Chapter 165: Returning to the Life Once Lived

Tat-tat-tat

The sound of galloping hooves sped along the official road, from the capital heading southeast toward He Valley Prefecture and Fushui County. Couriers bearing documents came and went without pause, hastily delivering them to the local yamen.

Before long, proclamations were posted up one after another.

All were warrants for the arrest of Lu Liangsheng. Beside his name was the portrait of Sun Yingxian, a sharp-mouthed, monkey-cheeked fellow with a crooked mustache, and—hm—even that bald old donkey, baring its teeth while chewing on a mouthful of grass.

Those who could read explained the content aloud, while the crowd behind them listened. The onlookers whispered among themselves.

“So this is Lu Liangsheng? He really is quite handsome.” “Hey, brother, you’ve got your priorities wrong. He’s a wanted criminal!”

“What’s it to me? It’s not as if I’ve the skill to catch him.”

“But wasn’t he the one who earned his place in office through ability from our own He Valley Prefecture? How could he suddenly become a criminal? I simply cannot make sense of it.”

“Hmph! He’s ruined the name of us scholars!” “Sigh, I heard from people returning from outside that it was His Majesty who first shamed him. It’s not at all as this proclamation says.”

“And that Daoist drawn up there—truly ugly.”

In these times, if not for the proclamations conveyed by the authorities, much news could only spread through traveling merchants. Now, with warrants plastered across cities, counties, and even remote towns, an uproar was stirred up. For several days, the common talk was all about Lu Liangsheng. Yet for those who knew of the urgent matters he had aided in, they scoffed at the contents of the notice.

The fervor persisted. Before the proclamations, crowds of townsfolk still gathered to listen to the reading. Standing at the outer edge of the circle, two men and a donkey cast a glance over. The Daoist stroked his own face, then looked again at the portrait upon the notice.

“This Daoist—ugly? What eyes are those? At worst, I only look a little old. They’ve painted me like I’m already past thirty. As if anyone could catch me from that.”

A few townsfolk glanced their way, curled their lips in disdain, and turned back to listen to the reading.

Hng-ah, hng-ah!

The old donkey glared at the proclamation wall, dissatisfied, and tried to squeeze its way forward, peeling back its lips as if to tear it down. But Lu Liangsheng seized the reins, dragged it out of the small town, and into a secluded grove. Pulling away a layer of leaves, he revealed a coffin beneath, hefted it back onto his shoulder, and snapped his fingers at the Daoist, signaling to continue southward.

“This old man cannot make sense of it.”

Inside the swaying bookshelf, a small door creaked open. The Toad Daoist, legs dangling short and stubby, fanned himself with a puffing breath, swinging his palm fan back and forth. With a sharp rap, he struck the partition’s edge.

“You don’t say! Even that bald old donkey could make it onto the proclamation—why was I left out? Do they look down on this old man?”

A soft laugh rang from the neighboring painting. Hong Lian’s voice drifted out: “Master Toad, that is hardly an honor to covet.”

“Hmph, as if this old man does not know.” The Toad turned his face aside.

The Daoist glanced at the Toad, continued holding up his bronze mirror, and while walking, studied the reflection of his own face—stretching his mouth, baring his teeth, scrutinizing it over and over.

“This Daoist is not ugly at all! Truly, these people have no eyes to recognize jade among men!”

Pfft!

The old donkey turned its head from up ahead and snorted a spray right at him, then lifted its hooves and trotted along behind Lu Liangsheng.

Amid snorts and brays, they came out of the forest. Lu Liangsheng gazed about at the mountain slopes—strange yet familiar—the fields spreading before him, golden crops swaying in the wind.

It was nearly harvest season.

“At this time, Lu Family Village should look much the same.”

On the journey south, pursuing soldiers had not been absent. Yet Lu Liangsheng was unwilling to slaughter those unrelated. Most often, he relied on illusions and concealment arts to slip away. Traveling thus on foot, in just a few days, he used Shrinking the Earth into Inches to arrive south of He Valley Prefecture, barely more than ten li from Fushui County.

