Xie Lian was shocked on the spot. Seeing this tall, slender, lanky young man help him carry his bag of rubbish while looking so casual about it [gave Xie Lian’s heart offense]. As San Lang began walking away from him, Xie Lian realized he needed to catch up, and was just about to take a step when he remembered the fainted old master back on the cart. He woke the old man up and told him to take special care not to speak of what he’d seen to anyone. The old man, having seen his powers back in the forest, nodded his head quickly and hastily steered his cow home.

Only a woven mat that he’d bought back in town was left on the cart. Xie Lian bundled it up on his back. He turned to see San Lang, his bag of rubbish slung over his shoulder, already making his way up the hillside.

Arriving at the decrepit temple, San Lang lowered his head, and then let out a small laugh as though he’d seen something extremely funny. Xie Lian only realized after he walked inside that San Lang was looking at the sign he’d put up earlier before he’d left the shack. He said quietly, “It’s as you see. That’s why I said earlier that you might not want to stay here.”

San Lang said, “It’s pretty nice.”

Before, it had always been Xie Lian who’d gone around saying “it’s good, it’s fine.” This was the first time someone else had said something of that sentiment to him, and Xie Lian felt some indescribable emotion right then.

As the wooden door to the shack had long since rotted, Xie Lian tore away what was left of it and replaced it with a curtain. Once in place, he lifted up the curtain to look at San Lang still standing outside. “Well, come in,” he said, and San Lang followed him inside.

Inside this wooden shack, all the furniture could be accounted for within a glance. There was only a long table, a couple of stools, a small putuan¹, and a small offering box. Xie Lian took the bag of stuff from San Lang and placed the Qian Tong he’d bought, the incense, and whatever stationery was in the bag on the table. Then he lit a red candle that someone had thrown away during his beggaring, and immediately the inside of the shack was awash in light. San Lang casually took the Qian Tong, shook it a bit, and put it down again. He said, “So, is there a bed?”

Xie Lian turned around and, without saying a word, removed the mat that had been strapped on his back and showed it to him.

San Lang raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one?”

He’d only met the young man on his way back from the town, so of course he’d only thought to buy one sleeping mat for himself. He said, “If you’re not opposed, just for tonight, we can share it.”

San Lang said, “That’s fine too.”²

Xie Lian took a broom and swept the floor once more. San Lang swept the inside of the shack with his eyes, and said, “Daozhang gege, isn’t this place missing something?”

Xie Lian had finished sweeping and knelt on the ground to spread the mat. “I think, aside from worshippers, this temple isn’t missing much else.”

San Lang also crouched on the ground beside him, his chin resting on his hand. He asked, “What about the deity’s image?”

Only after San Lang’s reminder did Xie Lian suddenly remember the most important part of a temple – the image of the deity!

What kind of a temple was a temple with no image of the deity it worshipped? Even though the deity himself was technically here, it didn’t seem like the most amazing idea to sit himself on that shrine table.

And if he painted a portrait of himself to hang on the wall of his own temple, if the heavens heard about that, he’d be laughed at for at least ten years. And if he carved an image of himself, he’d waste both time and money, and so that choice would also be laughed at for ten years.

Who knew, however, that San Lang would say, “Drawing? I can draw. Do you need help?”

Xie Lian was speechless for a moment. Then he laughed, and said, “Then, I’ll thank you in advance. But I’m afraid you wouldn’t know how to draw the likeness of Xian Le’s Crown Prince.” After all, almost all of his images had been burned eight hundred years ago, and if there were still any believers left after all these generations, there probably weren’t many of those that would have seen his image.

San Lang said, “Of course I do. Remember back on the cart, we were talking about the His Highness the Crown Prince?”

Xie Lian remembered. Indeed so, back on the cart, he’d said, “You probably haven’t heard of him,” but San Lang hadn’t replied. Hearing his answer now, Xie Lian’s curiosity was piqued. Having finished spreading the mat, he stood up and said, “Can it be possible that you really know about him?”

San Lang sat down on the mat. “I do.”

Both the expressions and tones of the young man’s voice were intriguing. He was often smiling and laughing, but it was hard to tell whether those smiles were genuine or mocking. Xie Lian had spent the entire trip on the cart talking and listening to him, and yet he still hadn’t quite figured the young man out. Xie Lian sat down next to him on the mat and asked, “What are your opinions on this Xian Le’s Crown Prince?”

The two of them faced each other in the candlelight, the fire of the red candle flickering around them. San Lang’s back faced the candle so his eyes looked dark and sunk in his face, their expression obscured by shadows. In a short while, he said, “I think that Jun Wu hates him.”

