(Catching Bugs)
Ning Ye.
Plum Blossom Village was enveloped in tranquility.
In the dimly lit dining hall of the Clan School, built halfway up the mountain, over a dozen masked figures in black sat quietly by the windows.
Ten Ghost-Masked men and women, who had previously appeared at the ancestral hall, stood like statues on either side of the main door.
The family head, the five elders, and Mei Zhengjing arrived one after another. Though the hall was filled with people, only the sound of wind whistling through the cliffs and the rushing water below could be heard.
The family head broke the silence. "Each of you carries the honor of our family on your shoulders. Your blood must be spilled on the battlefield. You may only advance—retreat is never an option!"
"Yes!" the crowd responded in unison.
Mei Zhengjing lowered his gaze to the crisscrossing shadows on the floor, remaining silent. Only after the family head finished his speech and dismissed everyone did he step forward to catch up with a Ghost-Masked man heading outside.
"Elder Brother," Mei Zhengjing called softly.
The man paused and glanced at him sideways.
Before Mei Zhengjing could say more, the man interrupted, "You've mistaken me for someone else."
His voice was as clear and bright as the moonlight, so refined that one could instantly picture the phrase "a gentleman as pure as jade." For a fleeting moment, even the eerie Ghost Mask on his face seemed softened.
"My apologies." Mei Zhengjing's elder brother was nearly forty—there was no way this voice belonged to him.
The man seemed to read his confusion and explained, "He's occupied. I'm taking his place."
"Thank you." Mei Zhengjing was filled with disappointment.
Today, the Mei family was sending another group to join the Crane Control Army, and these Ghost-Masked men and women had been dispatched to receive them. Mei Zhengjing's elder brother already held a high-ranking position in the Crane Control Army and was supposed to lead this mission.
"Ten years apart, and now I've missed him again. Who knows how long the next wait will be," Mei Zhengjing sighed.
The Ghost-Masked man paused once more and turned back. "I heard Elder Zhi has taken on a disciple?"
Mei Zhengjing looked up, meeting a pair of strikingly clear eyes. His words faltered briefly before he replied, "Yes."
The Ghost-Masked man nodded in thanks before walking away leisurely.
Moonlight draped over his figure, outlining a tall and powerful frame.
As Mei Zhengjing watched, a saying came to mind: "A noble man is like a steed—elegant as an orchid, pure as a lotus, steadfast as bamboo, and determined as a plum blossom."
"Gu Jinghong," Elder Qi suddenly appeared beside him.
"Gu? That's an uncommon surname," Mei Zhengjing remarked with mild surprise before quickly regaining his composure. "But 'a glance startles the swan'—the name suits him well."
Mei Zhengjing meant that among the influential families in the Crane Control Army, none bore the surname Gu.
"Have you seen Second Brother?" Mei Zhengjing asked.
A trace of sorrow flickered across Elder Qi's face. He sighed. "Better to meet than to yearn, yet yearning persists when apart."
The greatest regret of Elder Qi's life was passing down his medical and poison arts to his son. Even though his son had not mastered half of his skills, he still couldn't escape conscription into the Crane Control Army.
"Still, it's better to have seen him," Mei Zhengjing said, his mood also somber.
Mei Zhengjing was the youngest legitimate son of the "Zheng" generation. His father had already passed when he was born, so his elder brother had been like a father to him. Their bond was deep, and after ten years apart, no matter how much he tried to console himself, the sorrow lingered.
"Si Gui is fortunate to have met you. It must be the merit of his past life," Mei Zhengjing suddenly changed the subject.
Elder Qi finally smiled. "It's destiny."Mo Sigui possessed extraordinary talent in medicine, and Elder Qi greatly admired his abilities, secretly raising him as if he were his own child. Their bond was akin to that of father and son, which was why getting Mo Sigui registered into the Mei Shi family records had become Elder Qi’s greatest concern.
Over the years, no matter what excuses he came up with, Elder Zhi saw right through them. If not for Fourteen Lady this time, Mo Sigui might have become yet another regret for him.
The moon gradually sank westward, ushering in the darkest hours before dawn.
