Faint mist clung to the withered grass as the sun dipped behind the bleak mountains. Xie Chengyun opened his eyes in a daze; the surroundings were dead silent, not even the sound of an insect chirping could be heard. He braced himself against the ground to sit up; the winter mountain air was biting. The cold wind howled, rustling the branches.
“You’re awake.”
Just as a wave of dizziness washed over him, a voice came from behind. A young woman arrived hastily at Xie Chengyun’s side, holding water in a rolled-up leaf. His body felt weak, so he leaned in to take several hurried gulps from her hands.
The young woman patted his back. “Slow down, slow down.”
In his delirium, Xie Chengyun felt as if he had experienced a dream that spanned ten thousand miles the dream had felt so vivid that even after waking, he felt as if he were still within it.
“Where am I?”
“Shangliang, Suian City.”
Xie Chengyun thought of the young Emperor, wondering how he was faring now. “How did you find me?” How did you find my corpse?
The young woman set down the leaf, crouched on the ground, and looked at his face as she spoke slowly: “I came up the mountain to pick wild vegetables. It was a weasel that led me to you.”
Xie Chengyun thought of the beautiful weasel he had seen at the Fahua Temple. A clever immortal, skillfully weaving ties of kindness.
After a long silence, Xie Chengyun looked at the girl—she did not seem very old and asked, “Out on the mountain so late, how can your parents rest easy?”
“I don’t have parents.”
“I am sorry.”
The girl smiled. “No need to be sorry; I’m used to it. I’ll take you down the mountain. It’s late, and there will be wild beasts about.”
Clad in white like snow, with ink-black hair draped over his shoulders, Lin Ying’er had never seen anyone so elegant. Even lying in the mud, he seemed like an immortal fallen to the mortal realm. She helped Xie Chengyun stand; the scent of plum blossoms on the immortal drifted straight to her nose. The mountain path was difficult to traverse, and Xie Chengyun had not moved for a long time, so they walked with extreme slowness. The stars twinkled in the sky, illuminating the path ahead clearly enough.
Upon reaching a thatched hut, Lin Ying’er went to cook wild vegetables, while Xie Chengyun gathered firewood to light a brazier. In the desolate wilderness, with snow swirling outside, the empty house contained nothing but the two of them and a few crude quilts. The light of the brazier cast Xie Chengyun’s shadow long against the wall.
He raised his head, wanting to look closely at this grass hut, only to find all four sides were crumbling. A gust of wind blew, and the entire house shuddered.
Lin Ying’er brought over the bowl of vegetable soup. “You must be hungry. Eat something hot to warm your body.”
Holding the chipped bowl, Xie Chengyun thought: How can one survive the winter in a house like this? Once the snow clears, I will go to the city and find a mason to repair it.
After finishing the soup, Lin Ying’er took the bowl to wash it. Xie Chengyun lay down on the straw, covered by a thin quilt, but his mind remained fixed on Zhu Yunyin. What a debt of resentment from a past life—already a man who had died once, yet I still cannot let go of him.
Closing his eyes in a haze, his dreams were filled with misery and fear. Zhu Yunyin called out his name loudly—calling both his given and family name. He knelt in the mud, weeping bitterly, asking why he had abandoned him without a word, complaining of how hard his life had been.
When the sun rose through the misty clouds, Zhu Yunyin begged him loudly to take him along, reaching out to grasp him, only to find he could no longer reach him at all.
Xie Chengyun woke with a start. Lin Ying’er was sleeping soundly nearby. Xie Chengyun scooped water from a large jar to wash his face. The past was over; his road was one he had to walk alone.
A moment later, Lin Ying’er woke, rubbing her eyes as she boiled two eggs. A dog, two chickens, three thin quilts, and a grass hut—this was everything her parents had left her. She handed an egg to Xie Chengyun. He thanked her, shouldered his bamboo basket, and gathered a bundle of grass, agreeing to return by dusk.
Underneath his feet was a path of sand and mud. Xie Chengyun walked slowly, his back gradually becoming a mere speck in the distance.
