Elder Xu expressed deep regret for the sudden fire, apologizing profusely when he met Zhou Jiayu. He admitted he’d been careless, never expecting someone would be bold enough to target Zhou Jiayu here.

Zhou Jiayu, magnanimous, brushed it off, but asked curiously, “Can your houses and paper figures really withstand fire?”

Elder Xu smiled. “These paper figures are made of special material. Ordinary flames can’t ignite them—only the Fire of Pure Yang urn.”

Zhou Jiayu thought of the lighter Lin Zhushui had given him, likely containing that very fire.

Elder Xu continued, “The one who attacked you is actually from our Xu clan…” His eyes filled with pain. “Our clan has an ancient rule: those who master our heritage cannot enter the secular world. This tradition, upheld for centuries, is the foundation of our legacy.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “What happened with him?”

Elder Xu explained, “He was exceptionally gifted but clashed with our values.” He recounted a familiar tale: a clan genius ventured into the world, seduced by fame and fortune, and broke the clan’s rules, leading to his exile from Sheshan.

The story was simple, but Zhou Jiayu sensed Elder Xu’s regret.

Before leaving, the man had tried to steal the clan’s sacred relic but was stopped. Unexpectedly, he targeted Lin Zhushui’s disciple, Zhou Jiayu, attacking repeatedly. Though he failed, Lin Zhushui was clearly enraged.

“Tonight, we’ll visit the cemetery,” Elder Xu said. “If you gain the ancestor’s approval, he won’t be able to touch you.”

While Elder Xu spoke, Lin Zhushui remained silent. When Elder Xu finished, he beckoned Zhou Jiayu. “Come here.”

Zhou Jiayu approached, confused.

Without a word, Lin Zhushui bit his index finger, drawing blood, and offered it to Zhou Jiayu. “Take it. Suck the blood clean.”

Zhou Jiayu froze. “Teacher, what’s…”

“The cemetery’s yin energy is heavy. It’ll affect you. My blood will protect you,” Lin Zhushui said.

Zhou Jiayu hesitated, but Lin Zhushui urged, “Hurry.”

Reluctantly, Zhou Jiayu took Lin Zhushui’s finger into his mouth, gently licking the wound. He’d thought Lin Zhushui’s fingers were cold from the tattooing, but now, a few drops of blood sent a surge of heat through his throat to his stomach, banishing his chill. His face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead.

When the blood was gone, Lin Zhushui naturally withdrew his finger, wiping it and some clear liquid with a tissue.

Zhou Jiayu, unsure if he was hot or embarrassed, blushed deeply, stealing a glance at Lin Zhushui’s finger before lowering his head.

“How do you feel?” Lin Zhushui asked.

“Pretty… warm,” Zhou Jiayu said, then remembered something. “Teacher, the water you gave me on the train—did it have your blood too?”

“Yes,” Lin Zhushui confirmed.

“Oh… thank you, Teacher,” Zhou Jiayu said.

Lin Zhushui’s tone was light. “No need to thank me.”

Elder Xu, watching their exchange, smiled kindly. “I never imagined Mr. Lin had this side. Truly, a deep bond between master and disciple.”

Lin Zhushui didn’t respond, while Zhou Jiayu smiled sheepishly.

They planned to depart around 8 p.m., as the cemetery was only accessible at night.

Zhou Jiayu whipped up a simple dinner, and the four ate together.

Since the paper figures stopped hiding, they roamed freely. During dinner, one—a boy, judging by its hairstyle—gawked at Shen Yiqiong’s bone, drooling.

Zhou Jiayu admired the paper figures’ expressiveness. Despite simple, sketched features, they moved vividly, almost lifelike.

Shen Yiqiong, unnerved by the staring, asked, “You guys eat meat?”

The paper figure nodded.

Hesitating, Shen Yiqiong offered a piece of meat from the bone. The figure gleefully took it, stuffing it into its mouth with delight.

Shen Yiqiong watched, thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Shen Yiqiong said, “Paper figures seem kinda cute. Could we keep one? It could do laundry, sweep…”

Before he finished, the paper figure, as if understanding, glared with its flat eyes, stood, and scurried off. Shen Yiqiong looked embarrassed. “Wow, it understood? Shouldn’t have said that in front of it.”

Zhou Jiayu burst out laughing.

After dinner, Lin Zhushui prepared to leave.

If Zhou Jiayu were going with anyone else, Shen Yiqiong would’ve urged caution, but since it was Lin Zhushui, he teased with mock jealousy, “Come back soon. I’ll miss you.”

Zhou Jiayu scoffed, “Miss me or Teacher?”

