"Your Spirit Vision has been on the whole time," Snow Empress suddenly said. It wasn't a question.
"Um."
"It will be tiring at first. Spirit Vision consumes not only physical energy but also mental energy. If you feel a headache, turn it off for a while; don't push yourself."
Yin Wujou did indeed feel it. The forest on both sides of his vision was constantly overlapping with two layers of images—one layer was the pine needles, brown trunks, fallen leaves and moss on the ground; the other layer was the light traces of water veins under the tree roots, the extremely faint phosphorescence emitted by microorganisms decomposing dead branches in the leaf layer, and the seven-colored trails left by the needle-sized water droplets at the tips of the pine needles as they refracted sunlight. After the two layers were overlapping for a long time, his forehead did begin to swell slightly. He reduced his Spirit Vision a little, and the two layers of images gradually merged into one, and the swelling slowly subsided.
"Okay," he said.
After walking about a mile, Snow Empress slowed her pace to a leisurely stroll. Her breathing was deeper than when she left town, a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead, and her complexion was better than when she left in the morning, with a faint blush on her cheeks. Yin Wujou noticed a subtle, almost imperceptible relaxation in her gait—before, she always walked with her shoulders slightly raised, as if ready to defend herself against attacks from any direction at any moment. Now, that raised posture had dissipated; her shoulders had relaxed, her strides had lengthened, and the lines of her back and waist had become more relaxed. Her whole being was like a bowstring that had been loosened, still able to be fully drawn at any time, but no longer needing to be tense.
"You didn't know before that there was a thread implanted in your body," Yin Wujou said.
"I don't know." Snow Empress gazed at the mountain path ahead. "I only know that something's never quite right. I can't muster the strength, I can't sleep soundly at night, and when I practice my martial arts, there's always a blockage in my meridians, like a big rock stuck in the middle of a river. The water flows around it on both sides, but the main path is blocked. I've asked doctors and my master, but no one can explain it. Later, I got used to it and thought that was just how I was born—a slightly blocked river that can still flow, just a little slower than others."
Is it open now?
Snow Empress didn't speak. After walking for a while, she sat down on a flat stone by the roadside, looked up at the sunlight filtering through the tree canopy for a moment, and then stretched out her right hand and laid it flat on her knee. Yin Wujou saw her palm gradually change from pale white to a very light bluish-white. The meridians under her palm glowed slightly as if a drop of luminous ink had been injected into them. The bluish-white light spread along the lines of her palm towards her fingertips, very slowly but evenly. It took more than ten breaths to reach her fingertips, where it gathered into five tiny points of light at the tips of her fingers, paused for a moment, and then slowly dissipated.
"It's clear now," she said, turning her palm over to examine the back of her hand, then clenching it into a fist and pulling it back. She gave a self-deprecating smile. "It cleared up a bit too quickly. I walked too fast just now, and the rush of vital energy in my meridians made my chest feel bloated. I need to slow down before continuing."
Yin Wujou sat down on the rock next to her. The two sat side by side on the bluestone by the mountain path, the sunlight filtering through the tree canopy overhead falling on their clothes. The wind blew up from the slope, carrying the scent of pine resin and earth. In the distance, a bird called from the valley, calling twice and pausing, calling twice and pausing, its rhythm so slow it seemed to be waiting for something.
" Yin Wujou." Snow Empress turned her head to look at him.
"Um."
"Do you regret coming with me? You could have stayed with Daoist Yun; it's a quiet and safe place. You could have chopped wood, carried water, and studied array diagrams every day, slowly developing your Spirit Vision. It would have been much safer than running around outside with me."
Yin Wujou stretched out his right hand. His palm was clean, without any lines. He turned his hand over in the sunlight, examining it. The light filtering through his fingers outlined a fuzzy, shiny edge on his palm. "I spent seven years copying patterns in the array diagram shop, but not a single one of them was something I figured out myself, measured myself, or put underground to actually make it work. You gave me that opportunity."
He paused, then withdrew his hands and placed them on his knees. "The array has started spinning. I have to watch it finish. Don't even think about kicking me out until then."
Snow Empress tilted her head and looked at him for a while. The dappled sunlight through the gaps in the tree canopy moved a little across her face, from her brow bone to her cheekbone and then to her jawline. Suddenly, she reached out and gently patted his knee, the touch so light that her hand touched it briefly and then withdrew, like a bird touching the surface of water and then rising again.
"Let's go." She stood up. "Go back and tell Daoist Yun that we'll save the rice wine for next time."
When they returned to the Daoist temple after walking the rest of the mountain path, it was nearly noon. Sure enough, Daoist Yun had placed a wine jar in the courtyard—not one he had bought that day, but an old jar covered in dust from which he had dug it up from some corner. He was squatting next to the jar, wiping the dust off with a damp cloth. When he saw the two people enter through the courtyard gate, he didn't stop wiping the jar, only raising his eyelids slightly.
"I knew you were leaving," he said, flicking the damp cloth and draping it over the rim of the jar before standing up. "Drink the rice wine yourselves. Get out of here, don't get in my way."
Snow Empress stood at the courtyard gate and watched him for a few breaths. Daoist Yun turned around with his hands behind his back, standing facing the old locust tree, his back to them, only his old cotton robe, patched upon patched, was still swaying slightly in the wind. After standing there for about five breaths, he turned around again, took something out of the inner pocket of his coat, and threw it across the courtyard. Yin Wujou reached out and caught it—it was a small gray cloth bag. Inside was a thick stack of mugwort paper, on which was drawn a complete array structure that he had never seen before. Twelve nodes were distributed in a star shape on the inner side of the circle, leaving a palm-sized blank space in the center.
" Daoist Yun, this is—"
"The scabbard of your knife," Daoist Yun said, his voice heavy with nasal congestion, "Is like a willow-leaf blade, bare and tucked into your sleeve. You wouldn't even know if you accidentally cut your own wrist one day. Follow this diagram to trace the array patterns on the blade, and it will automatically retract into your palm. When not in use, it can be hidden under your skin, and when needed, it can spring out from between your thumb and forefinger."
Yin Wujou looked down at the dense annotations and patterns on the stack of papers. The handwriting was the same as the annotations on the paperweight structure diagram hanging in the array shop—the strokes had extremely fine pauses at the ends, and there was a restrained restraint when writing. The neat regular script contained too many unspoken words hidden in each stroke.
Snow Empress walked over, took the stack of papers from Yin Wujou, flipped through them, and then handed them back to Yin Wujou. She turned to Daoist Yun's retreating figure and said, "Whose scabbard did you draw this for before?"
Daoist Yun didn't turn around. He squatted back down beside the wine jar and continued wiping away the dust, his voice muffled and raspy from his chest. "I drew a picture of a scabbard for a girl when I was young. Her knife was also thin, and she liked to tuck it into her sleeve with the blade bare. Later she left, but the picture of the scabbard remained. It's been sitting at the bottom of the cabinet for thirty years. You can take it and use it; don't return it. It's useless to this old man."