Chengxu admitted defeat and left his sister and grandfather to bring Chuanhu to the bathhouse. Even so, while Shengsi rebuked him in a sharp stage whisper, insisting he should rest and not worsen his condition, especially at such a late hour, he paid her no heed. Instead, he wandered from the courtyard toward the front gate. He knew well that neither she nor their grandfather would allow him to help carry the unconscious young man. 

No matter his choice, he would be scolded.

The brumal air did little to favor him. If anything, it threatened to aggravate the cough that had plagued him since birth, a congenital frailty he could neither conceal nor overcome. Shengsi’s worry showed not in loud reproach, but in the glares she cast his way, glares far preferable to hearing, “Zhi Chengxu, come back here!” with full emphasis on his name.

She could do little more than that, however. 

Inside Grandfather Li’s room, the old man held a brush. He’d just ground the inkstick on the inkstone until there was enough ink, and now he wrote upon the rice paper. He’d mentioned that it was necessary to make a talisman, but they didn’t have proper talisman paper, and the ink itself was ordinary, neither refined nor of high quality.

Grandfather Li’s handwriting was beautiful in every stroke, something that could rival that of the gentry, though it wasn’t as flawless as those legendary figures gifted in calligraphy. Upon the talisman, he wrote two characters, Jing and Fu. The former meant purification, while the latter meant a charm.

“When writing a talisman, what we require isn’t fine materials, but something sufficient to carry intent,” Grandfather Li said. As a retired military physician, he wasn’t one to dwell on such matters, especially the making of talismans. Yet his expression had been creased ever since Shengsi gave her answer. To ease his thoughts, he could only do what he was able and hope for the best. “A purification charm should be placed at the four corners of the bathhouse, to ward off evil spirits.”

He created three more talismans before they prepared to leave the room.

Not long after, they stepped out onto the porch.

Shengsi bore Xie Chuanhu in a bridal carry, far steadier than placing him on her back. His wounds lay across his front, not yet healed, and any pressure risked reopening them.

On the other hand, Grandfather Li lingered behind carrying the talismans and even a censer with incense sticks while quietly wondering, as he had for years, how such strength had come to reside in Shengsi. Even his late daughter, Li Ran, had spoken of it, though never with full explanation.

Shengsi herself remained unfazed, carrying Chuanhu as though he weighed no more than a feather. Had it been Grandfather Li, age would have burdened him, and had it been Chengxu, his frailty would have done the same. Either way, it would have been trouble.

They passed between the main hall and the kitchen, turned once more, and made for the backyard.

There stood the bathhouse, modest as a small cottage, its roof thatched with dried nipa leaves. Beside it rested a stone-lined well from which water was drawn, its structure reinforced with timber worn smooth by years of use. Both had been built under Aunt Li’s direction, with the help of hired laborers.

Though far from the grandeur of noble residences, the design itself was hers. She had shaped many things in her lifetime, and in the years Shengsi spent at her side, she came to understand just how remarkable her aunt truly was.

Inside the bathhouse hut, only Shengsi and Chuanhu had entered. The bathtub was filled with water that had been decocted with herbal medicine. It wasn’t wide enough to hold more than a few people, but it was spacious enough for one to move freely. After all, it had been designed for a single person’s use, not for many.

The floor was wooden, and Grandfather Li had already laid down a cloth where the wounded could rest while Shengsi would be performing the ritual. She didn’t hesitate to place his body upon it. Afterward, she looked at the water in the tub, then turned toward the door, where Grandfather Li stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching her.

“What should I do now, Grandfather Li?” Shengsi asked. Then she glanced past him, noticing another figure. Her brother, Chengxu. “Zhi Chengxu, you should rest.”

Chengxu scoffed.

“You’re so stubborn.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”

“You’re both old enough to show restraint, yet you’re still arguing,” the old man said with a faint sneer. “Chengxu, you’d better rest.”

Chengxu gave a bitter smile. “This grandson of yours will take his leave.”

He turned and departed without another word.

Grandfather Li cleared his throat. “You. Prepare your coin.”

Shengsi took the coin from her locket.

As she held it, her heart beat as fast as it ever had.

Knowing what was about to come.

And what she was about to do.

Suddenly, the door closed, and only Shengsi, with the lamp lighting the room, and the wounded stranger were left inside.

She noticed that even the censer and the incense sticks were placed beside Chuanhu.

Was she that preoccupied?

“Shengsi, I’ll try to seal all corners with talismans, so watch over that young man for now.”

There was a rustle outside, and perhaps it was Grandfather Li doing what he’d planned.

“I won’t enter, so listen carefully. You can ask anything if something’s unclear. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Grandfather Li.”

Shengsi sat on the edge of the tub with her arms crossed as her eyes landed on the young man. She still remembered how she’d come to meet him. Back then, he was still conscious, fighting for his life while struggling to stay awake. Had she told him not to be silent, wouldn’t Xie Chuanhu have his soul wandering?

She exhaled slowly.

Then, from outside, Grandfather Li cleared his throat.