“Can’t I miss both?” Shen Yiqiong said.

“Could you stop glaring at me while saying that?” Zhou Jiayu retorted.

Shen Yiqiong huffed, whining that he’d eat a sweet potato and ignore Zhou Jiayu. Zhou Jiayu thought Shen Yiqiong’s mental age couldn’t be 18—14 at best.

Lin Zhushui waited outside, and Zhou Jiayu hurried to join him.

Their destination was far from the village, reportedly an overnight trip. Zhou Jiayu worried about trekking through snow at night, but at the village entrance, he saw four or five paper figures pulling a sled cart.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” This is an option?

“Climb on!” Elder Xu, at the driver’s seat, smiled warmly. “It’s fast, so hold tight.”

Zhou Jiayu nodded, sitting beside Lin Zhushui. Initially, he thought the sled couldn’t be that fast, but once it moved, the icy wind nearly knocked him out.

The paper figures, wearing specialized snow shoes, matched sled dogs’ speed, navigating tricky mountain paths with ease.

Zhou Jiayu felt the wind might turn him into an idiot. No wonder Elder Xu had insisted on a hat—less about cold, more about saving his head from freezing off.

Buffeted by wind, Zhou Jiayu watched the scenery shift. No snow fell, and moonlight cast a bright glow. Lin Zhushui sat beside him, somehow untouched by the wind, his hair barely stirring.

Zhou Jiayu found the moment oddly romantic—riding a sled through a moonlit forest with Lin Zhushui. The silence was serene, though it’d be perfect if his head wasn’t freezing off.

Lin Zhushui’s voice was calm. “Zhou Jiayu, are you cold?”

Sniffling, Zhou Jiayu stammered, “I’m… not… cold…” He regretted it instantly—his trembling voice betrayed him.

Lin Zhushui sighed, a hint of exasperation. “If you’re cold, come closer.”

Zhou Jiayu hesitated, but Elder Xu called, “It’s a long ride, young man. Don’t tough it out!”

Giving in, Zhou Jiayu scooted closer to Lin Zhushui.

The move made a difference. The cold eased noticeably.

Lin Zhushui was like a radiant fireball, tempering his heat, but up close, Zhou Jiayu felt the intense energy within him.

“Still cold?” Lin Zhushui asked.

Zhou Jiayu shook his head honestly. “Not anymore.” Beside Lin Zhushui, the wind seemed blocked, sparing him the head-freezing gusts.

The sled sped along winding mountain paths, weaving through shrubs.

Despite the rough terrain, the paper figures’ pace didn’t falter. Zhou Jiayu estimated they were hitting 80 kilometers per hour.

Elder Xu wasn’t kidding about the distance. After four hours, by midnight, they reached their destination.

It was a cave hidden in a thicket, low and obscured by snow-laden shrubs, nearly invisible unless you knew where to look.

Elder Xu stooped to enter first, Lin Zhushui took the rear, keeping Zhou Jiayu between them for safety.

The narrow cave forced them to crouch. After几十 meters, the rock ceiling opened, revealing a massive iron gate, five or six meters tall, impossible to budge by human strength alone.

Elder Xu, still cheerful, waved a hand. The paper figures that had pulled the sled shuffled forward, grabbing the handles and pulling. Their strength was astonishing—the heavy gate creaked open just enough for passage.

“Let’s go,” Elder Xu beckoned.

Zhou Jiayu followed, noticing the paper figures stayed outside. “The little paper figures aren’t coming?”

“No, they can’t,” Elder Xu said.

Zhou Jiayu nodded, watching the figures laboriously close the gate.

Beyond it was a vast cave, its walls lined with lit torches, likely kept burning year-round.

Elder Xu led confidently, navigating the complex paths.

The cave was a maze of forks. Zhou Jiayu faintly heard rustling from an untraveled path. Curious, he asked, “Elder Xu, what’s in that side path?”

Elder Xu chuckled. “Something’s there. It’s a defense. Take the wrong path, and you won’t come out.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He stepped closer to the group.

He’d expected paper figures in the cemetery, but saw none. Elder Xu’s earlier words suggested the cave restricted them.

After about ten minutes, they rounded a massive rock, and a breathtaking sight greeted Zhou Jiayu.

He gasped in awe. “It’s beautiful—”

Elder Xu smiled. “Yes, very beautiful.”

At the cave’s deepest point was a vast pit, dominated by a colossal tree. Unlike any ordinary tree, its branches were ice, its leaves snow, stretching into the dark heights. Torchlight glinted off it, casting faint reflections.

