Chapter 185 — Mad Dog
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 7
As for the Wild Wolf Daoist, all this long while he had followed Zhou Yixuan and Xiao Wan, the three of them wandering the ends of the earth together. But at present he had wrapped his face in a piece of cloth—for no other reason than that, at such a time, all the common folk around them were somewhat sensitive about anyone whose features seemed the least bit odd, and a moment's carelessness would see a man mistaken for one of the beast-demons, an injustice far too grievous to bear. After a few such misunderstandings, there was no need for Zhou Yixuan to roll his eyes or Xiao Wan to urge him—the Wild Wolf Daoist himself could stand it no longer, and found a cloth to wrap around his face.
Of the three, Xiao Wan looked the freshest. Naturally—a young and beautiful maiden was bound to draw the eye and please it. In this sea of grieving, despondent humanity, she seemed the brightest figure of all.
Along the whole road, utterly unlike those around her, she often wore a smile—and by no means the smile of one glad at others' misfortune. On the contrary, heedless of Zhou Yixuan's endless carping advice, she helped the helpless folk around her as best she could.
If someone collapsed from exhaustion, she went forward to raise them up; if someone hungered or froze, she gave them clothes and food; if someone was sick or frail, she seemed to know a little medicine and would go to look them over; and when she saw bones lying by the roadside, she would silently and gently walk over, shrink not from the stench, and give them a rough burial—a small comfort, if comfort it could be.
All along the journey, travel-stained and weary, save for the solemnity she showed before the sick and the dead, Xiao Wan's face seemed always to wear a trace of a smile, as though she were a immortal being of compassion upon so gray a road. Zhou Yixuan still muttered endlessly under his breath as ever, while the Wild Wolf Daoist followed behind Xiao Wan and never once tried to dissuade her. Whatever Xiao Wan wished to do, he rushed to do it first: to bury the dead, he dug the pits with his own hands; to aid the weak, he carried them himself. Along the whole road, his eyes seemed to hold only the figure of that fair maiden; whatever Xiao Wan did, he did likewise. However bitter these days and however weary the journey, he seemed not to care.
Yet in the end they were no immortals. To say nothing of the rest—there were so many starving, freezing folk, and their food was so little, that even they soon had none left. Driven by necessity, on this day the three had no choice but to leave the procession for a time and head into the hills and wilds, hoping to find something to eat in the mountain forests.
Beneath such a calamity, such was the devastation!
Zhou Yixuan held his bamboo pole in hand, watched the sky gradually darken, shook his head, and sighed:
"In days like these, a man truly can't go on living."
Xiao Wan walked beside him and smiled, saying nothing. Yet in these few short days, though a faint air of travel's dust lingered on her face, she remained as lovely as ever, and there was in her now a measure of maturity she had not possessed before. The Wild Wolf Daoist followed behind her, his tall shadow seeming to merge with Xiao Wan's slender one; of the face wrapped in cloth nothing could be seen, save for a pair of eyes glinting bright.
By now they had come quite far from the main road and stood upon a small hill. Tonight the clouds were thick, and only a few faint stars showed far off; not a trace of moonlight was to be seen. The hills and wilds around them lay utterly still, save for the chirp of insects from some unknown place, now long, now short, their whereabouts unclear.
Xiao Wan halted her steps, as though something had come to mind, and turned to the Wild Wolf Daoist with a smile: "Daoist, there's no one else about now—take that cloth off your face. Wrapped up all day long, you must be miserable."