Jianghu Demolition Squad

Savoring Life’s Hundred Flavors (Part Three)

Qing Jiu was still doubting Jue Mingzi’s identity when he suddenly grabbed her wrist, urging, “Come, come, come, let’s check your wound. If we delay, the wound could get infected and you’ll catch a cold, which is not fun at all.”

Qing Jiu stumbled, pulled along by his firm grip. She tried to break free, but her strength failed her.

Jue Mingzi led her to a thatched hut with a small stove outside, where bitter-smelling medicine simmered, blending with the misty rain.

“Healer Zhou, are you there?” Jue Mingzi called out as he led Qing Jiu inside.

Inside the room, there were two rows of shelves. A middle-aged man in a long robe stood before the shelves, sorting dried herbs into a basket.

Jue Mingzi steered Qing Jiu toward a couch, gently pushing her down onto it before taking a seat himself. He placed the chestnuts on the tea table, unwrapped them, and began peeling and eating them without any reserve, “Take a look at this little girl. She has a shoulder wound.”

As Qing Jiu attempted to rise, the healer approached, setting the basket aside. Without hesitation, he pulled open Qing Jiu’s robe to examine the wound on her shoulder.

“This wound has been neglected too long…” Physician Zhou glanced at Qing Jiu, “You might lose this arm.”

“Hm? It wasn’t that long ago. It hasn’t even been half an hour since I brought her here.”

Healer Zhou frowned. “Old wound plus new wound. The old wound was poorly bandaged and left untreated. It’s infected and festering. To heal properly, the dead flesh needs to be removed.” Jue Mingzi leaned closer, realizing the healer was referring to an older wound on Qing Jiu’s shoulder.

The coarse gray cloth was soaked with blood, sticking to the wound due to the infection.

Jue Mingzi frowned deeply, “Little friend, your body is a gift from your parents. Why don’t you take better care of yourself?”

Physician Zhou sighed lightly, “I’ll go prepare the tools.”

Qing Jiu had been hanging her head, silent and indifferent. She didn’t care about her own injuries and seemed to not even hear the conversation between Jue Mingzi and the healer.

Jue Mingzi watched the healer leave, then turned to Qing Jiu. “The sword techniques you used earlier… they’re from the Ghost Sect,” he observed. “You’re a Ghost Sect assassin.”

Normally, if someone identified her fighting style so readily, Qing Jiu would be on high alert. But now, she felt nothing, merely glancing at Jue Mingzi with empty eyes.

Jue Mingzi noted her demeanor. No assassin worth their salt would be so unguarded. This girl had truly lost the will to live.

“Your movements were like lightning, swift and precise,” he continued. “I thought to myself, ‘This girl has remarkable potential.’ And to think you were injured all this time. What a waste of talent. It’s a shame you joined the Ghost Sect. Otherwise, I would have taken you under my wing and trained you personally.”

As they spoke, Healer Zhou returned with a tray containing clean water, bandages, wound medicine, and a very sharp dagger.

Healer Zhou heated the dagger over a candle, “Old Ghost, I’ve run out of anesthetic here. Knock her out first.”

Jue Mingzi was about to press Qing Jiu’s acupoints when she spoke up, “No need.”

Jue Mingzi looked into her eyes as she lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were still lifeless, lacking any spark.

“Just do it like this.”

Healer Zhou was taken aback, “This pain isn’t something ordinary people can endure.”

Qing Jiu didn’t waver. Healer Zhou frowned at Jue Mingzi, who nodded back at him.

Healer Zhou sighed and began to cut away the soiled bandage, “We can’t stop once we start. If you can’t bear it, you’ll have to endure.”

Healer Zhou cleaned the wound with water and then started to remove the rotten flesh.

Jue Mingzi observed Qing Jiu’s expression from the side. He saw her pale face gradually turning red, and her eyes also became bright red and moist, finally showing a spark of life.

He realized Qing Jiu wasn’t fearless. Perhaps she had simply grown accustomed to pain, skilled at enduring it. Maybe, at this moment, she was truly feeling the agony.

Jue Mingzi saw the sweat beading on her forehead. “Do you feel it?” he asked softly. “Do you feel that you’re still alive?”

Qing Jiu turned to look at him, her vision blurred by pain.

Jue Mingzi took the gourd of wine from his waist and handed it to her, saying, “Take a sip of this, it’ll help with the pain.”

When she didn’t take it, he uncorked it himself and handed it to her.

As soon as the gourd was opened, a clear and refreshing aroma of wine wafted out. Unlike many intense wine scents that hit the sense of smell directly, this one was gentle and not pungent at all. Just smelling it seemed to convey its mellow flavor.

Qing Jiu thought of Lin Qing Chao, who particularly enjoyed mellow wines. If she were here, she would definitely love this wine.

