[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 40

That night, a torrential downpour began, the pitch-black rain lashing the stone-paved roads until they were slick and dark. The surface of the bluestone steps reflected the lonely glow of lanterns hanging outside the shops along the street.

Shiliu entered the inn from outside, placing her rain-soaked hat in the corner. Soon, dark trails of water snaked across the floor like the twisted legs of spiders crawling in disarray.

She went upstairs—dong, dong, dong—three light knocks. Li Xuanci opened the door and looked at the somewhat disheveled Shiliu standing outside.

Her clothes were soaked, strands of hair clinging damply to her forehead, making her face appear even paler. Her round, grape-like eyes looked at him, but unlike her usual spirited self, they seemed dark and heavy.

Li Xuanci felt an inexplicable displeasure. Whenever she faced him, she was always full of energy, like an indestructible bronze pea—the more pressure, the bouncier she became. So why did she look so wilted tonight after going out?

Shiliu averted her gaze and said, “The river sacrifice should be tomorrow.”

Li Xuanci glanced at the pouring rain outside the window, his expression indifferent as he replied lightly, “It’s time.”

But Shiliu pressed her lips tightly together, unwilling to speak.

Li Xuanci shot her a glance, then swiftly reached out and pinched her soft cheek, twisting it into the shape of a flat-mouthed duck. He mocked, “Who are you making that face for? If you have something to say, say it plainly. I have no patience to coax you.”

Shiliu let him distort her face without resistance. After a long moment, she finally spoke with that comical expression, recounting what she had discovered that night.

“I found the families whose children were taken,” Shiliu said with difficulty, her mouth still pinched. But her voice remained listless, devoid of any joy.

“At least you’re somewhat useful,” Li Xuanci released her, turning to sit back at the table. He watched the drenched Shiliu but showed no intention of inviting her to sit.

Shiliu didn’t seem to mind and continued, “It wasn’t hard to find. Homes with summoning dolls hung on their doors, family members with mournful faces, and neighbors avoiding them—those were mostly the ones.”

“I kept watch. Despite the heavy rain tonight, I saw several families sneak out to the middle of the road, pry up the bluestone slabs, and hide children’s clothing underneath.”

“Later, I followed one woman secretly into her courtyard and heard her praying to Buddha. That’s when I learned this method was taught by that Taoist priest. He also told them to prepare a packet of raw vegetable seeds, saying it would ensure their children lived well with the River God and reincarnated sooner.”

“A Taoist priest who specializes in deceitful tricks and perverse methods—how unexpectedly kind-hearted,” Li Xuanci remarked, his tone cold but laced with sharp sarcasm.

Shiliu, also a Taoist, felt indirectly targeted. She wanted to retort that not all Taoists were bad, but with a living example right before her, she couldn’t muster the confidence to argue.

“You’re right.”

Over the past few days, Shiliu had said “You’re right” many times—sometimes to flatter him, sometimes to brush him off, and sometimes with a hidden jab. But this time, she spoke with sincerity and sorrow.

“When young children die prematurely, some customs fear that their spirits will cling to the living. They insist on mutilating the corpse, cutting off the feet, and burying it under a road, pressed down by stone slabs so that countless people trample over it, ensuring the child’s spirit never finds peace.”

“In other places, the custom is to give the deceased child a packet of roasted vegetable seeds to scatter on the road to the underworld as a marker. Roasted seeds won’t sprout, so the children can find their way back and reincarnate sooner into the human world.”

“That Taoist priest deceived these parents into burying their children’s clothing under the road to create a symbolic grave, stirring resentment. The parents prepared raw seeds, not roasted ones—so it wasn’t a guide but a trap, ensuring their children could never return. He wanted to turn these children into vengeful infant spirits, forever trapped, never to reincarnate, forever under his control.”

These parents, robbed of their children, consumed by guilt and grief, had turned to a so-called expert for methods to ensure their children’s swift reincarnation and a better next life.

Yet it was precisely this love that was twisted into a tool for creating infant ghosts. Only a symbolic grave set up by the parents’ own hands and trampled by thousands could fully ignite the resentment of an infant ghost. And only the raw seeds given by the parents could suppress the infant ghost for millennia.

As she spoke, the light in her eyes dimmed. Shrouded in dampness, her body trembled slightly.

Shiliu had been abandoned in early childhood, never knowing her parents. But since her master took her in, though life had its hardships, she was still cared for. She was taught the skills to vanquish demons and monsters, and learned the principles of aiding humanity.

Even though she often failed her exams and lacked great talent, she had cultivated a righteous heart. Having grown up on the mountain, Shiliu never imagined that one day the Taoist methods she had copied over and over in those tedious texts—methods meant to save the world and help people—would be used to suppress innocent, prematurely deceased children.

So, she couldn’t refute Li Xuanci’s words, because she, too, was a Taoist.

Li Xuanci watched Shiliu, cold still emanating from her. Someone as lazy and gluttonous as her would usually, at the slightest hardship, long to soak in hot water and eat flatbread, steaming and warm with a round little belly. But now she stood here, unable even to sigh.

His sharp brows lifted slightly, a trace of mockery tugging at his lips. His voice seemed to hook into Shiliu’s heart. “I didn’t realize you held yourself in such high regard.”

Shiliu stared blankly, confused by his meaning. Yet his words briefly pulled her out of her despondency.

Ignoring her, Li Xuanci raised his cup and finished the tea in one smooth motion. The clear liquid vanished between his lips, his movements so fluid that even Shiliu, with her troubled thoughts, couldn’t help but watch.

“If you were truly such a capable and ruthless Taoist, I might think more highly of you. But you’re just a half-baked amateur—even catching a minor demon nearly cost you your life.”

He lowered his gaze slightly, as if savoring the tea, yet still addressing her.

“Know your limits. Stop flattering yourself by grouping with masters of such caliber.” Li Xuanci set the cup down; it met the wooden table with a soft click, like a final verdict.

Shiliu instinctively muttered in protest, “I’m not that bad, am I?”

And just like that, she forgot her earlier gloom.

Li Xuanci delivered the final blow without mercy, “Hopelessly foolish.”

“Since I’ve decided to intervene, that Taoist has only death awaiting him.” Li Xuanci’s tone was calm, but his words brooked no doubt.

Shiliu’s eyes lit up. Right! How could she have forgotten? Here was an even bigger… well, not villain, but savior!

As a promising rising star of the Taoist world—born of a renowned orthodox school, well-read in the classics, knowledgeable, with a powerful master, impressive senior brothers, and considerable skill herself—even she had fallen into his hands. If he was stepping in, that crooked Taoist would surely have no chance to harm those children again.

“Instead of wallowing in sentiment, you’d better consider how much more you owe me now, and how you plan to repay it.”

Li Xuanci looked at Shiliu, his gaze deep and intent.

Belatedly, Shiliu shivered, the chill from her soaked clothes finally seeping into her bones.