"Yo, hiding some real talent, huh!" After Mr. Bohuan finished praising, Hu Tao leaned closer and blinked at Victor Wang.
"You never asked before."
"You... you're not wrong."
Mr. Bohuan also came closer. "Young man, during my time observing the Bishui River, I came up with half a poem about cherishing time. Would you be willing to exchange verses again?"
Victor Wang flipped through his mental index of open-book exam poetry references. "I'm not great with ci poetry, but I can do poems."
Lyrical poems were easier to copy than descriptive ones, but finding one that could be directly quoted was still tricky.
Those famous lines like 'Flowers may bloom again, but youth never returns,' or 'Black hair fails to study early, white head regrets too late,' and 'An inch of time is worth an inch of gold, but no gold can buy an inch of time,' or 'Do not idly wait, lest white hair mourn your youth in vain'—while brilliant on their own, the full poems were often unsuitable for the occasion.
"Poems are fine too! I'll start to break the ice:
'I urge young hearts to love with haste,
Moonlight lingers, but beauty fades;
I urge the youth to dream and strive,
Like drifting duckweed, don't grow old in regret.'"
Victor Wang winced. Mr. Bohuan's piece wasn't just about time—it involved yearning and love, too.
Originally, he had planned to go with Long Song, 'All rivers flow east to the sea, when shall they return west again? If youth does not strive, age comes with only regret.' It fit the Bishui flowing east and echoed the value of time—but now it felt mismatched with Mr. Bohuan's theme.
He took a step. Then another.
A third step.
"Do not treasure the brocade robe of gold,
But treasure the fleeting days of youth;
If flowers can be picked, then pick them bold,
Lest when none bloom, your branch holds no truth."
"Excellent! Excellent!
"The first two lines express a pure and forceful wish to urge people to value time—twice urging, one to not cherish and one to do cherish. Using gold to highlight the worth of time, with repeated structure that doesn't bore, but emphasizes!
The last two lines use blooming and falling flowers as metaphor, letting the reader see what time takes away, and inviting them to reflect on what chances have passed. Anyone with experience will relate instantly. Those without will still feel the sorrow of wishing to pick, but finding no bloom."
Mr. Bohuan raved at length, and after a deep breath, sighed, "And to think you made this in just three steps!"
"Ahaha, I'd had the idea floating in my head for a while. Just needed to finish it just now."
"That's still incredible. It'll take me… years to reach that level! May I ask the name of this poem?"
"'The Brocade Robe.'"
"Wonderful! Straightforward, like the poem itself! And your name?"
"Victor Wang."
"May I share these two poems with my friends?"
"Go ahead."
"Yay! Wonderful!" Mr. Bohuan waved his arms and walked off.
"How's it feel to be praised like that?"
"Not bad." Though he did feel slightly guilty, Victor Wang scratched his nose. "You said you'd tell me why Archons don't become ghosts."
"You remembered, huh?"
"If not for that, I wouldn't have let myself get dragged into poetry!"
"Hey, don't act like you didn't enjoy it~"
Hu Tao resumed climbing toward Wuwang Hill and explained:
"Alright, here it is—Gods have extremely powerful spirits, to the point that they're almost fused with their physical bodies. They either live or die. There's no in-between where they become ghosts.
Once dead, even if their spirit lingers, it's fragmented. Their remains continue to shatter along with their bodies. The result is something broken, chaotic—far from rational.
Each piece also refuses to acknowledge the others as its true self. Like source-less water—if it gathers, it might last a little longer. But these shards only get more fragmented, until they're dust."
"That's the origin of the Archon Residue?"
"More or less. Just runaway power."
"Humans with obsession become ghosts. Archons with obsession become Archon Residue. What about monsters or animals?"
Hu Tao rolled her eyes at Victor Wang—he'd been asking questions nonstop this whole trip.
"I've never seen ghostly monsters or animals myself... but I'd guess it depends on how strong their spirit is.
Also, you were a little off—Archons don't need an obsession to become Residue. One stray thought in their dying moment is enough to determine whether they depart cleanly or leave chaos behind. For humans, they have to reach that level of fixation before they can even briefly become a ghost."
