3 Reunion

The tide had never seen Liang Ye so disheveled. He wore only a thin inner garment, soaked through, its hem stained with mud and flecked with blood. He walked with an odd gait, as if his leg or foot was injured.

Three years had passed since they last met. He had grown taller, and was even leaner than before. The youthful softness had vanished, revealing sharper features and a more refined bearing. Even in such a sorry state, covered in blood and mud, he inexplicably did not appear dirty. He had always been this way since childhood; even when rolling in the mud with the other village children, he somehow managed to look cleaner than the rest.

Though he limped as he walked, his posture remained upright, as though he possessed an extra backbone compared to others.

His clothes had become too short, his shoulders narrower—these were the first thoughts that flashed through Haitao’s mind. Then she remembered those clothes had already been burned to ashes, and the person before her had no longer any connection to her.

Her blood chilled instantly.

She noticed a gilded silver sachet hanging from his belt, exquisitely carved and ingeniously crafted. Haitao had seen the county magistrate’s wife wear a similar one, though not nearly as delicate as this. He tied it so carefully at his waist, likely a token from that noble lady.

Liang Ye’s gaze landed on her, and the vacant look in his eyes suddenly sharpened. “Haitao.”

His tone was familiar, but his voice, unlike three years ago, had deepened and grown hoarse. A hint of surprise crossed his eyes as he coughed lightly. “Where is this place? How did we come to be here?”

Haitao could not fathom how, after that letter breaking off their engagement, he could still speak to her as though nothing had happened.

She turned her face away.

The man in blue had recovered his composure, glancing from Liang Ye to Haitao. “It seems you two know each other?”

Haitao answered stiffly, “I do not know any nobleman from Chang’an.”

Liang Ye’s eyes were filled with confusion. “When have I ever been to Chang’an?”

Haitao sneered, “Why are you pretending?”

Liang Ye stared at her for a while, the doubt in his eyes lingering like a thick fog. He seemed to realize something at last, lowering his gaze to his left hand.

Haitao followed his look. The hand was larger than when they parted, the bones distinct, the fair skin tinged with blue, as if carved from jade.

He must not have done any manual labor these three years, Haitao thought, the skin had grown delicate.

Liang Ye frowned and examined his hand closely, then let it drop. “What year and month is it now?”

Haitao eyed him suspiciously, unsure of his intentions.

The man in blue replied, “The third month of the eleventh year of Jinghe. What does the young gentleman think?”

Liang Ye nodded gently and thanked him, but did not answer the question.

The man in blue asked again, “Young gentleman, your complexion is not well. Are you unwell?”

Liang Ye raised his hand to rub the back of his head, then glanced at his palm.

Haitao followed his gaze and saw a patch of bright red on his hand.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You…”

She was caught off guard by Liang Ye’s gaze and quickly turned away.

The man in blue asked with concern, “How did the young gentleman become injured?”

Liang Ye lowered his hand. “It’s nothing. I slipped in the woods earlier and tumbled down a slope.”

The man in blue said, “No wonder you don’t recall what day or year it is. You must have struck your head—forgetting things for a time is not uncommon.”

Haitao had heard of such cases. In the village, Wang Er’s third son had been hit on the back of the head by a boat oar while playing, and forgot even who he was, taking months to recover.

She scrutinized Liang Ye, suspecting he was feigning.

But then she dismissed the thought. Her mother had always said, “A child’s nature is seen at three years old.” Liang Ye was proud at heart. If he could break off their engagement, he would hardly stoop to pretending.

The man in blue said again, “We’ve been so busy talking, we forgot your clothes are soaked. Come warm yourself by the fire.”

Liang Ye walked to Haitao’s side, about to sit, when Haitao abruptly stood and moved to another spot.

Liang Ye looked at her deeply, then sat down in silence.

Cheng Hanlin, seated to his left, pulled a snowy silk handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it over. “Brother, wipe your hands.”

Liang Ye thanked him and carefully cleaned the blood from his hands.

Cheng Hanlin then took off his own outer robe, looking at Liang Ye with sympathy. “Were you transported here in your sleep? You haven’t even a coat. If you don’t mind, please wear mine.”

Liang Ye said, “It’s fine, I’m not cold.”

