Chapter 202: A Warm Home in the Farming Off-Season

The last trace of crimson afterglow sank behind the mountain ridge, and darkness spread across heaven and earth. Dotted lights flickered to life in the mountain village. Amid the sounds of barking dogs and coughing, the morning glories outside the fenced courtyard swayed gently. The old couple and the young girl eating in the kitchen heard the faint jingle of a neck bell.

The kitchen door opened, and in the dim light outside, Lu Liangsheng led an old donkey into the courtyard. Seeing his family peeking halfway out from the doorway, he loosened the reins and smiled.

“Is there a portion for me?”

Li Jinhua, Lu Laoshi, and Lu Xiaoxian stood at the door holding bowls and chopsticks, mouths slightly agape. They all nodded in unison, then suddenly came to their senses. The woman let out an “aiyo” and hurried out.

“Liangsheng, why did you come back at this hour? It’s so dark at night—what if you fell? Come inside, quickly. There’s still food in the pot.”

The old donkey trotted over happily and nudged the woman’s hand. Seeing Li Jinhua raise her hand, it didn’t even slow its hooves—hurriedly tilting its head aside, it avoided her gaze and dashed toward the donkey shed, where it flopped down and began leisurely chewing its fodder.

“Is there any food left for me… mother of—huff… huff… I’m dead tired from running.”

The Daoist supported himself against the fence before limping over. Seeing his condition, Li Jinhua pulled her son aside and quietly asked:

“What happened to Daoist Sun?”

“Nothing. He thought his body wasn’t in good shape, so he ran all the way back from He Valley Prefecture.”

Lu Liangsheng smiled, glancing back at the Daoist, then led his mother back into the kitchen. There were only a few simple dishes on the table, and the rice was certainly not enough. The woman wiped clean the large wok. Honglian came in from outside to help start the fire. The Daoist snatched the chopping board, grabbed a kitchen knife, and tilted his chin toward Lu Xiaoxian, who was holding a bowl to the side. The blade flashed—da da da—as he began chopping vegetables.

“Brother, what did you go to the capital for? And coming back in the dark like this?” Lu Xiaoxian ignored the Daoist, set down her chopsticks, and looked toward her elder brother kneading dough.

The Daoist chopping vegetables let out a sly chuckle, flicking water droplets from his hand.

“Xiaoxian, you’ve no idea what happened that day. In the capital, there was a great demon. This Daoist unleashed all his techniques, and your brother even made the Emperor—”

From the corner of his eye, he caught two fierce glares. His words abruptly stopped. Honglian withdrew her cold gaze and looked toward the stunned Li Jinhua across from her.

“Auntie, don’t listen to this bull-nosed little Daoist’s nonsense.”

At the side, Lu Liangsheng kneaded the dough, squeezing out a lump between his thumb and forefinger, flattening it into a round shape in his palm before handing it to his mother. Seeing the suspicion in her eyes, he smiled.

“Actually, it wasn’t anything much. I just went to retrieve some of my teacher’s belongings…”

These were all just perfunctory words. After all, he couldn’t very well say that he had gone off to fight a great demon—and incidentally scared the Emperor to death along the way.

Of course, it wasn’t really him who had frightened the Emperor to death. That day, he had stepped on Pudu Cihang and fallen from the sky—who would have known Chen Shubao would be there? He had plowed straight through along the way. If it had been anyone else, they likely would have met the same end.

They made some pan-fried flatbreads to stick along the wok, making do with the few dishes on the table for dinner. Leaving the Daoist in the kitchen to continue bragging, Lu Liangsheng carried a bowl of meat soup and half a flatbread under the eaves, returning to his room. Firelight rose along the lamp wick, illuminating the interior.

On the bed, the Toad Daoist, who had been snoring soundly, caught the scent of food. His heaving belly stilled, and with a snap, his toad eyes flew open. He sat up and swiftly climbed onto the table.

“Finally, no more sleeping out in the open—and I can have a hot meal!”

The toad slurped a mouthful of hot soup along the rim of the bowl, then hugged the flatbread and took a bite. Leaning comfortably against a few books, he stretched his webbed feet out in satisfaction.

“Master, please enjoy at your leisure.”

Lu Liangsheng walked over to the bookshelf, hung Honglian’s painting on the wall, brushed the dust from the books, and arranged the writing implements—brush, ink, paper, and inkstone—adding a refined scholarly air to the room.

After tidying up for a while, he took Veiled Moon into his hand, walked to the bedside, and with a clang, drew it from its sheath. A faint, low murmur seemed to echo—“uh…”

The ancient, unadorned blade rattled as its internal mechanisms shifted and clicked. The engraved patterns flowed and unfurled, like drifting clouds parting to reveal a clear moon, while that slender, winding line seemed to move beneath the moonlight.

The spiritual aura of the sword was far more abundant than before during their journey. Sure enough, after gaining a sword spirit, the Veiled Moon Sword could nourish its own spiritual essence. Lu Liangsheng was somewhat different from other cultivators—rather than focusing on how powerful the spirit sword might become, his thoughts leaned more toward scholarly inquiry.

