Chapter 89 — A Good Man, a Wild Dog

In the Dead Marsh, as the rain grew heavier, the wind began to rise as well.

Xiao Hui's fur was soaked through and plastered to his body. He curled himself into a ball and lay motionless in Xiaowan's arms, only his bright little eyes still darting about, looking off into the distance, then back at Xiaowan.

Rain threads fell across the sky, and the already gloomy marsh seemed grayer still, wrapped in a blur of gray.

Zhou Yixuan dug out a robe and draped it over his head, sitting beneath the small tree. Xiaowan could neither stand nor sit. After a moment she gave a bitter smile, crouched down gently, and held Xiao Hui a little tighter so the wind and rain could not reach him. As for herself, she was already drenched, and there was nothing to be done.

The Wild Wolf Daoist came striding over smugly, holding an umbrella. From his expression, one would hardly find words like valor, or lending a hand, or tender regard for the fair. "Heh heh, little girl, don't you want an umbrella? Getting soaked in the rain is pretty miserable, isn't it?"

Xiaowan lifted her head in the wind and rain and glanced at the Wild Wolf Daoist, then smiled faintly. The rain struck her fair, beautiful face and burst apart like scattered pearls.

The Wild Wolf Daoist choked for a moment. He had come over intending to make Xiaowan beg him for the umbrella, whereupon this Wild Dog Daoist would laugh the girl to scorn and then strut away in triumph. Being a villain to this degree—now that was satisfying, thoroughly comfortable!

To his surprise, Xiaowan acted entirely beyond his expectations. She said nothing, much less asked him for anything. All his gleeful calculations collapsed at once, and the Wild Wolf Daoist was furious. He fixed Xiaowan with a hard stare.

But that stare, somehow, made him lose his focus.

Before him, the young and beautiful girl crouched quietly, silently enduring the wind and rain. The storm howled between heaven and earth, and suddenly in the wild dog's eyes it seemed every raindrop was falling on her slender, fragile body.

Her clothes were wet and clung to her. Her black hair was somewhat disheveled, a few strands fallen against her cheek, setting off the pallor the storm had brought to her face—a beauty that struck the heart with desolate force.

Her shoulders, it turned out, were somewhat thin and slight. Each raindrop struck, rebounded, and scattered like crystalline fragments; they seemed to tremble faintly, and glimpses of fair skin showed against the clinging cloth.

The Wild Wolf Daoist suddenly spun around, no longer looking at her, his hand unconsciously tightening on the umbrella. As if to remind someone, he muttered over and over, "I'm a villain, I'm a villain, I'm a villain..."

Xiaowan had not intended to pay him any mind, but now she grew curious. Seeing this wild dog's strange behavior and the inexplicable things he was muttering, she asked, "Daoist, what are you saying?"

The Wild Wolf Daoist started. Somehow he felt a little guilty. He stole a glance at Xiaowan and saw a strange look in her eyes as she gazed at him, rain sliding down her snow-white face.

Even her figure, in the wind and rain, had a certain pitiable charm.

"None of your business!" The wild dog flew into a rage and roared.

Xiaowan was taken aback. She shrugged, lowered her head, and saw the monkey Xiao Hui looking up at her. She could not help but smile and stuck out her tongue at him.

Xiao Hui bared his teeth and chattered out two little laughs.

The wind blew and the rain drifted, and this storm seemed as though it would never end. Xiaowan gradually began to feel cold. Just as she was worrying, she suddenly gave a cry of surprise, for the rain and wind above her head had abruptly grown much lighter. She looked up—and froze.

The Wild Wolf Daoist had at some point walked back to her side and stretched out his hand to hold the umbrella over her head. In but a moment, the rain had soaked through his own clothes.

"Here, take the umbrella!" the Wild Wolf Daoist said in a savage voice, as though he were defying someone.

Xiaowan stood up, astonished. "Daoist, you..."

The Wild Wolf Daoist's gaze flicked across her face, and he saw that on Xiaowan's faintly startled features, crystalline drops were quietly sliding down, some catching on her long, fine lashes and mirroring the beautiful light in her glistening eyes—breathtaking.

The Wild Wolf Daoist felt as if scorched by fire. He shoved the umbrella into her hand and immediately strode off, heedless of the storm, shouting, "You little girls, always pretending to be so pitiful all day long—wretched, wretched!"

Xiaowan held the umbrella and watched the Wild Wolf Daoist's retreating back, then suddenly laughed aloud, her voice clear and sweet as a wind chime in the rain. "Daoist, you're a good man!"

The Wild Wolf Daoist did not dare turn around. He spat. "Nonsense! Your Daoist was born from the seed of a villain and will spend his whole life fighting you righteous, good folk to the bitter end!"

Xiaowan stood holding the umbrella, smiling as she watched the Wild Wolf Daoist's figure.

No sooner had the umbrella left the Wild Wolf Daoist's hand than he was drenched from head to toe. He glanced around but could find no place to shelter. In the end he walked over to the small tree where Zhou Yixuan sat, gave a huff, and copied Zhou Yixuan's pose, tugging his collar up over his head and covering himself, silent, letting the wind and rain beat down on him.

Zhou Yixuan glanced sidelong at the Wild Wolf Daoist's ugly face and saw it twisted with confusion, now vexed, now embarrassed. He suddenly laughed aloud, and once he began he could not stop; he nearly forgot to keep holding up his robe, and "hahahaha" laughed and laughed.

The Wild Wolf Daoist flew into a shameful rage. "What are you laughing at?"

Zhou Yixuan pointed at him, roaring with laughter, heedless even of the rain on his face. "I'm a villain, I'm a villain..."

The Wild Wolf Daoist turned crimson. So Zhou Yixuan's ears were sharp indeed—what Xiaowan had not heard clearly, he had caught from a distance.

Now Zhou Yixuan saw the Wild Wolf Daoist, having done a good deed, acting as though he had violated some principle and looking thoroughly furious, and could not help but burst out laughing again, nearly doubling over.

The Wild Wolf Daoist was enraged. He sprang to his feet. Zhou Yixuan started and, still laughing, shuffled backward—but the rain had made the ground slippery, and his foot slipped. With a thud he fell backward into a mud pit, covered in muck.

The Wild Wolf Daoist was stunned. Seeing Zhou Yixuan flailing about, comical to no end, his fury melted away at once, and he too could not help but laugh aloud.

The two of them mocked and jeered at each other, then bickered without cease. Xiaowan stood off at a distance, smiling faintly, and did not go near.

By now the rain was pouring in torrents, as though the storm had grown fiercer still, and heaven and earth were grim and silent. Yet within this deadly, perilous marsh, there was still one place where a faint warmth lingered.

At dusk, the rain suddenly stopped short. A moment before, the sky had been so dark it seemed the rain would fall until doomsday; the next, the clouds had parted and the mist scattered. Perhaps this was a weather peculiar to the Dead Marsh.

Xiaowan let out a long breath, folded the umbrella, and looked up at the sky. Though it was the dim hour of dusk, after the downpour the mist had thinned, and the sky seemed a shade brighter than it had been by day.

Even the rotting stench in the air had, for the moment, vanished.