Chapter 164: Seeing You Amidst the Bitter Dust of the World

Before today, Du Shanü actually thought a person could have many forms of address.

For example, one, one.

At worst, perhaps it was just a human life, a corpse.

However, Du Shanü only now realized that to describe a person, one could also use a 【bucket】 or a 【bundle】.

And what takes a life can be not only a short weapon, but also a 【dull thud】.

It is not a striking sound, but a kind of more muffled, deeper noise, faintly audible as the skin tears inch by inch.

One after another, dense as raindrops hitting tiles, yet not as light as raindrops.

At first, Zhao Daniu's back arched slightly.

The third blow, the fourth blow, the fifth blow...

With the plank striking repeatedly and densely, he then remained still.

The plank fell on a body that could no longer move, and the sound gradually changed, from a dull thud to a wet, sticky noise, like someone repeatedly beating a water-soaked thick cloth with a wooden mallet.

Flesh and blood blurred.

She had heard this word countless times, in storybooks, in teahouse storytellers' mouths, and in her own shady schemes.

However, however.

She never knew that these four words, when applied to a living person, would look like this.

Zhao Daniu's back could no longer be recognized as a back, his clothes torn into strips embedded in the flesh, the flesh minced into paste on the bones, the bones shattered into dregs mixed in the blood.

Blood spattered out, yet the people around stepped back.

They were afraid.

They were afraid.

However, they were not afraid of such a bloody, heaven‑reaching scene.

Rather, they feared fresh blood splashing onto their clean clothes, newly made shoes, or the incense‑and‑candle offerings they carried.

A woman in an ochre‑colored vest lowered her gaze to the dark spots on her skirt hem, pursed her lips, took a handkerchief dabbed with saliva to wipe it, but it wouldn't come off, so she frowned, muttered "ill omen," skirted the bloodstain still spreading, and walked toward Ciyun Temple.

Behind her followed a girl of about ten, carrying a bamboo basket filled to the brim with fine sandalwood; the girl tiptoed over a puddle of blood, her steps light as if hopping over a pool of rainwater.

An old man leaning on a cane shuffled past Zhao Daniu's side, lowered his head for a glance, his cloudy eyes showing no expression, then lifted his head and continued onward.

Everything was quite ordinary.

Today's sky remained the same; everything was merely ordinary.

A single life only delayed the crowd for a moment, after which they closed ranks again and continued surging toward Ciyun Temple.

From the Daoist temple came the sound of a bell.

Low and distant, one toll after another, solemn and majestic, enveloping the whole city.

The crowd quickened their pace, some began to jog, fearful of missing the auspicious moment when the Celestial Master would open the altar.

The Dharma assembly was about to begin.

The Celestial Master was about to ascend the platform to expound the Dharma.

Those who donated today would have their names recorded in the Celestial Master's merit register, ensuring lasting blessings next year and protection from calamity.

Everyone longs for future blessings, yet in this present world, today, this very moment's compassion...

For some reason, it turned into empty talk.

Du Shanü stood there in a daze; the drop of blood on her face had dried into a thin film clinging to her cheekbone, feeling slightly tight.

After a good while, she finally lowered her head, untied the fastening of her outer garment, took off the bluish‑gray coat, held it in her hand, and squatted down.

She spread the outer garment on the ground, used its corners to wrap the mangled flesh, trying to drag the person.

From beginning to end, Du Shanü's expression remained ordinary; her fingers did not tremble, her breathing did not quicken, only a bit more fine sweat appeared on her forehead.

After an unknown amount of time, she finally finished tidying everything up.

But this time, she did not choose to push into the Dharma assembly; instead, she turned and walked step by step against the flow of the crowd, heading outward.

In the distance, the bell of Ciyun Temple still rang, the wind‑and‑string instruments of the Dharma assembly began to play, lingering and graceful, ethereal and elusive, mingling with the believers' unified chanting of sutras.

The farther she walked, the more those sounds blurred, gradually turning from distinct noises into a chaotic mass where one could not tell whether it was bell, drum, or human voice.

