Chapter 4
By the time I had attended to Qiushui, Leng Yushu had fainted in the downpour.
I hauled him back to his room. When he opened his eyes again, it was already the following evening. Dusky yellow light filtered through the lattice window, revealing dust motes turning listlessly in the air.
The first thing he did on waking was grab me and demand to know where Qiushui was.
“Burned,” I said calmly, handing him ginger soup.
He swept the bowl away with a violent slap. His fingers clamped into my shoulders like iron pincers as he shook me. “Burned? How could you be so cruel? Refusing to save her wasn’t enough—you wouldn’t even leave her body whole!”
Without changing expression, I answered truthfully, “Burning her was for her own good.”
“Ha! For her own good? How can you say that? You destroyed her body and call it kindness! You did it on purpose! You were jealous of her! What sort of fox immortal are you? You’re utterly vicious!”
“It’s you! You killed her! Hahaha! My Qiushui!” He lurched between wild laughter and howling tears, as though possessed.
I ignored him and went to the kitchen to make him fresh soup. He thought only that I was cruel and jealous of Qiushui. He had forgotten that I never lied.
Evil had been eating away at the girl’s body all along. A body corrupted by evil was a cage, trapping the soul inside to suffer day and night. I knew nothing of rites for delivering souls. The simplest, most direct way I could free her was to burn that cage with foxfire and release her soul.
Leng Yushu recuperated at home for half a month before he was more or less well again.
The first thing he did on recovering was set up a memorial shrine for Qiushui in place of a body. He even went to Duye Temple to invite an eminent monk to perform rites for her.
He carried the memorial tablet in through the main gate. Its inscription read: “Spirit Tablet of My Beloved Wife, Qiushui.”
“From now on, Qiushui is my wife, just as you are.”
He spoke with his chin raised, thinking to anger me. I did not care in the slightest. My gaze simply came to rest on the old monk behind him.
The monk was about seventy, his body withered. His drooping eyelids did nothing to hide the sharp gleam in his eyes.
“Master, you look very familiar. Have we met?”
Leng Yushu was visibly impatient. “This is an accomplished master from Duye Temple! How could you possibly know him?”
The monk gave a faint smile, creasing his whole face. Pressing his palms together, he bowed to me. “You have a good memory, madam. My Dharma name is Zhoudu. We met once, years ago, when you came to the temple to draw a marriage fortune.”
I nodded. “Back then, you were learned in the Buddhist teachings and had a kindly face. You’re so different now that I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Zhoudu’s expression faltered. “A mortal body must age, sicken, and die. Naturally, I look somewhat different. I must perform the rites for Miss Qiushui. It would be unfortunate to miss the appointed hour.”
“Then I shan’t keep you, Master.” I stepped aside.
He bowed and hurried away after Leng Yushu. As he passed me, a heavy trace of sandalwood drifted from his robes. The scent was deep and thick as ink, like years of incense ash in an old temple suddenly stirred by the wind. It lingered long after he had gone.