Chapter 65: Wu Zelong Lays the Bridge for the Lady

In a state of intense excitement, Ye Chang awoke. He felt dampness in his trousers, an uncomfortable stickiness that made him uneasy. The spring dream he had just experienced left him terrified—how could he have such a dream?

He opened his eyes, only to be confronted with something even more alarming: his sister-in-law was right in front of him!

Her face was close, and her hand reached out, as if to gently touch his cheek. Ye Chang was nearly startled into shouting. While asleep, his reason was suppressed, allowing for boundless abandon, but upon waking, even with the wisdom of two lifetimes, he dared not act so recklessly.

Fang, seeing Ye Chang awake, flushed deeply with embarrassment. She hurriedly stepped back, her gaze fixed on him, a complex expression in her eyes. Ye Chang was oblivious to his own awkwardness; remembering the spring dream, he felt embarrassed. To dispel the discomfort, he said, "Sister-in-law, just now... I dreamed of my elder brother."

Fang was surprised. "You dreamed of your brother too?"

"You did as well?"

"Tell me, what did your brother say?"

The two fell silent for a moment. Ye Chang answered, "He said he was about to embark on a long journey..."

That single sentence caused Fang's face to change dramatically, for it matched precisely what she had seen and heard in her own hazy dream.

"What else?" Fang pressed.

"He entrusted you, the servant Ci, and the little lady to me," Ye Chang replied vaguely, not daring to elaborate. "Then he left, and no matter how I called, he wouldn't return. Afterwards, I saw you, and then I woke up."

Fang's cheeks lost all color. She retreated to stand before Ye Shu's coffin, knelt down, clasped her hands, and murmured a silent prayer.

Ye Chang's account of his dream was nearly identical to hers. In Fang's heart, this could only be Ye Shu's spirit, appearing to them in a dream to set their minds at ease.

Thinking that Ye Shu, even in death, still cared for her, Fang grew sorrowful. The guilt she felt over his passing could not be dispelled by Ye Chang's mere words.

Outside, the sound of the watchman’s clappers echoed, and a faint light appeared in the eastern sky. Fang finished her prayer, leaned against the wall, glanced at Ye Chang, and found him still standing there in a daze. She sighed.

A young man's spring dream was inevitable, but Ye Chang's situation was unlike others—this was her responsibility. As the eldest sister-in-law, she was like a mother to him. Ye Chang was seventeen, his blood already stirred, and it was high time he married.

"Eleventh Young Master, you should return," she said softly.

"No, I can't leave you alone here," Ye Chang refused resolutely.

"I told you to go, so you must go!"

"Sister-in-law, please don’t insist. I won’t leave."

Seeing Ye Chang so stubborn, Fang could not help herself. "I tell you to go so you can clean up your disgraceful mess. Do you want others to see you like this?"

As she spoke, her gaze swept meaningfully toward Ye Chang's waist. With such a clear hint, Ye Chang would be a fool not to understand.

He lowered his head. Because he wore thin summer clothes, the damp stain was all too obvious. His face turned crimson, and covering himself with his hands, he bolted away.

Had it been his later life, he would have handled such situations with ease, but in this life, to appear so disgraced before his sister-in-law was unbearably embarrassing.

After cleaning himself up, he hesitated whether to return to the Earth God Temple, but thinking of Fang alone there at night, he decided to go back.

According to village custom, a coffin must be kept for three nights; on the morning of the fourth day, before the hour of the dragon, the burial must take place. Little Ci sat atop the coffin, which was carried by the so-called "Eight Immortals," who would follow a predetermined route before it was interred in a distant hillside. Because Ye Shu had died violently in a foreign land, he could not be buried in the Ye family ancestral grave; the burial site was chosen on a distant slope.

Halfway through the procession, a group of people, playing music, blocked their path.

At a river crossing, about half a yard wide, the only wooden bridge was obstructed by these people. Ye Chang frowned slightly—conflicts over road rights during weddings and funerals were common in the countryside. Yet, beyond the bridge, the road was wide enough for both processions to pass without interference. The other group had stopped deliberately, clearly intending trouble.

