Chapter Fifty-Six: Where Endless Waters, Countless Mountains Embrace

PS: Recommended for this week, updates fixed at 2:30 and 5:30 in the afternoon.

Gao Yao trembled as he followed behind Jiang Pingchuan, stepping out of the room and cautiously glancing at the courtyard. When he saw Uncle Ma standing safely, Gao Yao finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn’t dare close his eyes now; every time he did, the charred face of the young woman haunted him. The thought of such a ghost sitting atop his belly sent chills down his spine, and only after rubbing his heart did he feel a bit comforted.

Uncle Ma hurried forward as Jiang Pingchuan emerged, and upon seeing the three step out, he understood that the ghostly woman had either left or vanished completely. He had paid the price—something was missing from him, and his years were fewer now. Upon reflection, losing his desires wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Brother Pingchuan, about that...” Uncle Ma looked at Jiang Pingchuan, probing, his eyes drifting to the patch of banana grove scorched by the horse-faced spirit. Jiang Pingchuan caught his meaning and smiled, nodding.

Uncle Ma relaxed at Jiang Pingchuan’s nod; it was clear that the time waiting outside had been agonizing for him.

“Uncle Ma, it’s still early. We’d like to head back. There’s nothing more here—you can rest easy now.” Jiang Pingchuan cupped his hands to Uncle Ma, gesturing to the timid Gao Yao standing behind him.

“Well, thank you, Brother Pingchuan.” Uncle Ma looked awkwardly at Jiang Pingchuan. He had nothing to offer in thanks, so he could only smile sheepishly, rubbing his palms on his trousers.

“Hey, Uncle Ma, your bananas are ripe, but you don’t even let me cut a couple?” Gao Yao was reluctant to leave so soon; the taste of the bananas he’d eaten that afternoon still lingered sweetly in his mouth. Uncle Ma looked utterly astonished at Gao Yao’s words.

“What’s with that look, Uncle Ma? Is it such a big deal for me to eat a few bananas? You look half-dead!” Gao Yao was displeased by Uncle Ma’s bewildered and blank expression. After all, he had risked his life and future happiness to lure the ghostly woman.

Now, after everything, Uncle Ma seemed unhappy about a couple of bananas. Jiang Pingchuan waved to stop Gao Yao, and even the horse-faced spirit looked confused at his uncle.

When Gao Yao mentioned the bananas from lunch, the flavor still lingered in his mouth. His uncle was never stingy, and it was impossible that he’d be upset over a few bananas.

“Brother Pingchuan, you said you ate bananas at noon? From my grove?” Uncle Ma asked in a trembling, low voice. Jiang Pingchuan nodded, and Gao Yao looked at him as if he were a fool—wasn’t it obvious? Uncle Ma was the only one in Sanjiang Town who grew bananas.

“But—but it’s not the season for any bananas to ripen!” Uncle Ma looked anxiously at his banana grove. Aside from the patch burned by the horse-faced spirit, the rest was still growing.

But those banana groves were all still maturing; it was impossible for them to bear fruit yet. After hearing Uncle Ma’s words, even Jiang Pingchuan and the horse-faced spirit were shocked, not to mention Gao Yao, who trembled and rolled his eyes, his lips quivering. Jiang Pingchuan was stunned—he hadn’t noticed this before.

Still, nothing seemed amiss, and he felt no danger or discomfort. The mysterious appearance of the bananas was uncanny, but nothing seemed to threaten them.

“Ha, Uncle Ma, you’re overthinking. Relax. Gao Yao was just teasing you.” Jiang Pingchuan noticed Uncle Ma’s concern, but felt neither danger nor strangeness here.

He patted Gao Yao’s shoulder, infusing him with true energy; Gao Yao immediately straightened, grinning foolishly at Uncle Ma.

“Just teasing you, haha. Right, Horse-face?” Gao Yao laughed, glancing at the horse-faced spirit for confirmation. The horse-faced spirit smiled and nodded.

Though he had questions, it was clear now was not the time to ask. Uncle Ma, reassured by Jiang Pingchuan and the horse-faced spirit, and recalling Gao Yao’s previous antics, felt his fear ebb away and nodded, saying nothing more.