What was the upper limit of its spiritual essence? If he attached the final two strands of spiritual essence, would it damage the current Veiled Moon or the consciousness within it? Now that it possessed self-awareness, would it run away on its own? Could it suddenly turn into another Pudu Cihang…

Amid his thoughts, the drawn Veiled Moon Sword suddenly spoke:

“Master, take your time to admire me…”

Then its tone abruptly shifted, addressing the Toad Daoist who was eating bread and drinking soup nearby:

“Mighty Toad Daoist, would you like a smaller piece of bread? I’m afraid you might not be able to hold it…” “Oh, right, where’s that speckled hen? This Venerable Master feels it’s quite extraordinary—shall we taste how it is?”

“Master, that painting of the ghost lady—perhaps it should be mounted.”

“Old toad, that soup bowl is a bit deep…”

At the table, veins bulged on the Toad Daoist’s forehead. He flung the flatbread aside, grabbed his smoking pipe, and jumped down from the bed, taking an angry puff.

“By all that’s damned… your master truly regrets helping you refine this thing. If it were me back then, I’d have smashed you to pieces with one slap and swallowed that spirit consciousness whole!”

“Toad, toad, soft little belly…”

Veiled Moon hummed a little tune in Lu Liangsheng’s hand, trembling smugly. The scholar felt a slight headache—this fellow not only possessed spirit consciousness, but had also retained all the scenes it had experienced. No wonder it knew so much.

With a push on the hilt, Veiled Moon suddenly let out an “Ah!”-like moan as it was shoved back into its sheath. Lu Liangsheng tossed it onto the bookshelf, where it continued to wobble inside.

“Master, don’t you think this sheath is somewhat unworthy of me? Have you considered getting me a new one? Otherwise, I won’t be able to withstand much wear and tear…”

“…It’d be best if it were a bit wider, tighter on both sides, with some gold patterns and jade inlays added… hey, hey—don’t cover me up!”

A piece of silk cloth was thrown over it, finally silencing the incessant chatter.

Lu Liangsheng let out a breath of relief. The buzzing in his ears at last subsided. He moved the lamp closer and began flipping through a book by the window lattice.

The Toad Daoist, wrapped in the bedding with his webbed limbs folded, looked at his disciple’s back.

“This Veiled Moon Sword ought to just be thrown away. Once it starts talking, it never stops—and its words are downright… shameless!”

Through the slightly open window, the scholar lifted his face, gazing at the night sky beyond the gap. A river of stars stretched across the heavens, and amid the chorus of insects, he smiled and shook his head.

“Master, it’s still a spirit sword after all. It would be a pity to throw it away.”

From within the cloth-covered bookshelf, Veiled Moon’s muffled voice buzzed: “This Venerable Master agrees!”

“Shut up!”

The Toad Daoist hurled his smoking pipe over with a clang. At the desk, Lu Liangsheng turned a page and calmly continued:

“…It would be a pity to throw it away. But if you keep talking, you’ll be punished by being sent to the mountaintop.”

Under the silk cloth, the Veiled Moon Sword immediately fell silent.

Not long after, the Daoist yawned and hopped up onto the roof. Lying there under the moonlight, he took out a newly acquired pair of cloth shoes, quickly tossing aside the worn-out ones on his feet and slipping on the new pair. He lifted them up in the moonlight, admiring them as he waved his feet back and forth.

In the courtyard, the old tree rustled softly. From the darkened window came Lu Laoshi’s snoring, prompting Li Jinhua to smack her husband, which quieted him somewhat.

From another window lit by lamplight, the room glowed with a warm yellow hue. On the bed, the Toad Daoist lay fast asleep, a small blanket covering his belly, one webbed foot sticking out. 

Honglian finished brewing some hot tea and quietly walked over, placing it beside the scholar. Then she stepped back to the side, propping up her chin as she watched him in silence.

Amidst the pile of books, his fingers turned page after page. Lu Liangsheng took a sip of tea and glanced toward the woman by the lamplight. Their eyes met, and they smiled at one another before he continued reading.

It had been a long time since he had read like this.

The night was deep. Far from Fushui County, a hundred li away in He Valley Prefecture, a gate marked with crossed white mourning strips slowly closed.

Under the cold moonlight, a woman led a child not yet three years old down the stone steps. Tear tracks still lingered at the corners of her eyes. She turned back to look at the white lantern hanging beneath the eaves, pressed her lips together, and took a deep breath. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she tightened her grip on the child’s hand and walked into the long street of the night.

On the mist-veiled road, the child with small braids tilted his face up to look at his mother.

“Mother… where are we going?”

Bang, bang, bang…

The sound of the night watch echoed from afar. Yanzhi forced out a faint smile and gently patted her son’s hair.

“Mingyue, Mother will take you somewhere… There are very tall mountains there, and in the mountains lives an enlightened master!”

The child didn’t fully understand, but grasped a little of it and nodded.

“Okay!”

Bang…

Bang…

A night watchman with a lantern tucked at his collar approached from a distance. Seeing the mother and son walking toward him, he was about to step forward and ask something—but in the blink of an eye, the two vanished into the thin mist.

“Ah—!”

His face turned pale with fright. He struck his clapper rapidly and fled as if for his life.