Qing Jiu raised the gourd and took a sip. It was the first taste of alcohol since her senses had returned, and each drop seemed to explode on her tongue.

The liquid fire flowed down her throat, a blend of spice, bitterness, and sweetness, the three flavors somehow harmonizing in a strange and delightful way.

She gulped down half the gourd in one breath, drinking so quickly that some of the liquor dribbled down her chin.

The alcohol burned in her stomach and made her body feel light, almost making the pain feel unreal, as if the ache in her heart was just as illusory.

Jue Mingzi, smiling, took the gourd back, “I didn’t expect little friend to be a little drunkard. Although I like it, drinking like this is hardly a way to savor fine wine.”

Healer Zhou had already cut away the rotten flesh, applied wound medicine, and re-bandaged her.

She immediately thanked him and intended to pay with silver before leaving. However, there were two problems: firstly, the money pouch she had snatched was now in Jue Mingzi’s hands; secondly, the healer insisted that no one leave his place until they were fully recovered. He declared that she could only leave once her wound had fully healed.

Consequently, she stayed there to rest for three days. Her wound healed quickly, forming a scab and new flesh underneath.

She sat on the corridor in the backyard, her bare feet stepping on the cool bluestone steps.

A few chickens pecked around in the yard, their whole lives seemingly contained to the joy of pecking at grains.

Most people would probably laugh at them, thinking that animals are just animals. But Qing Jiu envied them a little. They had no worries, no pain, no burdens, and were happy as long as their stomachs were full.

As she watched the chickens peck at the dirt, creating small craters, an itch spread across her body. She instinctively reached to scratch at her healing wounds.

A hand stopped her. “You finally have scabs,” a voice said gently. “Don’t tear them open again.”

Jue Mingzi sat down beside her. Qing Jiu, unable to resist, continued scratching lightly through the fabric of her bandages.

He placed a wine jar in front of her. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he said with a smile, “perhaps some wine will distract you.”

He shook a cup at her, unsealed the jug, and poured a cup of wine, placing it beside her hand.

Qing Jiu picked up the cup, looking at the ripples in the strong-smelling wine —it was good, but different from last time, likely a stronger spirit, “We’re practically strangers,” she asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

Qing Jiu no longer had an interest in exploring what others might want from her. She was simply curious.

Jue Mingzi poured himself a cup and leaned in close to sip it slowly, then sighed deeply, “The wine is just right.”

Qing Jiu also finished her drink. The wine was indeed strong, and she choked a bit on it.

Jue Mingzi chuckled, pouring her another cup. They drank three cups in quick succession.

Jue Mingzi proposed, “How about this? To be fair, you ask a question, I answer, then I ask a question, and you answer. How does that sound?”

Qing Jiu looked at him. The alcohol was strong, and she was already feeling dizzy.

“Consider it a drinking game,” Jue Mingzi said.

“Okay.”

“Should I ask first, or do you want to ask first?”

“I already asked my question.”

“Hmm… I said before that you seemed like someone I’d get along with.”

“But there has to be more to it than that,” Qing Jiu pressed. “No one goes through so much trouble for a complete stranger for no reason.”

Jue Mingzi laughed heartily: “Don’t overthink everything. If you calculate everything before acting, what’s the fun in that? I do as I wish, without concern for anything else, just following my heart.”

“You’ve asked your question; now it’s my turn,” Jue Mingzi said, finishing his cup and looking at Qing Jiu. “Little friend, I see that you have lost all interest in life, lost your will to live. You’re just like a walking corpse, an empty shell. You’re so young. How can you be so depressed and dispirited?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Jue Mingzi smiled, “If you don’t tell me, of course, I won’t understand.”

Qing Jiu’s gaze fell upon the hens in the yard, huddled together with their chicks. She saw a reflection of her own past, a time when her family had been whole and happy.

Perhaps she had suppressed those memories for too long and needed to vent, or perhaps it was just the alcohol making her talkative.

Whatever the reason, she found herself confiding in this man she had known for only three days, pouring out her heart, recounting the tragic events of her past.

“So… that’s what happened,” Jue Mingzi said softly, shaking his head. “I had heard whispers of the Lin family tragedy. You… ah…”

“I’m always the one left behind…” Qing Jiu murmured, tracing the rim of her cup with her finger. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Only a hollow ache remained in her heart.

As she spoke, she frowned, and her eyes darkening with a new wave of despair. She stood abruptly, staring into the distance. “Is it because my fate is too strong?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Did they all die because of me? Why… why am I the only one left alive?” She felt like she had stumbled upon the root of all her pain. The more she thought about it, the more she felt consumed by a sense of hopelessness.

Jue Mingzi gently tapped her on the head with his bamboo stick. “Stop talking nonsense,” he scolded. “Don’t let your imagination run wild.”

“Come here, sit down,” he instructed, leading her back to the table.

