Chapter 207: Look at them! Now that's what a Daoist temple should be like!

The night deepened, mountain winds cutting through the courtyard walls with bone-chilling cold.

Hu Yangyang quietly packed their things, placing two small, heavily patched bundles on the square table in the main room.

She turned and went to the kitchen to start a fire and heat water.

She did not ask Lu Yuan what he wanted for dinner, nor did she mention whether there was any food left at home. She simply moved through the tasks she thought needed doing in silence.

Lu Yuan watched Hu Yangyang’s small figure busy at the stove and felt an ache in his chest.

“Yangyang, don’t bother. I’ll make dinner.”

Lu Yuan rolled up his sleeves and stepped inside.

Hu Yangyang paused, glanced back at him, her gaze calm and untroubled.

She did not object; she simply moved away from the stove and went to fetch water from the jar in the corner, beginning to wash a few rough ceramic bowls.

There was still about half a jar of brown rice in the rice bin. In a clay pot in the corner sat half a jar of pickled vegetables.

He opened the lid and a sharp, tangy, savory aroma rose up.

Under the eaves hung two strings of dried chilies, a string of mushrooms, and a small slab of salt-cured wild boar meat dried by wind and sun; it looked hard and tough.

This was the typical winter provisioning for ordinary households beyond the Wall.

Lu Yuan quickly built a fire, washed the rice and set a pot of brown rice porridge to simmer all day.

He soaked the dried wild boar meat in hot water to soften it, then sliced it thin.

He took a big handful of pickled vegetables and finely shredded them.

He crushed the dried chilies and soaked the mushrooms until they plumped, tearing them into pieces.

When the wok was hot he added a spoonful of solidified lard to melt.

With a sizzle, an inviting fragrance rose.

He first stir-fried the dried chilies and wild boar slices to release oil and bring out their savory saltiness.

Then he tossed in the pickled vegetable shreds and mushrooms, frying on high heat so the pickles’ tang and the mushrooms’ umami could fully meld.

Finally he ladled in a good amount of water, covered the pot, and let it simmer with a steady bubbling.

While the stew cooked, Lu Yuan quickly made a couple of coarse grain flatbreads.

He used the remaining brown rice flour mixed with a bit of cornmeal into a paste, spreading it thin on a hot iron pan.

Soon they were browned on both sides, giving off the honest aroma of grains.

Hu Yangyang worked quietly at his side, passing him things, stoking the fire and putting it out as needed, her movements practiced and silent.

Only Hu Tutu, probably drawn by the smell, had shuffled up to the kitchen doorway.

She leaned on the doorframe, craning her little head to peer in. Her big eyes, reflected in the steam and lamplight, seemed to shimmer faintly.

“Just a little longer and dinner will be ready.”

Lu Yuan turned, giving Hu Tutu a gentle smile.

Hu Tutu nodded vigorously. She still had little strength to speak, but the anticipation in her eyes was plain.

Soon the food was on the table.

A large steaming basin of sour, appetizing pickled vegetable and wild boar stew with mushrooms.

A golden, fragrant coarse-grain flatbread, and a thick, rice-scented pot of brown rice porridge.

On a winter night beyond the Wall, this was a generous meal that could warm both body and stomach.

Lu Yuan ladled generous bowls of porridge for Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu, piled their plates with the stew, and tore the flatbread to soak in the porridge.

“Eat.”

He lifted his own bowl and took a drink of the hot porridge.

The scalding liquid slid down his throat and instantly chased away the chill in his bones.

It gave a small measure of comfort to a body exhausted from injury and travel.

Hu Yangyang remained quiet, sipping her porridge slowly and deliberately, eating carefully without wasting a single grain.

Hu Tutu, starving from weakness and perhaps days of unconsciousness, devoured her food. Though frail, she ate fast, stuffing her small mouth until her cheeks were round. The heat made her gasp, but she refused to stop; Lu Yuan had to remind her several times to slow down.

Watching the two girls eat, Lu Yuan’s complicated, unsayable feelings eased a little.

For now, let them eat their fill, sleep well, and leave this place safe.

As the meal drew to a close, Hu Tutu’s face regained some color and her spirit improved, though she remained weak.

She set down her bowl, wiped her mouth with a small hand, then looked up. Her big eyes fixed on Lu Yuan as she asked softly:

“Daoist priest, when will we leave tomorrow?”

“We’ll leave at dawn,” Lu Yuan answered gently. “You two should sleep well tonight and restore your strength.”

Hu Tutu nodded earnestly, then glanced at Hu Yangyang.

Hu Yangyang had finished eating and was quietly clearing the bowls. She felt her sister’s gaze but averted her eyes and said nothing.

Lu Yuan helped Hu Yangyang clear the table, boiled hot water, and helped the two girls wash up briefly.

He gave himself a quick wash as well and put on a set of secondhand cotton clothes Hu Huxu had left behind.

His own Daoist robe was ragged and stained with blood.

The set from Hu Huxu didn’t fit perfectly, but at least it was clean and warmer.

Night pressed on and the oil lamp’s fuel was nearly spent; the light flickered uncertainly.

Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu squeezed into their small bed, covered by a thick, heavily patched quilt.

It was hard to understand how Hu Huxu, from the Continuing the Lamp family—one of the Ten Families beyond the Wall—could leave his household so barren.

Where had all the money gone?

Hu Tutu, sated and back in familiar surroundings, relaxed mentally.

She soon curled up beside Hu Yangyang and fell into a deep sleep, her small face lined with a glimmer of peace.

Hu Yangyang, however, did not sleep immediately. She stared up at the dark roof, lost in thought.

Only after Lu Yuan blew out the oil lamp and lay down on the temporary mat in the main room did the house fall into darkness and silence, and she slowly closed her eyes.

In the dark, Lu Yuan could not sleep either.

The pains radiating through his body, worries over the old man’s injuries, and countless concerns about the future kept his mind restless.

He turned, looked at the cold, dim moonlight slipping through the window, and a thought flashed through his mind.

Clearing the Liu Family’s scattered corpse-nurturing grounds, yin-gathering pools, and Malevolent Deity offerings...

This was no small task.

Relying on the intelligence from Li Guanqi and Fu Yuanshan, and even the Deity of Beauty’s help, probably wouldn’t be enough.

The borderlands were vast and sparsely populated, mountains high and forests dense; those places were extremely hidden. Cleaning them out would be time-consuming and dangerous, likely bringing unexpected risks.

Moreover, this matter concerned the peace of the entire borderland, not just Zhenlong Temple or Lu Yuan himself.

He would need help. After all, the Life-Severing Wang Family incident before had involved Shen Shulan from Wuqing Temple stepping in.

This time was even bigger than the Wang Family affair; of course he would need more assistance.

Who could he ask?

One person came to mind.

Master Uncle, Celestial Master He Xun.

No one seemed more fitting. Tianlong Temple, one of the Upper Three Gates beyond the Wall, was ideally placed to take the lead.

Having a righteous, prominent sect like Tianlong Temple at the helm could also intimidate petty scoundrels who might eye the Liu Family’s legacy or try to cause trouble in the chaos.

More importantly, the old man had suffered grave misfortune; as a senior brother, Master Uncle He Xun should be informed on both moral and logical grounds.

And given the old man’s severe injuries and damaged soul, Master Uncle He Xun might be able to help...

With that, a plan formed in Lu Yuan’s mind.

They should go to Tianlong Temple.

That said...

Although Lu Yuan had never been to Tianlong Temple, he knew its location.

Tianlong Temple was not terribly far from here.

By cart it would take about a day and a night.

So it would be best to lead Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu there early tomorrow morning.

This kind of matter was better handled in person.

If he returned first to Zhenlong Temple and then went back out to Tianlong Temple, it would waste too much time.

Night deepened, mountain winds howling over the roof with a low moan.

Lu Yuan closed his eyes and forced himself to rest.

Tomorrow would still be a long road.

.......

At first light, Lu Yuan woke.

His wounds still ached, but his spirit was much improved from the day before. Most importantly, the zhenran within him had finally begun to flow smoothly.

He rose quietly and first checked the inner room.

The two girls still slept. Hu Tutu was curled up tight against Hu Yangyang, breathing steadily, her small face showing a little color.

Hu Yangyang slept too, but her brow was slightly furrowed; even in sleep a shadow of melancholy seemed to cling to her.

Lu Yuan did not wake them. He went to the yard for water to wash, then to the kitchen to rekindle the fire and reheat the leftover porridge and dishes.

By the time the warm breakfast was set out, Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu were waking.

After a simple meal, Lu Yuan led the two girls, each carrying their small bundles, and locked the gate of the little courtyard they might never return to.

Hu Yangyang looked back once, her gaze calm, without any sign of lingering.

Hu Tutu glanced at the closed gate with a puzzled look, then at Lu Yuan, and reached out to tug his sleeve with a small hand.

At the village entrance, Lu Yuan had noticed yesterday the old willow tree and the donkey hitched beneath it. Beside it stood a half-worn covered cart.

The driver was a fifty-something, honest-looking peasant surnamed Chen, a local villager.

He made a little money hauling goods and passengers between nearby villages with this cart.

Lu Yuan negotiated, paying a bit extra, and arranged for the cart to go to Tianlong Temple.

The old man simply smiled when he saw Lu Yuan bring two girls and didn’t ask many questions.

He helped load the two small bundles into the cart and lifted the girls aboard.

The cart’s compartment was low and strewn with dry straw, just enough space for three or four people. It was crude, but better than walking and offered some shelter from the wind.

Lu Yuan set Hu Tutu in the innermost spot against the wall where the jolts were less severe.

Hu Yangyang sat in the spot near the door, between her and Lu Yuan sitting Hu Tutu.

The cart creaked and groaned as it set off, slowly climbing the rough mountain path toward Tianlong Temple.

The morning mountain wind bit sharply and swept snow flurries, making the canvas roof flap.

Lu Yuan took two patched but reasonably warm cotton jackets Hu Huxu had left and wrapped them around the two girls.

Hu Tutu obediently let him fuss over her; her small face looked even more delicate hidden in the jacket.

