Chapter 86: Growing Up Overnight, Meeting Again as Before

I did not immediately go to retrieve the spirit stone.

With my hands pressed together, I bowed deeply to the living Buddha before me.

All my attention was focused on the one cradled in my arms.

As the statue of the Heart Demon Buddha crumbled and its energy flowed back, a vast, pure surge of spiritual power burst forth within her. Simultaneously, the vital force that had long been suppressed by the Elixir of Immortality broke free of its shackles like a dragon unleashed, whirling wildly.

Her body, held in my embrace, underwent astonishing changes at a speed visible to the naked eye. The once slight frame of a girl barely fourteen or fifteen began to stretch and grow. Bones crackled and lengthened, her skin became luminous and supple, and her long black hair cascaded in a torrent, quickly flowing past her waist.

I held her close, keenly sensing the surging vitality coursing through her. This was no mere forced maturing, but rather the completion, in a single moment, of the growth meant to unfold over a long, slow passage of time.

This was the self-correction of life itself, following the soul’s fulfillment.

From dusk until deep into the night, and from night until dawn, I cradled her.

When the first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the collapsed temple doors, illuminating the rubble-strewn floor, the fierce tide of life energy finally subsided.

The weight in my arms was no longer that of a simple young girl.

I looked down.

She slept peacefully in my embrace. Her blue velvet dress had long since been torn apart by her growth, and I had wrapped her snugly in my own coat.

Her face had shed every trace of childishness; its features were now distinct and breathtakingly beautiful. Her nose was delicate, her lips like cherry blossoms, her brows arched as distant mountains. Though I could still glimpse the shadow of the girl she had been, she had become a young woman of incomparable grace. She now stood around one meter seventy, her limbs long and slender, her figure graceful.

It was not simply about beauty; it was the quiet perfection of something lost and found again.

At last, she was whole.

Just then, her long eyelashes quivered gently, and she slowly opened her eyes.

They were still the clear, limpid eyes I remembered, but now there was a hint of bewilderment upon waking, and a depth that did not belong to one so young. She gazed at me, a trace of unfamiliarity in her eyes, yet also the utmost familiarity.

She stirred, as if wanting to sit up, but the drastic change in her body left her feeling awkward and out of place. Looking down, she saw her elongated arms and unfamiliar form, and a flicker of panic crossed her eyes.

“I… what is this…” Her voice was no longer the crisp tone of a young girl, but had become melodious and clear, like the sound of a mountain spring.

“Yi Yi.” I called her softly, my voice trembling before I even realized it.

At the sound of that familiar name, all her confusion and fear vanished in an instant. She lifted her head and looked at me again, and in a heartbeat, her beautiful eyes brimmed with tears.

She did not ask what had happened, nor did she care about the changes in her body. She simply, as she had done so many times before, flung her arms around my neck and buried her head in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Father…”

That single word seemed to bridge two thousand years, to cross the boundary between life and death, between brokenness and wholeness.

Her body had changed, her voice had changed, but the deepest reliance and affection remained untouched.

Gently, I patted her back. The great stone that had weighed upon my heart for a thousand years finally crashed to the ground.

“I’m here.”

We lingered in Varanasi for a day longer.

Yi Yi needed time to adapt to her new body.

I bought her a sari in the local style, and when she stepped out of the room, even the sunlight on the banks of the Ganges seemed to pale beside her radiance.

Yet she herself was rather clumsy. She walked with mismatched steps, gripped cups too tightly, and frequently bumped her head on doorframes, misjudging her height.

Whenever this happened, she would stick out her tongue in embarrassment and flash the same mischievous smile as always.

I did not use any magic to help her. I simply stayed by her side, patiently watching her grow accustomed to herself.

“Father, it feels like I’ve had a dream—a very, very long dream.” That evening, we sat on the hotel terrace, gazing at the scattered lights on the Ganges. She spoke softly.

“In the dream, I was always chasing a tall figure. He looked a lot like you, but… he was so cold. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up, and I was so scared.”

“You’re not scared anymore.” I handed her a mug of warm milk. “The dream is over.”

She nodded vigorously, then glanced at the dressing mirror inside the room. “Father, do you think… the one in the mirror is really me? She feels so unfamiliar.”

“The one in the mirror is your ‘form,’ but the one sitting beside me is your ‘true self,’” I said, looking into her eyes. “Form changes, grows old, and fades away. But your true self—so long as you remember who you are—will never change.”

These words were for her, but also for myself.

The old monk, by giving his life in pursuit of the Way, purified the spirit stone. He was like a mirror, reflecting my own attachments. My love for Yi Yi was my everything, yet it had nearly become her heart’s demon.

Yi Yi nodded, half-understanding. She sipped her milk, her gaze never leaving me, as if she feared I might disappear at any moment.

My heart warmed. I reached out, out of habit, intending to pat her head as I always had.

Midway, my hand paused.

She was no longer the little girl whose head I could reach without bending down.

She noticed my gesture, and lowered her head, gently offering the crown of her hair to my palm.

I was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. My hand came down, gently ruffling her silky hair.

The sensation was unchanged from before.

How wonderful.

The next day, we returned to the ruined temple.

The purified Eye of Brahma still hovered quietly above the rubble. Now, it resembled a flawless crystal orb containing the cosmos, pure and luminous, brimming with a balanced, harmonious power.

I reached out my hand, and it streaked toward me in a flash of light, settling into my palm without a trace of malice.

The eighth spirit stone was mine.

The moment I put away the stone, the ruins of the temple, along with the sea of karmic energy beneath it, began to weather and dissolve, until at last, all was reduced to nothingness.