Shadows flickered incessantly through Plum Blossom Village, all retreating back to the houses on the cliffside.
The houses on the cliff existed for the sole purpose of witnessing the sun rise slowly over the opposite mountain.
Everyone stood by the windows, waiting—perhaps this would be the last time they ever saw the sun.
The clouds parted, revealing the sun.
Another perfectly ordinary morning in Plum Blossom Village.
Mei Jiu had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Strange sounds filled her ears, even the faint murmurs of people speaking.
So many inexplicable things had happened to her recently that even now, she felt as though she were trapped in a dream. Unwilling to face reality, she clung to the fantasy that one morning, she might wake up back in her courtyard in Yangzhou, where her days were spent embroidering, reading, and preparing for marriage—not like now, trekking through mountains and rivers at the crack of dawn to attend the Clan School halfway up the mountain.
Today, there was no class with Zhao Shanchang. The students gathered in the Teaching House to study, though most of them dozed at their desks, with only a few softly reciting their lessons.
Dark circles shadowed Mei Ru Yan’s eyes as she held her book and sidled up to Mei Jiu, begging her to explain the obscure and difficult passages.
After an hour in the Teaching House, they moved on to Lu Qingming’s session.
Instead of lecturing on Zen, Lu Qingming had them practice martial arts.
Everyone lined up in the courtyard, performing the same set of fist techniques—except Mei Jiu, who stood awkwardly to the side. She tentatively tried to mimic the movements but quickly withdrew, too embarrassed to continue. She had always walked with delicate, measured steps—how could she possibly stretch her limbs so boldly like the others? Yet standing idle only made her stand out even more.
Suddenly, Mei Jiu envied Mei Ru Yan. That instructor had only her as a disciple; even if she knew nothing, she surely wouldn’t be as humiliated as Mei Jiu felt now.
Lu Qingming watched with a stern expression for a long while before finally approaching with a book in hand. “This is a basic fist technique manual. Take it and study while you tend the sheep. Familiarize yourself with it for a day or two, and then I’ll teach you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mei Jiu accepted the book, bowed hastily, and fled as if escaping.
Mei Tingyuan let out a derisive snort.
Lu Qingming turned and glared at her. “Today, you’ll run laps around the mountain—until you’re half-dead!”
Mei Tingyuan quickly composed herself and replied, “Yes, sir!”
Mei Jiu had previously mentioned that while tending the sheep, she would relinquish control of her body to An Jiu. True to her word, An Jiu took over without hesitation.
She realized she was becoming increasingly attuned to this body. At first, she had to struggle against Mei Jiu’s consciousness, but now, though she still couldn’t control it effortlessly, she had made significant progress.
An Jiu herded the sheep to the southern slope, climbed a crooked tree, and settled on a horizontal branch to study the fist technique book Lu Qingming had given her.
She was deeply fascinated by Eastern martial arts, mentally rehearsing the moves as she read.
Just as she was engrossed, a hand suddenly snatched the book away. Instinctively, she swung a fist in response.The man grasped her wrist firmly.
Though his grip seemed light, it was as unyielding as iron pincers. An Jiu had never encountered such a strange situation and couldn’t help but frown. When she looked up, an upside-down Ghost Mask filled her vision.
"I mean no harm," he said.
An Jiu believed him—if he had intended to kill her, she would already be a corpse. Yet, his demeanor didn’t seem like a mere prank either.
But if not malice, then kindness? She didn’t buy it.
"Doesn’t seem like you’ve practiced martial arts," the Ghost-Masked Man remarked, eyeing her fingers.
The moment he finished speaking, An Jiu suddenly swung her hand. She had initially intended to use the grappling technique she’d just read about to seize his throat, but in a split-second decision, she changed course and tore off his mask instead.
The Ghost-Masked Man had just confirmed An Jiu’s lack of martial training, never expecting her movements to be so swift and forceful—her strength far surpassed that of an ordinary woman.
The mask was tied behind his head, fastened together with his hair ribbon. A sharp pain shot through his scalp as cold air brushed his face. His dark hair cascaded loose, stray strands fluttering to the ground.
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