Jue Mingzi went back inside and brought out two large bowls, smiling as he poured a generous amount of liquor: “It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk like this. Let’s make an exception today.”

Jue Mingzi took a big swig of his drink, sitting cross-legged and facing Qing Jiu: “Everyone’s experiences are different, but feelings can be shared. Little friend, I know you already have a death wish. Most people wouldn’t be able to endure what you’ve been through, but you’ve made it this far. You’re still so young. And because you’re so young, you can’t give up now.”

“They’re all gone, and I’m left alone. What’s the point of living…”

Jue Mingzi tapped her on the head again with his stick. “You’re not living for them,” he said firmly. “You’re living for yourself. And if you’re asking what the point of living is, let me tell you, there’s so much to experience!”

“Spring blossoms, autumn moons, summer breezes, winter snow. The lush forests of the south, the raging waves of the eastern sea, the vast deserts of the west, the lone geese soaring across the sky… Have you seen any of it? You’re too young to be preoccupied with death. Go out and experience the world. If you still find life meaningless after that, then no one will stop you from seeking your end.”

“When you finally walk the path to the underworld and reunite with your parents,” Jue Mingzi continued, his voice softer now, “don’t greet them with tears and tales of your suffering, of how much you missed them, and break their hearts all over again. Tell them about the places you’ve been, the things you’ve seen. That would bring them far greater comfort.”

“Besides, the world is so vast, and you will surely find like-minded friends worthy of your trust, so you won’t always be alone.” Jue Mingzi’s voice was exceptionally gentle, his eyes twinkling with a smile, “And if you are lucky enough to meet your Zhong Ziqi someday, you will realize that walking in this world is worth it. Even if they are a thousand miles away, just thinking of them will ease your loneliness. They may not be family by blood, but the bond will be stronger than any kinship.”

Qing Jiu looked down, “Someone like me…”

Jue Mingzi knew what she was about to say. He rapped her lightly on the head with his stick. “You stubborn girl,” he chided. “I hope this will knock some sense into that thick skull of yours. Even the most wicked villains find companions who share their foul stench. A bright, clever girl like you is bound to find her Bo Ya, her soulmate.”

Qing Jiu looked at him, her eyes flickering with a glimmer of hope.

Jue Mingzi laughed, patted his legs, and said, “Come here.”

Qing Jiu obediently lay across his lap, and Jue Mingzi stroked her hair.

As Qing Jiu watched the moon rise in the night sky, she felt a warmth spread through her, Jue Mingzi’s touch reminding her of her father’s gentle hand.

Jue Mingzi sighed, “A strong wind doesn’t last all morning, and a sudden rain doesn’t last all day. There will always be a time when the clouds part and the sun appears.”

“Little friend, no one’s life is filled with endless suffering. Endure the hardship, and you will taste the sweetness that awaits.”

That night, their heartfelt conversation, fueled by wine and shared experiences, chipped away at the wall around Qing Jiu’s heart, allowing a glimmer of light to penetrate the darkness.

She realized Jue Mingzi was right. If she ended her life now…

Her loved ones would grieve, and her enemies would rejoice.

She had to live, for herself. She had to seek vengeance, experience all that life had to offer, the good and the bad, to honor her mother’s sacrifice, to make her journey into this world worthwhile.

And once she accomplished all that, she could let go and reunite with her parents with a clear conscience.

Jue Mingzi, sensing the shift in her demeanor, felt a surge of relief. During Qing Jiu’s recovery, he often shared stories of his jianghu adventures, teaching her about different wines and their unique characteristics. As they opened up to each other, he grew increasingly fond of her, recognizing a kindred spirit. He shared his knowledge of winemaking, passing on all his secrets without reservation.

He wished they had more time together, but he was bound for Miaojiang, a journey fraught with uncertainty.

Once Qing Jiu had healed, she also packed her belongings to leave. Lin Qingchao had hoped her ashes would be scattered in West Lake, to be with her family, so she needed to return to Hangzhou.

They met at an inn to bid each other farewell. Jue Mingzi placed a hand on Qing Jiu’s head, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I’d like to take you on as my disciple,” he admitted, “but you already have a master. Ah, what a shame…”

If his journey to Miaojiang wasn’t so dangerous, he would have waited for Qing Jiu, taking her along.

Jue Mingzi handed her a letter, saying, “Your identity makes you a target. As you walk through the jianghu, you need to be able to protect yourself. I have a friend in Xiaoqing Mountain whose skill in martial arts is decent You have natural talent. A few years under his guidance, you will no longer need to fear the many troubles you might face.”

“But…”

Jue Mingzi chuckled, understanding her hesitation, and said, “You don’t have to formally become his disciple,” he reassured her. “Just ask him to teach you martial arts. Show him this letter, and he’ll agree. He might put up a bit of a fight at first – he’s a tough nut to crack – but be persistent, and he’ll eventually cave.”

