My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Yunniang laughed as she said this, "I thought to myself, how could this person be like this?"

She paused, looked at the crooked character on the memorial tablet, and lowered her voice.

"But he's good to me. He really is. Not just talk, he shows it through his actions."

In winter, my hands and feet would get cold, and he would warm my feet in his arms every night.

I said it stinks, he said it doesn't. I said it's dirty, he said it's not dirty. I said you're lying, he said I'd be a dog if I lied.

That's just how he is. He's not good with words and doesn't know how to say sweet things, but everything he does makes you feel that he cares about you.

Yunniang's voice was a little hoarse.

She took a deep breath and suppressed the sour feeling.

"He left less than a month after his marriage. He went into the mountains to collect ginseng, encountered a mountain spirit, and never returned. His remains were never found; only a cenotaph was erected for him."

She looked at the memorial tablet with a gentle gaze, as if she were looking at someone. "The people in the village all say I have a tough life, that I killed him."

Some people said I was lucky, that I inherited a huge fortune right after marrying into the family. Nobody believed I was sad, nobody believed I missed him. They thought I was faking it, trying to maintain a facade of virtue.

The scholar sat on the threshold, listening without moving.

The moonlight shone on him, and his shoulders were slightly tense.

Yunniang continued, "But I really miss him. Not because he's good to me, but because he is who he is."

The person who fell and squatted on the ground picking up medicine, the person who wouldn't let me taste the noodles, the person who covered my feet in their arms and said "it doesn't smell."

There was only one him in this world; once he's gone, he's gone.

The mourning hall fell silent. The flame of the eternal lamp flickered, then settled.

The scholar remained silent for a long time.

"Is tomorrow the grand festival?" he suddenly asked.

Yunniang paused for a moment, then nodded.

"The village must be very lively, right?" the scholar asked again.

Yunniang nodded again.

"Aren't you going?"

Yunniang shook her head: "I don't want to go. I used to go with him. He would hold my hand and walk from one end of the village to the other, watching people set out offerings, watching people kowtow, watching people set off firecrackers."

He said, "Next year we'll also supply a large ginseng root." I said, "You don't harvest ginseng, where will you get a large one?" He said, "I'll go buy one." I said, "Will anyone sell them?" He didn't say anything, just scratched his head and laughed.

The scholar's lips curled up slightly again.

"I want to go," he said.

Yunniang was stunned for a moment: "What?"

"The grand ceremony. I want to see it," the scholar said. "Since I died, I haven't seen the excitement of the human world. Will you take me?"

Yunniang looked at him; his face held an expectant expression, like a child eager to go to the market.

She suddenly realized that this ghost wasn't so scary after all.

"But..." she hesitated for a moment, "How will you get there? You're a ghost, you can't come out during the day."

The scholar smiled: "I can hide in your shadow. Your shadow is my umbrella."

Yunniang looked down at her own shadow.

Moonlight streamed in from outside, casting her long, dark shadow on the bluestone slab that stretched all the way to the altar.

She stared at the shadow for a long time.

"You...you really won't hurt anyone, will you?" she asked softly.

The scholar shook his head: "I would never harm anyone. I've never even killed a chicken."

Yunniang looked at him; his eyes were sincere, not like he was lying.

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Okay. I'll take you tomorrow."

The scholar's eyes lit up, as if two stars had suddenly been lit.

He bent down and bowed to Yunniang, very seriously and solemnly.

"Thank you, young lady."

Yunniang was a little embarrassed by his sudden courtesy and waved her hand.

"Alright, alright, stop with the formalities. You can go now, come back tomorrow morning."

The scholar straightened up, smiled at her, then turned and walked out of the mourning hall.

He walked to the osmanthus tree, stopped, and looked back.

Yunniang was still sitting in the mourning hall, looking in his direction.

He waved to her, then his figure gradually faded and melted into the moonlight.

Yunniang sat in the mourning hall, looking at the osmanthus tree for a long time.

The tree shadows remained motionless, and the wind blew, making the leaves rustle as if they were saying something.

She didn't know what the tree was saying, but she felt that her heart wasn't so empty anymore.

She stood up and slowly walked out of the mourning hall.

......

Two oil lamps were lit in the main room of the clan elder's house, their flames flickering and illuminating the painting of a tiger descending the mountain on the wall.

Zhao Tieshan sat on the chair on the left. The wound on his shoulder had been bandaged, and a white strip of cloth was sticking out from his collar, carrying a faint smell of medicine.

Zhao Dazhu sat on the right, holding a rough porcelain bowl in both hands. The water in the bowl had already gone cold, and he hadn't drunk a drop.

The elder sat at the head of the table, leaning on his cane, staring at the oil lamp on the table, and remained silent for a long time.

There were a few people in the main room.

Sun Dayong sat to the left of Zhao Tieshan, his arm in a sling.

Qian Laosan leaned against the door frame, squinting, as if he were dozing off, or as if he were thinking about something.

Liu Heizi squatted outside the threshold, head down, without uttering a sound.

Zhou Xiaoqi stood by the window, her young face tense, her eyes red, whether from lack of sleep or crying, it was hard to tell.

All five people came; every member of the Blood Transformation Realm in the guard team was present.

Zhao Tieshan spoke first.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was deep, like the muffled sound of a stone thrown into deep water.

"The bear demon's body has been disposed of. The bear skin has been removed, the gall bladder has been taken, and the bear paws have been chopped off. They've all been sent to A'Luo's house."

He paused, then continued, "That young master Lü killed the bear demon with a single sword strike, saving our village's life."

Sun Dayong nodded without saying anything.

Qian Laosan squinted and didn't say anything.

Liu Heizi squatted outside the threshold and muttered, "I still can't understand that sword strike."

Standing by the window, Zhou Xiaoqi suddenly said, "Isn't he a sword cultivator? How can he shrink the distance to an inch? He went from the village gate to the forest more than ten miles away in one step."

Zhao Tieshan glanced at him but didn't say anything.

The elder sat at the head of the table, listening to their conversation, his cane tapping the ground gently, one tap at a time, very slowly.

Zhao Dazhu, holding the bowl, finally spoke.

"Father, who exactly is that Taoist priest? His disciple was able to kill a hundred-year-old bear demon with a single sword strike, so what level of cultivation must he himself be at?"

The elder did not answer. He lowered his head, looking at the oil lamp on the table. The flame flickered, and his shadow swayed on the wall.

Zhao Tieshan glanced at the clan elder, then hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but didn't.

He glanced at Zhao Dazhu again, and Zhao Dazhu looked back at him.

The two looked at each other but neither spoke.

The main room fell silent, with only the faint sound of the oil lamp wick burning.

Qian Laosan straightened up from the door frame, walked to the table, poured himself a bowl of water, took a sip, put down the bowl, and said, "Lin Wusheng hasn't shown his face for a year."