The ground gave way beneath them with a thunderous rumble!
A violent maelstrom swept up the debris, cycloning shards in a miniature tornado around the two still clutched together as the fractured slab plummeted down, wind whistling loudly past their ears.
The swirling storm carried endless gravel and dust. In its eye stood the pair, robes fluttering, hair tangled together.
Jiang Kui reflexively tried peering up only for Zhu Zian’s hands to swiftly cover her ears and gently press her head down against him. Enveloped within his spacious sleeves, she unwillingly leaned into him with little choice, rather like a reluctant cat held in its master’s embrace.
His palms felt slightly warmer than the rims of her ears, reminiscent of a bowl filled with heated water, pressed to her skin – cool yet warm.
Far too close. Even amidst the clamor she distinctly heard him inhaling, one measured breath after another.
The amplified sound echoed uniquitously through their descent – soft, faint breaths, fleeting past her ears feathery as a whispering wind.
After an eternity, silence finally reigned.
He released her with a huffed sigh by her ear, “Foolish girl…Didn’t I say the silver heart was the one absolutely safe focal point?”
Jiang Kui snorted, extricating herself from his hold.
They stood amidst pure devastation, as if transported onto an apocalyptic landscape. The boulder hadn’t smashed down but jammed into the original chamber’s splintered floor above them. Jagged fissures spilled fiery light reminiscent of a ruptured sky scattering liquid gold.
Zhu Zian gazed up with haloed figure, gilded streams playing over his frame.
His voluminous robe had been shredded in countless places by the barrage – blood silently seeped from the cuts, drop by drop, dissolving into the black fabric. The faint metallic tang suppressed the crisp plum blossom scent.
Yet he stood tranquilly as if oblivious to the injuries.
Noting Jiang Kui’s stare, he chuckled. “Just surface wounds. Were you afraid I’d die?”
“As if,” Jiang Kui looked away stubbornly. “Keep quiet.”
“Of course.” Amusement colored Zhu Zian’s voice. “Someone like me – who’d care if I died?”
“Keep quiet, I said.”
Jiang Kui turned her back on him, peering up at the glittering cavity in the broken ceiling. Her hair blazed golden under the streaming rays, the lightly scorched tips whirling into smooth ringlets dangling prettily above her ankles like a kitten’s tail.
After an extended silence, her muffled voice finally responded. “…I might care a little if you died.”
Zhu Zian paused in surprise before chuckling again softly. “Much obliged.”
“The Xuantian Bagua Formation’s broken now,” Jiang Kui quickly shifted topics to more practical matters, deliberately ignoring his previous words. “What next?”
“The exit should be over there.” Zhu Zian indicated a nearby ascending passage.
“This tomb was structured from top to bottom, symbolizing a descent from the world of men down into the underworld’s eighteen hells. Passing through leads upward to paradise – the final resting place for the deceased. Beyond that passage should be another exit outside.”
“What about those two?” Jiang Kui gestured above them.
“Fell down here too.” Zhu Zian pointed ahead.
A massive slab had tumbled down bearing the comatose Xie siblings now slumped together against a mound of rubble. Dusty grime smeared their slack faces resembling a pair of comic devil masks.
As Jiang Kui approached, Prince Kuan’s eyelids fluttered open. Blearily glancing around, he saw her and croaked weakly “…Sister…”
Another deft knifehand chop and he bonelessly sprawled once more.
Jiang Kui tossed Zhu Zian’s sword back to him and hefted a royal over each shoulder. The two marched abreast with their burdens into the straight, sloped passage.
The entire silent trek was filled solely by the crackling braziers lining the vivid murals depicting the deceased’s mythic passage guided by divinities. From descent through purgatorial hells to final transcendental ascension paralleling the sun and moon’s traversal to dwell as one of the heavenly asterisms.
Exiting the spirit way, they entered into pure ivory radiance.
The tiny chamber was starkly empty without any funerary objects or grave goods.
Layer upon layer of polished silver foil plastered every surface, winking coldly akin to a peaceful, glimmering sea stretching toward the infinite light.
A pillar of crisp brightness descended through the ceiling’s aperture, illuminating a pristine crystal coffin enthroned at the room’s heart as if a divine shaft of sacred illumination piercing down from the celestial palace itself.
The stillness was so profound it was as if the very light had gained audibility, softly draping the coffin like murmuring streams.