Qing Jiu took the letter. As they continued talking, a group of drunk men at a nearby table grew increasingly rowdy, their voices escalating into a brawl.

Qing Jiu felt a disturbance behind her and sidestepped just in time to see a man tumble towards her.

The large man fell to the ground, his hands flailing in the air trying to stabilize himself but inadvertently pulling Qing Jiu’s bag down.

The bag hit the ground with a heavy thud. Qing Jiu’s expression changed instantly. She kicked the man hard in the face, sending him sprawling, and frantically opened the bag.

“What’s wrong, little friend?”

The urn inside the bag had shattered, and the ashes had spilled out.

She remained silent, carefully gathering the ashes into a handkerchief she pulled from her robes. She stood abruptly, drawing her sword and aiming it at the man’s vital points.

The man, still dazed from the kick, didn’t dodge.

Jue Mingzi, shocked by her sudden aggression, was about to intervene when two figures materialized beside him. Moving with lightning speed, they swept past him. A whisk entangled Qing Jiu’s sword, while a string of prayer beads wrapped around her wrists, binding her hands.

In the blink of an eye, Qing Jiu was pinned against the table, her sword clattering to the floor.

“Little Benefactor,” a gentle voice chided, “you mustn’t take a life.”

“You certainly are a slippery one, little one,” another voice chuckled. “Master Kuyuan and I have been chasing you from the Xuhuai Valley for days! Why didn’t you say goodbye to Valley Master Xuan Shen before you left? He was worried sick.”

Jue Mingzi was momentarily stunned upon seeing the two, then he stepped forward and bowed with a smile, “So it’s Daoist Yiye and Venerable Kuyuan. Long time no see.”

Daoist Yiye was also surprised, “Jue Mingzi! It’s good to see you. How is Jie Qianchou doing these days?”

“Lost in the pleasures of wine, as always,” Jue Mingzi replied with a chuckle.

The three of them laughed and chatted like old friends reunited after many years.

Jue Mingzi gestured towards Qing Jiu, “Do you both also recognize this little friend?”

“Ah, a karmic connection forged in this mundane world,” Daoist Yiye replied cryptically.

He then recounted from the time they were in Xuhuai Valley to when Valley Master Xuan Shen entrusted them with finding Qing Jiu.

Along the way, having witnessed Qing Jiu’s actions, they had grown a desire to guide and teach her.

Jue Mingzi picked up on some of this and turned to Qing Jiu with a smile, “Little friend, your martial fate is excellent; it seems that letter was of no use after all.”

Qing Jiu struggled with her hands bound, unable to move, her heart filled with extreme hatred, wanting to kill the person who had smashed Lin Qingchao’s urn.

But the man had already sensed something was wrong and had run off.

Unable to vent her anger, she then focused on finding something about this monk and this Daoist to irritate.

However, her skills were mere child’s play to them.

Daoist Yiye sealed her internal energy, lifted her onto his shoulder, and prepared to take her away, saying to Jue Mingzi, “Old ghost, I won’t keep you any longer this time. When you have a moment, please come to Canglong Mountain, and we can have a long talk.”

Qing Jiu flailed wildly, grabbing his beard and pulling hard.

“Ouch, my beard! This little brat, ouch, ouch, be gentle, be gentle!” Seeing Qing Jiu so restless, Daoist Yiye asked the innkeeper for a sack, tied her hands, and stuffed her into it, leaving only her head out: “Let’s see you cause more trouble now!”

With that, he carried her off, and Kuyuan followed, carrying Qing Jiu’s bag.

They had traveled a short distance when Jue Mingzi suddenly caught up to them. “Wait!” he called out.

“Does Benefactor Jue Mingzi have any advice?”

Jue Mingzi said, “Let me say a few words to my little friend.”

Meanwhile, Qing Jiu continued to shout insults, “Bull-nosed old Daoist! Bald donkey! Put me down!”

Jue Mingzi chuckled, approaching her and slipping a piece of paper into the sack. “This is a new wine recipe I’ve been working on,” he explained. “I’ll entrust it to you for safekeeping. If these masters take you to Canglong Mountain, I’ll retrieve it when I visit. And when that day comes, I expect you to hand it back to me personally.”

“You old drunkard…” Qing Jiu mumbled.

He knew this small act of trust, this insignificant responsibility, would give her something to hold onto, a reason to keep going, to resist the pull of despair.

Qing Jiu understood his good intentions and asked, “When will you come?”

Jue Mingzi had already turned to leave. He waved a hand in farewell. “Soon,” he replied, his voice fading into the distance.

Translation note:

Bo Ya/Zhong Ziqi – Basically means soulmates.

https://www.esplanade.com/offstage/arts/through-high-mountains-and-flowing-water