Estranged

p>Hè Xiyun and Zhang Jie were staying in a guest house near the West Market, so it was easy for them to go there.
They only had to make a few steps, crossing one street.

Contrary to their expectations, they quickly met their companion, who had just left them, in the West Market.

“Daoyou Hé!”

Hé Qingmo, who was walking through a boisterous crowd, turned his head.
He looked surprised.

“It’s you?”

Hè Xiyun swiftly came near him, and saw his surprise turn into disappointment.

“Whom were you expecting?”

Hé Qinigmo: “No one.
I thought I saw an old friend just now, but I was probably mistaken.”

Hè Xiyun remembered what had happened to Changming, and felt distressed again.

“Daoyou Hé parted with us so hurriedly because you wanted to find that old friend?”

Hé Qingmo shook his head: “I visited the Wanlian Buddhist Temple.”

Hè Xiyun: “You had an appointment?”

Hé Qingmo: “No, I was just looking from outside.”

When he was approaching the Wanlian Buddhist Temple just now, he noticed that it was blocked by many layers of formations and barriers.
The best in setting formations in the Shenxiao Abode was none other than Hé Qingmo himself, but he spent a lot of time standing outside the Wanlian Buddhist Temple, and still found no gaps.
When he saw that he would soon be exposed, Hé Qingmo turned around and left.

Hè Xiyun felt that Hè Qingmo, unlike them, came here with a specific plan—perhaps, he came to see a person or to do something.
But he said nothing, and it wasn’t the right time for her to ask.

Zhang Jie disliked Hé Qingmo from the very beginning, so he wasn’t willing to stay with them now, and quickly took several steps forward to walk alone.

Lanterns were lit, and the Human World was sparkling.

Far away, many lanterns were merging together, shining brightly above the heads of the streams of people busily coming and going.
It was so bright in You Capital as if it were broad daylight.

The Ghost Festival was drawing near, and many vendors’ stands had masks of ghosts and monsters on them; some depicted life-like, sinister features of beasts, some were cute and colorful.
For human beings, the Ghost Festival wasn’t just about sorrow and longing.
They also made sacrifices for ghosts and gods, prayed for blessings and peace, and asked for soft winds and mild rains, as well as good health for their families.

Ghost Festival: 7/15, the day when the worlds of the dead and the human world are connected.
Basically, a festival to worship the dead.
The puja is happening because of it

Hé Qingmo and his two companions were cultivators, and they weren’t used to the customs of the Ghost Festivals, and, like most travellers, had a superficial understanding of the customs of the locals of the You Capital based on cursory observation.

Casual conversations of the common people reached their ears occasionally.

“Dad, why haven’t we burnt paper money yet? Weren’t we going to burn it a year ago?” an immature child asked.

“Nonsense, we burn it every year on the fifteenth.
You remembered it wrongly.”

“We’ll eat roast duck on the day of burning paper!”

“You’re only thinking about food! We’ll be able to eat only after the ghosts and deities finish eating! Stop talking nonsense and beware of being caught as a substitute!”

“What’s a substitute?”

…

The voices of a father preaching to his son were getting quieter in the distance.
Hè Xiyun recalled her shifu making speeches to her when she was young, and couldn’t help but reveal an understanding smile.

“There is a noodle stall over there.
Why don’t we sit there?”

Had Hé Qingmo suggested this, undoubtedly, Zhang Jie would have refused.
But, after all that, he still gave Hè Xiyun some face.

They found places to sit.
Hè Xiyun ordered a bowl of “cat ears” soup, while Hé Qingmo and Zhang Jie only asked for noodles with minced meat.

Full bowls were brought up to them.
The quality of the dishes was nothing special, but it didn’t cost them much.
They wouldn’t have been able to buy food of this quality in the Luo Capital for the same price.

Zhang Jie looked at Hé Qingmo eating the noodles, and felt his mouth itch.
He couldn’t help but to ridicule him: “I would have never expected daoyou Hé who came from a prominent sect to enjoy food from the secular world like we do.
I thought you were practising bigu on a daily basis.”

Hé Qingmo remained unperturbed: “Bigu is fine, and daoyou Zhang can practise it if you want to.
But, if one is not in deep mountain forests, why would they treat themselves harshly?”

Hè Xiyun was afraid that they would start quarreling, so she quickly interrupted them: “This ‘cat ears’ soup is too bland, and they didn’t use even a pinch of salt.
What about yours?”

Zhang Jie: “Mine is also tasteless.”

He asked the shopkeeper to add some salt and vinegar, but his soup with chopped meat was still bland and tasteless.

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The three of them were a bit disappointed.
They quickly finished eating and paid for the food before leaving the stall.

“What’s so special about things in the You Capital? They sure are cheap, but the noodles were flavorless, it felt like drinking plain boiled water.
Why are so many people eating here, have they lost their sense of taste?” Zhang Jie complained.

As if Hè Xiyun had felt something, after taking a few steps, she stopped and looked back.

Many people were indeed eating noodles there.

They all lowered their heads to the bowls, as if they had been starving for three days straight.

But, judging by their neat outfits, although they weren’t excessively rich, they certainly had enough money to afford a bowl of noodles.

An ominous feeling rose in Hè Xiyun’s heart.

She looked at the stall keeper.

He seemed to be observing them.
At that moment, he happened to be watching her as well, and their eyes met for a second—then, the shopkeeper smiled at Hè Xiyun.

