Morning mist shrouded the land.
Reaching the end of the hill, Jiang Tong saw the lake that Gu Xianyu had described.
There was nothing by the lake; the water lay stagnant and green, its surface without a single ripple.
The desolation made Jiang Tong wonder if he had come to the wrong place.
“This is Guanye Lake……”
He sounded both doubtful and wistful.
Gu Xianyu stepped forward, her small hand gently pulling away the vines from the stone tablet. The three characters for “Guanye Lake” had already become mottled and indistinct.
Beneath them were a few lines of small script. Jiang Tong leaned in to look, and couldn’t help but feel moved.
This lake had been carved out by a cultivator and his wife on barren land. After his wife died, the cultivator buried her at the bottom of the lake, dug out his own heart, and let it rest with her for eternity.
The cultivator used spiritual energy to sustain his life. Years later, sensing his days were numbered, he carved an inscription at the lakeside, jumped into the lake, and died clutching his wife’s remains.
Gradually, his heart stopped beating, no longer nourishing the lake, and Guanye Lake lost its vitality.
Gu Xianyu squatted down, tracing the words on the stone tablet. Jiang Tong saw her reddened eyes and couldn’t help but smile.
“Master, what are you laughing at?” The girl wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and glared, “Don’t you think this story is touching!”
“It is.” Jiang Tong nodded. “But in the end, it’s just a legend.”
“I don’t care, it’s real.” Gu Xianyu covered her ears, closed her eyes, and murmured, “It’s real, real, real……”
“Fake, fake, fake.” Jiang Tong deliberately sent a voice transmission into her mind, teasing her.
“Master, you’re so annoying.”
“There are plenty of romance stories like this everywhere, you know, more than enough.”
“It’s not the same at all!” The girl’s face flushed as she shouted angrily, “Those ones… those ones all have scoundrels, who’ll get in bed with someone after taking off their underpants…”
She racked her brains but couldn’t find the right words, so she declared, “Anyway, it’s just different.”
This time, Jiang Tong didn’t retort. Watching his disciple’s anxious expression, he smiled softly.
He had thought Gu Xianyu would bring him somewhere beautiful, somewhere high up, just like in his previous life as a youth, climbing a mountain peak to shout foolishly at the sunrise.
But instead, she brought him to a place that was dead—a dirty place, with algae and weeds covering the lake, nothing left except a broken story carved into a stone tablet, whose truth no one knew.
It truly was different.
You could buy all kinds of fabricated romance stories in the market, but it was rare to find a lifelong devotion like the cultivator’s, inscribed upon a stone.
Jiang Tong quietly watched his little disciple. She was carefully picking away the vines and moss by hand. She’d done some of this last time; today, she wanted to clean the tablet completely.
After pulling out all the weeds, the little disciple washed her hands by the lakeside, wiped them on her clothes, and sat down.
“Master.”
“Mm?”
Gu Xianyu hugged her knees, her mood low. “They’re so pitiful. Why do good people have to die?”
“Everyone dies, whether they’re good or not.”
Jiang Tong’s soul body drifted to her side, and he reached out a nearly invisible hand to pat her head.
The girl thought for a while, her lips pouting. “Then they’re even more pitiful.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because no matter how good someone is, in the end, they all die.” Gu Xianyu sighed. “The cultivator’s wife died, and the cultivator… will die too.”
Jiang Tong said, “As your master, I think they were quite happy.”
“What happiness is there in death?”
“Sometimes, living is more painful than dying… Though you may not understand right now.”
Gu Xianyu tilted her head, as if she’d understood something.
“Before I met Master, being alive was more painful than dying.”
“That’s not quite the same.” Jiang Tong glanced at his confused little disciple, then turned his gaze back to the stone tablet. “You suffered because your life was miserable before. The cultivator suffered because—well, this is called love.”
“Love.” Seeing the girl repeat the word so seriously, Jiang Tong suddenly felt he’d led a child astray.
“But in those storybooks I’ve read, the characters always hold each other, and even, well, kiss…” She was a little embarrassed. “The storybook says that’s love.”
“That’s just an intimate gesture,” Jiang Tong patiently explained. He realized he really had to teach her everything—otherwise, what if the storybooks corrupted his little disciple?
“It expresses affection, but hugging or kissing alone isn’t love. Otherwise, the place with the most love in the world would be, uh…”
——the brothel.
Looking at the girl’s earnest, curious eyes, Jiang Tong felt guilty even thinking it, so he coughed lightly and changed the subject.
“The cultivator’s wife had him by her side, she was happy. The cultivator, in the end, was buried with his wife, so he was happy too.”
Jiang Tong’s soul form touched the stone tablet, feeling only a faint, indistinct chill.
“If you must speak of pain and pity, then perhaps the cultivator’s long, lonely wait for death was his torment. Fortunately, his heart still beat by his wife’s side.”
“To be buried together—for them, that was the best resting place.”
“Oh!” Gu Xianyu seemed to have an epiphany. She furrowed her willow brows, thought for a moment, and then, compelled by some impulse, asked, “So, where is the place with the most love in the world?”
“……” Jiang Tong was speechless. “Guess.”
“I can’t guess, Master, just tell me.”
“No.”
“Why not?!” The girl blinked eagerly, full of curiosity. “I want to see the place with the most love too. Will there be stories more moving than this lake’s?”
Jiang Tong sighed and lamented, “Then you’d better stick to your storybooks.”
Hmph.
A decision formed in the girl’s heart.
If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself.
I’ll see for myself—where is the place with the most love in the world?
I’ll search for ten years, twenty years, a hundred years, two hundred years… There’s bound to be a story even more tearful than this one.
She stood up, patted the dust off her jade-like bottom, and gazed at the lake before her.
“Master.”
“What sneaky idea are you plotting now?”
Jiang Tong felt a headache coming on. Where was that respectful girl from the start? Where had she gone?
“I’ve decided. I’m going to bring it back to life.”
“It?”
“This lake, of course.”
Jiang Tong glanced at the endless lake and looked at her with sympathy. “It’s good to have ambition.”
“When the lake is alive again, we’ll move here and build a small courtyard beside it.” The little disciple placed her hands on her hips, lost in her dreams.
“Master, you can’t see the stars and the moon in the sky, right?”
“I…” Jiang Tong opened his mouth in surprise.
“When the water becomes clear, you can sit by the lake every night and see them, too.” The girl turned her eyes to him and smiled softly, “I’ll make sure Master sees the stars as well.”
“I’ll watch the ones in the sky, you watch the ones in the water. Isn’t that wonderful…”
Only now did Jiang Tong realize why she’d brought him here.
That trace of surprise finally turned into a smile. He answered quietly, “Alright, your master will wait for that day.”
“It’s a promise!”
Gu Xianyu’s eyes curved with joy. She planned to start working hard tomorrow.
She would clean the water, enrich the soil, plant spiritual trees and herbs, then build a small house on the bank, fence it in…
She’d even build a room for Master. Even if he lived inside a bell, now he could come out… And, after all, men and women were different.
Only men and women who truly loved each other could share a room.
She wasn’t like those storybook girls—she’d rather be as devoted as the cultivator who carved the stone.