I just became the Pirate King, and you're telling me I also time-traveled at the same time.

The stuff that rushed in was cold.

It's not the coolness of water, but a deeper kind of coolness, like the moonlight in winter shining on the snow, and the snow reflecting the light back, that light is even colder than the snow.

The coolness seeped in from my temples, traveled down my bones, past my cervical spine, past my shoulder blades, past my ribs, past my pelvis, past my leg bones, and all the way to my toes.

At each joint, pause for a moment, like someone knocking on a door. Knock three times, the door opens, and then continue walking.

Su Wanwan's body began to tremble.

It wasn't the kind of shivering you get from the cold; it was a shiver that seemed to come from deep within your bones, making your teeth chatter and make a "clucking" sound.

The water in his mouth was rattled by his teeth, some of it spilling out and running down the corner of his mouth to his chin, dripping onto his collar, which was already soaked.

"The energy in your bones has been blocked for a long time," Bai tide said. "It's been blocked for more than ten years."

You lived in Qiyue Ridge when you were a child, and your bones were open during those years.

After you leave, no one will help you close up, and the gaps in your bones will shut down on their own.

It's easy to close, but hard to open.

"Just bear with it."

The comb moved from her temples to the back of her head, stopping right in the middle of the back of her head.

Su Wanwan felt the notch of the broken tooth was right in front of the back of her head. The notch was very sharp, and even through her hair, she could feel its shape—a small, sharp pit.

Bai tide didn't use any force; she just held the comb there. But Su Wanwan's head was already burning hot—not just hot, but scalding, as if someone had placed a red-hot iron on the back of her head. It didn't touch her skin, but the radiating heat was enough to make her skin turn red.

"I swallowed it," Bai tide said.

Su Wanwan swallowed the water in her mouth.

The water had become viscous, mixed with her saliva. When she swallowed it, it formed a string. The string broke, half of it went into her stomach, and the other half stuck in her throat, making her want to cough.

She held back, suppressing her cough, and a muffled gurgling sound came from her throat.

Bai tide moved the comb away from the back of her head.

The coolness and the heat disappeared at the same time, like two taut strings snapping simultaneously.

Su Wanwan's body suddenly relaxed, her upper body slumped forward, and her forehead almost hit the stove.

She braced herself against the ground with her hands, managing to stay upright, but her arms were trembling, shaking like two reeds in the wind.

Bai tide tucked the comb back into her clothes, squatted down, and looked at Su Wanwan.

Su Wanwan's forehead was covered in sweat. The sweat flowed from her forehead to the bridge of her nose, and from the bridge of her nose to the tip of her nose, where it hung as a drop, trembling and refusing to fall.

Bai tide reached out and flicked away the drop of sweat, very lightly, like flicking a flower petal.

"There are three gaps in my bones," Bai tide said. "One in my left leg, one in my right arm, and one in my spine."

The rest you have to do yourself. I can't do it, and even if I could, it wouldn't help. You have to open up your own body.

After those three flowers drink the water, the lunar energy will flow from the dantian into the bones, blooming wherever it reaches; what it can't reach will be saved for next time.

Su Wanwan raised her head, her lips were pale and her face was bluish, but there was something shining in her eyes.

It's not the light of the moon, but a more instinctive, more primal light, like someone who has walked in the dark for a long time and suddenly sees a small patch of light ahead. Whether that light is an exit or a flame, she will walk towards it.

"Thank you, Senior Bai tide," she said.

His voice was hoarse, as if he had squeezed it out with the last bit of strength from his vocal cords.

Bai tide stood up, dusted off her knees, walked to the water vat, scooped up a ladle of water, and returned to hand it to Su Wanwan.

This time, it was for her to drink.

Su Wanwan took it and gulped down most of the ladleful. Water overflowed from the corner of her mouth and flowed down her neck into her collar, but she didn't bother to wipe it away.

After finishing her drink, she returned the ladle to Bai tide and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Bai tide took the water ladle and casually placed it on the stove. Then she took the wine gourd from her waist—Su Wanwan remembered that gourd, which contained osmanthus wine.

Bai tide uncorked the gourd, took a sip herself, and then handed the gourd to Su Wanwan.

"Take a sip."

Su Wanwan took it and drank a mouthful from the gourd spout.

Osmanthus wine is sweet, but not cloyingly so. It has a refreshing fragrance, and after drinking it, the coolness flows from your throat to your stomach and then spreads throughout your body.

