Chapter 166: The Greatest Honor

‘Yu Xuan and I share the same lineage.’

‘Our teacher…’

‘Was Chen Changsheng.’

Darkness swallowed everything before him. In that moment, Chen Changsheng’s mind kept circling back to Zhao Yuqing’s words.

He never expected the truth to be like this.

As the world around him fell still, so did Chen Changsheng’s own thoughts.

He pieced together all the recent events, searching for any gaps or holes.

The vision in the Fate Stone. Yu Xuan. Zhao Yuqing. Chen Fan. The Southern Garden. And that ‘thirty-three.’

The mysteries only seemed to multiply.

But Zhao Yuqing had told him,

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be told the truth. It was that he simply couldn’t know it, though the fault did not lie with him.

So just what kind of matter was this?

Through long stretches of desolate time, Chen Changsheng pondered deeply. These connected threads should yield some explanation. Yet, the single strand that might bind all these scattered jade pearls together was missing, making the true answer elusive.

He suddenly felt a weariness, a reluctance to search any further.

Chen Changsheng suspected the final answer might not bring satisfaction anyway.

A soft sigh escaped within him, and his consciousness sank once more into the measureless flow of time.

.

.

The rainy season brought overcast skies and drizzles, but it didn’t bring cool relief; instead, the heaviness only grew worse.

The damp, muggy air not only brought heatstroke but made much food spoil and mold. Because of this, many people in the Civic District had recently fallen ill.

There weren’t many doctors around, and Old Man Tong Caizheng was getting on in years. He was temporarily overwhelmed. So, Tong Zhihuan went down the mountain to help care for the sick.

Tao’er, now in her true spirit form, wasn’t confined to the mountain. She often went down too, lending Tong Zhihuan a hand.

After a long day’s work, Tong Zhihuan felt worn out.

He sat beneath a tree beside the West Bridge, watching the river flow under the arches, his thoughts drifting, unfocused.

Tao’er sat next to him. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

Tong Zhihuan shook his head. “Nothing really. Just daydreaming.”

Tao’er saw right through him. She spoke softly, “Follow the current upstream, you can reach the great river. The river has branches leading all across Da Xiang. That’s what Moyuan told me.”

Tong Zhihuan paused, turning to look at Tao’er beside him.

She returned his gaze. “I’m not insisting you stay on the mountain just to keep me company.”

Thinking she misunderstood, Tong Zhihuan quickly corrected her, “Miss Tao’er, you misunderstand. It’s not that I want to leave. In previous years, I almost walked the whole of Da Xiang. It’s just… these days of healing have made me think a lot.”

“Hmm?” Tao’er looked at him questioningly.

Tong Zhihuan opened his mouth, then sighed. “Well… it’s just a shame. Sir pointed out the path ahead for me. Of the ten key points of the medical Dao in his book, I understood eight back then. But now… I only recall about six. I’ve regressed, not improved. It just…”

Tao’er watched him. She could see the sadness and regret on his face.

She suggested gently, “Why not go out and travel again?”

Tong Zhihuan immediately shook his head. “No. Compared to that, being with you, Miss Tao’er, matters more.”

Tao’er scolded him: “Fool.”

Tong Zhihuan was confused. “I… I didn’t say anything wrong!”

He looked lost, unsure what his mistake was.

Tao’er stood up, hugging herself slightly. “You didn’t think to take me with you?”

Tong Zhihuan froze.

He looked up at Miss Tao’er standing before him.

He felt dazed, momentarily flustered and unsure.

Tong Zhihuan wanted to speak, opening his mouth, but words failed him for a long moment.

“Not willing?” Miss Tao’er frowned.

Tong Zhihuan hastily shook his head. “N-no! Th-this humble Tong… I…”

His lips trembled. A thousand thoughts raced, but when they finally came out, only four short words escaped.

“The greatest honor.”

Later, on a certain day, two fast horses galloped onto the Imperial Road. Medical boxes hung from their saddles, and a man and a woman rode them, wearing bamboo hats.

They shared a glance, smiling, as they embarked upon a new path.