Only the sounds nearby began to grow clear.

Du Shanü heard a man muttering not far behind her:

"It's fouled such a large area; tomorrow it'll be inconvenient for passersby."

Then a woman's voice chimed in:

"I don't know which clueless household dared to bump into the prefect and the Celestial Master's ceremonial guard; they deserve a beating."

"But… who are the three people cleaning up the remains? Are they the suspect's relatives?"

The voices were not loud, as if they feared being overheard by others, yet also as if they deliberately wanted someone to hear.

Du Shanü did not speak, nor did she turn back.

Chen Er's voice suddenly sounded from very nearby, carrying the particular timidity of ordinary folk, as he offered an apologetic smile:

"Madam… you've misunderstood… we're also afraid that the corpses here will disturb the tranquility of the Dharma assembly, aren't we?"

"We have absolutely no connection to this person… if you don't believe us, go ahead and report us! We've nothing to fear, whereas you'd have to spend considerable time running to the yamen!"

The chatter of those two finally paused, and then they departed.

Chen Er seemed to let out a breath of relief, turned back, and tried to ingratiate himself:

"Rest assured, with me around, I'll make sure you two don't get into trouble."

"…All right. The money is here; go buy a coffin, and we'll wait for you outside the city."

Cold words conceal warmth; one sentence melts ice.

Chinu, it was Chinu's voice.

Du Shanü finally came to her senses from the prolonged numbness, only then realizing that Chinu had been by her side all along.

Moreover, there was a hand steadily supporting beneath her right elbow, neither too light nor too heavy, bearing the weight of that bundle for her.

Du Shanü turned her head slightly and saw Chinu's profile.

He had not spoken a word since earlier, saying nothing, asking nothing, advising nothing, comforting nothing.

He simply did not know when he had walked to her side, reached out and took half of the weight from her embrace, then accompanied her, step by step, walking against the crowd outward.

The two were extremely close, their shadows cast on the blue stone slabs almost merging into one.

Du Shanü stared at him, unblinking.

She had always known that Chinu's looks were naturally cold and gorgeous.

But only now did she notice that when Chinu lowered his eyelids, a faint shadow always fell beneath his eyes.

That was not anger, not sorrow, but an expression she had seen before yet never truly understood—

A gloomy hue.

It was like, like a bluish-gray cloud pressing on his throat, no matter how you blow it won't disperse, having sunk into his brows and eyes over the years.

The two walked shoulder to shoulder against the crowd, without hesitation.

Perhaps sensing Du Shanü's gaze, Chinu lowered his eyelids further and murmured:

"Wife Master... will you blame me?"

After all, back then he had to find a way to send that person to the prefect's side.

Du Shanü had not yet recovered, and before she could speak, she heard Chinu say again:

"But even if you blame me, I will not change."

Chinu's folly is forever the folly of obsessive ignorance.

Perhaps someone will blame him, for his darkness and cruelty far exceed what others imagine...

But he has long since realized that he need not always be right; only the outcome needs to be right.

Before dawn, no one knows who is right or wrong.

Today the dead are Liu Er and Zhao Daniu; perhaps tomorrow it will be him and the Wife Master.

He was born into a lowly station, and from the time he gained understanding he knew that fate is something one can only strive for a sliver of life, not defy the tide.

If someday someone tells him that burying a few hidden stakes beside another person will cause those stakes to all perish, yet perhaps it could also secure a sliver of opportunity for the Wife Master...

No matter how bitter, how difficult, how painful, or even how utterly devoid of heavenly conscience, to be pointed at by thousands...

He would still do it.

He would still do it without hesitation.

As long as it is for her.

In the end, it's nothing more than countless repetitions.

?? Chapter title taken from Zhang Mi of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms' "Jiang Cheng Zi · Seeing Each Other Above the Huanhua Creek".

? I personally think the merit of Chinu's character lies in his cruelty and the fact that he never hides it.

? Bad is bad, evil is evil; he also knows his deeds are not good, yet he can walk a single path to the dark.

? Even if someone presses his head and he will die in the next instant, he would not regret.