“Your face is pale and blue, better put it on,” Cheng Hanlin seemed unbothered by his aloofness. “This place is strange. We don’t know how long we’ll be here; you’re injured, catching a chill would be troublesome.”

Liang Ye finally thanked him, draping the robe over his shoulders.

Cheng Hanlin grinned broadly, showing neat white teeth. “May I know your name, brother?”

“My surname is Liang, courtesy name Zi Ming,” Liang Ye replied.

Cheng Hanlin’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, enough to fit an egg. “Liang Zi Ming? Oh! You’re the top scholar—Liang Zi Ming?! From Lianzhou… It matches!”

Before Liang Ye could reply, Cheng Hanlin wailed, “Liang Zi Ming, you’ve made my life miserable!

“Do you know how many times I’ve copied your poetry and essays these three years? For every piece you write, my father forces me to memorize it. How are you so prolific?

“My father scolds me, saying, ‘Liang Zi Ming excels at both poetry and prose, his essays are majestic, and after two years at the Imperial Academy he became the top scholar. And you? You only have a good-looking face…’

“And now I see your face is indeed handsome! Can’t you leave a path for ordinary folk like me?!”

Haitao was aggravated; she had just thought Cheng Hanlin a decent sort, but now he seemed hopelessly lacking.

Liang Ye showed neither pride nor discomfort, only inclined his head slightly. “You praise me too much.”

The blue-clad man also bowed. “Young Master Liang, truly a remarkable youth. My apologies for any disrespect.”

Cheng Hanlin asked in surprise, “Brother, have you never heard of the name Liang Zi Ming?”

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The blue-clad man replied, “I am ashamed. I am but a small merchant, living far away in the countryside, ignorant of such things.”

Cheng Hanlin said, “You look like a scholar, speak in refined language, and your manners are elegant… I simply assumed.”

The blue-clad man replied, “I am embarrassed to admit, I once attempted the Mingjing examination but failed repeatedly. A few years ago I returned to my home in Qianzhou, doing some small business and writing letters or copying scriptures for others…”

Cheng Hanlin said, “So that’s how it is.”

“By the way, after all this, I have yet to introduce myself,” the blue-clad man bowed. “My surname is Jiang, given name Shen.”

Jiang Shen briefly introduced the others to Liang Ye, then looked around with a wry smile. “We have no idea where we are. We are at a loss. Does Young Master Liang have any insights?”

Liang Ye pondered, “Among us, who arrived here first?”

Jiang Shen replied, “The monk.”

The Buddhist monk lifted his eyelids.

Liang Ye glanced at him. “Was this place empty when you arrived?”

The monk nodded once.

Liang Ye looked at him again. “Did you touch anything here?”

The monk’s face darkened, his eyes blazing. “What are you implying?”

“I mean nothing else,” Liang Ye said calmly. “Just answer yes or no.”

The monk snorted, “I arrived only a moment before the young lady. What could I have moved? I am a monk, severed from worldly desires, uninvolved in mundane affairs. No need to treat me as a criminal.”

Liang Ye nodded slightly, his tone still mild. “Then may I ask, what is concealed in your robe?”

Everyone was startled, turning to look at the monk, whose robe was indeed slightly bulging.

The monk showed no panic, only sneered. “Whatever is in my robe, what concern is it of yours? It’s neither stolen nor robbed. You accuse me for nothing, you brat!”

Jiang Shen intervened, “Master, please don’t be upset. Perhaps Young Master Liang is mistaken.”

Liang Ye gestured toward the main shrine. “The statue is missing something, its size matches the object in your robe.”

Everyone turned to the stone statue, but saw nothing unusual.

Cheng Hanlin rose and walked to the shrine, scratching his head. “Is something missing? I don’t see it.”

Liang Ye said, “The statue spreads its wings and crouches, as if grasping something.”

Cheng Hanlin said, “I only thought its posture strange—so that’s it.”

The monk sneered, “You speak as if you’ve seen it yourself. Accusing me of theft over a posture, how ridiculous!”

Liang Ye continued, “Moreover, the pedestal is thick with dust, except for a clean square three inches between the claws.”

Cheng Hanlin clapped his hands. “Indeed! Sharp eyes—no wonder you’re Liang Zi Ming!”

