Her finger traced a faint arc above the paper—from the third star-shaped node to the seventh, and then back to the blank space in the center.
"Here, the arc between the third and seventh nodes forms a loop. Normally, the sheath-closing line in a sword sheath formation is a straight arc, but Daoist Yun added a half-loop here. Do you know why?"
Yin Wujou stared at the arc for a while, thinking. He recalled the shape of the willow-leaf blade—extremely thin and narrow, with no blood groove or handguard. The blade was straight, but there was a slight inward curve at the hilt, fitting perfectly with the web of his hand. That semi-circular loop collided with the inward curve of the hilt in his mind, and he suddenly understood.
"Because the hilt itself is curved. If the sheathing line were a straight arc, the blade would experience a biased force when the knife is sheathed, causing wear on the grooves at that point every time it's drawn. By adding this half-circle loop, the sheathing line follows the natural curve of the hilt, resulting in even force and preventing uneven wear."
Snow Empress glanced at him, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment. "You're definitely suited for this," she said. "I didn't see it the first time I looked at it. How long did you think about it?"
"I've just watched it for the third time," Yin Wujou said.
Snow Empress folded the paper and handed it back to him, then stood up and brushed the grass clippings off her knees. "Go inside and get some sleep. I'll wake you up in two hours."
After she finished speaking, she walked towards another mud house. She paused at the door, didn't turn around, and said something with her back to him, her voice low in the night wind. " Yin Wujou, you've saved my life these past few years."
Yin Wujou sat on the haystack in the stable, looking up at her back. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the dilapidated eaves of the mud house, outlining the contours of her shoulders and back as a clear silver line. "I didn't think that much," he said. "You were standing at the bottom of that pit, the line was there, I saw it. I saw it and then I acted. Anyone else would have done the same."
Snow Empress stood at the door, silent for a few moments. "Others might not be able to see it." After saying this, she pushed the door open and went inside. The wooden door of the earthen house closed behind her with a dry, soft sound.
Yin Wujou lay down on the haystack. Moonlight filtered through the stable roof, dappling his face and body. The scent of hay was thick and warm, enveloping him in the unique warmth of a late autumn night in the countryside. Even after closing his eyes, his Spirit Vision did not completely shut down—in the darkness, he could still see faint traces of light flowing slowly through the meridians in the palm of his hand, like a newly discovered underground stream beginning to re-gather in an unseen place.
He thought of Snow Empress's silhouette as she uttered those words. She looked different in the moonlight; relaxed, the curve of her shoulders softened. He thought of the array diagram spinning steadily in the deep pit, of the stack of papers Daoist Yun had thrown at him and the half-looped sheathing line on the paper, and of the innkeeper's dazed murmur as he flipped through the ledger, "Two coins a day, including the rider and horse."
He thought a lot, and eventually fell asleep. The warmth of the haystack and the coolness of the willow-leaf blade in his sleeve achieved a kind of balance within him, and a dream slowly took shape from these chaotic thoughts—he dreamed that he was walking on an extremely wide river, the water a bluish-white color, crystal clear but unfathomably deep. Looking down, he could see a very faint amber light swirling at the bottom of the riverbed, like a diagram submerged in the water, small from afar, but as he got closer, he realized it was so large that it covered the entire riverbed.
In his dream, he crouched down to look at the ball of light, when suddenly a hand reached out from the side and pressed against the back of his hand. He looked up and saw Snow Empress standing beside him, wearing the belted inner shirt with the collar open. The pink line below her collarbone had healed, and her face was smooth and intact. The blue nail in her chest was also gone. She looked down at the amber ball of light at the bottom of the riverbed, her lips moved, and she uttered two words.
He didn't hear clearly. Just as he was about to ask again, the dream ended. The moonlight moved away from the top of the stable, and the midday sun filled the entire stable. When he opened his eyes, Snow Empress was standing at the entrance of the stable, looking at him, carrying a water bag and repackaged dry rations. The two horses had already been fed and watered and were pawing at him in the sunlight outside the stable.
"I'm leaving," she said.
Yin Wujou got up, patted the dry grass off his body, tucked the mugwort paper into his pocket, and washed his face with the remaining cool water by the well. The sunlight in the late autumn wilderness was so clean it was almost transparent. The frost that had fallen on the official road the night before had melted into a layer of damp moisture floating on the surface of the dirt road, making a slight hissing sound when the horse's hooves stepped on it.
They set off again.
The official road widens as it heads east from the post station, and the density of cart tracks on the road increases significantly, indicating that we are getting closer to populated areas. The fields on both sides gradually change from vast wastelands to scattered vegetable plots and wheat stubble fields. Occasionally, one can see people bending over and tidying something on the distant field ridges, their small figures moving slowly across the vast plain.
The Snow Empress remained silent on horseback for most of the morning. Sunlight slanted in from the southeast, illuminating her right hand that held the reins—in Yin Wujou's Spirit Vision, the flow of water-elemental energy in the meridians of her right hand was faster than yesterday, and the bluish-white light gathered and dispersed more frequently in her palm, almost recombinating with each breath. She herself felt the change, occasionally looking down and opening her palm to examine it, a small, restrained surprise in her eyes.
"Your spiritual veins are adapting," Yin Wujou said.
"Hmm." Snow Empress withdrew her hand and gripped the reins. "It was blocked for too long before, and now that it's suddenly open, the meridian walls are readjusting to the flow rate. It was a bit swollen yesterday, but it's better today. However, the dantian area is still empty—spiritual energy flows through but can't be retained, like water being poured into a leaky bucket. It needs to be nurtured slowly."
"How long will it take?"
"I don't know." She glanced at him sideways. "It might be a few months soon, or a year or two at most. If Pei Yuan can find out the origin and method of planting this thread, he might be able to find the corresponding formula for nourishing the spiritual veins. Since the people at the Spirit Vein Bureau can weave threads to lock the veins, they must have the corresponding solutions and methods to repair them."
The horses' hooves clattered on the hard, dry pavement. The morning sun gradually rose, slowly pulling the two figures' shadows from their sides back to their feet. Rows of willows and elms began to appear along the roadside, their trunks thick and sturdy, with a few remaining yellow leaves swaying in the wind among their branches. After another hour's journey, a toll checkpoint appeared ahead on the official road—a few wooden stakes lay across the road, and next to them stood a thatched hut, where a gatekeeper in worn gray clothes sat smoking a pipe.
Snow Empress reined in her horse before the checkpoint. The gatekeeper glanced up at them, took his pipe from his mouth, and said, "Two coins per person. Horses are free."
Snow Empress counted out four copper coins from her pouch and handed them over. The gatekeeper took the money, waved his hand, and moved one of the wooden stakes blocking the road to make way. As Yin Wujou passed by, he noticed an old scar on the gatekeeper's right hand between his thumb and forefinger. The scar was bluish in color and shaped like a shrinkage mark left after something thin and long had pierced through it and healed. It was neither a knife wound nor a burn; it was a puncture mark left by some kind of needle-like sharp instrument.