Poetry Chants, Saber Howls – Chapter 12
by Little PandaA Distant Guest Arrives in the Deep Night Valley; Who Can Fathom the Life and Death of a Mayfly (Part 1)
By the time Xie Miao regained consciousness, a full day had passed.
Sunlight slanted through the window, dappling light and shadow across her brow and eyes. She opened them slowly, flinching at the white glare, still lost in a haze, when suddenly a voice as unrippled as a cold mountain pool sounded beside her ear: “I have made inquiries. After the Ling family was condemned, Ling Bingzhong’s daughter Ling Cheng escaped with her life and vanished without a trace. The court has dispatched a great number of soldiers to hunt for her whereabouts, but they have found nothing. You may set your heart at ease.”
Xie Miao snapped fully awake, as though she had swallowed a pill of reassurance1: they hadn’t caught Fuli. Fuli was still alive in this world. But… but this also meant that gentleman’s words had not been wrong—Uncle Ling’s family truly had… Her emotions tangled grief with joy, and tears slipped down unbidden.
Jiuru asked, “You and the Ling girl are friends?”
Xie Miao wiped the dampness from her eyes, nodded, and said, “Thank you for telling me this.”
Jiuru said, “You are my patient. I simply do not wish you to die under my roof. Calm your heart. What has happened has happened; no amount of grief will undo it.” She turned to leave the room, but after two steps, Xie Miao called after her.
“What else is it?”
“I… can I leave the valley today? Fuli… I mean Ling Cheng—I don’t know how she is now. I’m worried about her.”
Jiuru turned slowly, her gaze settling on Xie Miao once more, her expression cold: “You wish to leave the valley to find her?”
“Yes.”
“The world is vast, its lands broad and skies endless. The court has had a warrant out for her this long and still cannot find her—where do you intend to look?”
“Then I must return to the capital and ask my father and mother what exactly happened.”
“Do you remember why you came here in the first place?”
“For treatment. I thank you for your efforts these past weeks, Master. I’ve felt much better over this past month and more. I think—” Halfway through, she noticed the nun’s brow furrow slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. Xie Miao’s voice weakened, and she said cautiously, “I think leaving the valley now shouldn’t cause any real harm… I could find her first, then return and ask you to continue treating me?”
“Do you think this is some place where you may come and go as you please? On your first day in the valley, I told you: if you wish me to treat you, you must obey my every instruction until your illness is fully cured. Rest now. Do not leave this room.”
With that, she granted Xie Miao no chance to plead further and departed, serene and remote.
The two doors swung shut with a creak. Xie Miao sat alone in the corner of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her expression vacant. She knew, of course, that Jiuru’s prohibition was for her own good. But emotion always overpowered reason. The moment she thought of Fuli suffering somewhere unknown, her heart seized with pang after pang. Even knowing that leaving the valley recklessly might bring danger, she could not bring herself to care.
She had to find her.
Yet Xie Miao had lived in Longevity Valley alongside Jiuru for over a month now. She knew this woman’s temperament—stern, her word absolute. Xie Miao respected her, was grateful to her, and was also a little afraid of her. Persuading her to grant permission seemed nearly impossible. So after turning the matter over and over, the only feasible plan she could devise was:
—Leaving without saying goodbye.
Because of Longevity Valley’s peculiar rules, Prince Rui and the Princess Consort could not send attendants into the valley to care for her, so they had prepared ample silver for her. She reached down and felt the bulging pouch at her waist, thinking it should be enough to hire a carriage back to Chang’an. Once there, she would first ask her father to explain the full story of the Ling family’s downfall, then discuss with her parents and brothers how to search for Fuli.
Having made her decision, she watched the window without blinking until the Golden Crow2 sank behind the mountains and night fell. Jiuru came to check on her once more, then returned to her own quarters to rest. Xie Miao waited a while longer, estimating that Jiuru must have fallen asleep by now, left a letter pressed on the desk, picked up a lantern, and slipped out the door to leave the valley.
Longevity Valley was laced at every turn with the Five Phases Qimen Array. Without the Valley Master’s permission, anyone wandering blindly would lose all sense of direction, unable to advance or retreat—everything Su Ying had told her about this valley back in Chang’an, Xie Miao naturally still remembered. Yet she had been in Longevity Valley for a good while now. Occasionally, when Dharma Master Jiuru went out to tend the rare medicinal herbs planted throughout the valley, Xie Miao—bored, and feeling stronger as her health gradually improved—would follow in Jiuru’s footsteps, admiring the valley’s lovely scenery. In all her wandering, she had never noticed any so-called array.