He felt no concern that Fushui County’s soldiers would seize his family. After all, when the Daoist departed before, he had laid down a formation: should officials intrude, they would emerge inexplicably elsewhere, never finding a way into the house.

As the daylight slanted, the outline of Fushui County appeared in the distance. Choosing the quieter outskirts, he passed through, unseen, slipping across walls and streets he knew well, until he reached the little courtyard where his old teacher once lived.

Inside the half-open gate, a young boy tilted his head and looked out.

“Who are you looking for?”

The ancient tree in the courtyard spread its canopy like a parasol. Leaves whispered lightly in the wind. The elegant stone table and stools beneath had long vanished—likely tossed aside by the new family that had moved in.

Lu Liangsheng smiled at the child but said nothing, turning away in silence.

From within the house, the boy’s mother came out carrying a basin of laundry. She seemed to have heard her son speaking just now. Looking toward the gate, she asked:

“Little Stone, who were you talking to just now?”

“There!”

The child scrambled up from the ground, his grimy little finger pointing toward the backs of the two figures leaving through the gate.

“A Daoist, a strange big brother, and an old donkey. The big brother was carrying a coffin—just like the one Grandpa lay in when he passed away—”

Clatter! The wooden basin crashed to the floor. The woman’s face turned pale with fright. She swiftly clamped her hand over the child’s mouth, for in her eyes there was not the faintest trace of any human figure at the gate.

After leaving Fushui County, the two men and one donkey spoke no more. Even the Toad Daoist, and Nie Honglian—who always loved to chatter—fell into rare silence. Following the straight road southward, ahead lay Lu Family Village and North Village.

The sunlight drooped upon the crest of Mount Qixia, casting down a dim yellow glow. The jingling of bells echoed along the road. In the fields of golden grain, the farmers, long accustomed to the southbound and northbound horse-bells, only now and then straightened their backs to rest.

Then, spotting the two men and one donkey approaching from the fork, a farmer rubbed his eyes hard, dropped the sickle in his hand, and rushed up onto the ridge, shouting to those around him who were bowed over in harvest:

“Everyone, stop! Stop what you’re doing!!”

The surrounding villagers straightened up. That farmer snatched the straw hat from his head and waved vigorously at the two figures coming in along the village’s muddy path.

“Liangsheng!!”

The busy villagers in the fields, hearing that name, tossed aside their tools and swarmed toward the road.

“Liangsheng!” “Come quick, everyone! Liangsheng has returned!”

“I’ll go tell Uncle Lu and Auntie Li!”

One younger fellow clutched at his loose trousers, bare feet flying as he sprinted along the ridge toward the village.

On the muddy path into the village, people surged forward, three layers deep, surrounding Lu Liangsheng. Thanks to the Concealing Spell, none could see the coffin on his shoulder, yet they still clamored with questions.

“Liangsheng, where have you been all this time?” “Hey, is it true what they say outside—that you smashed the emperor’s palace?”

“Quiet, all of you! Don’t talk here. Let Liangsheng go home first. Above all, don’t breathe a word to outsiders that he has returned.”

“Yes, yes, and best that no one in North Village knows either.”

“…Eh, but I’m from North Village.”

Listening to the words of kin and neighbors, Lu Liangsheng stood there, for once allowing a faint smile to appear upon his face. From afar came a cry: “Liangsheng!”

At the village entrance, Li Jinhua and Lu Laoshi came trotting up. Behind them followed eight burly men, tall and broad as oxen, whose taut muscles under the setting sun gleamed with a metallic sheen.

“Mother.”

The crowd parted to make way. Lu Liangsheng looked at the woman approaching—her hair now streaked with much white. Stepping forward, he gently embraced her in his arms.

“Liangsheng has made you worry.”