Haitao cast him a disparaging look. Cheng Hanlin was so easily impressed, but she had grown up with Liang Ye and was accustomed to such skills. In childhood, no matter where the others hid during games, Liang Ye found them instantly. Whenever she lost something, it was always Liang Ye who found it for her.

Liang Ye turned to the monk. “Why not show us? If it’s a misunderstanding, I will apologize.”

Jiang Shen said, “Master, let us see it to clear the misunderstanding.”

Cheng Hanlin added, “Perhaps it contains clues to escape. Besides, this place is strange; if the item is unlucky, hiding it could harm us all.”

The monk gritted his teeth, the veins on his neck bulging.

Haitao disliked such reckless, greedy types, and said bluntly, “You bald thief, do you know how to get out? Be careful, you may steal but not live to enjoy it.”

“You!” The monk jumped up, about to strike, forgetting the item in his robe.

A red object slipped out of his collar, about to drop to the ground.

Quick-eyed, Haitao caught it. It was a heart-shaped red jade, translucent and intricately carved, so lifelike it seemed to pulse in her hand.

At a glance, it was a priceless treasure—no wonder the monk coveted it.

Haitao glared at him. “Look, is this yours?”

The monk’s face turned purple with rage, muttering, “I was just curious. Who cares for this cursed thing!”

Since he admitted it, Haitao let the matter rest.

Cheng Hanlin took the red jade heart and carefully placed it back in its slot.

With the heart in its grasp, the statue’s posture became more natural, but also more eerie and frightening.

Haitao’s sharp eyes caught something. “Its claws are moving!”

As soon as she spoke, not only the claws but its wings began to move as well.

A series of mechanical clicks sounded, and the stone pedestal slowly parted, revealing a hidden compartment about a foot wide, containing a scroll and a bronze-hilted short knife. The hilt was shaped like a creature with human and animal features, the blade covered in bird-like script.

Everyone looked at the monk.

He growled, “Why look at me! Believe what you will, the item was already on the ground when I arrived!”

Cheng Hanlin took the scroll and brought it to the fire, carefully unrolling it as everyone gathered round.

“Bird script again…” Cheng Hanlin muttered.

“Can you read it, Master Cheng?” Jiang Shen asked.

“I know only a little. I’ve heard there’s a lecturer at the Imperial Academy in the Western Capital who specializes in this, but alas, he is too far away to consult…” Cheng Hanlin pointed at the rough illustrations on the scroll. “Fortunately, there are pictures to aid understanding, so we can guess the gist…”

He frowned in thought, reading slowly, “Auspicious is this place, the Western Isle. In darkness and gloom, the fated arrive. The demon acts not alone, people must invite it. Seven realms, seven trials, fortune and calamity in turn. Destroy the demon’s deception, collect its net of sin. Cast off falsehood, return to truth, guard our future. Banish disaster, summon blessings, let the soul return.”

Haitao’s ears buzzed. “What does it mean?”

Cheng Hanlin said, “It means this place is called the Western Isle, a blessed land that only the fated can reach. We must travel to seven places, endure seven trials, destroy demons, subdue evil, find the truth, and then our souls can return home—to our own world.”

“Are we dead?” Haitao asked.

Cheng Hanlin thought for a moment, experienced in tales. “From what I’ve read, we are likely in a state of false death, our souls departed. If we escape in time, we should revive.”

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“In those stories, souls wander the underworld, but ours is unique. If we fail the trials, perhaps we truly die.”

Everyone’s faces grew grim, only Liang Ye remained composed. “What must we do?”

“We wait for the hour of the dragon, when sunlight falls atop the statue. Then the altar will rise.” Cheng Hanlin pointed to the scroll’s illustration.

Haitao could barely make out several crooked figures circling an irregular round shape; at first glance, it looked like people fishing around a pond. She couldn’t help but admire Cheng Hanlin’s deduction.

“Next, use the ritual knife to cut your skin, drip blood into the jade heart,” Cheng Hanlin continued. “Once the stone heart beats and the soul lamp lights, the gate to the first realm—the Fire Gate—will open. We enter in order.”

He rolled the scroll further. The next illustrations Haitao understood: the figures wielded sticks and axes, battling a three-horned serpent. Though crudely drawn, the serpent coiled like a mountain, making the people look like ants in comparison.

