After laughing, Yi Shuyuan simply fetched some soap pods and washed his face and hair beneath the eaves.
The icy rain and the comfort of washing felt so real, while the little Daoist boy beside Yi Shuyuan watched him curiously the entire time.
When Yi Shuyuan finished washing and turned toward him, the little Daoist boy instinctively retreated a few steps. He barely recognized his senior brother.
"Senior brother, you-you look different."
"This is what I've always looked like. I used to spend every day raving mad and never bothered to tidy myself up. That's why you thought otherwise."
The little Daoist boy froze, then suddenly widened his eyes, pointing at his senior brother without being able to utter a word.
The next moment, the little Daoist boy let out an "Ah!" and dashed into the rain toward the dilapidated temple's main hall, shouting as he ran.
"Master! Master! Senior brother isn't mad anymore! Senior brother isn't mad anymore!"
Yi Shuyuan wrung out his hair and casually tossed it behind his back. The rain at the turn of spring and summer still carried a chill. He looked at this familiar yet unfamiliar Daoist temple. The whole courtyard could be taken in at a glance; even counting the kitchen and privy, it had only five rooms.
Though it was shabby, looking back over the past twenty-odd years, Yi Shuyuan had lived here in reasonable comfort. Most importantly, this master had actually managed to keep a madman like him under control, despite his countless attempts to escape down the mountain.
In truth, the place scarcely looked like a Daoist temple at all, and no deities were enshrined here.
The rain showed no sign of easing. Yi Shuyuan settled his emotions and headed toward the main hall, the only building in the temple