Su Ying’s words had gradually faded from her mind; she assumed Aunt Su had been misled by hearsay.
Besides, she had always possessed an exceptional memory. After following Jiuru through the valley a few times, she believed she had memorized the paths. Confident, she pressed forward, stepping into a lush thicket of flowers and trees. The path grew increasingly tortuous, several small trails intersecting and crisscrossing in every direction, until her steps slowed and her eyes clouded with confusion.
—Had she already walked through this place once before?
—Those few white pear trees looked so familiar, yet the slope ahead was utterly strange.
Was this the legendary Qimen Array? Xie Miao realized she was lost. Only now did she understand that she had made everything far too simple. A thread of panic crept into her heart. She looked all around: jagged peaks loomed, bizarre rocks jutted, and a rustling night wind swept through, thousands of branches and leaves swaying and waving as though a mountain ghost were stretching its limbs. Children feared ghosts most of all, and Xie Miao was no exception. Her alarm deepening, she spun around and fled in another direction. After running a while, her chest tightened, and her breathing turned ragged once more after so many days. She tried to stop and catch her breath, but her momentum carried her forward and her right foot twisted—
In an instant, she tumbled to the ground, her knees striking the hard earth. She winced, brow pinched—her hands had landed on a soft body. Her heart leapt straight into her throat: “A ghost!”
There really was a ghost in these woods! She screamed before she could think, scrambling backward before she’d even gotten to her feet, when suddenly a soft laugh reached her ears.
Like the chiming of silver bells, bright and pleasing.
Xie Miao froze. Did ghosts have such beautiful voices? She went still, pressing a hand to her chest, panting through several breaths, enduring the discomfort roiling inside her. She rose slowly, retrieved the lantern from the grass, and held it forward.
It was a woman in purple, perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old. Her forehead was broad and smooth, her hair black as a crow’s wing3. The pallor of her face could not conceal the beauty of her features, and a pair of dark brows slanted upward as if about to take flight. She leaned against a tree trunk, half-sitting, half-reclining in the grass, gazing at Xie Miao with a half-smile. “Do you still think I’m a ghost?”
Xie Miao looked at her suspiciously, studying that bloodless face, examining it carefully for a long while before venturing, still a little tremulously, “You… you really aren’t a ghost?”
The woman in purple was taken aback, then laughed again—this time out of sheer exasperation. “What exactly makes me look like a ghost to you?”
Xie Miao said, “But… but your face is so white…”
Pale beyond what a living person’s complexion should be.
The woman in purple gave a cold laugh. “Your face isn’t looking so well either.”
“Because I—” Xie Miao was about to explain that she had been ill, that her complexion had always been this way, when a flash of insight struck her. “You’re sick too? Did you come here to seek Dharma Master Jiuru for medical treatment?”
Now that she was certain the other person wasn’t a ghost, Xie Miao’s fear evaporated. She stepped closer with the lantern, walking to the woman’s side—and only then noticed the dark reddish bloodstains streaked across her deep purple garments. She understood at once: this woman was not sick but injured. “I’m sorry—did I hurt you when I bumped into you? Are… are your wounds worse? Shall I help you to see Dharma Master Jiuru?”
Seeing the worry and guilt written across this child’s face, it seemed she feared the woman might die without treatment. The woman had never expected a strange young girl to show such concern for her. She studied Xie Miao for a moment, then coughed twice, and a smile curved her lips. “You’ve already lost your way. How will you lead me to her?”
“How do you know I’m lost?”
“If you weren’t lost, why were you running just now?”
“I was just… don’t worry, I’ve lived here a long time. Let me try again—maybe in a little while I’ll find the way.” Xie Miao tried to reassure her while gazing around in all directions.
The woman said, “I know the way through here.”
Xie Miao brightened and looked to her.
The woman said, “Do me a favor, and I’ll tell you the paths through Longevity Valley.”
Xie Miao understood. “You’re hurt so badly you can’t get up? Don’t worry—I’ll bring Dharma Master Jiuru to you as quickly as I can.”
The woman said, “If I have the right medicine, I can treat these wounds myself. If it comes to the point where I can’t, she won’t have the skill to help either.”
As it happened, Longevity Valley was planted throughout with all manner of medicinal herbs. The woman in purple raised a hand with effort and pointed to a small path on the left. A few steps forward, then a turn in which direction—she described the route to Xie Miao with perfect clarity.
“Then bring me the Eclipta4 from there and—” She paused, then changed her mind. “Bring me all the medicinal herbs growing there.”