They had reached the tomb occupant’s eternal resting grounds.
Halting at the entrance, Jiang Kui’s vision swam momentarily when she tried squinting at the coffin’s occupant. Zhu Zian murmured quietly beside her, “Don’t look. Some things are better left unknown.”
His voice seemed light yet weighted with portent.
Jiang Kui keenly sensed Zhu Zian’s fluctuating mood after leaving the main burial chamber. His speech had lapsed on their ascent as if he had been journeying alone into some faraway place, never glancing back all the while.
The pair silently tended to the Xie siblings still unconscious beneath the sprawling chinar tree. Zhu Zian retrieved a medicinal pill for each from his sleeve and Jiang Kui circulated qi into their systems.
Opening her eyes after the treatment, she saw Zhu Zian gazing thoughtfully across at her. The moment their eyes met, he abruptly reached toward her face.
She recoiled. “What are you doing?”
“You look weird.” His smile bloomed. “Let me see again.”
“What’s weird about me?” Jiang Kui examined herself in puzzlement. Her scholar’s robe was neatly tidy. Though somewhat dusty, the azure collar was properly folded – perfectly normal student garb.
“I’ve been wanting to say,” Zhu Zian struggled against his mirth, “somehow the sight of you in student uniform is…kind of adorable.”
“Oh shut it.” Jiang Kui said crossly, only now realizing the absurd contrast she presented upholding her dashing heroine image while decked out in meek scholarly garb.
Having dodged her swinging fist, Zhu Zian asked as he retreated, “Miss Jiang, why were you so quiet earlier?”
Jiang Kui blinked. “Wasn’t it you who went quiet first?”
“It was you,” Zhu Zian stated firmly.
Nonplussed, Jiang Kui echoed uncertainly. “Was it…me?”
She stared blankly at his smiling mask before gradually fathoming he was teasing her again. She could vividly envision him grinning wickedly underneath. Annoyed, she hollered “Get lost!” while taking another swing.
Zhu Zian nimbly evaded further, beckoning as he withdrew. “Well, I’m off!”
He sauntered off deeper into the forest, the fluttering sable Changshan rapidly vanishing amidst dappled shadows. Jiang Kui shouted after the elongated silhouette fading erratically through the foliage, “Hey, Zhu Zian! When do we meet next?”
His fading voice echoed warmly, “Quite soon.”
Only after he had completely disappeared did Jiang Kui remember she had forgotten to ask him about the autumnal feast. Scratching her head in vexation, she recalled his earlier careless tousle – the hand brushing her hair had knocked down the stray strands.
Inwardly she harrumphed heavily.
An eternity later, Princess Xie dazedly blinked awake. “I’m…still alive?”
Prince Kuan pinched his own arm, tears welling. “Still alive.”
Jiang Kui rapidly explained their spirit way escape, creatively embellishing and omitting anything relating to Zhu Zian along with sizable details.
Hearing her edited account, the Xie siblings were dumbfounded. Princess Xie threw her arms around Jiang Kui’s. “Sister! We share life-and-death ties now on!”
Still processing his shock, Prince Kuan mumbled, “Should we report this to Father?”
Princess Xie immediately shook her head. “Definitely not! He’d flay us for trespassing on a forbidden imperial tomb! And I sense…some secret we shouldn’t know hidden inside.”
Prince Kuan nodded. “Let’s swear to never speak of this.”
“Never speak of this,” Princess Xie echoed. “This afternoon, we three went nowhere and saw nothing. We only sat listening to qin songs and eating lotuses by the Eastern Palace pond all day.”
Beneath the amber twilight, the oath-pact were forged by three resonating claps that sent the resting sparrows darting away in alarm.
“I’m famished.” Watching the sparrows wing into the distance, Princess Xie swallowed anxiously.
The reminder made Jiang Kui crave those fresh Eastern Palace lotus roots.
Prince Kuan timidly raised a hand. “My honored mother made lotus cakes. Shall we…?” He peeked at Jiang Kui and whispered, “Sister, my mother said she wishes to speak with you.”
The Virtuous Consort wanted to speak with her? Jiang Kui blinked, picturing the refined, gentle figure from yesterday in Xingqing Palace Hall. Speaking, the consort’s articulated silhouette was framed by a pair of rosy pendulum earrings swaying gently beside her limpid autumnal gaze.
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