It was stunning. Zhou Jiayu marveled as the tree extended upward, its thick trunk too vast to fully see. Though he couldn’t spot its roots or crown, the visible portion spanned one or two hundred meters, its true size a mystery.

Initially, the tree itself captivated him, but soon he noticed something else—paper figures, frosted with snow, hung from the branches, bound by red threads.

Zhou Jiayu recalled Elder Xu’s “ancestor.” Was this ice-snow tree it?

Was it natural or man-made? Questions swirled in Zhou Jiayu’s mind.

Countless paper coffins lined the cliffs around the pit, uncountable in number. This was the cemetery Elder Xu spoke of—born by the tree, buried by the tree, the Xu clan’s sacred ground.

Elder Xu said to Zhou Jiayu, “Go, place your hand on the trunk.”

Zhou Jiayu glanced at Lin Zhushui, whispering, “Teacher.”

Lin Zhushui gently pressed his shoulder. “Go. I’m right here. Don’t be afraid.”

Lin Zhushui’s words calmed Zhou Jiayu’s nerves. Taking a deep breath, he approached the bottomless pit and pressed his palm to the icy trunk.

The moment he touched it, a surge of cold rushed up his arm into his body. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. The surrounding branches, as if alive, curled toward him. They lifted his body, carrying him upward.

The branches caressed him, like a mother inspecting her newborn—careful, thorough, and tender.

The chill in Zhou Jiayu’s body began to dissipate. He heard a voice—ancient, faint, almost like a hummed lullaby, echoing around him.

A wave of drowsiness surged, his consciousness slipping from his body. It felt like returning to the womb, so comforting his mind didn’t want to question it.

But the sensation was abruptly shattered.

Lin Zhushui’s voice boomed, “Zhou Jiayu—wake up!”

The sound jolted him like thunder, snapping him out of the trance. He opened his eyes, realizing his body was nearly pressed against the tree trunk, just steps from the edge of the bottomless black pit.

Lin Zhushui stood behind him, gripping his arm tightly, calling his name. “Zhou Jiayu!”

Dazed, Zhou Jiayu stammered, “W-What happened to me?”

Elder Xu, looking embarrassed, said, “Mr. Lin, my apologies. I didn’t expect the Ancestor Tree to take such a liking to him.”

Still disoriented, Zhou Jiayu was pulled back by Lin Zhushui, away from the tree. “What… what happened?”

Lin Zhushui didn’t answer, instead touching Zhou Jiayu’s forehead to check his temperature. Satisfied, he asked Elder Xu, “Is it done?”

“It should be,” Elder Xu replied.

Zhou Jiayu was utterly confused by their exchange.

“Since it’s done, let’s go,” Lin Zhushui said. “The yin energy here is heavy. He can’t stay long.”

Elder Xu nodded, and as they prepared to leave, a sharp crack—like ice splitting—rang out. Lin Zhushui froze, clearly hearing it too. He whispered, “Wait—someone else is here.”

Elder Xu was stunned. “Someone else? How could… Could it be…” Before he finished, a massive branch of the ice-snow tree snapped, crashing into the pit with a cascade of snow, ice, and countless small paper figures.

Elder Xu’s face turned ashen, trembling with rage. “Xu Jinghuo—you’ve lost your damn mind?!”

Hearing the name Xu Jinghuo, Zhou Jiayu’s first thought was that it oddly complemented Lin Zhushui’s name…

No one answered.

Elder Xu roared, “You dared attack the Ancestor Tree?! What the hell are you thinking?! Stop hiding! I know it’s you!” As he spoke, a figure emerged from the darkness, standing high on a tree branch. The man, Xu Jinghuo, looked down and said slowly, “Elder Xu, I’m doing this for the Xu clan’s good.”

Elder Xu was livid, practically shaking with fury. Zhou Jiayu had no doubt that if Elder Xu had wings, he’d fly up and thrash Xu Jinghuo on the spot.

“I’m truly doing this for your sake,” Xu Jinghuo said, his voice young—likely under thirty. Perched on the branch, he continued softly, “Elder Xu, if the Xu clan continues like this, we’ll be wiped out sooner or later.”

Elder Xu sneered, “And what you’re doing now will ensure our survival?”

“Of course,” Xu Jinghuo said. His gaze shifted to Lin Zhushui. “And you… you’re quite something. Lin Zhushui, right? I’ve heard of you. Impressive, very impressive—”

Lin Zhushui gave a cold laugh. “Flattery.” Despite the word, his actions were anything but polite. He pulled three paper cranes from his pocket and blew on them.

Xu Jinghuo panicked. “Don’t release those cranes! If you do, I’ll cut another branch!”