Her hands stopped trembling, her face changed from pale to pink, and her lips regained color.

Bai tide took the gourd back, plugged it, and put it back on her waist.

She glanced at Su Wanwan, and there was something in her eyes that Su Wanwan couldn't understand—not satisfaction, not worry, but something more complex, like someone watching another version of themselves walk a path they've walked many times, wanting to lend a hand, yet knowing that this path must be walked alone.

"Your friend," Bai tide suddenly said, "the one surnamed Sun."

Su Wanwan raised her head.

"Monkey King?"

"Monkey King," Bai tide repeated the name, a half-smile playing on her lips, "did he cough up golden blood?"

Su Wanwan nodded.

"Golden blood isn't blood," Bai tide said. "It's cultivation level."

His cultivation level was leaking outwards.

When you can fight, don't leak; when you can't fight, leak. Every time you leak, your cultivation level drops by one level.

He can still lift that stick because his cultivation level is still high enough.

"If it leaks a few more times, the stick will turn into an iron rod."

Su Wanwan clenched her fingers into a fist on her knee.

She recalled the way Sun Wukong walked, using his staff as a crutch, the hesitant way he measured the ground with his steps, and the vertical crease between his brows.

She thought he was recovering, and that his shiny fur meant he was getting better.

But Bai tide said he was leaking.

"Is there any way—" Su Wanwan asked.

"Yes," Bai tide interrupted her, "but not here with me."

His path and my path are not the same thing.

I am the moon, he is fire.

Water and fire can coexist, but they cannot repair each other.

He has to heal his own wounds; no one else can.

He was right to return to Flower Fruit Mountain; it has what he needs.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Bai tide said. "But everyone goes back to their hometown either to find something or to forget something."

He doesn't look like someone who's about to forget something, so he must be looking for something.

Su Wanwan remained silent.

She looked down at the charcoal circle on the ground, which had been partially smudged by her sweat, its edges blurred, like an ink stain soaked by rain.

She traced the blurry area with her fingertip, completing the circle.

"Will he find it?" she asked.

Bai tide did not answer.

She walked to the door, pushed it open, stood on the threshold, and looked out into the yard.

In the yard, the white wolf was still sleeping next to the tree roots, its body curled up in a white circle, its tail draped over its nose, and the white fur on its tail rose and fell slightly when it breathed, like a small cloud being blown by the wind.

Bai tide looked at it for a while, then turned around and said something to Su Wanwan.

"Start drinking flowers tomorrow."

Drink it for three days.

You cannot leave this room for three days, you cannot disturb the moon's energy, and you cannot use your tail.

Three days later, when your meridians hurt, go to the inner tomb.

The more it hurts, the deeper it goes.

Su Wanwan stood up, her legs still weak, her knees feeling like a bone had been removed, and she was still trembling even when she stood up straight.

She leaned on the stove and walked step by step to the door, standing next to Bai tide.

In the courtyard, the moonlight had already risen, shining on the tree, and the shadow of the tree fell on the ground like a torn piece of black paper.

The white wolf slept soundly in the shadows of the trees, breathing evenly, its body rising and falling slightly with each breath. Its injured leg twitched gently in its sleep, as if it were running in its dream.

Su Wanwan looked at the white wolf and suddenly thought of Chu Yang.

Where is Chu Yang now? Is he still walking on that saline-alkali land? Or is he spending the night on the low hill? Is the white donkey stealing dry rations again? Is Sun Wukong sitting on the rock again, with his golden cudgel across his lap, looking east without saying a word? Is Tang Sanzang chanting sutras again, scattering rice on the rocks, which is then blown everywhere by the wind?

she does not know.

All she knew was that she had returned, returned to Qiyue Ridge, returned to this place with mist, osmanthus wine, and broken wooden combs.

Behind her was the inner mound, inside which a creature with four arms was waiting for her.

She held three dried flowers in her hand, a dagger in her sleeve, and three open passages in her bones, through which the moonlight flowed slowly and silently, like a river beginning to thaw again.

Su Wanwan took a deep breath.

The air at Qiyue Ridge is cool and damp with water mist; inhaling it feels like drinking a mouthful of cold water.

She slowly exhaled, and the breath condensed into a small cloud of white mist in the moonlight, which dissipated after a while.

Bai tide was next to her, and a pipe had appeared in her hand at some point.

The pipe was made of bamboo, blackened by smoke, and the bowl was made of copper, with a small tuft of tobacco stuffed inside.

