Zhongli sat cross-legged on the donkey cart, staring at Song Yinjian's back with a rare hint of annoyance.
Most adeptal disciples were indifferent to wealth—treating mora like dust beneath their feet. But Song Yinjian was an outlier.
He cared about profit in everything.
Even if Zhongli was Rex Lapis, the Lord of Geo, progenitor of the adepti— Song Yinjian still wouldn't give him that "face."
After a while, Zhongli spoke again.
"Boss Song… to be honest, my purse is rather… thin right now." "Is there another way to make this happen?"
"Of course there is," Song Yinjian replied without looking back, leading the donkey at an unhurried pace. "We're short on mora. So we go to the people who have mora."
Zhongli immediately asked, "Who has mora?" Song Yinjian answered as if it were obvious. "Who else? The Liyue Qixing."
"You're Rex Lapis. Issue an edict. Tell them to pay. Problem solved." Zhongli refused without hesitation.
"Absolutely not."
"I may be Rex Lapis, but I cannot seize private assets by force." Song Yinjian tried again. "Fine. Then use tax revenue."
"Tongque died protecting the people of Liyue. It's only right that the people contribute now." Zhongli considered, then shook his head again.
"People's lives are difficult enough. Taxes should be used to ease their burdens and improve their living."
"If Tongque still had awareness, he would not wish to become another weight on their shoulders."
Song Yinjian stopped, turned around, and glared at him. "You old bastard."
"This won't work, that won't work—so what, you just want to freeload off me?"
Zhongli really had entertained the idea of getting Song Yinjian to do it for free, but being called out so bluntly left him no room to admit it.
He coughed lightly to hide his awkwardness.
"In that case… perhaps I was too simplistic. We'll set this matter aside for now." Song Yinjian clicked his tongue.
"It's not like there's no other way."
He dragged out the last words deliberately.
Zhongli knew exactly what that meant. "Speak. As long as it's within my power, I can agree." Song Yinjian's grin returned.
"From now on, every Rite of Descension in Liyue is handled by Xianjia Rites." Zhongli hadn't expected that condition. He paused, genuinely surprised.
After a brief hesitation, he nodded. "Very well. Agreed."
Song Yinjian's smile widened. "Good. It's settled."
"My Lord, if you ever feel like faking your death or playing corpse tricks again, remember—your Rite of Descension belongs to us."
"Fine."
"My Lord, what style do you prefer? Liyue style, or something from another nation? Want us to burn paper beauties for you? Heavenly Bank or Universal Bank?"
"…"
…
By the time the sky turned amber with fading light, the donkey cart arrived at Xianjia Rites. Li Shui arrived as if he'd timed it perfectly.
Song Yinjian went into the kitchen himself. Before long, a rich dinner was on the table. The three sat together, drinking and talking. The atmosphere was relaxed—almost warm. Zhongli found himself struck by an old feeling.
It was as if he'd returned to a distant era, when he could sit with close companions, laughing and speaking freely.
But time flowed.
Those friends had faded one by one— leaving only him to face the endless years.
…
The next morning.
Song Yinjian and Shenhe walked side by side along a barren country path. The land around them was quiet, desolate.
They walked for a long time.
Without noticing, their distance narrowed until Song Yinjian could catch the faint, lingering scent of Qingxin on Shenhe—cool and pale and clean.
It drifted around his nose like thin smoke, stirring his thoughts despite himself. Just as his mind began to wander, a voice reciting poetry carried from ahead. "Green mountains, blue waters—souls drift on the breeze…
In fleeting life, one finds leisure, fan in hand…"
Song Yinjian looked up.
In front of a crumbling, ruined adeptal shrine stood a middle-aged scholar, holding a folding fan, reciting with leisurely ease.
Song Yinjian walked right up and spoke the first sentence that came to mind—one that made the man freeze on the spot.
"Immortal Lord Tongque, you're truly carefree."
"Your shrine is falling apart, and you still have the mood to stand here reciting poetry?" After a brief stunned silence, Tongque threw his head back and laughed.
"So you're an adeptal disciple. No wonder you can recognize me." "But you—your cultivation aptitude is terrible."
Song Yinjian's eyelid twitched.
His garbage aptitude really was going to haunt him for life. He decisively changed the topic.
"Yesterday, Rex Lapis came to me."
"He wants me to rebuild your shrine, and restore the people's worship—so your remaining wisp won't disperse."
Tongque's eyes reddened instantly. His voice broke with gratitude. "My Lord… he… he never forgot me."
Song Yinjian couldn't help himself.
"Immortal Lord, don't just get emotional. You should be thanking me even more." "The one paying and working is me."
Tongque shook his head, utterly convinced.
"If not for my Lord's will, why would you do this?"
Song Yinjian didn't bother arguing. He moved on to inspect the shrine itself.
Tongque, meanwhile, wouldn't stop talking—praising Rex Lapis's achievements like a fanatical devotee.
A moment later, Song Yinjian frowned.
Aside from Tongque's stone statue at the center, which remained relatively intact, everything else was rotted to ruin.
Bricks had fallen away from the walls. Wooden beams were eaten through by time and decay. The roof was riddled with holes, sunlight pouring in as pale columns that illuminated floating dust.
To repair it properly, it would all have to be torn down and rebuilt.
But this place was remote, difficult to access— the cost would be enormous.
Song Yinjian thought for a long time, then suddenly said, "Immortal Lord Tongque…" "What do you think of Mt. Tianheng?"