Elder Xu shouted, “Mr. Lin!” His expression suggested he’d rather Xu Jinghuo attack him than harm the Ancestor Tree.

Lin Zhushui stayed silent, his palm gently cradling the cranes, which began to flutter. Their wings glowed with fiery light, looking far from harmless.

Xu Jinghuo sighed in relief. “That’s better.”

Elder Xu pleaded, “Xu Jinghuo, come down. I won’t hold your past actions against you!”

“Really?” Xu Jinghuo asked.

Gritting his teeth, Elder Xu said, “No!”

Xu Jinghuo laughed loudly. “Even if I admit I stole Yan Hongxiu’s body from here—you still won’t blame me?”

Yan Hongxiu? Zhou Jiayu realized this was no small matter.

Elder Xu, provoked, roared, “You dare mention her?! You—” A string of local curses poured out, unintelligible to Zhou Jiayu but clearly vicious.

Xu Jinghuo laughed harder. “And I’ll tell you—the locust tree spirit? I set it free. They’re all dead now, without even a chance to reincarnate!”

“Shut up, you beast!” Elder Xu bellowed, reaching for something in his robe. Lin Zhushui cut in coldly, “Elder Xu, calm down. He’s deliberately provoking you.”

Elder Xu froze, realizing Xu Jinghuo’s words had an ulterior motive.

“Go ahead, cut it,” Lin Zhushui said, his fingers teasing the flaming cranes circling his palm. Speaking softly to the figure in the dark, he said, “Xu Jinghuo, if I were you, I’d chop another branch to show us how capable you are.”

Zhou Jiayu was shocked, unsure why Lin Zhushui would say this.

Xu Jinghuo laughed. “Mr. Lin, I was warned to watch out for you. I thought they were exaggerating, but you’ve truly impressed me.”

Lin Zhushui sneered, “First meeting? I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh?” Xu Jinghuo said.

“Didn’t you take the same train as us?” Lin Zhushui asked.

Xu Jinghuo didn’t respond.

The flames in Lin Zhushui’s hand flared brighter. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but chilling. “I don’t enjoy killing, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Lin Zhushui’s tone wasn’t threatening, but Zhou Jiayu knew he meant it.

Xu Jinghuo fell silent, clearly sensing Lin Zhushui wasn’t bluffing.

A searing heat began radiating from Lin Zhushui, clashing with the cave’s icy air. Zhou Jiayu, standing closest, felt it most intensely.

Despite his fiery name, Xu Jinghuo seemed to loathe flames. He lingered on the branch, silent for so long Zhou Jiayu thought he’d say nothing more. Then he spoke, “Mr. Lin, you’re formidable. But even the strongest have weaknesses that can be fatal.” His gaze landed on Zhou Jiayu as he said “weakness.”

“Weakness?” Lin Zhushui’s smile was radiant, his confidence striking Zhou Jiayu’s heart. “Someone I, Lin Zhushui, choose to protect—called a weakness?”

Xu Jinghuo opened his mouth to retort, but flames erupted on his body. He gasped, “Impossible—when did you—”

Lin Zhushui sneered, “Nothing’s impossible.”

Zhou Jiayu watched Xu Jinghuo become a figure of fire, burning from head to toe. Strangely, he made no sound, plummeting silently into the bottomless pit. If he was human, his chances were grim.

Elder Xu’s face was grim. “Mr. Lin… Xu Jinghuo, he…”

“Not dead,” Lin Zhushui said coldly. “That was just a paper figure he controlled. He’s likely still on Sheshan.”

“A paper figure?” Elder Xu said. “But paper figures can’t touch our Ancestor Tree.”

“What if it wasn’t born from this Ancestor Tree?” Lin Zhushui countered.

Elder Xu’s eyes widened, unable to accept the idea.

Lin Zhushui brushed ash from his palm. “Eliminate other possibilities, and this is the only answer. Warn the village. Xu Jinghuo’s core paper figure is damaged, so he’s gravely injured. Don’t let him escape.”

Elder Xu nodded.

Zhou Jiayu, having heard Yan Hongxiu’s name, hesitated but asked, “Elder Xu, what’s the deal with Yan Hongxiu?”

“It’s a long story…” Elder Xu began, recounting Yan Hongxiu and Xu Jinghuo’s tale.

Yan Hongxiu wasn’t from the Xu clan but a distant relative. Her branch’s ability to control paper figures had weakened, nearly vanishing by her generation.

Yet Yan Hongxiu was an exception, with strong abilities and the Ancestor Tree’s favor. Tragically, before twenty, she was diagnosed with a terminal illness and died.

