Chapter 7: Little Thunderclap Monastery (2)

Just as the woman extended her tongue, attempting to probe into his mouth, Wu Rui’an suddenly snapped back to his senses. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, all traces of desire had vanished.

Wu Rui’an grabbed the woman by the neck, lifted her off him, and flung her away with force.

A piercing scream echoed through the mountains, but the woman who screamed had already collided with a large rock by the river, blood gushing out instantly.

At this moment, Wu Rui’an looked closely and realized that what lay on the rock was no young maiden—it was a small white snake.

The white snake lay lifeless, curled up on the rock, its head split in two, no longer resembling the earlier beauty and allure.

Still shaken, Wu Rui’an couldn’t imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t held onto his principles. For the first time, he felt grateful in his heart—grateful for Di Jiang’s usual seriousness and refusal, which had prevented him from being bewitched by this snake spirit.

Wu Rui’an collapsed by the stream, quickly scooping up some clear water and splashing it on his face, instantly feeling much more awake. When he looked up again, the scene before him had changed.

This time, there was no snake spirit or mountain ghost. Instead, there stood a towering nine-story pagoda.

The pagoda had a square base and a circular top. Each level resembled a typical pavilion, complete with railings, eaves, and copper bells hanging beneath the eaves. In the silent night, the bells rang without wind.

The ringing “ting ting dang dang” filled his ears, accompanied by chants echoing from all directions, causing a wave of annoyance in his mind.

Stunned by the sight, Wu Rui’an pulled out his map and saw that Wen Yao had marked this spot with a triangle, while Shuxiang had written four characters beside it: Xiao Leiyin Temple.

How could this be small?

Wu Rui’an was shocked, his unease growing stronger. However, thinking of Di Jiang being in such a strange place, he steeled his courage, crossed the stream over the stones, and approached the temple gate, knocking on the door.

With a creak, a heavy, muffled sound of the door opening came from above. Instantly, a bright golden light emerged, momentarily blinding him.

When the golden light faded, a group of monks emerged from the door—nine on each side and one in the middle wearing a golden robe with nine burn marks on his head.

Their presence rivaled that of the current imperial preceptor—no, surpassing even him.

“Amitabha—” The golden-robed monk spoke, followed by the other eighteen monks, who clasped their hands together and began chanting a four-character mantra.

Suddenly, the chant of “Amitabha” seemed to come from nowhere—or perhaps from the heavens and earth itself—like a tidal wave sweeping across the land.

Annoyed by the noise and inexplicably drained of strength, Wu Rui’an found himself inexplicably drawn into the temple by the monks.

The temple hall stretched endlessly upward, its walls spiraling up, adorned with paintings of various animals. Some had three legs and six wings, others were missing limbs. These grotesque creatures, colorful and diverse, all shared expressions of agony.

Seeing the murals covering the walls, Wu Rui’an felt a suffocating pressure in his chest.

The monks placed him on a meditation cushion, then returned to their own cushions. The golden-robed monk sat at the front, leading the chanting.

The lingering scent of sandalwood filled the air, making him drowsy.

Throughout the night, he sat listlessly on the cushion, unable to muster any interest despite the monks’ incessant chanting. Yet, he couldn’t rise, as if an invisible force bound him to the cushion.

Helpless, he could only sit there anxiously, unsure how long it had been until the sun rose in the east, casting a sky full of morning clouds. Only then did he suddenly awaken from his dream.

Wu Rui’an opened his eyes to find himself sitting in a desolate wilderness.

There was no nine-story pagoda or golden-robed monk in sight. Even the cushion beneath him had turned into a two-foot-wide stone.

Such stones were scattered around—they were the cushions where the monks had sat the previous night.

Realizing he must have encountered a ghost wall the previous night, Wu Rui’an rose with a start. Clearly, Di Jiang wasn’t here, leaving him unsure of where to go next.

Sighing deeply, he felt the day had been particularly unlucky. Not only had he failed to find Di Jiang, but he had also been forced to chant sutras with the monks all night, an experience both bizarre and unsettling.

“When I return to the mansion, I’ll bring troops to destroy your nine-story demon tower!” Wu Rui’an grumbled as he walked back. Distracted, he mistakenly turned right instead of left at a fork in the path, becoming lost in the bamboo forest.

As he walked deeper into the bamboo grove, his heart sank further. But as he reached the depths, he caught a familiar medicinal scent, which suddenly lifted his spirits.

Pushing aside the bamboo, he saw a low bamboo hut ahead, with a familiar figure standing outside. It was none other than Di Jiang.

Di Jiang, dressed in pale yellow, stood with one foot on a large rock, one hand steadying herself against a bamboo stalk, and the other holding a machete, trimming the bamboo tips.

“Doctor Di!” Wu Rui’an cried joyfully, running over in just a few steps.

Startled by the sound, Di Jiang looked up to see a gray blur rushing toward her.

Wu Rui’an embraced her tightly, tears streaming down his face. “Doctor Di, I’ve finally found you. I almost thought I’d never see you again!”

“Hmm?” Di Jiang was puzzled but noticed a corner of the map Wen Yao had drawn peeking out of his embrace. Surprised, she exclaimed, “You’ve been to Xiao Leiyin Temple?”