Hu Yangyang silently slipped hers on and turned her gaze to the snow-dusted woods rushing by outside the window, saying nothing.

At first the cart was very quiet, only the sound of wheels and the donkey’s breathing.

Hu Tutu, still weak, leaned against Lu Yuan and soon dozed off again.

Hu Yangyang kept staring out the window, the lines of her face taut.

After some distance, Hu Tutu woke up feeling brighter and began to fidget.

She peered excitedly through a gap in the canvas and found everything fascinating, her small voice bubbling out in questions:

“Daoist priest, look at that tree, it’s so thick! Thicker than the willow at the village gate!”

“Daoist priest, there are birds in the sky! They fly so fast!”

“Daoist priest, where are we going? Is it far?”

“Daoist priest, are you cold?”

“Do you want me to put your jacket on?”

“Daoist priest...”

Her questions came one after another, thin but full of childlike curiosity and energy.

Though jumbled, her dependence and closeness were clear.

Lu Yuan answered them patiently in a soft voice, occasionally pointing out interesting sights.

But Hu Yangyang’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper.

She turned from the window and, with a flat voice that concealed a faint impatience, told her chattering sister:

“Be quiet. Where do you get so many words?”

Hu Tutu was pointing at a hopping squirrel outside, eager to share it with Lu Yuan. The rebuke froze the smile on her face.

She glared at Hu Yangyang with wide eyes and puckered her mouth in indignation:

“What did I do wrong?”

“I wasn’t even loud!”

“I was just asking! Daoist priest didn’t say I was noisy!”

Hu Yangyang’s tone stayed even but carried an unquestionable, sisterly authority.

“You are making noise now.”

“Sit properly. Don’t fidget, and don’t talk.”

“Let the Daoist priest have some peace. You should rest too.”

Hu Tutu’s small face flushed—not with shyness but anger.

She hated it when Hu Yangyang always bossed her around and scolded her as if everything she did was wrong!

“Why can’t you boss me!”

“I want to talk!”

“I want to ask!”

Hu Tutu stubbornly braced her neck and raised her voice, tears threatening with a sob and defiance:

“The Daoist priest is nice to me. I like talking to him!”

“Who are you to stop me!”

Hu Yangyang’s voice took on a colder edge, her expression more composed and even stern.

“Because I’m your sister. You listen. Or you won’t get any dinner tonight.”

Hu Tutu’s fury made tears brim. Her small chest rose and fell.

She knew Hu Yangyang meant what she said—when she had been punished before, she had indeed been denied meals.

Feeling hurt and furious, she turned away, refusing to look at Hu Yangyang or Lu Yuan, and curled into the cart’s far corner.

She wrapped herself in the jacket until only the fuzzy back of her head showed, staging her protest and stubborn refusal.

The air in the cart dropped to a freezing silence. Only the creak of wheels and the wind’s howl remained.

Lu Yuan watched and understood.

Hu Yangyang’s strictness might come from concern—fear Hu Tutu would disturb his rest, and that Hu Tutu herself needed to rest.

It might also be a habitual impulse to maintain “order” and assert her authority as an older sister.

Lu Yuan sighed softly, reached out over the jackets, and gently patted the small figure sulking in the corner.

Hu Tutu stiffened but did not move inward further.

Lu Yuan didn’t force her out. He said instead:

“Your sister isn’t being mean on purpose.”

“She’s worried about my injuries and about you being fragile. If you talk too much you’ll get worn out.”

“She’s looking out for you and for me.”

The small bundle shifted a little but stayed silent.

Lu Yuan looked at Hu Yangyang, her lips pressed together and her face still composed.

He withdrew his hand and addressed the small bundle in a softer, earnest tone, offering a serious plea:

“Don’t be angry with your sister...”

“You two are blood. You’re probably the closest people you’ll ever have in this world.”

He paused, letting the words settle in the quiet cart, then spoke the most important line slowly and clearly:

“There will be a long road ahead. The only ones you might be able to rely on could very well be each other.”

When his words fell, the cart grew so quiet that only the wheels could be heard.

Hu Yangyang, who had held herself stiffly and assumed the stern elder-sister posture, seemed to lose a little of her backbone when she heard Lu Yuan’s appeal to mutual reliance.

She quickly turned her head back to the window. The tightness at the corner of her eyes and her pressed lips betrayed the inward stirrings she refused to show.

She said nothing more and did not look at her crying sister. She merely watched the snow-covered woods pass by with stubborn silence.

Yet the mask-like sternness of her profile had softened almost imperceptibly.

Lu Yuan stopped persuading and gently patted Hu Tutu’s trembling back, offering silent comfort.

The cart kept plodding along the rutted mountain road, steady but unhurried.

The cold wind still sliced, but the hostile, frosty silence inside the cart had been broken.

In its place grew a deeper, more complicated quiet, from which a faint warmth quietly began to bloom...

...

The next morning, dawn.

They reached Tianlong Temple.

Lu Yuan lifted the cart curtain and looked up at Tianlong Temple perched on the high mountain, and couldn’t help but click his tongue.

Good heavens—

Just look at that. Now that’s what you call a proper Daoist temple!