…

The fourth day of the sixth lunar month. At dawn of the fourth day of the sixth month.

A married couple brought a young child to the foot of the mountain where the Flowing Cloud Temple stood.

The woman wore a headscarf and was holding the hand of a small child.

She said to the child, “Xiaoqi, when we meet the respected Sir later, you mustn’t be unruly, okay?”

The woman’s husband spoke up, “Hard to say whether Mr. Chen is even still here.”

Zhang Xiaoliu stood holding a jar of wine, gazing up at the temple on the mountain, his heart filled with emotion.

Years had passed. He had somehow clawed his way back to life. And now he stood here again.

His face bore the marks of hardship now, weathered. A scar crossed his forehead, his hair unkempt. The slightly prosperous figure he once had was leaner; clearly, he had endured much.

The couple, leading Xiaoqi, began climbing the stone steps, ascending toward the peak.

The gates of the Flowing Cloud Temple weren’t fully closed but slightly ajar.

Zhang Xiaoliu carefully set down the wine jar. He stepped forward and lightly knocked on the door latch.

Tap-tap…

But no sound came from within inside.

Zhang Xiaoliu dared not enter. To him, that would be disrespectful.

Just as he moved to knock again, the temple door swung open from the inside.

Creak.

A figure in a black robe stood in the doorway, looking out at the family of three below.

Visitors to the Flowing Cloud Mountain were rare. And even when deserted, very few could enter this temple freely.

Only a handful possessed that privilege.

And then there was one other… a special case.

The True Dragon of Bibo Lake — Moyuan.

Moyuan glanced at them. “Who are you looking for?” he asked.

He himself had only just arrived moments before, hoping to snag a peach. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be coming up the mountain path so soon after him.

Zhang Xiaoliu was momentarily taken aback. “May I ask… is Mr. Chen within the temple?” he ventured.

Moyuan shook his head. “Sir is gone.”

“Gone…”

Zhang Xiaoliu sighed silently inside. While he’d anticipated this outcome, he still felt a pang of regret.

Moyuan inquired, “You know Sir?”

Zhang Xiaoliu snapped back to the present. He began recounting his encounters and friendship with the Sir.

“Like that, you say?”

“Exactly,” Zhang Xiaoliu nodded, lifting the wine jar slightly. “This jar of wine… could you pass it on to Sir, Young Master?”

Moyuan glanced at the wine jar. “I can do that.”

But his gaze shifted past Zhang Xiaoliu, settling on the child behind him.

A subtle flicker passed through Moyuan’s eyes, vanishing as swiftly as it came.

Zhang Xiaoliu clasped his hands respectfully. “I am deeply grateful, Young Master.”

“Simple manners,” Moyuan replied casually, though his eyes remained on the boy.

Xiaoqi shrank back nervously, hiding slightly.

Zhang Xiaoliu offered an apologetic smile. “He’s still young; naturally timid around strangers.”

Moyuan chuckled softly. “It’s not timidity.”

Zhang Xiaoliu paused, sensing this Young Master’s words carried layered meaning beneath the surface.

Moyuan continued, “That you brought this wine up the mountain today, and encountered me… well, it’s fate. So I’ll give you some guidance in Sir’s stead.”

He pointed toward Xiaoqi. “Your son possesses exceptional potential, truly rare talent. Should fortune ever favor him, remember not to miss that chance.”

Zhang Xiaoliu’s heart jolted. He looked back at Xiaoqi, then suddenly understood.

This Young Master…

He surely wasn’t an ordinary man either.

Zhang Xiaoliu steadied himself and bowed respectfully again. “May I ask… Young Master… where might Xiaoqi’s talent… lead him?” he asked hesitantly.

Moyuan smiled slightly. “What do you think?”

Zhang Xiaoliu felt a profound shock run through him.

He didn’t press further questions. Instead, he bowed deeply to Moyuan.

“Thank you for this guidance, Young Master!”

Moyuan shook his head, his gaze drifting back toward the seeming silence of the Taoist Temple behind him. “Thank Sir.”