Chapter Seventeen: I Shall Never Betray the Longing in My Heart

At this point, Zhou Yi finally connected all the clues. The Emperor Taiji had sent the Zhou family’s ancestor to Mount Changbai to guard the imperial dragon vein, passing down this duty through generations. By Zhou Dajiang’s time, nearly three centuries had passed; the Qing dynasty itself had ceased to exist in all but name seven years prior. Zhou Dajiang was thus wholly dedicated to the restoration of the dynasty, yet he could not bear to see his descendants burdened by this responsibility any longer—a sentiment all parents in the world could sympathize with.

Where there is a guardian of the dragon vein, there will also be those who wish to destroy it. The eight men who came from the deep mountains a few months ago sought to break the temple’s protective wards, while Zuo Zhi’s group intended to strangle the nascent dragon vein in the womb of Mount Changbai itself. With this, all the events fell into place.

Zhou Yi recalled how, not long ago, Zuo Zhi had been wounded by the great python inside the mountain, and he himself, acting with a moment’s compassion, had spared three people. The timing matched exactly: it must have been Zuo Zhi who launched a sneak attack during the critical moment when Zhou Dajiang was gathering his energy, leaving him gravely injured. At this thought, Zhou Yi’s heart filled with murderous intent, but seeing Zhou Dajiang’s current state, Zhou Yi clearly could not leave his side.

Soon, the eldest son arrived at Zhou Yi’s house with his wife and youngest son. After he entered, Zhou Dajiang’s spirit grew increasingly feeble.

The eldest son, Zhou Zhen, was in his forties and resembled Zhou Dajiang almost exactly. He had moved out after marrying and seldom interacted with Zhou Yi and their youngest brother.

“My son, I have wronged you,” Zhou Dajiang said emotionally upon seeing Zhou Zhen enter. “Now, my days are numbered. Can you forgive your father?”

Zhou Zhen immediately knelt, tears streaming from his eyes. “Father, it is I who was childish and could not let go all these years. Father, I was wrong.” As he spoke, he knocked his head to the ground three times in succession.

Zhou Yi and their younger brother hurriedly helped Zhou Zhen up. Zhou Zhen, standing, grasped Zhou Dajiang’s hand. “Father, who harmed you? I will avenge you.”

Zhou Dajiang shook his head slightly. “Let it be; this is fate.” As he finished speaking, he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of clotted blood. Zhou Yi quickly wiped the blood from his father’s lips with a handkerchief.

“Father is about to perform the ritual of soul transmigration. Zhen, Yi, you two guard me in the room.” He then turned to the others. “The rest of you, leave.”

When all had departed, only the three remained. Supported by Zhou Zhen and Zhou Yi, Zhou Dajiang managed to sit up. He sat cross-legged on the kang, chanting an incantation: “In the depths of the unknown, the five elements of yin and yang. Heaven and earth, lend me your power, grant me divine perception. I call upon the exalted immortals of Peach Mountain, grant me heavenly sight and earth’s hearing. By decree of the Supreme Lord Laozi.”

After completing the incantation, Zhou Dajiang glanced around. Zhou Yi realized his father was searching for a fetus whose five elements matched his own, yet had not developed sentience.

From the differences in the incantations of Zhou Dajiang and Zhou Yi, one could see the disparity in their cultivation methods. After a moment, Zhou Dajiang located a family in the northwest, a wealthy merchant’s household, where a woman was five months pregnant. Upon finding the household, Zhou Dajiang withdrew his powers and turned to his sons. “Three hundred li to the west, a family with the surname Zhou. The woman will give birth in five months. By my calculations, I shall be reborn on the thirtieth of June. After my rebirth, my memory of this life will surely be incomplete. If you two encounter me, help me regain the memories of this life.”

“Father, how can I help you recover your memories?” Zhou Yi asked. The immortal teachings had not passed down this particular method or memory-restoring ritual to him. Presumably, those who achieved the Dao had no need for reincarnation or memory restoration.

Zhou Dajiang thought for a moment. “It is said that after Nurhaci’s death, his body was preserved for a thousand years by placing a piece of Black Sea Mystic Ice upon it. You may seek this Black Sea Mystic Ice at Nurhaci’s tomb. Once you find it and give it to me, the chill of the ice will help me recall the memories of this life.” Having finished, Zhou Dajiang called out, “Everyone, come in.”

