“I don’t remember.”
The young man lay on the bamboo couch, his expression detached, black hair gathered behind him. He had been unconscious for some days, his face pale, noticeably thinner, his gaunt frame draped in a black cloak, which only made him look more refined and delicate, his bearing clear and elegant.
The Sect Head sat beside the bamboo couch, nearby stood several elders in blue-gray robes, and further back, over a dozen senior brothers and sisters in indigo Daoist robes.
Hearing these words, several of the younger disciples couldn’t help but glance at Fengxue.
Fengxue’s face showed no expression.
In her previous life, she had waited with her whole heart full of hope for Shen Yujing to wake and vindicate her. But what she got was only that offhand, dismissive “I don’t remember.”
Hearing those words, she had flushed red around the eyes with grievance, and immediately demanded an answer from Shen Yujing at the top of her voice.
How could he forget? How dare he forget?
Even if he didn’t remember them fighting side by side, didn’t remember the burning yet icy blood of their comrades, even if he didn’t remember, who was it that had carried him out of that terrifying demon abyss…
Did he think Feng Fuliu had saved him too?
Now, with time passed and her heart changed, Fengxue heard this expected answer without the indignation of years ago, back then she had choked back tears and demanded an answer.
Thinking of it now, she only felt that crying in front of so many people had been… so humiliating.
Fengxue could sense several gazes falling on her.
Some understanding, some sympathetic, some contemptuous.
Her fellow disciples surely thought she was a liar trying to steal credit.
“It’s fine that you don’t remember,” Fengxue said, her expression open and unguarded, raising her clear eyes to look at the young man on the couch. “There wasn’t anything good about it anyway.”
Her gaze turned to the Sect Head beside her. “Uncle-Master, after the divine thunder struck, the ten-mile street collapsed, but I’m worried some demons may have escaped. I fear they might harm the surrounding villagers, could Uncle-Master send someone to investigate?”
The Sect Head was a stern old man, white-haired and white-bearded, not one for smiles. Hearing this, he turned his head to look at the girl and gave her a slight nod. “The breach into the demon den has already vanished. I’ve already sent people down the mountain to search for any escaped demons. You all did well.”
Fengxue lowered her head slightly, hiding the shimmer in her eyes. In her previous life, upon hearing Shen Yujing’s words, she had demanded an answer right there on the spot, and the scene had descended into chaos, the Sect Head had swept his sleeves and left without ever offering her such comforting words.
They truly had done the best they could.
She thought back to being surrounded by a tide of vengeful ghosts, she and her fellow disciples pressed back to back, huddled into a small circle. At the very start of entering the town, she had been the one shielded behind the others, but by the end, her sword flew like a phoenix through a rain of blood, clearing the path for them.
There had been a disciple among them named Ge Chunsheng.
On the mountain, he had always looked down on Fengxue, constantly mocking her with cold remarks. Knowing she was joining their group, he had gripped his talisman-brush and sneered, “Don’t drag us down. If something happens to you, don’t expect me to save you.”
He had been swept away by the demons in the ghost-fog, and when Fengxue fought her way through and found him, the young man lay on a flagstone, his chest rising and falling faintly.
He looked at Fengxue, his voice weak, disbelief in his tone. “Junior… Junior Sister Chi… you came to save me…”
Fengxue gripped her long sword tightly.
The young man spoke, halting and broken. “Junior Sister, before… on the mountain, I offended you many times. I’m sorry.” He gasped for breath a few times, his face nearly transparent with pallor. “Before Master took me up the mountain, I was from Jingzhou. That year, a nobleman took a liking to our family’s land. They seized our fields and beat my father to death. My mother took me to the government office to lodge a complaint, we struck the drum of grievance at the gate until it shattered, but no one dared take up our cause.”
“They said the nobleman was heaven, and we were earth, as different as cloud and mud. That he was willing to buy our land was our good fortune. How dared we defy his gaze?”
A clear tear slid down the young man’s pale cheek.
“But I thought it wasn’t fair.”
“My mother hanged herself at the yamen gate… wanting some justice.”
“Junior Sister… back then, the way I treated you… it was also because I felt it unfair that you’d been accepted as Master Lingyun’s disciple.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I was wrong, Junior Sister, don’t—”
Suddenly he sat bolt upright, spinning the talisman-brush in his hand, a golden talisman shot out, shattering the vengeful ghost behind Fengxue into pieces.