“Uncle, since Mr. Pingchuan says there’s no problem, don’t worry. I’ll escort them back and come see you tomorrow.” The horse-faced spirit saw his uncle was no longer so afraid and moved to send Jiang Pingchuan off. Uncle Ma nodded, his mind seeming dazed as he headed inside.

As Uncle Ma passed by, Jiang Pingchuan infused him with true energy to help strengthen his qi. Without his manhood, Uncle Ma might become gloomy in temperament.

Under the moonlight, the three walked side by side. Gao Yao carried a broadsword, looking shifty; the horse-faced spirit’s eyes shifted from normal to spirit-seeing. Jiang Pingchuan replayed Uncle Ma’s words in his mind.

If it wasn’t banana season, where had the bananas they ate at noon come from? The more Jiang Pingchuan thought, the chillier his spine felt—this place truly was uncanny.

He hadn’t noticed it at first; if not for Gao Yao’s loose tongue and Uncle Ma’s remarks, the three would never have realized that, under the blazing sun, they’d witnessed something supernatural.

And even now, the taste of those bananas lingered in their mouths. Jiang Pingchuan felt his experience was sorely lacking, his vigilance too poor.

“Brother Pingchuan...”
“Mr. Pingchuan...”

Gao Yao and the horse-faced spirit spoke simultaneously, looking to Jiang Pingchuan. He knew they wished to understand what happened at noon, but he shook his head.

“I can’t be certain, but these things are harmless to us, so there’s no need to worry. Consider it a strange experience.” He pulled out the folding fan stuck in Gao Yao’s neck, opened it, and waved it gently. The night was chilly, but only when he waved the fan did he feel less fearful.

The three fell silent, heading toward Sanjiang Market. The whole affair became a mystery—a bizarre event only they had experienced.

“Horse-face, tomorrow is the day to reopen the ancestral hall. Once it’s reopened, I must leave. I hope you’ll stay in the yamen to assist Lord Gao.”

Jiang Pingchuan extended his folding fan to the horse-faced spirit. He had given out two fans today—one to Gao Yao, and now he offered the one he’d used to the horse-faced spirit, who hesitated as he looked between Jiang Pingchuan and the fan.

“Brother Pingchuan, what good is this blockhead for?” Gao Yao was annoyed that the horse-faced spirit hesitated to accept the fan from Jiang Pingchuan. He was the magistrate’s son, yet the horse-faced spirit acted more grandly than him.

“My blockhead’s better than your impotence.” The horse-faced spirit snapped open the fan and fanned himself twice, his tone mocking. Jiang Pingchuan smiled, happy to see the horse-faced spirit as he prepared to leave Sanjiang County, and glad for Gao Yao as well.

The horse-faced spirit was talented; staying to help Lord Gao would ensure Gao Yao achieved something with his companionship.

“My impotence? You say I’m impotent? You really say I’m impotent?” Gao Yao pointed at his nose, questioning the horse-faced spirit, who nodded seriously. Gao Yao, seeing Jiang Pingchuan silent, stopped talking and vented his nearly shattered nerves by hacking at roadside weeds with his broadsword.

“Take good care of your folding fans. If anything major happens in Sanjiang County, bring them to the imperial city. If I’m still there, I’ll return.” Jiang Pingchuan spoke softly, rubbing his fingers and playing with a wisp of Samadhi fire.

“Are you really leaving? You’ve been here more than half a year, but only met me once. You trust Sanjiang County in my hands?” The horse-faced spirit looked at the fan, realizing its meaning had changed. The fan could summon Jiang Pingchuan from the imperial city—it had become a token among them.

“Horse-face, what do you mean, entrusting Sanjiang County to you? Am I invisible?” Gao Yao said sourly to the horse-faced spirit. He wasn’t targeting the horse-faced spirit, just felt at a loss knowing Jiang Pingchuan was departing.

Jiang Pingchuan’s connection to the horse-faced spirit was just a single day; for Gao Yao, it was only a few more hours. Yet both felt as if they’d spent ages with Jiang Pingchuan.

“Will we meet again?” the horse-faced spirit asked.

“Ha, rivers wind through mountains; why need we have met before? If fated, we shall meet again.” Jiang Pingchuan extinguished the Samadhi fire on his fingertips.

He had seen that phrase carved into the old man’s stone tablet, and at this moment, he finally understood its meaning.