“It’s the Dragon Lady Bodhisattva!” someone whispered in awe. Ye Chang, having kept vigil for three nights, was groggy and puzzled. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s the Dragon Lady Bodhisattva from the Dragon Lady Temple… You may not know, Eleventh Young Master, but that temple is very efficacious,” one of the Eight Immortals repeated, his voice reverent. Ye Chang recalled the temple presided over by Dao Ning during his return—the Dragon Lady Temple.

Indeed, among the musicians and villagers, Ye Chang spotted Dao Ning.

Besides Dao Ning, the others were villagers from the surrounding area, mostly from Xiao Liu Village. Ye Chang watched them coldly, noticing they surrounded a wooden statue.

The statue was exquisitely carved—a lavishly dressed woman, presumably the Dragon Lady herself.

“What manner of deity is this Dragon Lady Bodhisattva?” Ye Chang asked.

“About two months ago, Dao Ning claimed to have received a revelation from the Bodhisattva, left the Temple of Ten Directions, and built a temple here for the Dragon Lady. It was finished in a few days, and then this statue was brought in…”

Dao Ning had left the Temple of Ten Directions after being expelled by the abbot Chun Xin, but Chun Xin, wary of the Liu family’s influence, did not make a public scene, so it was thought Dao Ning left by his own will. Upon returning to Xiao Liu Village, Dao Ning claimed to have seen the Wu Ze Dragon Lady. The drought, he said, was due to the Dragon Lady’s loss of incense offerings, and unless a temple was built, floods and droughts would plague the area for years to come. To avoid disaster, the temple must be erected.

His words were met with skepticism, but Liu Fengyin vigorously promoted the idea, using threats and persuasion, and finally the Wu Ze Dragon Lady Temple was built. No one knew where the wooden statue, over a yard tall and lifelike, had been acquired.

Wu Ze was originally a large lake, though it had gradually silted up, still retaining broad waters, and legend held that a Dragon Lady resided there. After the temple was completed, its incense offerings were sparse until one afternoon—a group passing by was caught in a sudden rainstorm. Among them was a noblewoman, her clothes drenched, feet muddy, who sought shelter in the temple. When people entered, they found no trace of her, but the statue bore a remarkable resemblance to the woman and, astonishingly, its feet were muddy as well!

From then on, rumors of the Dragon Lady’s miracles spread, and the temple flourished.

Hearing this, Ye Chang nearly laughed aloud.

Dao Ning, who knew the truth about the supposed miracles at the Temple of Ten Directions, had simply changed the game, now using the Dragon Lady as his ruse!

No wonder Dao Ning was so hostile—previous conflicts aside, he now feared Ye Chang would expose his trick, so he had to accuse Ye Chang of fraud first.

Clearly, Dao Ning was here with ill intent.

Ye Dan, as clan elder, stepped forward to negotiate. Ye Chang watched as he bowed, only to be rebuffed by Dao Ning, who sent him back with a sour expression.

“Uncle Ancestor, what did he say?” Ye Chang asked, though he knew the answer.

“He says they are conducting Buddhist rites here today, and we must wait. Furthermore… he says we’ve offended the Dragon Lady Bodhisattva, and must kneel here…”

Ye Dan was doubtful about the Dragon Lady Bodhisattva, but even the most knowledgeable villagers dared not disrespect a deity. He glanced at Ye Chang, then at Fang. “In my view, we’re not in a hurry…”

“Burial must take place at the auspicious hour,” Ye Chang replied coolly, then turned to Shan Zhi. “Monk, let’s go.”

Shan Zhi, now dressed in monk’s robes, looked more like a bandit than a monk, but grinned. “Shall we fight?”

“Not people, but gods,” Ye Chang said. To Kunlun slave Wu Guli, who waited nearby, he ordered, “Wu Guli, move forward and clear them away!”

Wu Guli, gentle by nature but towering and robust, with pitch-black skin and only the whites of his eyes and shining teeth visible, strode forward. With a single shout, the villagers cleared a path—few recognized him as the Kunlun slave.

“What kind of monster is that?”

“Ye Eleventh Young Master can summon spirits—could this be one of his mountain demons?”