Those outside, hearing the summons, hurried into the room. Zhou Yi’s family, knowing Zhou Dajiang’s time was near, knelt and wept aloud.

Zhou Zhen cried out, “Your son respectfully sends your soul to the west!” He then knocked his head to the ground. Zhou Yi and their younger brother followed suit, “Your sons respectfully send you on your way.”

Zhou Dajiang smiled faintly. “Yi, escort your father.” Zhou Yi nodded through his tears and began to chant: “In the depths of the unknown, the five elements of yin and yang. My father’s soul, follow me. Three hundred li to the west, to the Zhou family, guided by the yellow energy…” This segment was a soul-guiding incantation, used specifically to aid in the transmigration of souls. For others, the words would be changed to, “Your soul, follow me.”

The incantation took effect instantly. Zhou Dajiang’s soul left his body. Zhou Yi directed a thread of spiritual energy to guide his father’s soul westward. The whole family knelt, bowing westward, their cries rising to the heavens.

Zhou Yi and his younger brother helped their mother and Zhou Zhen back inside, and the family gradually composed themselves. Hearing the wailing from the Zhou household, the villagers realized someone had passed away and began to arrive to pay their respects.

Zhou Zhen grabbed Zhou Yi, his jaw clenched in fury. “Yi, do you know who killed our father? If you do, let’s avenge him right now.”

At these words, Zhou Yi’s tears fell anew. “From what Father recounted, it was a Taoist priest named Zuo Zhi. Our father has just died; how could a son abandon his vigil at the funeral to seek vengeance?” Though Zhou Yi longed for revenge, his father’s body was still warm, and even if he found Zuo Zhi now, he was no match for him.

Vengeance was not Zhou Yi’s first priority. Instead, he placed the search for the Black Sea Mystic Ice above all else; the sooner Zhou Dajiang’s reborn self could regain this life’s memories, the better. There was no time to lose.

Zhou Zhen saw the sense in this and nodded. “Yi, after Father is buried, we’ll go find Zuo Zhi together.”

But Zhou Yi shook his head. “Elder Brother, your health is poor. Let me take care of this.” He rejected Zhou Zhen’s offer out of necessity. Zuo Zhi was a cultivator; Zhou Yi himself might not be able to win even with the advantage of surprise, and Zhou Zhen would only be a burden—he could not let his brother die in vain.

Having witnessed Zhou Yi perform the incantation to guide their father’s soul, Zhou Zhen knew his brother had some ability and said nothing further. As the two conversed, Wu Guishun arrived by bicycle, paid his respects at Zhou Dajiang’s coffin, and received a return bow from Zhou Zhen and the family.

“Uncle, you’re here. Come in and have some tea,” Zhou Yi said, though he was in no mood for small talk with his future father-in-law. With a word, he greeted Wu Guishun.

Wu Guishun patted Zhou Yi on the shoulder. “Your father once saved my life; how could I not come to see him off? Yi, you must take care of yourself.”

Zhou Yi managed a bitter smile and nodded, again inviting Wu Guishun inside. “Uncle, please come in.”

Wu Guishun said, “I’ll be off now. I came to ask: with your father newly departed, how long do you intend to observe mourning?”

“Three years,” Zhou Yi replied offhandedly. The mourning period could vary—sometimes a hundred days, sometimes up to ten years. At twenty-three, Zhou Yi could not possibly mourn for ten years; three years was a proper expression of filial duty.

Wu Guishun sighed and shook his head. A man in mourning could not marry, so Zhou Yi’s betrothal to Wu Qian would have to be postponed for three years.

Seeing Wu Guishun’s expression, Zhou Yi understood. “Uncle, rest assured. Once the three-year mourning period is over, I’ll marry Wu Qian.”

Wu Guishun nodded. “This is something Qian Qian wanted me to give you. Three years is both long and short. I must say, Qian Qian has not had an easy life—do not betray her devotion.” With that, he handed Zhou Yi a letter.

Zhou Yi accepted it and saw Wu Guishun out. Upon returning, he opened the letter to find a poem by Li Zhiyi, “Song of Divination.” The writing was as graceful as the woman herself.

I dwell at the river’s source, you at its mouth.
Day by day I long for you, but cannot see you,
Though we both drink the same river water.
When will this river cease, when will this longing end?
If only your heart were like mine,
Then my love would not go unreturned.

—Wu Qian