Chapter 243: Ye Guyi’s Longing

Guo Yingying’s expression was complex. Upon hearing the name Guo Tianjie, a flicker of rage seemed to cross her face before she sighed and said, “Since he’s my brother, what can I do? You’re right, Xiao Qi. It was him who planted the worms in me back then. And the root of it all was because I fell in love with someone.”

Guo Weixin and Guo Qiqi knelt on the ground, and Guo Yingying didn’t allow them to rise. With elders speaking, they dared not interrupt and could only listen. Guo Qiqi, having knelt for a while, felt her legs go numb and shot me a resentful look.

I asked, “It couldn’t be my grandmaster, Ye Guyi, could it?”

Guo Yingying seemed to grow bashful at the mention. Love-struck individuals, no matter how many years have passed, always feel a flutter upon hearing that familiar yet distant name—their breath quickens, their cheeks flush. Because that name carries the purest and most beautiful emotions of their youth, hearing it again brings those feelings surging back.

We call that era of budding youth the “Age of Innocence.”

Guo Yingying nodded slightly, and I thought to myself, “So it was Ye Guyi.”

I had only heard that Ye Guyi was the fastest-rising figure in the Ghost Sect. Back then, on the anti-Japanese battlefields in Myanmar, he fought against the Eastern Corpse of the Abe family, killing fifteen of their members. The sect’s founder, Dong Lingzi, had nothing but praise for him.

And in the book *The Compendium*, Ye Guyi’s annotations were the most numerous.

Even heroes have their tender moments. If Guo Yingying had fallen in love with Ye Guyi, and if Ye Guyi happened to be at odds with Guo Tianjie, then clearly Guo Yingying would have been caught in the middle—torn between her lover and her family. I silently prayed that my grandmaster Ye Guyi wouldn’t blame me, because I was about to ask another question.

I tentatively asked, “Lady Guo, do you know if my grandmaster Ye Guyi had a daughter?”

Guo Yingying smiled gently. “No need to call me ‘lady.’ I’m not Huang Rong. Ye Wenxin wasn’t Ye Guyi’s biological daughter. You might not know this, but disciples of the Ghost Sect aren’t allowed to have children of their own. They usually adopt an orphan girl.”

I was stunned into silence. Ye Wenxin had once told me that my fate might be that of the Lone Star of Calamity. Guo Yingying had just confirmed it again.

Ye Guyi had adopted my shibo (senior sect brother) Ye Wenxin.

And my grandfather, Long Youshui, had adopted the orphaned Feng Qingyu—my mother. It seemed there was no escaping this fate. Damn you, Long Youshui. I gritted my teeth and cursed him inwardly.

Seeing my expression darken, Guo Yingying comforted me, “It’s not entirely hopeless. I remember many great geomancers in history had descendants.”

Her words sounded forced, and I knew better. What set me apart from other geomancers was that I was also an insect master. My body housed countless chaotic insects—things like the Five Treasures of the Insect Clan, the Blood Spider, and recently, the Yin Snake sent by Little Rascal.

I laughed bitterly. “It’s fine. When the time comes, I’ll just adopt a little girl, give her my name, and when I die, she can burn paper offerings for me. At least I’ll have incense in the afterlife.”

Guo Qiqi interjected, “Xiao Qi, you have to believe in yourself. If all else fails, I’ll marry you.”

Guo Yingying burst into laughter. “Silly girl, you’re from the Guo family of the Insect Clan, and he’s a geomancer of the Ghost Sect. Do you really think that’s possible? Back then, I tried everything and still failed. In the end, I was left to grow old alone in this secret chamber, my soul unable to reincarnate. If Xiao Qi were just an ordinary man, then maybe.”

Guo Weixin, his legs numb from kneeling, asked, “Aunt, can we stand up now?” Guo Yingying paused, then laughed. “Are you stupid? Why would you kneel if you could stand? Oh, you were waiting for my permission? Fine, stand up then.”

Guo Weixin’s face darkened. Guo Qiqi helped him up, swaying unsteadily. Having just endured Insect Master Lao Si’s worms, his strength was already sapped, and kneeling for so long nearly made him collapse upon standing.

I asked, “What does ’29-34-110-78′ mean?”

Guo Yingying replied, “It’s simple. The bronze jar was found on July 8th. I was with Ye Guyi that day, near Fenglingdu. Something supernatural happened in the Yellow River—a stone coffin surfaced. Ye Guyi pursued it but failed to catch it, instead stumbling upon the bronze jar. Guo Tianjie claimed the jar belonged to the Guo family.”

