Moonlit Reunion

The moment their eyes met, Siqing Daozhang suddenly thought to himself: "My life is over!"

Siqing Daozhang had originally been a bandit in his youth, even earning the reputation of a "righteous outlaw." Later, when the bandit life became untenable, he somehow ended up becoming a Taoist priest. The grand master of Changxi Temple—Siqing's teacher—was a stern and aloof Taoist who had been determined to reform Siqing's bandit-like demeanor. It took many years before Siqing finally began to resemble a proper Taoist.

Siqing's teacher was a highly respected Daozhang, but Siqing himself had always dreamed of dominating the Taoist world, elevating Changxi Temple to the pinnacle of Taoism and suppressing those rival temples of equal standing—just to vent his damned frustration. In the early years, when his teacher was still alive, Siqing had been too afraid of him to act on his ambitions. But after his teacher passed away, Siqing grew reckless. He began taking in numerous disciples, hoping to train a few who would align with his vision, so that master and disciples could work together toward his grand ideal.

He had thought his wish was within reach, but to his dismay, over the years, despite gathering a crowd of disciples and grand-disciples, every single one of them turned out to be passive, non-confrontational, serene, and health-focused—each slipping into an elderly state of mind long before middle age. They were a bunch of genuine Taoist ascetics, thoroughly disappointing the domineering Siqing Daozhang.

The carefully nurtured disciples all strayed further from his ideal, and after repeated blows, Siqing grew disheartened. For many years, he stopped taking in new disciples. Back when Mei Zhuyu was sent to Changxi Temple by his father, Siqing, out of gratitude for an old favor, agreed to teach the boy. At first, he had only planned to instruct him casually, not putting much effort into it—after all, by agreement, Mei Zhuyu would eventually leave the mountain and couldn’t stay to become a full-fledged Taoist.

But once again, Siqing was caught off guard. This casually taught child turned out to be exceptionally talented—and unlike his senior brothers, this disciple, whom he had given the Taoist name "Guyu," had a temperament that suited Siqing perfectly. When the grand-disciples acted out and the senior brothers would say, "Let it go, just go with the flow," this child would coldly step in and, without a word, start doling out beatings.

Within a few years, not only the grand-disciples but even his senior brothers had grown somewhat afraid of him. From childhood, the boy had been strict and impartial, adhering to his own code of discipline. If anyone crossed the line—no matter who they were—he showed no mercy, not even to his own master.

The more Siqing observed, the more he grew fond of him. When he took Guyu in as his youngest disciple, he had gleefully thought that this time, he might finally get his wish. But reality slapped him hard across the face.

Though this youngest disciple was quiet, at his core, he was indeed domineering—just like Siqing. Unfortunately, he lacked any ambition to dominate the Taoist world. Worse still, he joined his senior brothers in trying to persuade Siqing to give up his ambitions. And this disciple’s "persuasion" was nothing like the gentle, earnest pleas of the others. When Guyu tried to persuade someone, the mildest outcome was leaving them sore all over, while the worst could mean broken limbs. Siqing Daozhang was miserable.In this lifetime, apart from his long-deceased master, the only person Siqing Daozhang feared was his youngest disciple, Guyu. In some ways, this little disciple resembled his late master more and more as he grew older, causing Siqing Daozhang to shudder involuntarily whenever he saw him, recalling the harsh days of discipline when he first arrived at Changxi Temple.

Siqing Daozhang both feared and adored this disciple, even considering breaking their agreement to keep him at Changxi Temple forever and groom him as the next temple master. However, Mei Zhuyu ultimately left the mountain in accordance with his father’s dying wish. Furious and resentful, Siqing Daozhang stood at the temple gate, hands on hips, shouting that Mei Zhuyu should never dare return and was no longer a disciple of Changxi Temple. His voice echoed across the entire mountain, yet Mei Zhuyu, steadfast as ever, didn’t spare him a glance. After a brief farewell to his senior brothers and nephews, he calmly descended the mountain.

True to his word, Mei Zhuyu never returned, only occasionally sending letters to update them on his life. Siqing Daozhang grieved over having no successor for his grand ambitions, yet his heart ached for this young disciple, leaving him in a tangled mess of emotions.

This turmoil persisted until now. Seeing his little disciple standing before him again, unharmed, Siqing Daozhang didn’t feel the anger he had expected—instead, he felt… guilty.

"Master," Mei Zhuyu entered the room and fixed his gaze on Siqing Daozhang, who broke into a cold sweat under the scrutiny. Before the old master could speak, Mei Zhuyu turned to greet his long-separated senior brothers one by one.

The eldest brother, with his graying beard, looked at him warmly. "It’s good to see you well."

A slightly plump senior brother, ever amiable, chuckled. "You’ve put on some weight since returning. It seems life in Chang’an has treated you well. We were all worried you’d struggle in such a bustling place after so many years on the mountain."

