The maid finished the palace tour and took her leave, leaving the fairies to their own devices.
The fairies huddled up again—some to chat, some to wander off.
Ling Wu was firmly in the second camp. She had to go talk Master into leaving too—she'd clearly heard several fairies giggling about going to see what Qingchen looked like.
Master was not a street-performing monkey. He was not for public viewing.
Alas, Ling Wu had overestimated her own memory. Back and forth she went, circling the same spot again and again, as if some ghost wall had her spinning in place.
She crouched down on the ground, miserable.
If she'd known, she would have followed those fairies' footsteps—at least then she'd have found her way out.
As she mulled it over, a shadow suddenly fell across her.
"Miss Ah-Wu, what are you doing crouched down here?"
That familiar voice. Ling Wu looked up and fell straight into his long, laughing eyes—those signature mismatched ones, glinting bright enough to make a heart skip. It was Guyuan.
No wonder she couldn't get out. This place really was haunted.
With his arrival, the temperature around her seemed to drop several degrees.
Before she could speak, Guyuan asked, "Lost, are we?"
Ling Wu didn't want to answer. Instinct told her Guyuan was dangerous—every word with him required engaging her brain.
Last time, he'd nearly scrambled her wits. Master wasn't here now, and she was no match for him. What if he brainwashed her again?
Sure enough, seeing her stay silent, Guyuan crouched down too, bringing them eye to eye, and smiled. "Ah-Wu, after all these years, how are you still this bad with directions, same as ever? I truly can't imagine how you ever ran away back then, or walked every corner of the mortal realm."
There it was again. That kind of talk again.
Ling Wu frowned, trying to squeeze his words back out of her ears.
She had no such memories, and she didn't know him. Keep sidling up to her like this, and she'd get annoyed.
"Oh, there is one small change." Guyuan drew the words out. "Back then, you—wouldn't have ignored me like this."
He sighed and reached out a hand to pull her up.
"Come. I'll show you out."
Ling Wu sidestepped his slender hand and stood up on her own. Once more she said, very seriously, "Lord Ghost Sovereign, from the day I was born I've lived on Kunlun. The few times I've left, I've wandered the mortal realm. I have never once met you. So I'd ask you not to say such things again. If others overhear, they'll get the wrong idea—and worse, my master won't be pleased."
Heaven was vast, earth was vast—but Master came first.
She remembered all too well how Master's face had darkened the last time Guyuan said such things.
Most likely he simply couldn't bear to watch the cabbage he'd raised with his own hands get rooted up by a pig. A pig from underground, at that. So Ling Wu reasoned.
Guyuan arched one brow. "Ah-Wu cares for the Divine Sovereign that much?"
"Naturally." Ling Wu looked at him as one looks at an idiot.
Master was her only family in this world. She treasured him dearly. Did this ghost not understand what a master-disciple bond was?
"And what if," Guyuan leaned closer, eyes flickering, "he was the one who left you homeless and nearly scattered your soul?"
At those words, a wash of red flashed through Ling Wu's mind.
That scene from the dream.
Master cradling a dying woman, both their faces streaked with tears, robes soaked in blood.
Master saying, "If you die, I will not live on alone." The woman telling him not to be a fool, to forget her—and then going still.
...
The clearer the image grew, the harder her head throbbed, and the whiter her face became.
"Remembered, Ah-Wu? Has it all come back?" Guyuan, far from alarmed, looked almost delighted.
Ling Wu snapped back to herself, realized she'd been led around by the nose yet again, and ground her teeth.
Blast those fairies and their gossip—it had dug this dream right back up.
Besides, that scene had nothing to do with her. She was barely out of her teens. How could she possibly have seen Master from ten thousand years ago?
She took several deep breaths, closed her eyes, and pushed the feeling down.
"Stop spouting nonsense!" she said sharply, and turned to go.
Never mind finding the way out. The urgent thing was getting away from this foul-hearted ghost.
Terrified he'd follow, Ling Wu jogged the whole way.
And by pure accident, she actually made it out.
The willow you never meant to plant still grows shade.
If she'd known, she wouldn't have wasted brainpower on the route—she might never have run into Guyuan at all.
She shelved the unpleasantness and hurried toward the main hall.
So much time had passed. Was Master all right? Those strapping, well-fed male immortals had better not have drunk him under the table!
Be careful what you wish for. One look at the banquet—mostly cleared away—and Ling Wu's heart went cold.
Aiya! How was it already over!
Where was Master? Where had he gone?
She looked left and right. In the hall, only a few immortals lay dead drunk—no one else remained.
He hadn't actually been carried off by one of those maids, had he?
Just imagining it put Ling Wu on a war footing, sweat beading on her forehead.
What if she woke up tomorrow with a master's wife?
It was all Guyuan's fault, wasting her time. If not for him, she'd have been back ages ago!
No, no. She had to find Master.
Ling Wu hurried off to search—and in her haste, nearly bowled over a maid coming the other way.
She caught the woman's hands quick as a flash, steadying them both.
"No need to panic, miss." The maid soothed her first. "Looking for the Divine Sovereign?"
Ling Wu nodded furiously, hope blooming across her face. "Do you know where my master is? Did he leave already?"
The maid hid a smile behind her sleeve. "The Divine Sovereign gave instructions long ago: I was to wait here for you. He drank a bit much and is tired, so he's resting now. Come with me, miss."
At that, Ling Wu relaxed.
Good, good. Master hadn't abandoned her.
"Much obliged."
And so the two of them exchanged courtesies all the way there. The maid was polite and attentive, glancing back from time to time to check she was following.
Who knew what Master had said to her.
The Dragon Palace of the Western Sea was simply enormous. At first Ling Wu tried to memorize the route; after several turns, she gave up.
Suit yourself, Dragon King. Build your palace as big as you like—this directionless soul wasn't suffering one bit. Not one bit.
The scenery along the way was lovely, though—as lush and green as Kunlun, flowers carpeting the ground, and the occasional little fish or shrimp swimming past to greet them.
She didn't know them, but Ling Wu's manners never slipped once.
The maid stopped before a side chamber.
"Here we are, miss—His Lordship is resting inside. I won't presume to disturb him. With your leave."
"Thank you, thank you."
Ling Wu watched the maid go, then hesitated outside the door, debating whether to walk straight in.
Before she could decide, the door—left ajar—creaked open at the faintest touch, before her hand even reached it.
No sound came from within. Instinctively, she pushed the gap wider.
A breeze drifted out, carrying a familiar floral scent.
An exquisite folding screen met her eyes; behind it, faintly, a figure lay on a soft couch. Gauze curtains stirred, and Ling Wu felt her heart begin to itch.
She stepped quietly around the screen. Qingchen lay there, still and silent, his outer robe hanging loose, one exquisite collarbone bare, ink-black hair spilled across the pillow, his skin all but translucent. A trace of weariness sat between his painted brows.
Ling Wu's heart slammed hard against her ribs.
A living man before her—an immortal stepped straight out of a painting.
If not for a stroke of luck—being carried home to Kunlun the very day she was born—she, a mere mortal, might never in her whole life have glimpsed her master's face.