After her death, Elder Xu buried her near the Ancestor Tree, as was custom. But one day, her body vanished, along with a locust tree spirit, which had grown volatile after her death.

Elder Xu had suspected Xu Jinghuo, but lacked proof—until Xu Jinghuo admitted orchestrating it all.

As Elder Xu spoke, Zhou Jiayu listened, while Lin Zhushui approached the Ancestor Tree, eyes closed, as if listening for sounds from the pit.

“Have you ever gone down?” Lin Zhushui asked suddenly.

Elder Xu was taken aback. “It’s too deep, and paper figures can’t enter. We haven’t.”

“There’s likely an underground river below,” Lin Zhushui said.

Elder Xu caught on. “You mean…”

“Xu Jinghuo moved the branch he cut through the river,” Lin Zhushui said.

Elder Xu’s beard quivered with rage. “That bastard, daring to covet the Ancestor Tree’s branches—”

Lin Zhushui’s expression was odd. “But there’s good news.”

“What?” Elder Xu asked.

Pointing to the ice-snow tree, Lin Zhushui said, “Your Ancestor Tree is angry.”

Zhou Jiayu didn’t grasp what an angry Ancestor Tree meant until they left the cave, rode the sled to a nearby river, and saw the result. Elder Xu said this river, the only one nearby, would connect to any underground flow. Uniquely, its warm waters never froze.

But when they arrived, the supposedly unfreezing river was encased in thick ice. Unlike typical frozen rivers with flowing water beneath, this was solid. This, Zhou Jiayu realized, was the Ancestor Tree’s wrath.

Beneath the ice, Zhou Jiayu saw countless handprints, densely packed, chilling to behold.

Staring, he felt a spark of recognition. “I’ve seen this before—at the ice fair!”

“Ice fair?” Elder Xu asked.

Zhou Jiayu nodded. “At the ice sculpture exhibition below Sheshan, Shen Yiqiong and I saw handprints under the ice.”

“Oh, those,” Elder Xu said. “Paper figures leave them when they hold the ice for harvesting.”

Relieved it wasn’t human handprints, Zhou Jiayu relaxed.

“Break the ice,” Lin Zhushui said suddenly. “There’s something in the water.”

Elder Xu pulled a whistle from his robe and blew. Instantly, several paper figures appeared, as if carried by the wind, standing before them.

Elder Xu ordered them to crack the ice.

The paper figures set to work, their paper hands slicing through the ice with ease, breaking it into large chunks as they searched for what Lin Zhushui mentioned.

Lin Zhushui had sensed something below, but when the paper figures hauled up a massive ice block, Zhou Jiayu instinctively stepped back.

Inside were four frozen bodies.

Zhou Jiayu recognized them—the college students from the train. Worse, they were clutching a thick branch, unmistakably the one Xu Jinghuo had just cut from the Ancestor Tree.

“This… this…” Elder Xu stammered, shocked. “Why are there dead people here?!”

Lin Zhushui didn’t answer, directing the paper figures to move the bodies and branch to the shore.

Zhou Jiayu edged closer to Lin Zhushui, pained. “Teacher, how long have these students been dead?”

“A few days,” Lin Zhushui said.

Counting, Zhou Jiayu noticed only four bodies. Recalling Lin Zhushui’s earlier words, he froze. “Teacher, was Xu Jinghuo posing as one of the students who came with us?”

Lin Zhushui nodded.

Zhou Jiayu checked the bodies—three males, one female. One female was missing: Xiao Ju, the girl he’d exchanged numbers with.

Stunned, Zhou Jiayu said, “Xu Jinghuo’s a girl?”

“Male,” Lin Zhushui said with a cold laugh.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He was reluctantly impressed by Xu Jinghuo’s disguise. Aside from Xiao Ju seeming a bit tall, he’d noticed nothing amiss.

“Handle the bodies and branch,” Lin Zhushui said. “Stay back—be cautious of the corpses.”

Zhou Jiayu wondered if Lin Zhushui misspoke—why fear corpses? Then, he saw one of the stiff bodies, clutching the branch, twitch.

Zhou Jiayu: “?!”

Elder Xu saw it too, exclaiming, “Mr. Lin, the corpses are moving!”

“Of course they are,” Lin Zhushui said, unfazed. “Who else would transport the branch?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” That… made sense.

__

Author’s Note:
Today’s comment section gem, courtesy of Chang Dudu:
Ten years ago:
Zhou Jiayu: My Teacher, Lin Zhushui.
Ten years later:
Zhou Jiayu: My husband, Lin Zhushui.