“Now, do a divination, as I’ve mentioned.” At this time, Grandfather Li stood in front of the door, his back facing it as he gazed at the moon. “Shengsi, you have to chant this, ‘The body is a mountain, and the soul is a heaven. I bless the water, and may abundance guard what’s left of the soil.’” The wind brushed his cheeks. “This is the philosophy of the Mountainous Body, Heavenly Soul. Make sure to remember this enchantment.”

As he continued to look at the moon, he couldn’t stop thinking about Li Ran, the daughter who resembled his nonbiological granddaughter Shengsi, as if she were her own. Was his daughter watching now? He hoped she could see how Shengsi had grown into such a disciplined young lady.

Inside, Shengsi memorized the enchantment, knowing Grandfather Li wouldn’t repeat it. After Aunt Li’s guidance ceased with her passing, he was the one who’d guided her through everything. Chengxu was there to support her, and he learned alongside her.

When she was done memorizing, she proceeded to toss the coin.

“I summon the Yang!” The coin faced the symbol of the snake devouring its own tail, so she tossed it once more and said, “I summon the Yin!” But it still faced the tail side. Why wasn’t it working?

Shengsi gripped the coin and closed her eyes.

Perhaps it was because of her abnormal heartbeat.

So she attempted once more.

“I summon the Yang!” This time it faced the head, so she looked toward the door. “Grandfather Li, the divination isn’t working.”

“You’re better than losing hope, Shengsi.” That was all he said, and had he been inside, he would’ve given her a deadpan look. “Just continue until it works.”

“But doesn’t that mean this is rather dangerous?” Shengsi began to doubt. “The divination not only activates the enchantment, but also determines whether it’s favorable or not. Why don’t we do it tomorrow?”

“Your mind’s being clouded, Shengsi. It’s not about the divination this time, is it?” His voice turned stern, as if he’d already known. “And here I thought you were prepared and determined.”

Shengsi went tight-lipped.

She closed her eyes once more and focused on the beat of her heart. What was she even feeling right now? Was it worry, fear, or something else? She’d never thought there’d come a time when she’d doubt herself, especially in something like this.

“The night’s growing deeper and colder,” Grandfather Li said, as if still testing her. “The talismans are for warding off evil, so it could not ward off cold. Shengsi, it's better to clear your mind.”

She didn’t want to feel so tense, but hearing that—

No matter, she might as well try again.

Gritting her teeth, she continued, “I summon the Yang!”

But the result was the same.

It happened again and again, until sweat began to trickle down her forehead, and she felt suffocated.

The more she tried, the more her Aunt Li’s countenance was clearer.

Her voice wasn't however, nor her presence.

Wouldn't it be good if she were here to guide Shengsi and explain what didn't align?

It was the first time she’d felt this weak.

Looking at the sleeping man, her brows creased.

Merely because of this young man had she come to feel this way.

She went still for some time, and had tried  to gather her thoughts. Why was she even thinking of someone who's dead eight years ago? Couldn't she do something without having to rely on someone?

Even so, her heart was no longer as restless as before.

Shengsi stepped into the tub and lowered herself into the water, the cold seeping into her bones.

Soaked in her darkened dress, she attempted the divination for a trial she couldn't count.

“I summon the Yang!” The result was the tail. She paused, forcing herself to relax despite the cold. Fortunately, it helped clear her mind. “I summon the Yin!” When she caught the coin and saw the four-cornered symbol, she let out a sigh of relief and began chanting, “The body is a mountain, and the soul is a heaven. I bless the water, and may abundance guard what’s left of the soil.”

The coin floated above her open palm, emitting a faint green light, as though it were a pill.

“Did it work?” the old man asked from outside.

Shengsi answered vaguely, “Yes.”

Grandfather Li then instructed the next step. “Then place the coin into the water to receive the blessing.”

Shengsi did as told.

Doing so, not only did the water glow green, but the bathtub became enclosed by a transparent barrier, as if it were sealed for protection. However, the barrier was no ordinary. They were... ghostly butterflies formed as transparent green? 

Wandering around the tub, her hand chased after one, but as she tried to gently touch it, her skin had no capability to have contact with it.

Shengsi's lips parted.

“This practice contradicts traditional medicine,” Grandfather Li said. Even without seeing it himself, he knew her silence meant success. “Yet it also mirrors it, for the assurance prevents the water from harming the body.”

Shengsi stepped out of the tub, her clothes dripping. As she approached the young man, she began to shiver. Her footsteps left wet traces across the floor, and when she reached Chuanhu, even some part of him became damp. 

Despite that, he showed no reaction.

She then lifted Chuanhu into the tub, positioning him so he sat upright, his head above the water. 

The glow from it intensified, especially around him.

It still felt wrong, and Shengsi found her brows constantly creasing.

“Then… we proceed, shall we?”

But what she heard next caught her off guard.

“To find his wandering spirit, one must be tied to him.”

That was what Grandfather Li first said.

“And the tie’s made by wounding both your palm and his.”