“All of them?” Taking medicine wasn’t a case of more being better—if one swallowed a jumble of herbs indiscriminately, it would only worsen the injury or illness. Xie Miao knew this much. She thought for a moment. “I know what Eclipta looks like.”
The woman’s brows rose with curiosity. She named several other herbs. “You recognize these as well?”
Xie Miao’s expression grew serious, a faint crease between her brows. At first, a thread of worry lingered on her face, but by the time the woman finished speaking, her lips curved in a bright, delighted smile. “I know them all. Don’t worry—I’ll go gather them now.”
Though Xie Miao had been ill for years, she knew a little about medicine. This traced back to three years ago, during the worst period of her illness. Ling Cheng, seeing that countless renowned physicians could not cure Xie Miao’s ailment, had grown furious and bought a great pile of medical texts, determined to become a peerless divine physician and cure Shejia’s stubborn illness once and for all.
To her dismay, she could recognize most of the characters in those medical books, but strung together, they made her head swim—not a single sentence made sense. After struggling for several days, she conceded she had no talent for medicine and gave up. Xie Miao, however, sitting beside her, had picked up the books instead. Though she understood only half of what she read, she found it fascinating. Two of the volumes contained illustrated guides to common medicinal herbs, each drawing labeled with the herb’s name, and Xie Miao had gradually committed them all to memory.
The woman in purple, not knowing this history, found it remarkable that a mere child should recognize so many herbs. She asked suspiciously, “You said you’ve lived here a long time… Are you Du Heng’s new disciple?”
“Du Heng?” Xie Miao shook her head blankly and was about to ask who Du Heng was when the woman broke into another fit of coughing. Xie Miao thought she shouldn’t waste any more time and turned to go. She had barely taken a few steps when the night wind brushed her body and she shivered, cold seeping into her very bones, her chest growing uncomfortable again. She forced her legs forward—and a faint sigh drifted past on the breeze.
“Don’t go. The moment her wounds heal, she’ll kill you.”
The voice was as clear as a spring, pleasant to the ear yet distinctly different from the woman in purple’s, and it seemed to come from another direction entirely. Xie Miao’s face went pale with shock. She whirled toward the source of the voice, raising the lantern in her right hand, and caught sight of a figure in the grass ahead.
“You… you’re…” At this point, Xie Miao felt not only fear but a swirl of bewilderment. In the dead of night, in a valley that had always been quiet and deserted, how had one person after another appeared from nowhere?
“I’m a person, not a ghost. You don’t need to be afraid.” The voice from the grass was weak but steady, and its owner offered Xie Miao a reassuring smile before turning serious. “But the person you were just speaking with—she’s no ghost, but she is a notorious villain of the jianghu. The Poison King, Qin Jiao. She is ruthless and has committed countless atrocities. Earlier today, in broad daylight, she was again slaughtering an innocent civilian when I happened upon her. I pursued her here, and we both sustained severe injuries. You cannot gather medicine to treat her wounds. Once she recovers, she will kill again—more innocents, perhaps even you.”
To help the child grasp the truth quickly, she kept her words spare and direct, laying out the full account without a shred of embellishment.
Xie Miao’s eyes went wide.
The torrent of information crashed into her mind all at once. She stood stunned for a moment, then seized on the crucial point and slowly turned her gaze back to the woman in purple. “Qin… Qin Jiao? The Poison King, Qin Jiao?”
The woman in purple gave a helpless smile. “You know of me? Did Du—Jiuru speak of me?”
Xie Miao’s right hand trembled, and the lantern slipped from her fingers and struck the ground.
Dharma Master Jiuru was a woman of few words and had naturally never discussed any matter of the martial world with her. But the name “Qin Jiao” was one Xie Miao remembered vividly. Not only because she and Ling Cheng had once read of this figure’s exploits in jianghu storybooks, but because two months ago, while still in Chang’an, Su Ying had mentioned this person’s abilities in front of both her and Ling Cheng.
Her alarm deepened. She thought of the many villainous deeds attributed to Qin Jiao in those storybook tales—and then recalled something else Su Ying had once told her and Ling Cheng:
—Rumors in the jianghu aren’t necessarily true. What the ears hear may be false, what the eyes see may not be true; to truly know a person, you must observe them with your heart.
Her heart pounded. At last, she summoned her courage and asked, “Did you… did you really kill someone? Why did you kill them?”
“I killed them because they annoyed me. Why would there need to be a reason?” Qin Jiao knew full well that admitting this would likely send the child fleeing, but the pride in her bones would not let her feign a pitiful countenance to beg for her life. She shot a vicious glare at the figure in the grass. “You certainly love meddling.”
