Chapter Text
Chapter six
The night is humid, a drop of sweat trickles down my brow.
I take off my bamboo hat with my unoccupied hand, fanning myself with it. The cool air against my skin is a relief.
Crouched in this familiar spot as I am, a funny sense of deja vu fogs my head until I hear my name being called again.
“Wishing Taizi Dianxia luck, may Heaven’s officials give their blessings.”
Ling Wen’s familiar words are comforting in a way, I find myself smiling without meaning to.
“No paths are bound!”
With that, I drop my fingers from my temple, focusing back in on my surroundings.
I re-take in the grave stones and foliage around me.
A head appears in front of my hat—blocking my air—desperately seeking reprieve from the heat.
Qi Ying opens his mouth, as if trying to bite the cool air.
His mane of dark curls is frizzy from the moist air. A sweat slicked curl lies plastered to his temple.
“What’s his problem?” Qi Ying points ahead of us where Lang Qianqiu crouches, also hidden in the brush.
Lang Qianqiu’s hand grips the great-sword strapped to his back, whole body visibly tense.
“Ah, well he… it’s quite complicated…”
“I don’t understand.”
I shake my head, chuckling, “Don’t worry about it.”
I continue to fan him as I talk, “Might I ask, Qi Ying, why did you so readily accept this mission?”
He absentmindedly picks at a leaf before responding.
“Shixiong lives in Ghost City, he cares about Ghost City. If Shixiong cares then it’s important.” He quickly blows a curl from his face.
I can’t help but smile at his sincerity, “It’s good that we exchanged spiritual array passwords then!”
Dragging his finger over the dirt beside his feet, he crookedly draws an image of a man holding….well, actually I don’t know.
It isn’t until he writes in simple, wide, calligraphy “Shixiong” that I realize it’s Yin Yu, holding the Earth Master shovel.
A light sigh escapes me but I can’t help but join him.
As I begin drawing out an eye patch and a mischievous smirk, a sharp wind cuts through the damp air.
I turn my head to find a short trail of ghosts walking through the graveyard, each carrying a sack.
Said sacks are simple, stained with some dark substance, vaguely twitching.
Qi Ying looks ready to jump at them, clearly eager to fight. I am quick to grab his sleeve, shaking my head.
Behind Qi Ying’s head, I lock eyes with Lang Qianqiu.
He stares at me for a short moment, eyes cloudy with thought. Scarcely nodding to me, he rises to his feet, donning a disguise all the while.
In the blink of an eye, he becomes a simply-clothed ghost man wearing a colorful tiger mask that covers the top half of his face.
He clearly doesn’t want to be recognized; it seems he’s taking precautions after what happened the last time he was in ghost city…
I quietly remind Qi Ying to pull on his hood and cloak his spiritual energy.
As I pull down my hat over my face, we stand, silently following the short procession into Ghost City.
The trees and headstones fall away as the scenery changes—morphing into vibrant, boisterous stalls, lanterns, and signs.
The smell of iron is faint in the air, hitting the back of my throat; a reminder of the dangers that come with the opulence.
The outlandishness of the decor is only surpassed by the citizens themselves. Sellers shout, advertising their wares and questionable delicacies.
The city is violently alive—despite all of its inhabitants being dead.
There is a pang of pain as I take in the sight. The last time I was here, I was with—
Lang Qianqiu stares straight ahead, pulling his hood lower over his face, keeping a distance between himself and the ghosts.
By contrast, Qi Ying’s head is on a constant side to side swivel, trying to absorb every detail of the street.
A small smile cuts through the melancholy of my face.
I keep an eye out for any alarming developments or overly suspicious characters.
The sharp sound of glass shattering pierces the air.
My eyes quickly shoot to the sound, only to find Qi Ying quickly snatching some odd dish from a stand, stuffing it in his mouth.
“Qi-“ It quickly dons on me that using Qi Ying’s name would only draw attention to us. “Ah! Please don’t eat that!”
Qi Ying turns to me, cheeks full, completely unabashed.
The seller on the other hand slams down his butcher knife in fury, “HEY WHAT THE FUCK! ARE YOU GON’ PAY FER THAT?!”
“Sir, I’m so sorry!” My hands rush to find the qiankun pouch at my waist. I hurriedly pull out some coins, asking for the price.
When I look up, I notice Qi Ying has once again scampered off.
I clasp my hands together in apology, handing the money over—which the ghost only grumbles at.
I chase down Qi Ying, finding him right as his eyes once again light up as he reaches for something else.
Sweat beads at my brow as I whisper, “Qi Ying, put that down please.”
Lang Qianqiu glances back, eyes bouncing between us and the ghosts he’s tailing. I nod to him, telling him to go.
I quickly grab Qi Ying’s arm, leading him away from the stall, around a corner, after Lang Qianqiu.
As we turn the corner—down an alley—the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Under my sleeve Ruoye poises to attack, waiting like a viper ready to strike.
Ahead of us Lang Qianqiu is also stopped— also on edge, a firm grasp on the hilt of his great-sword.
The ghosts drop their sacks to the ground with a wet thud, turning to face us.
They scowl at us from beneath their hoods, drawing crooked, blades—thick with cursed aura—from inside their cloaks.
The ghost leading the procession speaks, “What the hell do you want?” He growls, voice akin to a grindstone.
Qi Ying’s eyes sparkle, overjoyed that it’s finally time to fight.
“Is that really him?” A voice screeches from behind us.
I glance backwards and I’m taken aback.
At the entrance to the alley stands a crowd, led by the boar butcher and rooster spirit I had encountered on my previous visits to ghost city.
Upon seeing my face they come rushing toward us.
“HOLY SHIT! IT REALLY IS HIM!”
At that realization, the crowd erupts with excitement, pushing against one another, fighting for a chance to say hello.
“GRANDUNCLE!”
“I FUCKIN’ TOLD YOU GUYS—“
“GRANDUNCLE DO YA REMEMBER ME?”
Qi Ying raises his fists—clearly ready to fight them too. I pat his shoulder, assuring him they aren’t a threat.
Lang Qianqiu goes very still, looking as if he wants to hide inside the ground. He raises a hand to his face, relaxing a touch when he remembers he’s wearing a mask.
The boar butcher rushes up to me, spouting greetings that I nervously return.
“What brings ye here, Granduncle?”
“Probably here to try my new dish!” With that, a dish is excitedly proffered to me.
“Ah, no I’m—“
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the ghosts we were tailing grab their sacks, scurrying away.
FWOOSH
Ruoye flies out of my sleeve, only to be parried by the lead ghost.
“IS THIS GUY BOTHERING YOU, GRANDUNCLE?” the boar butcher grunts, raising his large knife.
In an instant, the crowd shifts focus—chasing, overwhelming, and scuffling with the other ghosts.
Qi Ying jumps into the chaos before I can stop him, pummeling his opponents.
I lift my sleeve, warding against the dirt being kicked up.
Lang Qianqiu looks at me with eyes that can be read as dumbfounded, even with his mask on, his mouth agape.
“Qianqiu! I’ll leave this matter with you. Let’s regroup here in one day! You take Qi Ying, keep him out of trouble please!”
“I—“
“May Heaven’s officials give their blessings!” I shout over my shoulder as I scurry away.
Emerging from another connecting alley, I find myself in a familiar sector.
My breathing hitches.
The pain is sharper now—sharpened by the familiar sight.
Slowly, a temple rises before my eyes, shimmering.
The transcendent beauty of the structure is magnified by the surrounding scarlet and smokey grays. The contrast is striking, only furthering the splendid image.
Qiandeng Temple.