Chapter 189: Isn’t it cold down there?

From the place where Zhou Qing had encountered the two servants of the Yin household to Turtle County was a distance of more than sixteen miles, yet under his ghostlike, headlong pace, less than half an hour had passed before his figure appeared at the county’s edge.

Though night had already fallen, the town was still ablaze with light.

It was the last day of the year, and every household had hung a red lantern by its door.

As Zhou Qing walked along those brightly lit streets, gazing at the lanterns outside each home, a faint sadness rose in his heart.

Just then, as he rounded a street corner, he saw a young man and a child crouched at the mouth of an alley, tossing firecrackers into the pitch-black lane.

A burst of flame flared within the alley, then died away a moment later. The child standing at the entrance clapped his hands with delighted amusement, looking thoroughly pleased.

“Happy New Year, brother. May I ask you something?”

Coming up to the young man and the child, Zhou Qing spoke politely.

“Happy New Year to you too, brother. Go ahead and ask—no need to be so courteous.”

Seeing how respectful Zhou Qing sounded, the young man at the alley mouth readily struck up a conversation with him.

After a brief exchange, Zhou Qing learned Yin Mao’s address from the young man, and then made straight for the Yin manor in the north of the town.

On the final day of the year, a time that should have been joyful and festive, the Yin household was instead shrouded in gloom.

Ji’an and Changshou had gone to the neighboring county to invite a master magician on behalf of Yin Mao, while Nine-Jin and the two maids, Gui’er and Yue’er, stayed behind with the gravely ill Yin Mao, each quietly sunk in grief.

“Waaah... Those two useless dogs, Ji’an and Changshou, why haven’t they come back yet? Master’s breath is getting weaker and weaker. At this rate, he may not even make it to dawn.”

Gui’er, who was keeping vigil beside Yin Mao’s bed, spoke with tears in her voice.

“If only I hadn’t let them go. If I’d gone myself, maybe I would’ve brought the master back already.”

Nine-Jin paced anxiously to the bedside and took a look, only for the sorrow already on his face to deepen further.

The other maid, Yue’er, silently wiped away her tears with her sleeve, then took a hot towel to the bedside and placed it on Yin Mao’s forehead.

The towel, steaming a moment ago, had only just touched Yin Mao’s brow when the heat vanished. A short while later, the moisture on it had turned into glittering frost.

The three in the room were already used to such a sight, for they had spent the entire day caring for Yin Mao and had seen several instances of hot towels turning to ice in an instant.

While the three were grieving in silence, a faint knock sounded at the door. Hearing it, a glimmer of hope appeared on Nine-Jin’s sorrowful face.

“It must be Ji’an and Changshou coming back.”

After murmuring to himself, Nine-Jin rushed out of the room and toward the courtyard gate. But when he opened the gate, the joy on his face faded away without a sound.

The one knocking at the door was not Ji’an or Changshou, but a man in red whom he had never seen before.

The man standing outside the Yin residence was none other than Zhou Qing. He met Nine-Jin’s gaze, and in that single glance he saw the full, complicated shift of expression on the other man’s face.

At first, when the door had just opened, the young man had looked delighted. Then, upon recognizing Zhou Qing, the joy drained from his features, and after that, a trace of uncertainty rose in its place.

Seeing that rapid, vivid change of expression, Zhou Qing was genuinely startled.

“Since you’ve recognized me, take me inside.”

When Nine-Jin seemed about to speak, Zhou Qing cut him off directly. Then, at Nine-Jin’s nod, he followed him into the manor.

When he reached the room where Yin Mao lay, Zhou Qing immediately saw his old disciple stretched out on the bed, hanging between life and death, and an indescribable sadness rose in his heart.

It took him back ten years, to the time when he had left Turtle County and this disciple of his had knelt before him in heartfelt farewell.

That was exactly why Zhou Qing could appear here now: because ten years ago, this old disciple had truly regarded him as a master. So he had come to see him, never imagining that he would arrive only by a hair’s breadth from being too late.

“Who is this, Nine-Jin?”

When Zhou Qing entered the room, Gui’er, seated by the bed, caught sight of the stranger and asked in confusion.

“Have you forgotten the man in the portrait in the master’s shrine hall? He’s our master’s teacher.”

After the two servants exchanged a few hurried words, Zhou Qing had already reached the bedside. He looked down at the Yin Mao who was breathing as faintly as a thread, then extended his right hand and pressed a finger lightly to his forehead.

With that touch, a stream of spiritual power invisible to ordinary people flowed into Yin Mao’s body. After a moment, Zhou Qing withdrew his hand and walked over to a wooden table in the room, where he sat down on his own.

Seeing this, none of the three servants dared ask anything. Only Yue’er, understanding the situation, poured a cup of tea and set it beside Zhou Qing.

Seeing the tea she had brought, Zhou Qing smiled and nodded to her, then touched a finger to the cup.

At his touch, the tea inside lifted of its own accord and flew out in a single stream, shooting directly into Yin Mao’s mouth on the bed.

The sight of the tea eerily flying into Yin Mao’s mouth left Nine-Jin, Gui’er, and Yue’er all stunned.

Such supernatural means were, of course, something ordinary people like them had never seen before.

There was not much tea in the cup. The stream lasted only a moment before the cup was empty, and every drop within had flown into Yin Mao’s mouth.

“Cough...”

After swallowing the tea, Yin Mao, who had lain unconscious for the entire day, coughed up a mouthful of water. Then his eyes flew open, and he propped himself up with a hand.

“Master, you’re awake.”

Seeing Yin Mao awaken, Gui’er and Yue’er, who had been guarding the bedside, both broke into smiles at once. Nine-Jin, not far away, also came back to himself from his astonishment at the tea and hurried to the bedside.

“I...”

Having awakened, Yin Mao swept a glance over Gui’er and Yue’er standing beside the bed, a smile appearing on his face. He was just about to say something when, through the gap between the two maids, he caught sight of a figure in red sitting at the wooden table in the room, his back turned toward him.

The instant he saw Zhou Qing’s back, Yin Mao froze. With a puzzled expression, he scrambled out of bed, not even bothering to put on his shoes, and went barefoot to the table.

At one glance, a face scarcely changed from the one in his memory came into view.

“Master!”

Yin Mao’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, knocking his head to the floor before Zhou Qing again and again. Seeing this, the other three in the room also knelt down at once toward Zhou Qing.

“Isn’t the floor cold?”

With a casual wave of his hand, Zhou Qing released a portion of his spiritual power, lifting Yin Mao and the three servants from the ground.