While Xue Xian and Lu Nianqi talked, Jiang Shining frowned off to the side, queasy from the boat’s rocking.
Snow and fog swirled thick over the river. A vast expanse of white stretched before them with no end in sight. However, the bun-shaped Fentou Island gradually became clearer in the mist, growing larger and larger.
Xuanmin stood at the bow, holding the reed as he steered, while Xue Xian rested his chin in his hand, his gaze wandering uneasily over the foggy river’s surface. Perhaps it was an illusion, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his precious golden marble had grown livelier since it’d been in Xuanmin’s pouch. Xue Xian still couldn’t sense much of a connection from the marble, but the feeling of something, elusive and near-imperceptible, still hung about him. It felt like someone was about to tap him on the shoulder, that awareness in the moment when their fingers were only a hair’s breadth away.
As for Xuanmin’s influence on the marble, Xue Xian wasn’t against it. If the monk could genuinely help the dragon reconnect with his real body, he’d offer his sincere gratitude to Xuanmin’s entire lineage.
But how could Xue Xian speed up the process? That troubled him. He had previously harbored no expectations about restoring himself, but now that he had some hope, he found himself growing impatient. After all, his flimsy paper body was frail, liable to tear at a moment’s notice. That would be embarrassing, and truly unbecoming of someone as divine and extraordinary as he.
He pondered for a moment longer before retreating into the pouch. Inside it, he squirmed about restlessly, moving himself to where the marble rested, then laid himself flat over it in a papery embrace.
The hemp acolyte robe was very thin—the pouch’s inner layer pressed directly against Xuanmin’s hip. As Xue Xian moved around, Xuanmin could naturally feel what he was doing. He pushed the reed through the water a little, then asked with a frown, “Why can you never sit still, evil spirit? What trouble are you up to now?”
“Just row your boat and mind your own business,” came Xue Xian’s muffled voice from the pouch. “I’m brooding an egg. Shut up and leave me alone.”
Xue Xian seemed embarrassed at his own words, for he kept his voice very low, to the point that only Xuanmin heard him. Otherwise, Jiang Shining would certainly have taken a jab at him.
Caught off guard by the comment about brooding eggs, Xuanmin let his attention on the river surface slip. During his brief moment of distraction, another dark object passed beneath the boat…or more precisely, the boat passed over that dark object.
Lu Nianqi had been leaning over the side of his boat and caught a glimpse of it, but the object moved swiftly; he hadn’t gotten a clear look. At first glance, it still looked like hair, but he saw neither a pale face nor a rigid body. Lu Nianqi rubbed at the goosebumps on his arms, relaxing a little.
Before long, the bow of the boat bumped against a stretch of muddy stone with a clank and came to a stop.
“We’ve arrived,” Lu Nianqi said. As soon as the boat stopped swaying, he scrambled onto the bank. Pointing at a dark shape in the near distance, he said, “Do you see that? That’s Old Man Liu’s boat. He’s the one who brought Lu Shijiu here!”
Fentou Island was engulfed in a tangle of overgrown forest, blanketed in snow and cloaked in mist. As they all observed the landscape, their eyes fell upon a dense thicket of trunks and branches, layered and intertwined. It was undeniably an ideal place for hauntings.
The moment Xuanmin stepped onto Fentou Island, a wind rose, as if the tangled woods were responding.
Ding, ding!
The copper coins dangling at his waist began to sway, their gentle clinking filling the air.
“What’s going on?” Xue Xian poked out his head for some fresh air. “What were you saying just now? It was all muffled. I couldn’t hear.”
“I didn’t say anything. What did you hear?” Xuanmin frowned at him. Xue Xian was sensitive by nature. If something was wrong, he’d be first to feel it.
“When you stepped ashore,” Xue Xian said, confused. “I was busy brooding over my marble when I heard you mumbling something strange. It sounded like a sutra but I couldn’t understand it. Are you sure you didn’t say anything? What I heard definitely sounded like your voice.” He paused, then stiffly added, “Just a little far away…”
Jiang Shining and Lu Nianqi were silent for a moment, then slowly turned around to look behind them. Xue Xian’s words sounded almost like a ghost story.
“Your county’s pharmacists sure are brave,” said Jiang Shining with a strained laugh.
“It’s not usually like this,” said Lu Nianqi. “It’s a recent thing. For some reason, it’s always foggy these days.”
Jiang Shining forced another laugh. It wasn’t like the island would be much better without the fog.
“Seriously, it’s one thing for the brat to freak out about what’s behind him, but why were you looking behind you, bookworm?” Xue Xian snapped. “Who’s ever heard of a ghost that’s scared of ghosts?”
Lu Nianqi stopped looking behind him and stared at Jiang Shining instead.
“I beg you, speak some sense,” Jiang Shining said slowly. “Ordinary people are scared of bandits and thieves, so what’s wrong with me being scared of ghosts?”
Lu Nianqi glanced at his palm, inspecting the treated wound, then turned his gaze to Jiang Shining, who seemed liable to be knocked over by a stiff breeze. He concluded that Jiang Shining was the sort of ghost that could be easily dealt with and thus was no threat at all.
“There’s that voice again. Did you hear?” Xue Xian whispered. “It was very quiet.” As he spoke, he tilted his head back, exposing his grotesque face that oozed ink from every orifice. His ink-dot eyes were dark, ominous, and unblinking.
Xuanmin’s gaze fell on Xue Xian, then immediately jerked away. Calmly and decisively, Xuanmin reached out and covered the paper doll’s face. “The only one haunting anything here is you.”
Xue Xian clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Did you think I was looking out so you could mess with my head?! I’ll rip your hand off!”
From the side, Jiang Shining noted, “To be fair, if you and the Master were to fight, you’d be at a disadvantage: One yank and your paper head would be gone.”
Of course, there’s always a fool or two who’d take the enemy’s side at critical moments, Xue Xian thought.
He refrained from shoving Xuanmin’s hand away; instead, Xue Xian remained still, his face covered, listening intently in the darkness. None of the chanting that so closely resembled Xuanmin’s voice reached his ears. He began to doubt himself. Could he really have misheard?
“Forget it. Lingering here isn’t going to help.” Xue Xian stretched his flimsy paper hands and swatted at Xuanmin, finally shoving the bothersome monk’s fingers aside. “Keep moving. It’s more important to continue searching. If I hear any strange sounds, I’ll let you know.”
As for himself, he might as well continue brooding his egg. It was far more useful than tussling with Xuanmin.
Rolling back into the pouch, Xue Xian lay on the marble, which rocked a little with each of Xuanmin’s steps.
To be honest, his steps were quieter than a ghost’s, smooth and steady. These tiny movements were barely perceptible to Xue Xian, and they even lulled him into drowsiness. The golden marble beneath him had warmed from its time in the pouch; it was now close to Xuanmin’s body temperature. For a paper doll who had been chilled by the wind, it felt quite comfortable. This place might just be passable as a dwelling.
Xuanmin crouched, closely examining the damp, leaf-strewn ground. Lu Nianqi followed suit. Despite his youth, he had a strong independent streak from losing his father at a young age. He preferred to rely on himself instead of asking others for help. Even if he didn’t know something, he’d closely study others to learn from them, which seemed to bring him some peace of mind.
“What are you looking at?” Jiang Shining asked, glancing at the kid, unable to help himself.
Keeping his head down, Lu Nianqi muttered, “I don’t know.” He felt like he would go blind from staring, but he’d not noticed anything unusual.