It was a weird smile.

The hairs on Hè Xiyun’s body stood up, and she turned abruptly, rushing towards the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper was startled.

“Lady, what happened?”

Hè Xiyun’s pretty eyes were watching him closely.

The shopkeeper seemed innocently scared by her aura.
He wanted to retreat, but didn’t dare to.

It was a normal reaction, as if everything had just been her imagination.

Hè Xiyun looked at the guests sitting by tables again.

Someone finished eating and stood up to go away, leaving tips on their table; only one table was still occupied by a family of three who were talking and laughing.

“Daoyou Hè, what happened?”

She heard Hé Qingmo’s voice and stopped frowning.

“Nothing, it must have been my imagination.
Where’s daoyou Zhang?”

Hé Qingmo didn’t pay attention to him: “Perhaps he had already left, and lost contact with us.”

Crowds of people were coming and going, and they couldn’t see far ahead.
How would they spot a trace of Zhang Jie?

Even if he got lost, it was fine.
After all, he wasn’t a child, and could return to their guest house himself.

But Hè Xiyun felt that something was wrong.

She had not walked far when she turned back to look at the noodle stall and paled.

“The noodle stall?!”

Hé Qingmo turned back, feeling something abnormal as well.

The big noodle stall had suddenly disappeared from their sight, and had turned into a stand selling sweet cakes.

“Sweet cakes! Sweet cakes for sale! Ladies and gentlemen, come, buy a cake, I guarantee that it’s sweet!”

The vendor changed his appearance as well, and looked nothing like that middle-aged shopkeeper.

Hè Xiyun: “What happened to the noodle stall?!”

The vendor was puzzled: “What noodle stall? There are no noodle stalls around.
I’ve been selling sweet cakes here for two years!”

Hè Xiyun wanted to say more, but Hé Qingmo stopped her.

He pulled her aside.

“This person isn’t a cultivator.”

“But just now…”

“I’ve been uncomfortable ever since we entered the city,” Hé Qingmo said.
He thought that he just wasn’t used to the smell of the Buddhists’ sandalwood and lotuses, and didn’t give it much thought.
But now, alarm bells were ringing inside his head.
It was the natural vigilance of a cultivator.

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He noticed that what was making him feel bad was a smell that was coming from everywhere.

It wasn’t sandalwood, or air exhaled by the motley crowd, but rather—

Ghost qi.

Like streaks of smoke, the ghost qi had infiltrated the whole place.

“Look!” Hè Xiyun raised her voice suddenly, pulling him to the ground forcibly, “What is that!”

Hé Qingmo was looking at a cake pierced with a chopstick.
This originally white and soft sweet cake, which tempted people’s appetite, was stirring in the lantern light.

It was a giant maggot.

Then, the noodles they had just eaten…

Hè Xiyun didn’t dare to elaborate any further, but felt that she probably wouldn’t eat noodles ever again.

Hé Qingmo suddenly stretched out his hand to grab the vendor.
The latter let him do it without struggling, and only started begging for mercy in a weak voice.

“Gen, tle, man, what, are, you, do, ing—”

Hé Qingmo tightened his grip, and, unexpectedly, the vendor’s head fell to his shoulder, and then rolled off.

“Mur, der!”

“You, kil, ler!”

Voices rose from every side, asking questions; but all these questions sounded gloomy, not like normal human speech.

Hè Xiyun saw that all the people who were strolling around were now looking at them.
Even those who had had their backs turned towards them remained in the same position, and only their heads were twisted, their gazes fixed on Hé Xiyun and her companion.
All these faces were expressionless, but their mouths were open, as if they were wearing masks.
It looked absolutely terrifying.

Obviously, it was a ghost market!

Pairs of hands stretched out towards them, and Hé Qingmo unsheathed his long sword, slashing through the crowd mercilessly.
Wherever the sword glow passed, countless people’s heads and bones fell to the ground, but even more new people appeared, and he couldn’t finish killing them.

The two of them were already surrounded.

Hè Xiyun wanted to use her spiritual power, but realized that her dantian was completely empty.
She looked at Hé Qingmo’s sword.
Although it had a formidable force, it was coming only from the sword’s aura itself, not Hé Qingmo’s art of sword control.

What happened to their spiritual powers?!

“If you kill, you must pay with your lives.
Stay here.”

A sneer sounded out of nowhere, faint and aggrieved, neither from close by nor at a distance.
But it carried an obvious strength, and pulled thousands of the ghosts’ hands, drawing nearer to Hé Qingmo and Hè Xiyun.

At a crucial point, a hand stretched from behind, grabbing his shoulder.

At first, Hé Qingmo wanted to attack them with his sword, but noticed that the hand seemed to be ready to intercept any assault easily, as it pressed his shoulder more tightly.

“Come with me.”

A somewhat familiar voice made the two of them turn their heads simultaneously.

His long hair was pinned with a jade hairpin, and he was wearing long white robes.
His face features were profound, and he appeared as lofty as a mountain.

Such a bearing made people feel even more ignorant than what Hè Xiyun had seen that day under the Qing Mountain.

Tn:

Again, He Xiyun and He Qingmo have different surnames.

Hè Xiyun: Hè — congratulate; Xiyun — cherish clouds.

Hé Qingmo: Hé — question word; Qingmo — blue ink.

It isn’t really important though.

cat ears soup (baidu)

“saozi” (noodles with minced meat)