As the sun set behind the mountains, the water and sky turned a shared azure. A jade-faced gentleman arrived in Suian City, his grass horses woven with lifelike detail. He was handsome, elegant, and refined; if one were fortunate enough to see him smile, everything else in the world would lose its color. Though dressed in old, coarse hemp clothing, he could not hide the bearing of a scion of nobility—such a heavenly figure was clearly raised in the lap of luxury.
Xie Chengyun often felt he had forgotten many things, yet he remained preoccupied with Zhu Yunyin. When selling his horses, he would tilt his head to listen to the storyteller speak of his great achievements—how he had built a reign of peace for ten thousand generations. He became so engrossed that he forgot to weave the horse in his hands.
A voice came from before him: “Hey, how do you sell these grass horses?”
A small child with double buns and red ribbons pointed at the horses spiritedly, hands on his waist, cheeks round and bulging: “Our young master has taken a liking to your horses.”
Xie Chengyun looked up and froze.
The boy was dressed in ink-colored silk as thick as cream, his face vivid and striking. His hair was tied high, and he pressed his lips together, his expression unreadable. His eyes were long and swept upwards at the corners, much like a fox, yet he carried the air of someone in mourning.
Xie Chengyun was reminded of Zhu Yunyin. Is he this grown up now?
Tears flowed uncontrollably, falling to the ground and turning into dirty water.
“Hey, why are you crying? If people didn’t know better, they’d think I bullied you. I just want to buy a grass horse.” The child looked aggrieved, pouting as if he, too, were about to cry.
The young man in black pulled the child close. Xie Chengyun hurriedly wiped away his tears.
“No, nothing at all. Do you like it? If you do, I’ll give it to you.”
As he spoke, he reached out to hand the grass horse to the child, but his eyes remained fixed on the young man. The child tugged on the man’s sleeve. The man shook his head, and the child took out a money pouch. “No need. Looking at what you sell, it doesn’t seem like you make much money anyway.”
As they were politely refusing each other, a delicate, lively voice came from the end of the street: “Brother! I bought sweet potatoes; hurry and take them to warm your hands!”
The young man in black looked over as a woman in plain clothes arrived, carrying a basket and holding sweet potatoes wrapped in paper. She ignored the others, handed the steaming potatoes to Xie Chengyun, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear before turning to look at the newcomers.
“Sorry, my brother has just recovered from a great illness. We are closing our stall to head home.”
The child clutched the grass horse, still trying to open the pouch. “Money, we’re giving you money.”
The young man in black watched Xie Chengyun, who was holding the sweet potatoes with lowered, obedient eyes. He brushed aside the child and Lin Ying’er who were blocking his way. He tapped Xie Chengyun’s shoulder and began to use sign language. His fingers were long and his knuckles distinct, but Xie Chengyun could not understand him.
The child explained hurriedly: “Our young master is asking if this is your wife, and if you live together?”
Xie Chengyun hurriedly denied it: “No, of course not.”
For some reason, Xie Chengyun felt the young man’s expression soften considerably.
“The young master is asking where your house is. We are new to Suian and have nowhere to stay. Could we stay with you?”
“Our home is simple, but I know of a good place.” Xie Chengyun looked at the young man: “What is your name? Why won’t you speak to me?”
His eyes shifted, still brimming with the spring water of his earlier tears. The immortal had shed his feathers and become a mortal—soft, within reach, and belonging to him.
The child explained again: “Our young master was born with an illness; he cannot speak.”
Xie Chengyun asked again: “Then what is your name?”
The young man in black smiled gently, took Xie Chengyun’s hand, and opened it. His hands, once pampered, had become somewhat rough. The young man in black traced each stroke: Zhou Wangyue.
“Zhou Wangyue?”
The young man looked at him, puzzled.
“You remind me of an old friend.”
Just an old friend?
“He should be about your age now.”
Yes.
“He relied on me so much; he loved to cry.”
So without you, what was I to do?
Xie Chengyun smiled. He no longer held his high position, and the aloofness that kept others at a distance had turned gentle and reassuring. His smile was as bright and soft as a flower.
