Chapter 155 — The Rite of Remembrance

The three walked deeper in. The lane, usually so secluded, was now crowded with people as well—yet compared with the crush of the main street outside, it could truly be called spacious. Zhou Yixuan muttered curses under his breath, plainly indignant, as much as to say: It is one thing for this old fellow to flee for his life, but why must so many others flee along with me, so that this old fellow cannot even flee in comfort?

The lane was long and winding; the deeper they went, the fewer the people. After perhaps half an hour, the three reached its end, where there were no more refugees to be seen. The reason was simple: here stood a mortuary. Yet the little mortuary's gate was dilapidated; half of its wooden door had fallen to the ground, and the other half was nowhere to be seen—whether someone had taken it for firewood, no one could say.

Zhou Yixuan gazed at the mortuary, shook his head, and sighed. Xiao Wan stood beside him and called softly, "Grandfather."

The Wild Wolf Daoist was somewhat puzzled, but having come from the Demonic Sect, he was not much troubled by such ill-omened places as a mortuary. He was only perplexed as to why Zhou Yixuan and Xiao Wan would come to such a spot.

Zhou Yixuan was silent for a while. "Let us go in. At any rate, it should be quieter here."

So saying, he walked in first, with Xiao Wan and the Wild Wolf Daoist following behind. Entering the mortuary, they saw that the small courtyard was overgrown and desolate, scattered everywhere with broken wood and fallen beams. Dimly, something white seemed to glimmer in the grass. Xiao Wan's face went somewhat pale, and she involuntarily clutched at Zhou Yixuan's clothes.

Zhou Yixuan glanced back at her and comforted her in a low voice, "It is not the first time you have come. What is there to fear? Besides, this is where your father lived. Would he do us harm?"

Xiao Wan nodded, and only then did her color improve a little. The Wild Wolf Daoist frowned from behind but said nothing.

Beyond the courtyard was the gatehouse of the mortuary. Zhou Yixuan stepped forward and saw the door thick with dust—who knew how long it had been since anyone had come here. He said nothing, shook his head, sighed again, and pushed the door open.

"Creak…" The wooden door gave out a harsh sound and slowly swung inward. A musty smell rushed out. In the dim light, three coffins lay every which way, their lids all fallen to one side.

An indescribable desolation of the years seemed to seep faintly from that little room. Zhou Yixuan's mouth twitched twice, his face bleak. He walked slowly forward, not troubling to look at the scattered coffins beside him, and went straight to the altar table where offerings and spirit tablets had once been placed, looking at the dozen or so tablets lying askew upon it.

The room was utterly still; it seemed no one dared to speak. Zhou Yixuan slowly reached out, picked up the tablets one by one, gently wiped away the thick dust, glanced at each, and set it aside, then reached for the next. And so it went, until when he came to clean the seventh tablet, he saw the characters written upon it: "Spirit Tablet of My Beloved Son, Zhou Xingyun."

Zhou Yixuan stopped. He gazed silently at the tablet for a long while. Xiao Wan came slowly up to him, looked at the tablet in his hand, and her eyes grew moist. She said softly, "Grandfather, let us set Father's tablet properly."

Zhou Yixuan let out a long breath, his face somewhat desolate, and nodded. Xiao Wan took the tablet from his hands and carefully placed it upon the altar table. Then she stepped back, pressed her palms together, and bowed reverently to the tablet. Softly she said, "Father, Grandfather and I have come back to see you again. These years, thanks to your blessing, though Grandfather and I have wandered the wilds, all has been well with us. Today we have come back to tidy things up for you. I hope you will not blame us."

With that, she bowed respectfully three more times. The Wild Wolf Daoist, watching from behind, suddenly stepped forward as well and bowed three times to the tablet, which startled both Zhou Yixuan and Xiao Wan. Xiao Wan said in surprise, "Daoist, why do you…"

The Wild Wolf Daoist avoided Zhou Yixuan's peculiar gaze. "Since he is your father, he is my elder as well. Coming to this place, it is only fitting that I pay my respects to my elder."

Only then did Xiao Wan relax. She nodded. "Then thank you." Turning back to the tablet, she said, "Father, this is the Wild Dog Daoist. He is a good man, and he has helped Grandfather and me a great deal."

Zhou Yixuan gave a cold snort from the side. "A good man, is he? Hmph—harboring ulterior motives…"

The Wild Wolf Daoist's expression stiffened, but Xiao Wan had already shot Zhou Yixuan a glare. "Grandfather, why do you talk such nonsense?"

Zhou Yixuan rolled his eyes and turned his head away. The Wild Wolf Daoist looked at Xiao Wan gratefully. He was just about to speak when his body suddenly went rigid; he whipped around, and Xiao Wan and Zhou Yixuan seemed to sense something too, for almost at the same instant they all looked toward the mortuary's entrance.

In the mortuary, so desolate and still, a figure in black suddenly appeared in the doorway, its face veiled even in black gauze—indescribably strange. The mortuary, which had gained a little human warmth from the arrival of Zhou Yixuan and the other two, was now suddenly plunged by this figure's appearance into a still deeper, deader silence and desolation.

The Wild Wolf Daoist's face changed drastically. His lips moved several times before he said slowly, in a strained voice, "Master Ghost…"