I suppressed my rising anger, reminding myself not to curse Ye Guyi. He had left a string of numbers on a piece of parchment, with “78” merely representing the discovery date—not some golden mountain. If not for his jade ruler guiding me to Guo Yingying, who would’ve known the jar was found in the Yellow River?

Guo Weixin sighed. “So the secret remains unsolved. Forget it. Insect Master Lao Si, come with me. I’ll tell you how to break the blood contract. From now on, the Guo and Insect families have no further ties.”

Lao Si had little interest in the bronze jar. His brothers Lao Er and Lao Wu had died for it—an ill-omened object. Best to focus on practical matters. Er Mao carried the now-feebleminded Da Mao on his back and followed Lao Si out of the chamber.

Guo Weixin said to me, “Xiao Qi, we came to decipher the jar’s code. But it seems this is just the beginning. That stone coffin from the Yellow River suggests a long road ahead. I’m too old to wait—the Guo family is in grave danger. I must go. Take care.”

His concern was evident. I bowed in gratitude.

Turning to Guo Qiqi, he called, “You’re coming too.”

Guo Qiqi glanced at me. “Xiao Qi, be careful. The Guo family is about to undergo major upheaval. I won’t be able to look after you.”

I replied, “You take care too. If anything happens, call me.”

Guo Qiqi left. Outsiders weren’t permitted to interfere in the Guo family’s internal struggles. Guo Weixin’s departure with her made that clear.

I called out to Lao Si, “Your life is on loan for now. I’ll collect it later.”

…

Guo Yingying sat before the bronze mirror and told me, “After leaving Jiangcheng, I returned to Fenglingdu, to this chamber where I was once imprisoned, forbidden from seeing Guyi. The love most unforgettable in life is often the one that was shattered.”

A woman’s longing for a man turns her into a poet.

That saying seemed true.

I asked her, “The Guo family is about to face turmoil. Don’t you want to see it?”

Guo Yingying replied, “I’m already dead. Their conflicts, their casualties—they mean nothing to me.”

After a pause, I asked, “So you’ll stay in this mountain chamber forever?”

She countered, “Why not?”

Her response silenced me. If she found peace here, indifferent to reincarnation, why should I insist on helping her move on? For once, I was at a loss for words.

Guo Yingying smiled. “It’s fine. If I cultivate well, I might ascend to immortality someday—in a hundred years, perhaps longer. Xiao Qi, when you told me those numbers, I knew Guyi still held feelings for me. July 8th—the day we found the bronze jar together.”

So the numbers Ye Guyi left behind were simply a nostalgic tribute to a woman.

I asked, “Did you know the jar contains tears?”

Guo Yingying looked incredulous, eyeing the jar in my hand. “Tears?”

I nodded. “Yes. In Lanyue, I met a pig-eared spirit medium who knew everything. It said the jar holds someone’s tears.”

She sighed wistfully. “If they’re tears, they must be a woman’s. Only a woman could shed so many.”

Lin Daiyu, born on the twelfth of February, was said to be the reincarnation of a celestial plant, destined to repay a debt of tears to Jia Baoyu, the mortal form of the Divine Pearl Attendant. Only a woman could cry so much—an entire jar’s worth.

At least this trip wasn’t entirely fruitless. I now knew the jar contained a woman’s tears.

Exiting the chamber, I resealed the stone door. Outside, night had fallen, and snow blanketed the ground. With Xie Xiaoyu’s help, I covered the door with earth to conceal it, then placed large stones around it to deter intruders.

Before leaving, Guo Yingying gave me two scrolls, knowing I planned to visit a Hong Kong auction house. Selling them would bring in some income.

Back in Guo Village, the courtyard was deserted. Guo Weixin and Guo Qiqi had left Fenglingdu for the city.

I spent the night in Fenglingdu Town.

The next day, I drove to the Yellow River Highway Bridge at Fenglingdu, spanning Shaanxi and Shanxi. Legend said the tomb of the Yellow Emperor’s strategist, Fenghou, lay beneath the river. The stone coffin had surfaced from its depths—what force could have raised it? And why had Ye Guyi failed to catch it, instead finding the bronze jar?

Parking beneath the bridge, I walked onto the span. A bitter wind blew as I gazed at the Yellow River’s murky waters.

Many poets liken the river to the lifeblood of the Chinese nation, brimming with indomitable spirit. But to me, its depths seemed to hide countless secrets.

Just like the mysteries Guo Tianjie buried in the mountains of western Hunan. Some secrets are better left undisturbed—there’s always a reason they were hidden away.

Holding the bronze jar, I took a deep breath and watched fish eagles skim the water’s surface, their cries piercing the air.

*Guan-guan* cry the ospreys, on the islet in the river.

I inhaled deeply again, mustered all my strength, and prepared to hurl the jar into the river.