Xie Lian had not expected that sort of reply. After a moment, he asked, “Why do you think that?”

San Lang said, “Why did he strike down the Crown Prince twice?”

Hearing this, Xie Lian chuckled and thought, “What an innocent, naïve way of thinking.”

Xie Lian lowered his head and began taking off his sash. “That’s got nothing to do with hate. There are many things in this world that can’t simply be explained by love and hate.”

San Lang said, “Uh huh.”

Xie Lian turned around and took off his boots. “Moreover, crimes deserve punishments, and the Heavenly Emperor was only doing his duty, nothing more.”

San Lang replied noncommittally. “Perhaps.”

Xie Lian took off his outer layer, folded it, and prepared to place it on the shrine table. He wanted to say some more things when he turned his head and saw that San Lang was staring intensely at his foot.

There was something strange about his stare. It was cold, and yet it seemed it would feel hot and pierce through skin; it was hot, and yet it seemed it could freeze blood. Xie Lian looked down at his feet as well, heart dropping, and realized that the young man was staring at the cursed manacle on his right ankle.

The first cursed binding was the cursed collar curled around his neck, and his second cursed binding was the one around his ankle. These two cursed bindings, while there really weren’t any ideal places on the body to place curses on, were on parts of the body that was very hard to hide. In the past, when anybody asked, Xie Lian would bullshit something and said it was part of his training. However, if San Lang asked and Xie Lian had to answer, the young man didn’t seem the kind of person who would buy such fake explanations.

However, San Lang only stared silently at the cursed manacle on his foot, and so Xie Lian didn’t say anything either and proceeded to lie down on the mat. The young man also lay down obediently next to him, still wearing his day clothes. Xie Lian presumed he probably wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground with all his clothes on, and turned his head to say, “Relax. Sleep.”

He blew softly, and the candlelight went out.

The next morning, when Xie Lian opened his eyes, San Lang was no longer lying beside him. Looking up, feeling suddenly worried, he saw that on the shrine table there hung a portrait.

In the portrait, there was a man wearing huafu and a mask made of gold, one hand holding a double-edged sword, one hand holding a flower. The strokes were controlled and beautiful, the colours vivid but by no means gaudy. All in all, it truly befit the image of “The Crown Prince Deity of Xian Le.”

Xie Lian hadn’t seen this kind of portrait in years. He was stunned, and didn’t move for a very long time.³

When he was finally able to get his senses together, he stood up and dressed himself, and pushed aside the curtains on shack entrance. San Lang was outside under a shadow, twirling a broom in his hand while gazing at the sky with bored eyes.

It seemed that the young man really didn’t like sunlight. The look in his eyes as he stared at the sky – he seemed as though he were contemplating how to strike the sun down and beat it to a bloody pulp. The fallen leaves around the shack had all been swept into a neat pile. Xie Lian went outside to meet him. “How did you rest last night?”

San Lang still stayed leaning in the shadow, and turned his head. “Not bad.”

Xie Lian walked over and took his broom. “San Lang, did you draw the portrait in the temple?”

San Lang said, “Mm.”

Xie Lian said, “It’s very good.”

The corner of San Lang’s mouth curled up, but he said nothing.

Perhaps it was because he didn’t sleep well last night, San Lang’s hair this morning was even messier than it had been yesterday, loose and unkempt, though somehow Xie Lian still thought he looked completely charming and handsome. Xie Lian touched his own hair and said, “Do you want me to help with your hair?”

San Lang dipped his head, and together the two of them went back inside the temple. Xie Lian made him sit down and, taking a long lock of his black hair, carefully and quietly looked at it.

While some demons might be able to make flawless palm and finger prints, every demon that ever takes on a human appearance will always have one detail they get wrong. A living person’s hair is too numerous to count and to make one by one. A lot of demons forged fake human skins with hair that was more like a black cloud, or they would crudely attach a large wad of hair like a piece of cloth onto the head, or… they would simply go around bald.

Last night, as he’d already inspected San Lang’s palm and finger prints, Xie Lian had lowered his guard and let his suspicions go. But seeing that portrait this morning, drawn so beautifully and accurately, his suspicions were roused once again.

How could a normal person draw an image like that?

However, as Xie Lian carefully inspected the long strands, gently rubbing aside any dust and dirt, he found nothing exceptional. After a few moments, perhaps the way Xie Lian was fiddling with his hair made him ticklish, because San Lang laughed and tilted his head a bit. He glanced backwards at Xie Lian, and said, “Gege, did you really want to brush my hair, or did you want to do something else with it?”

With his long hair undone and draped around, San Lang was still handsome, but somehow looked a little bit demonic now. Having been asked this, Xie Lian smiled and replied, “All right.” He brushed it a couple more times before doing it up.