Cheng Hanlin said, “The next illustrations are harder to interpret… Zi Ming, any insights?”

Liang Ye examined them. “These five scenes show four outcomes. First, the people are devoured by the monster. Second, they try to hide; these seven suns and moons represent seven days and nights, but time runs out and they die. Third, the people slay the monster, but fail to meet some condition; when time is up, all perish. The last three should be viewed together.”

In the third image, the serpent stretched out, spewing smoke, within which a human shape was faintly visible.

In the fourth, the serpent had vanished. A figure with a curved blade accepted a round object from another figure, holding it with both hands.

In the fifth, the one holding the sphere disappeared, and a gate appeared beside the others.

Liang Ye frowned, analyzing, “To open the next gate, we must not only defeat the monster, but obtain some token.”

“I see,” Cheng Hanlin clapped. “No wonder you’re the brightest mind in Yan—Liang Zi Ming!”

Haitao could hardly bear it. “He might not be right.”

Liang Ye glanced at her. “It’s only conjecture.”

But Cheng Hanlin took his words as gospel.

He eagerly asked Liang Ye, “Zi Ming, what do you think the token is?”

Liang Ye said, “The poem says, ‘The demon acts not alone, people must invite it.’ There must be a connection between people and demon—perhaps resonance, or two sides of one coin.”

Cheng Hanlin asked, “How do we obtain the token?”

“The figure offers it willingly, so it cannot be seized by force,” Liang Ye glanced at Haitao, adding, “It’s only speculation. We’ll know for sure once we enter the first realm.”

Haitao felt unconvinced, but had no argument, and could only purse her lips in silence.

Cheng Hanlin was thoroughly impressed.

The final illustration showed the figures returning to the shrine, embedding seven spheres into the surrounding grooves. The scroll ended there.

Liang Ye examined both ends of the scroll, then rolled it up carefully.

With several hours until dawn, Jiang Shen proposed two people take turns to watch while the others rest.

Seeing that Lady Lu was frail, everyone wanted to exempt her from the watch, but she insisted on equal treatment despite her timid appearance.

The six divided into three pairs: Jiang Shen and the monk for the first shift, Haitao and Lady Lu for the second, Liang Ye and Cheng Hanlin for the third.

The monk sneered, “You treat me as a thief and assign me the night watch. Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you for gain?”

Jiang Shen replied, “A moment’s misjudgment is no great crime. Now we are in another world, sharing the same fate, we must work together. Surely the master understands this.”

The monk crossed his arms and harrumphed, but said no more.

With arrangements made, Jiang Shen said, “There are several small chambers inside, quite clean. Please rest there.”

“What about the ritual knife?” Cheng Hanlin asked.

Jiang Shen thought a moment. “If you all trust me, I’ll keep it safe until the ceremony.”

No one objected.

Haitao was about to rest when Liang Ye called her, “Haitao, may I have a word?”

Haitao replied without turning, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Lady Lu glanced at them both, then lowered her head and slipped away like a frightened rabbit.

“Just a few words, I’ll leave after,” Liang Ye said.

Haitao turned, but did not look at him, her gaze averted. “Say it quickly.”

“I just want to remind you—be wary of the monk, he’s not truly a monk. And don’t trust anyone blindly.”

The least trustworthy is you, Haitao thought.

“Are you done? If so, I’m leaving.”

“Haitao, did I do something wrong?” Liang Ye said behind her, his voice rough and strained.

Haitao paused, but did not turn. “No, you did nothing wrong.”

Is falling for someone else a fault? Probably not.

Yet the ache in her heart was real, and she did not know whom to confide in.

Feeling increasingly stifled, she turned and looked at him coldly. “A top scholar and a lowly girl are not of the same world. Now you are engaged to an official’s daughter. From now on, we owe each other nothing.”

Liang Ye lowered his eyes.

For a moment, Haitao thought she saw a hint of confusion on his face, but quickly realized it was an illusion.

He had always been distant—even in those years when they depended on each other, she was the only one who cared.

Without waiting for him to speak, Haitao continued in one breath, “A top scholar is a phoenix fallen on hard times, unlike ordinary folk. Now you’ve returned to your proper place among the parasol trees.

“From now on, you need not lower yourself to associate with me.”

With that, she turned and walked away without looking back.