Mei Zhuyu replied, "Thank you for your concern."

His demeanor toward his senior brothers was far more cordial than toward his master. Having arrived at Changxi Temple as a young child, he had been practically raised like a son or grandson by the older disciples.

Watching them converse so harmoniously, Siqing Daozhang grumbled inwardly—after so long apart, his disciple hadn’t even spared him a few words of greeting. Truly unfilial.

Then, a quieter senior brother suddenly asked, "What happened earlier? Who was inside your body? Do you know?"

All eyes turned to Mei Zhuyu, including Siqing Daozhang’s, who pricked up his ears. Under their collective gaze, the usually aloof young man softened, his eyes glowing with tenderness. "That was my wife," he said. "Her name is Wu Zhen. She’s from Chang’an."

The senior brothers were first startled by his expression, then smiled in relief. So it really was his wife—and judging by his look, he cherished her deeply. That was all that mattered.

At this realization, they couldn’t help but glance at their master, recalling how he had tied up and confined the woman upon her first visit. No matter how unusual the circumstances, she was still their junior brother’s wife. Binding her like that was, by any measure, inexcusably rude.Siqing Daozhang noticed the gazes and scowled, his voice stern, "Didn't I tell you all to act cautiously? How could you just believe someone's words so easily! Of course, your master wasn't wrong in doing this. Besides, we didn't do anything bad—she was fed well, not beaten or scolded." Though he said this, his heart was uneasy.

A teacher for a day is a father for life. By that logic, Mei Zhuyu's wife was like his daughter-in-law. Tying her up on her first visit didn't seem right—it damaged his dignity as an elder.

Recalling his youngest disciple's past behavior, Siqing Daozhang worried he might rebel and beat him up. But instead, Mei Zhuyu suddenly said, "The meals at the temple are too spicy. She probably doesn't like them."

Siqing Daozhang: Why focus on such trivial matters now!

The senior brothers exchanged glances. One, who had married in his youth, thought of the past and looked at his junior brother with teasing kindness. Softly, he said, "That was poor hospitality. Next time you bring her, we'll treat her properly."

Mei Zhuyu flushed slightly, coughed, and fell silent. After a brief chat, the brothers left the room together. They could all see the worry and gravity in their junior brother's eyes. He hadn't spoken to their master—perhaps he had something private to discuss.

Before closing the door, the eldest brother said gently, "Guyu, if you're troubled, you can talk to us. We'll help you."

Mei Zhuyu nodded but said nothing. Once the door shut, only he and Siqing Daozhang remained. Mei Zhuyu stepped forward, and Siqing Daozhang instinctively retreated—only to hear a thud as Mei Zhuyu knelt before him.

Siqing Daozhang's expression shifted, finally settling into a heavy sigh. He looked down at his disciple's bowed head, torn between frustration and pride, love and exasperation.

When Mei Zhuyu stayed silent, Siqing Daozhang resignedly helped him up, his tone gruff. "You fool, why kneel? As if I could stop you from doing anything! Since when have you ever listened to me? Kneeling now—what's the point?"

Mei Zhuyu: "Master, I know. All these years, you've been guarding what's inside that wooden box in Father's stead. The reason he hasn't come for it is because of you."

"He'll come eventually." Mei Zhuyu's voice was calm. "He killed my parents. Sooner or later, he'll come for me. Now that he's appeared, I must end this."

Siqing Daozhang snorted and sprawled on the couch with bandit-like bravado. "You? End him? Don't get cocky just because you wounded him years ago. If he were that easy to kill, I'd have chopped him to pieces long ago. No need for you to meddle now."

Mei Zhuyu: "Master, give me the box."

Suddenly serious, Siqing Daozhang asked an unrelated question: "Does your left hand still tremble when it rains?"

After a pause, Mei Zhuyu answered truthfully. "Yes."

Siqing Daozhang: "You haven't let go. And yet you still want that box back?"Mei Zhuyu suddenly smiled, a smile that made Siqing Daozhang almost think he had changed into someone else again. But he quickly returned to his usual expression and said, "My wife... is pregnant. She acts quite carefree, and I worry about her and the child."

Wu Zhen was far too worrying. Who knew what hardships she might endure while trapped there?

Siqing Daozhang curled his lips, unable to comprehend the romantic entanglements of these youngsters. He muttered, "Ruined, ruined. A perfectly good disciple, destroyed by a woman."

Mei Zhuyu spoke again, "Master, give me the wooden box."

Without a word, Siqing Daozhang dragged out a dust-covered wooden box from under the bed—about the length of an arm—and tossed it directly into Mei Zhuyu’s arms without even bothering to wipe off the dust.

The wooden box was ancient, even bearing some black stains—blood splattered many years ago.