Once he was done, San Lang looked in the water basin next to him, before looking back at Xie Lian with a raised eyebrow. Xie Lian took a look at his own handiwork as well, and then couldn’t say anything.

San Lang’s hair had been messy before. Now, it was still messy.

While San Lang said nothing and simply gave him that look, Xie Lian felt as though he hadn’t been this embarrassed in several hundred years. He put his hands down and was about to say, come here, let’s try this again, when he heard a ruckus outside. A cacophony of human voices were calling, and one in particular yelled, “Great Immortal!”

Startled, Xie Lian rushed outside, and met a great crowd of people with faces flushed red in excitement. The leader of the crowd took a big step up towards him and grabbed his hand, saying, “Great Immortal! Our village has finally been visited by a real heavenly official! This is too amazing!”

Xie Lian was dumbstruck. “???”

The rest of the villagers all crowded around him. “”Great Immortal, welcome to our humble little village!”

“Great Immortal! Could you blease bless my new wife?!”

“Great Immortal! Could you please give us blessings for a new child?!”

“Great Immortal! I have fresh water chestnuts! Do you like water chestnuts? If you eat my chestnuts, do you think you could bless me with a good harvest this year?!”

The crowd massed around him, getting overheated with excitement, besieging Xie Lian on all sides with fervent prayers and requests. Xie Lian was pissed off. That old cart master with his big mouth. He’d told him last night to take extra care not to talk about what he’d seen to anyone, but this morning the word has spread throughout the whole village!

The villagers didn’t actually know who this deity was, and yet they fought to light incense for him. Who cared which heavenly official he was; a heavenly official was a heavenly official. It couldn’t hurt to pray to him. Xie Lian had thought that there would hardly be anybody visiting this shrine – perhaps only a few throughout the year, tops, so he had simply bought a handful of incense sticks as a gesture for the temple. Who could have known it would be used up within moments, with the incense pot stuck to the brim with incense sticks, filling up the entire shack with incense smoke. Since Xie Lian hadn’t smelled incense smoke in centuries, he couldn’t stop coughing. “Cough, fellow country folk, I really can’t promise blessings on wealth and fortunes, really, cough cough, please take care not to ask for wealth again! Who knows what sort of consequences would come of that! … Sorry, I don’t bless marriages and love either. …No, I don’t bless children either. Um.”

San Lang had let go of the matter of his unkempt hair as a lost cause. He sat on the shrine table, one hand holding an offering box, one hand eating water chestnuts. When many of the women in the village saw this handsome young man, they all blushed, and asked Xie Lian, “Then… do you bless…”

He didn’t know what they were going to ask, but he immediately struck it down, quite fed up at this point. “I do not!”

When the place was finally cleared of people, there was a mountain of fruit, vegetables, rice, noodles, and other such things. As much of an ordeal that was, they were still considered offerings. Xie Lian took up a broom and swept out the debris that the villagers had left behind on the floor. San Lang followed him outside. “The incense wasn’t so bad.”

Xie Lian continued to sweep as he shook his head. “Normally this place wouldn’t be of interest to anyone.”

“Why not?”

Xie Lian glanced at him, and then smiled. “But perhaps it was your luck that blessed this place today.”

Saying this, he remembered that the curtain on the door had been torn in the ruckus and had to be replaced. He took out a new curtain from his sleeves and put it up. Taking a couple of steps back to look at his handiwork, he realized that San Lang hadn’t followed him. He turned to look. “What’s the matter?”

Only to see San Lang was staring at the curtain, his gaze pensive. Following his gaze, Xie Lian also looked back at the curtain, and realized he was looking at what had been on drawn on the cloth.

It was a piece of curtain he’d casually written on in the past, full of wards and charms, thick and cascading, looking rather intimidating. It was originally meant to guard against demons and the supernatural, though because it was Xie Lian who had written these spells, who knew if they still worked. Obviously, Xie Lian attracted more ill luck than anything else. But as the curtain was acting as the entrance to his temple, it seemed safer to have at least some charms written on it.

Seeing the young man frozen before this curtain, Xie Lian’s heart thumped a few beats. “San Lang?”

It couldn’t be that, with this curtain full of wards and spells, he couldn’t enter?

 

 

1 – Google translates the characters to “futon” but it’s not the kind of “futon” that the West bastardized from Japan, nor is it the Japanese style of bedding. The Chinese 蒲团 (putuan) (also called zafu) is a cushion placed on the ground, like a “chair” but you kneel on it

2 – he’s probably waited for this for 800 yrs

3 – can you imagine how much love Hua Cheng must have put into this drawing… OTL

 

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