She brought the pipe to her lips, lit it with the tinderbox, took a puff, and the smoke billowed from her nostrils, mingling with the moonlight, white upon white, like two overlapping clouds.

She exhaled a puff of smoke and squinted at Su Wanwan.

"There's one more thing," she said. "Don't tell anyone what you saw in the inner tomb."

Especially the one with four arms.

I can't tell you the name of that thing, because knowing the name itself is a kind of calling.

All I can tell you is that it's locked inside.

When you go in, you're not just going in to hit it, but also to reinforce the lock.

Every time you go in, you consume a little bit of it.

Once it has been depleted to a certain extent, its fourth arm will retract.

When it shrinks down to just two strips, its skin turns back to flesh color, and at that point it's just an ordinary creature kept in a cage.

It won't be over until that day comes.

Su Wanwan memorized these words, one by one, as if carving them into stone with a knife.

She nodded without saying anything.

Bai tide tapped her pipe on the threshold, and the ash fell to the ground, looking like a small clump of gray snow in the moonlight.

She tucked the pipe into her sleeve, turned around, and walked into the house.

He walked to the bedside, lifted the blanket, patted the dust off the pillow, and then pointed to the bed.

"You sleep in the bed."

I'm not sleeping tonight.

Su Wanwan wanted to say something, but Bai tide didn't give her a chance.

"Stop talking nonsense," Bai tide said. "Your bones have just opened up three times, so you'll have a lot of dreams tonight."

Those dreams are not dreams; they are the things that come out when your moon energy flows through your bones.

Some are useful, some are useless, and some will scare you.

If you wake up in fright, walk around the room a few times, but don't go outside.

It's foggy outside, and your breathing is unstable tonight. If you go into the fog, you won't be able to get out.

Su Wanwan walked to the bedside and sat down.

The bed board was hard, with a thin mattress padded with dry straw stuffed inside, making a rustling sound when you sat on it.

She took off her shoes and coat, folded them neatly, placed them next to her pillow, and then crawled into bed.

The quilt had a musty smell mixed with the scent of hay. It wasn't unpleasant; it was the smell of a room that hadn't been used in a long time, like a room that hadn't been lived in for a long time, with the windows closed and the air filled with the smell of time.

Bai tide took the oil lamp away and placed it on the table in front of herself.

She sat in a chair with her back to Su Wanwan, a book open in front of her—Su Wanwan couldn't see what the book was, only that the edges of the pages were frayed, like an old book that had been read many, many times.

Bai tide didn't look at it; she just stared at the book's cover, one hand supporting her chin, the other resting on the pages, her fingers occasionally twitching as if turning a page, but Su Wanwan didn't hear the sound of pages turning.

Su Wanwan closed her eyes.

Darkness surged in from all directions, enveloping her.

Her body was still trembling slightly, and the feeling of being pried open and filled in her bones had not completely subsided. It was like a river that had been blocked for a long time suddenly being opened, and the water was still looking for a new riverbed, crashing everywhere and making the riverbanks buzz.

She listened to the sound of Bai tide turning the pages—actually, it was the sound of Bai tide's fingers tracing the pages, very light and slow, like someone counting grains of sand.

The sound was very steady, one, two, three times, with the intervals exactly the same, like a clock ticking.

In that sound, her body slowly relaxed, the trembling lessened, and her breathing became more even.

She fell asleep.

She woke up before dawn.

She had many dreams, including one about Sun Wukong. He was sitting on a rock with his golden cudgel across his lap, and in front of him was a large basket of peaches. The peaches were green, unripe, and hard. He picked one up, took a bite, chewed it a couple of times, spat it out, and said, "Not sweet."

She dreamt of Chu Yang. Chu Yang was standing on a dark patch of land, holding a large dagger in his hand. There was blood on the dagger, but the blood was golden, not red. He was looking down at something on the ground, but she couldn't see it clearly.

I dreamt of a white wolf. The white wolf's legs were completely healed. It was running in the snow, and as it ran, it suddenly flew up, its four legs moving in the air like it was swimming.

Finally, she dreamed of something with four arms.

The thing stood in a ball of red light, its face cracked open like a vertical mouth, its teeth parted to reveal the innermost hole.

A sound came from inside the cave, not the sound of speaking, but something like the cry of a baby, high-pitched and thin, with a long trailing tone, one cry after another, without pause or breathing, like a very long thread being stretched out, the end of the thread wrapped around her neck, getting tighter and tighter.

She woke up.