, growing smaller and dimmer.
He casually gathered the scattered powder to reconstruct the formation line, but this time he couldn't even manage the second nesting. It scattered across the entire tabletop.
His mind was not at peace...
He thought about what he needed to do tomorrow. First, go to the medicine shop to buy a bottle of Blood-Vitality Pills—not expensive, under fifty spirit stones.
Then go to the Artifact Sect, settle the matter of the plate, and ask when the teaching would begin.
He had to have a stable income before he could think about anything else. As for Jiang Ci, if she didn't ask, he wouldn't say. He would leave the medicine on the table; if she saw it and could use it, so be it. If she didn't ask, he wouldn't explain. If she did ask, he would just say he bought it on a whim.
“To hell with it...” He closed his eyes and muttered softly, “I wanted to buy it, alright? Is it a crime to have money to burn?”
The formation line lit up on the table, stabilizing once more. The blue light reflected on his face, very faint, like a lamp that could shine without oil. The wick crackled again, crisp and clear.
As if mocking someone acting against his own heart.
Rate on N.U.