“I think it’s more man than monster…”

Whispers rippled through the crowd, and the musicians fell silent. Dao Ning, contemptuous of the ignorant villagers, sneered, “Just a Kunlun slave—this is the Tang Empire, Kunlun slaves are hardly noble. Ye Eleven, you bring out this black dog—do you mean to insult the Bodhisattva? I’ve long thought you possessed, and now it’s clear—you let a black dog demon disguised as a Kunlun slave bark at people…”

His tirade revealed the skills he’d honed as guest monk at the Temple of Ten Directions, and the insults toward Ye Chang had been bottled up for some time. Now, venting them all at once, he felt delightfully triumphant.

The looks from the crowd made him even more pleased. Since Ye Chang’s feats with the rainbow canal and the Bodhisattva’s verdict, Ye Chang’s reputation in Wu Ze had soared, and few dared challenge him openly. Yet today, Dao Ning had done so.

But immediately, Dao Ning realized the evil monk beside Ye Chang was a bit too close for comfort!

He remembered being beaten by Shan Zhi at the Temple of Ten Directions for his ugly face, and now, recalling that ordeal, he cried out and retreated, tripping over his own feet and landing on his backside.

Yet Shan Zhi merely strode past him, approaching the nearly yard-high statue.

“There’s a ditch ahead—this thing can fill it,” Ye Chang said to Shan Zhi. “Monk, your strength is needed.”

Understanding, the monk grabbed the statue, exhaled, and with a shout, lifted it from its pedestal.

Although a monk, Shan Zhi had little reverence for deities—even their own Buddhist icons, he’d borrowed as needed in the past, let alone the Wu Ze Dragon Lady!

Watching him shoulder the three-yard statue, first staggering, then steady, Dao Ning and his companions were dumbstruck.

“What strength!”

“Heavens, is he even human?”

“This monk… why does he look familiar?”

Amid murmured voices, Shan Zhi carried the statue to the river ditch. With another shout, he tossed it down, bridging the gap.

When the statue landed, the ground trembled, but it was firmly in place, making a small bridge across the ditch.

Ye Chang strode confidently across the statue, followed by the monk, Wu Guli, and others. Ye Chang turned and looked at the still-dazed Dao Ning, sitting on the ground, and sneered, “Not only is this rotten wood, devoid of spirit, no match for mud or clay, but even if the real Wu Ze Dragon Lady appeared, she would clear the way for me!”

His words were bold and fierce, even startling Ye Chang himself. He addressed the “Eight Immortals” leading his group, “Raise the coffin, continue forward!”

“Uh… yes, yes!” The Eight Immortals, shaken by the scene—not only Dao Ning, but themselves as well—were most superstitious, and to see Ye Chang trample the statue was unnerving. They scrambled to their feet.

Yet none dared step on the Dragon Lady statue; they continued on, spurred by Ye Chang’s dominance and Shan Zhi’s brute strength, while the musicians resumed their procession. The villagers looked at each other, uncertain what to do.

Once Ye Chang resumed walking, Dao Ning snapped to attention and sprang up, yelling, “Ye Chang, Ye Eleven, you’re doomed! You dared offend the Wu Ze Dragon Lady! The Bodhisattva will manifest, will take your life, your family’s lives, the lives of your entire Ye clan! Ye Eleven, you wait, Heaven’s retribution is coming!”

Ye Chang turned back, sneering at Dao Ning.

“Finding some courtesan to impersonate the Dragon Lady to deceive the masses? You may fool others, but not these eyes of mine. Don’t forget who I am!”

Those who had hesitated were reminded by his words, recalling the many rumors about Ye Chang—he was the Eleventh Young Master, pointed out by the Bodhisattva, enlightened by immortals!

The Dragon Lady’s miracle was only one tale; Ye Chang’s own wonders were many. Furthermore, the Temple of Ten Directions and the King of Medicine Hall, two great religious powers, had recognized Ye Chang’s status. The Dragon Lady Temple, by contrast, was a recent upstart.

Could it be that the Wu Ze Dragon Lady was a fraud?

Even Dao Ning’s followers exchanged uneasy glances.

Dao Ning knew today’s plan had failed. He had hoped, while Ye Chang’s family mourned, to force Ye Chang to pay respects to the Dragon Lady statue. If Ye Chang did so, the temple’s status would be cemented. Now, however, the result was quite the opposite!

What now?