They passed by a ruined house—only parts of the beams remained. After clearing out a few Hilichurls blocking the road, they continued toward Qingce Village. Hu Tao turned off the main path and took a gentler mountain trail.
But there were still places where climbing was unavoidable.
After scaling the first slope, the skies were still bright. Blue sky, drifting clouds, a scorching sun too bright to look at directly. As they moved farther north, the fog began to roll in—thick and gray. Visibility nearby was decent, but the distance grew hazier.
By the second slope, the fog covered the sky entirely—literally blocking it out.
The entire sky vanished. Looking up, all Victor Wang could see was a blanket of dim mist. No sun, no warmth. The air turned chilly, like stepping into another realm.
Hu Tao led the way, but turned back to check his expression. "You don't look surprised. Been here before?"
"I have… many times, actually."
"That so."
They continued walking. Finally, they spotted signs of habitation—far ahead, a few road lamps were lit. In this strange fog that even sunlight couldn't penetrate, candlelight truly did rival sun and moon.
But as they got closer, it became clear it was just the ruins of a small village. The most intact building had two and a half of its four walls missing. Besides the lamps, it didn't look inhabited at all.
"Almost there." Hu Tao wasn't sure if she was telling Victor Wang or herself.
Just as they passed that half-standing house, Hu Tao frowned and looked at the remaining wall. "Strange. Why is there...?"
Before she could finish, a little girl timidly emerged from behind the house.
"Little one, what are you doing here?"
"Little Nine is looking for a book. It's one Big Nine wrote just for me.
I was out playing with Big Nine. He said he had a book to show me. I got so focused reading it that I didn't notice—he suddenly disappeared...
I tried to go find him but fell into the river. It was really hard to climb back out... and then the book was gone...
Hu Tao, would you help me find it? That book was really important to Big Nine. He'll be very sad if it's really lost."
Hu Tao walked up and patted Little Nine's head. "How do you know my name?"
"I hear people talk about you all the time. And I've seen you many times. I know you're kind and strong. Will you help me find that book?"
"Who is this Big Nine you mentioned?"
"His name is Chang the Ninth. He lives next door. We both have 'Nine' in our names 'cause we're both the ninth child in our families. Isn't that cute? Oh—but don't tell Big Nine I said that..."
Hu Tao seemed to understand now. She nodded. "I'll help you find the book. But where should we look?"
Little Nine looked down in thought:
"I remember floating a long way down the river. The water was so cold... my hands went numb... but I didn't let go of the book! I held on really tight because Big Nine said it was important...
"Eventually I climbed ashore and tried to lay it out to dry... but I was really tired. I lay down next to it and fell asleep. When I woke up... it was gone."
"I remember it clearly. I was drying it in the forest over there," Little Nine pointed deeper into Wuwang Hill, then looked at both Victor Wang and Hu Tao. "Please… will you help me search that forest?"
"It's on the way anyway." Hu Tao gave Victor Wang a look and headed further north.
After they climbed another slope and put some distance between them, Victor Wang whispered, "That was a, uh... one of those, right?"
"What?"
"Weisheng again. A little girl in the wilderness... sounds like she drowned."
"Correct."
"Crazy... The ghost I saw last time at Wangshu Inn was translucent. But Little Nine looks totally real."
"Whether transparent or solid, that's just how they let you perceive them spiritually. Solid ghosts tend to carry the heaviest obsessions... or, like Weisheng, they've forgotten they're dead. Little Nine's probably the latter.
The Chang the Ninth she mentioned is now known as Lord Ninth. He was once famous around Feiyun Slope. So, she's been dead for many years. What's strange is—I've been to Wuwang Hill countless times… and never seen her before."
"Whenever I run into things like—machines suddenly failing, or something common suddenly changing—I always ask myself if I've done anything different. That usually gives me the answer."
"The only variable this time… is you."
Hu Tao's eyes scanned Victor Wang up and down, making his skin crawl. Then she sighed, "Sigh~ Forget it. Let's focus on finding that book Big Nine wrote."