Having done this, the young man had already spent his last ounce of strength, and collapsed once more.
Fengxue caught him in time.
The young man stared up at the sky, his gray pupils gradually widening, fat tears dripping from his gaunt chin.
Unconsciously, he murmured, “Mother, Mother, it hurts.”
The tears fell to the ground without raising a speck of dust.
He died.
Fengxue closed his eyes for him and gently laid the young man, now only half a body, by the roadside.
If his fellow disciples had been able to hear the Sect Head’s affirmation, they would have been so happy. The thought struck Fengxue suddenly, her heart aching with sourness. She knew, under that divine thunder, everything had been reduced to dust, later, when she went back to the ten-mile street, amid the ruined walls, she couldn’t find so much as a single bone fragment.
Only on Qingming Mountain were there a dozen or so cenotaphs, and on the steles, a few sparse words recording when they had come to the mountain to seek the Dao, and in what year they had perished.
If only she could have been reborn a little earlier, a little earlier still…
“Uncle-Master, I’ve already told you about the demon den and the ten-mile street. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
The Sect Head nodded.
Fengxue turned to leave, but had barely taken two steps when she heard someone whisper, “See, I told you, she’s been lying all along. She never even entered the ten-mile street, otherwise, with her skill, how could she possibly have survived?”
She stopped and turned her head to look.
The young woman who had spoken glared back at her.
Her name was Zhangsun Heyue, the most beloved youngest daughter of the sovereign, a princess of noble birth. Ever since joining Qingming Mountain, she had been striving to become Master Lingyun’s personal disciple, and had never liked Fengxue.
The Sect Head’s face turned cold. “Heyue, don’t speak rashly.”
Zhangsun Heyue was the pampered, cherished little princess, backed by the might of the dynasty, on Qingming Mountain, she feared no one, and dared to talk back even to the Sect Head.
Hearing this, she said unhappily, “What did I say wrong? She claims she saved Senior Brother Shen, that she used her mortal swordsmanship to lead him out of the demon den, isn’t that a fool’s daydream? A place like that, how many people in this world could come out unscathed?”
The little princess pursed her lips and gave a light snort. “Has Senior Brother Shen forgotten? Or maybe he just can’t bear to expose her.”
Shen Yujing frowned slightly.
“After all, she’s always claimed to be Senior Brother Shen’s fiancée.”
Saying this, the little princess’s face took on a look of disdain, clearly disgusted with Fengxue’s past behavior of being “lovesick to the point of madness.” “Senior Brother doesn’t even like her, and yet she throws herself at him, how shameful.”
Fengxue nodded, saying earnestly, “The Princess is right.”
Everyone present looked at her, puzzled.
Shen Yujing’s expression remained detached.
Fengxue gave a hoarse laugh and said, “Senior Brother Shen and I did indeed have a marriage engagement, back in the mortal world.”
“Only, that was arranged by our parents while we were still in swaddling clothes, it was never a matter of mutual affection or true feeling. Such an engagement was nothing but a forced shackle from the start, and now that we’ve both come to the mountain to study the Dao, it’s all the more an obstacle on our path of cultivation.”
She spoke each word deliberately, yet before her eyes rose the image of the dark, terrifying demon den, of herself carrying the young man on her back, stumbling forward through the darkness.
The breath of the person behind her had been faint, like a sigh. “Junior Sister, put me down.”
The young woman gritted her teeth, reversed her sword, and pierced through the demon lunging at her. Blood splattered into her eyes, the sting made her hiss, her vision darkening, blood droplets rolling down like a trail of crimson tears.
Her hands and feet went weak, she half-knelt on the ground, her vision flickering black over and over, and only after a long while did she manage, leaning on her sword, to sway back to her feet.
“Ah Xue,” the young man called her by the old, familiar name. “Put me down.”
She replied stubbornly, “No.”
The young man’s weak head rested against the side of her neck, his cold skin pressed to hers, his breathing barely audible.
Fengxue carried him on her back, each step leaving a bloody footprint, struggling forward.