“Yes!” Wu Rui’an nodded heavily, tearfully recounting, “You wouldn’t believe how eerie that temple was!”

“I knew there was something wrong with it,” Di Jiang chuckled softly, pointing to the bamboo on the ground. “Good timing. Help me out.”

“With what?”

“Chopping wood!” Di Jiang proudly gestured to the bamboo fence surrounding the yard, smiling. “I made these fences myself—from selecting the bamboo, drying it, arranging it, to tying the ropes. It only took me two or three days. Impressive, right?”

Seeing the fences brought back unpleasant memories of the previous night. Wu Rui’an couldn’t bring himself to admire them. Instead, he urged her repeatedly, “Let’s not play around. Let’s hurry home. Otherwise, once night falls in this desolate place, who knows what unclean things might appear?”

“What if they do? Are you scared?”

“With the protection of my royal aura, why would I be afraid?” Wu Rui’an coughed twice and continued, “But you’re a girl alone out here. I’m worried about you.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you? With your royal aura protecting me, I feel even safer.” Di Jiang smiled sweetly, bent down, pulled out a bamboo plank, added two more bamboo pieces, and tied them securely with hemp rope. Then she said, “Cut off the excess piece so we can arrange them neatly later.”

Wu Rui’an stood there, unsure how to proceed.

“What are you standing around for? Did you spend three years in the Gobi Desert without learning carpentry? Do you always leave tasks like this to your soldiers?”

“Of course they do it. Why should I waste time on such things?” Though he complained, Wu Rui’an still squatted down, picked up a saw, and began cutting the bamboo inch by inch.

Neither of them spoke further. Di Jiang worked on assembling the bamboo planks while Wu Rui’an followed by trimming them neatly. They worked efficiently and managed to finish before nightfall.

After placing the bamboo planks on the door, the dilapidated hut was finally repaired.

“Now Madam Wang Er can sleep soundly without worrying about drafts coming through the door,” Di Jiang clapped her hands and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

“Who is Madam Wang Er?” Wu Rui’an frowned.

“The owner of this house.” Di Jiang pointed to the left side of the house. Nestled against the mountainside stood a large tree, beneath which lay a low mound.

“This house was originally used by hunters in the forest. Madam Wang Er’s husband was hunting in the bamboo grove when a leopard attacked his neck, and he passed away years ago. To stay close to her husband, Madam Wang Er bought this little bamboo house and has stayed here ever since, regardless of season. As long as she lives, she will remain here, and even after death, she wishes to stay forever by his side.”

“That’s quite a touching story.”

“When I passed by here, I remembered she had appeared in my dreams, saying the door was broken and that she and her husband felt cold at night. She asked me to fix it. I forgot earlier due to other matters, but since I happened to pass by, I decided to repair the house. So for the past three days, I’ve been making bamboo doors for them.”

“Dream appearance?” Wu Rui’an’s thoughts fixated on those two words among everything Di Jiang had said.

He found it strange. Ordinary people don’t typically appear in dreams, do they?

Lost in thought, Wu Rui’an opened the window of the bamboo hut.

“Don’t look!” Di Jiang’s warning came too late. Wu Rui’an had already glimpsed the scene inside.

“Ah—ah—!” A series of piercing screams tore through Di Jiang’s ears. Wu Rui’an fell to the ground, trembling for a long time before calming down.

Pointing at the decaying corpse inside, Wu Rui’an stammered, “Th-the person inside has rotted!”

“Yes,” Di Jiang nodded. “Hasn’t Your Highness seen a corpse before? When I was rescued from the cellar, there were far more corpses than this.”

“That’s different!” Wu Rui’an waved his hands frantically. “At that time, my mind was solely focused on your safety. Besides, I was prepared then. But this… You said you were here to fix the house and mentioned they felt cold at night. How could I have guessed she was already dead?”

“Hence the dream visit,” Di Jiang explained calmly, helping Wu Rui’an to his feet. “Well, I’ve finished what I needed to do. Let’s go back.”

“What about the body?”

“This is a remote area, rarely visited by anyone. Since Madam Wang Er enjoys living here, let her continue to reside peacefully.”

Swallowing hard, Wu Rui’an stared at her intently, asking gravely, “Who exactly are you?”

“A doctor,” Di Jiang replied impatiently. “Why does everyone keep asking me this? I simply help those in need. Does that make me less human to you?”

“You’re human…” Wu Rui’an struggled to find the words, finally saying, “But not an ordinary one.”

Di Jiang’s eyes curved into a smile as she covered her mouth and giggled. “Zhong Xu isn’t ordinary either. What I do isn’t fundamentally different from what he does.”

“Hmm?”

“He captures ghosts; I heal them. At the root, we both aim to prevent harm and resolve their karmic entanglements.”

“So you’re also a Taoist priest?”

“You could think of me that way.” Di Jiang picked up a lantern from the roadside, and the Everlasting Light immediately illuminated the dim night, casting a particularly warm glow.

Wu Rui’an walked beside Di Jiang, still unsettled but instinctively shielding her protectively.

For some reason, he was certain that Di Jiang needed protection.

He was more than willing to be her guardian.