Li Jinhua struck her son lightly on the shoulder, wiped the dampness from the corner of her eyes, then pulled her husband toward their son. Glancing at the smiling villagers around them, she set her hands on her hips and scolded:

“Go on, get back to what you’re doing. What’s there to stare at?”

Everyone burst into hearty laughter and scattered in all directions. Someone, noticing the Daoist nearby, tried to throw an arm around him. The Daoist was startled, and at the instant he shoved the man away—

“Ha!”

The eight burly men suddenly encircled him. With a roar, their arm muscles swelled, fists clenched until their joints cracked. From their open collars, knotted chests flexed and shook in rhythm, directed squarely at Sun Yingxian.

Lu Pan raised his chin.

“Little Daoist, planning to start trouble again?”

The Daoist’s mouth twitched, his face flushing red as he turned aside. Hastily, he squeezed his way out, grabbed the old donkey, and bolted into the village.

At the village entrance, Lu Liangsheng spoke and laughed with his parents for a while, then told them to go home first—he wished to make a trip to Mount Qixia. Li Jinhua and Lu Laoshi, knowing their son was grown and had his own mind, refrained from asking too much.

“Then come home early. Your father and I will prepare the meal and wait for you.”

“Mm.”

Lu Liangsheng nodded. After his parents left, he quietly guided the coffin with his spiritual energy, taking the western path out of the village. Along the mountain road where he had first met the Toad Master, he climbed halfway up. The red cord, once tied to a tree, had long since faded.

The sun sank in the west, crimson clouds burning bright, as though a robe of rosy brocade were draped across the mountain slopes.

Lu Liangsheng set the coffin beneath an ancient pine, then seated himself on a boulder, gazing out at the surging sea of clouds rolling across the peaks. The branches of the old pine brushed lightly against one another, whispering in the wind.

“Honored Master, how do you find the scenery here?”

After a time, he rose. Employing the Overturning Earth technique from the Dao of the Five Elements, but casting it in reverse, he caused the soil and rock beneath the pine to open with a crack, and lowered the coffin within.

From a large stone, he shaped a neat gravestone, then drew out Veiled Moon Sword at his waist and carved upon it a single line: Tomb of Sir Shuhua, Honored Master.

He set it before the grave.

The Veiled Moon Sword, thrust into the earth, swayed gently. Lu Liangsheng leaned against the old pine, seated by the gravestone. Together with his master, he gazed upon the rising clouds of Mount Qixia, softly reciting the writings once taught to him by the elder.

The glow of sunset, like gauze, brushed across the mountain village, fading into the last trace of light.

A few birds alighted on treetops, preening their feathers.

The once-lonely fenced courtyard grew lively again. Hong Lian’s portrait floated back to its place upon the wall. Lu Xiaoxian came running in joy, and the two girls clasped hands, spinning in a small circle.

In the courtyard, the old speckled hen clucked and bustled about, craning its neck this way and that, as though searching for something.

The Toad Daoist tiptoed out from a small side room, slipping along the wall to dodge its watchful eyes. In the next instant, he spread his webbed feet and scurried into Xiaoxian’s chamber. Moments later, he emerged with great satisfaction, arms burdened with little garments. He could not resist trying on several pieces, then gleefully chose one or two sets. Tongue lolling, he ran out—only to meet the glare of the old hen head-on.

“Cursed creature—!”

He dropped the clothes. At once, the courtyard descended into chaos as another fierce battle erupted.

From the kitchen rose the smoke of cooking fires. The Daoist, clutching two talisman papers, was chased out by a woman wielding a spatula. Not far away, in the donkey shed, Lu Laoshi stroked his beard and frowned. His recently purchased sturdy donkey cowered in a corner like a bullied child, while he cast a doubtful glance toward the bald old donkey chewing its fodder with smug calm.

Darkness fully fell. Lu Liangsheng returned from the mountain, gazing upon the bustle and warmth of the courtyard.

The life once familiar had returned.