Amid the wailing of ghosts and the howling of demons, she heard her own trembling, choked voice: “Shen Yujing, you have to live… I love you, I love you…”
Back then, it had been a resolve to face death nine times without regret, to advance without turning back, because it was what her heart truly wanted.
Later, when the sword-energy pierced her chest, she had rather die in silence than speak, because her heart had gone cold with disillusionment.
Fengxue looked at the young man and thought, Shen Yujing, I no longer dare to love you.
She said slowly, “The highest sages transcend feeling, forgetting emotion is the truest impartiality. Before, I was too caught up in love and affection, and it delayed my path of cultivation. Now that I’ve come to the mountain, I ought to devote myself to cultivation, to seek to sever the clouds and shoulder the blue sky, or to ride the six vital energies and wander the boundless. I’ve already come to understand this.”
The Sect Head stroked his white beard, a faint smile crossing his face.
Fengxue looked steadily at Shen Yujing, her dark eyes like stars. “Since the Sect Head and so many fellow disciples are here to bear witness, Senior Brother Shen, why don’t we simply end the engagement between us?”
Shen Yujing looked at her in silence.
His pale, cool face showed almost no expression, after a long while, he gave a slight nod, and a single word escaped his pale lips. “Fine.”
Zhangsun Heyue was stunned for a moment, then said, unconvinced, “So what if you end the engagement now? Weren’t you only accepted as Master Lingyun’s disciple because of Senior Brother Shen in the first place? With talent this poor, you’re nothing but a useless burden who only became his personal disciple by riding on someone else’s coattails—”
Before she could finish, the girl’s eyes went wide, her expression filled with terror, her mouth working but unable to produce a sound. It was as if something had blocked her throat, a heavy, oppressive pressure bore down on her shoulders, nearly making her lose her footing, and she began to whimper in fright.
“Master Lingyun!”
A disciple called out, both startled and reverent.
Fengxue turned, astonished.
Behind her, at some point, a tall, slender figure had come to stand. With his back to the light, his features were hidden in shadow, hard to make out, a robe of blue-orchid color trailed to the ground.
Qingming Mountain valued simplicity and frugality, even the true immortals wore no superfluous ornaments, their robes no different in style from the other disciples’.
Yet standing there, he had the calm depth of a deep pool and the towering stillness of a mountain [1]composed and imposing presence jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3024820_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3024820_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, blending in with the light and dust around him [2]unassuming despite his stature jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3024820_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3024820_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, no one could mistake him for an ordinary disciple.
Fengxue’s heart shook violently, she hastily lowered her head and called out, “Master.”
She thought, somewhat dazedly, in her previous life, had Master Lingyun been present here as well?
In fact, she’d had little contact with Master Lingyun, after coming to the mountain, she had seen him only a handful of times. This Head of Xuanmen was cold by nature, remained in seclusion for long stretches, spoke little, and had no gift for teaching.
At their first meeting, he had simply handed them a wooden token without saying a single word.
Later, Fengxue learned that with this peachwood token, she could enter any level of the mountain’s library pavilion to browse its profound Daoist texts, could go to the Treasure Pavilion to take any talisman or magic item she wished, or go to any peak to listen to an elder’s lecture.
Fengxue was the disciple of poorest talent Master Lingyun had ever taken in. She couldn’t learn the arts, couldn’t draw talismans, couldn’t understand any of the profound Daoist texts in the library, her cultivation progressed slower than a crawling tortoise.
She had no choice but to swallow her pride and go find Master Lingyun.
After hearing her explain the situation, the century-unchanging cold expression on the face of this master of Xuanmen finally showed a hint of a crack, his eyes filled with confusion.
As if a peerless genius simply couldn’t comprehend just how foolish a fool could be.
After Fengxue finished speaking anxiously, Master Lingyun said nothing, and left in silence.
She had thought she was simply too foolish, that she had embarrassed him, that he’d left in anger, but a few days later, Master Lingyun handed her a book.
It was a set of mortal sword techniques suited to her cultivation.
Later, after Fengxue was condemned as one who had abandoned immortality for demonhood and fled through the mortal world, one winter’s day, she had come to a riverbank.
Snowflakes drifted down, blanketing heaven and earth in white, the vast river flowing eastward in tranquil silence.
At that moment, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she had thought of her master, whom she had met only a handful of times.
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