“But it doesn’t matter. He was a child I raised; I trust he will handle everything well. He is very capable, and I love him very much.”
Zhou Wangyue froze. Xie Chengyun took his arm and led him forward. The child followed behind, and Lin Ying’er finished closing the stall.
“And you? Who are you in mourning for?”
For my lover.
“I forgot you cannot speak, but that’s okay—you can move your mouth.” I can read lips.
Before he could finish, they arrived at the inn. Xie Chengyun did not continue. He walked in with familiarity. The waiter greeted him with a joke: “Young Master Xie is here! Our manager is in the kitchen.”
“Young Master Xie, do you want a pot of the finest Suian brew?”
“That’s right, that’s right! Have the kitchen stir-fry some dishes; sleep here tonight and don’t go back. Miss Lin can come too!”
Xie Chengyun responded with a smile, while Zhou Wangyue followed behind.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in advance?”
A young man came out of the kitchen, counting on an abacus, radiating the spirit of youth. He was younger than the current Zhou Wangyue—the same age the original Zhu Yunyin had been. He hugged Xie Chengyun’s shoulder, acting spoiled: “Brother Xie, you promised to take me into the mountains to play, but you haven’t looked for me in so long. You’re a liar.”
Xie Chengyun responded with a smile. Zhou Wangyue remained expressionless, but his dark gaze was fixed intently on the hand draped over Xie Chengyun’s shoulder.
“I was busy. The mountains in winter are desolate; when spring comes, I will definitely take you.”
He turned his head to look at the child: “Weren’t you looking for a room? Stay here, then. The manager is a good person, and the waiters are very enthusiastic.”
The manager leaned over Xie Chengyun to look at Zhou Wangyue. “What a beautiful young man.” Seeing Zhou Wangyue frown, Xie Chengyun hurriedly explained: “He is always straightforward; he means no harm.”
Zhou Wangyue did not speak. The child stepped forward to ask for two rooms.
The night was heavy. Xie Chengyun was ultimately left behind. Lin Ying’er did not drink and returned to her room early to rest. The candlelight flickered, and the night was as cool as water. The orange light made Xie Chengyun’s face appear as if dusted with powder. The young manager supported him back to his room, laid him on the bed, removed his boots, and brought a cup of water, supporting him as he drank.
The unconsumed water flowed onto his clothes, dampening a patch. In the darkness, he looked like someone one could not help but want to ravage. The young manager buried his head in the crook of Xie Chengyun’s neck: “Wait for me to grow up—will you wait for me to grow up?”
“I don’t care about the world, I don’t care about age. I am so much younger than you; I will take care of you, I will support you in your old age.”
After whispering for a long time, he covered Xie Chengyun with a quilt and left. Xie Chengyun did not like others touching him; when he woke, he would tidy himself. The surroundings were silent, save for Xie Chengyun’s breathing.
It was then that Zhou Wangyue emerged from the wardrobe. His boots tapped against the floor: tap, tap. Dragging his hem, he arrived at Xie Chengyun’s bedside, looking at his face through the thin gauze. He pulled something from his sleeve and lit it, pulling back the curtains, his eyes as dark as ink.
“How can you be so seductive, Ah Yun?”
He bent down and pinched his face, leaning in extremely close: “How are you so good at hooking people?” The words he spoke were filled with malice, his tone heavy with jealousy and hatred. You are so kind to everyone else; why is it only me that you don’t want?
He lowered his head to kiss Xie Chengyun’s brows and eyes with affection; the snowy white cheeks still bore red fingerprints. Zhou Wangyue licked Xie Chengyun’s eyes, his tone revealing a storm about to break: “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want me. I’ve come to find you; I am taking you home.”
Mandarin ducks on the water, emeralds in the clouds; day and night, we follow each other in life and death, no regrets.
You are Zhu Yingtai, then I am Liang Shanbo. You are Zhang Sheng, then I am willing to be Cui Yingying.
The mountains have no peaks, the heavens and earth are joined; let us cherish this spring night, and never part again.