“Punishing evil and eradicating wickedness is the duty of a chivalric soul, not meddling.” The person in the grass coughed as well, then looked up at Xie Miao. “Leave this place at once.”
She did not know this child’s identity or background, but since she lived in Longevity Valley, she must have some connection to the Valley Master, Dharma Master Jiuru. As long as she got away from here and hid anywhere for the night, come dawn, Dharma Master Jiuru would surely find her. Staying here meant constant danger.
Never mind that Qin Jiao’s internal injuries were severe enough to keep her from standing or walking—this villain’s deadliest skill was none of the eighteen traditional weapons, but her mastery of poison, which had let her run rampant across the jianghu.
Poison killed without a trace.
Xie Miao stood still for a long moment. Fear made her breathing quicker and shallower. Cold crept through her limbs, and her heart trembled faintly. Slowly, she bent down, picked up the fallen lantern once more, and walked forward.
Toward the figure in the grass.
The lantern’s red glow finally revealed the person: a woman in blue, about the same age as Qin Jiao, with refined features and gentle brows like distant mountains that lent her face an air of soft warmth. Her complexion was equally bloodless, but her clothes were clean—not stained with blood like Qin Jiao’s.
Xie Miao frowned. “You’re hurt too?”
The woman in blue shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. “Poisoned.”
Earlier, during all the time Xie Miao had been speaking with Qin Jiao, this woman had not uttered a single word—because she had been sitting in meditation, channeling her internal energy to force the toxin out. But Qin Jiao lived up to her title as Poison King. Despite the woman’s pure internal cultivation and her utmost effort, she could only slow the poison’s spread. When she saw the child about to gather medicine for Qin Jiao, she had no choice but to speak up and stop her.
Xie Miao nodded in understanding, then turned to face Qin Jiao. “I can gather medicine for you.”
Both Qin Jiao and the woman in blue were startled.
Xie Miao continued, “But you have to give her the antidote.”
So that was the child’s plan. Qin Jiao’s brow furrowed in deep thought. In the art of poison, no one in this world surpassed her. In swordsmanship and martial skill, Shan Lan had the edge.
The moment the deadly poison was purged from Shan Lan’s body, she would draw her sword and kill Qin Jiao on the spot. But if Qin Jiao refused this demand, the child would never gather medicine for her, and sitting here meant waiting for death—only a question of sooner or later.
To think that after roaming the jianghu for so many years, she was now being outmaneuvered by a child.
A cold light gathered in Qin Jiao’s eyes. She studied Xie Miao for a long moment before nodding. With difficulty, she raised one hand and drew a medicine vial from her robes. “Fine. I’ll give you the antidote.”
Xie Miao, who had half expected her to refuse, let out a breath of relief and stepped toward her.
Shan Lan, seasoned in the ways of the jianghu, was nowhere near as naive as Xie Miao. She feared a trap and said urgently, “Don’t go near her! She wouldn’t be so generous!”
“But she’s still wounded.” To say she wasn’t afraid at all would be a lie. Xie Miao’s words were as much to comfort Shan Lan as to comfort herself. No matter how vicious this legendary villainess might be, she was too badly hurt to stand—what harm could she do? In a matter of moments, Xie Miao had reached Qin Jiao’s side and reached out to accept the vial. A faint sting pricked her finger. She glanced down and saw a tiny, unidentifiable insect crawling on her index finger, thought nothing of it, and looked up again at Qin Jiao’s deathly pale face, her conscience stirring. “Don’t worry. My mother always tells me that a person must keep their word. I will—ghk!”
Before she could finish, a searing pain lanced through her chest. Her whole body went limp and powerless, and she crumpled to her knees.
Footnotes
- 定心丸 | dingxinwan | Literally 'heart-calming pill' — a metaphorical remedy that instantly soothes anxiety and restores peace of mind, drawn from traditional Chinese medicine's calming preparations.
- 金乌 | jinwu | The Golden Crow, a mythical three-legged bird in Chinese mythology that dwells in the sun; a classical poetic metonym for the sun itself, used in literature to denote daylight or its passing.
- 螓首鸦鬓 | qinshou yabin | Literally 'cicada head, crow temples' — a classical Chinese literary portrait of female beauty: a broad, smooth forehead likened to a cicada's head, paired with glossy raven-black hair at the temples, evoking elegant, striking allure.
- 墨旱莲 | mohanlian | Eclipta prostrata, a medicinal herb used in traditional Chinese medicine to cool the blood, stop bleeding, and darken hair; its crushed leaves yield a dark ink-like juice, hence the name 'black ink lotus.'
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