LI QINGQIAN CAME IN with the cold. In his hands was a red peony he had picked at the side of the road.
When Hong Shao saw the flower that was her namesake, her eyes lit up. "Ah, it's so pretty!" she said with a smile. "Is it for me?"
Li Qingqian nodded, too afraid to look at her.
Hong Shao was delighted—not even her illness was enough to tame her unruly personality. She struggled into a sitting position on the bed and took the flower, sniffing it with a grin. "Too bad my hair is so messy. Otherwise, I'd pin it on right away!"
A pause. "I'll help you brush it out."
Before, she had often cajoled Li Qingqian into braiding her hair, so she didn't so much as blink at this offer. She sat on the bed as Li Qingqian let down her long hair, combed and styled it into her customary double buns, and carefully pinned the splendid crimson peony into her inky locks.
Hong Shao touched the flower's petals, smiling as she coughed. "Dage," she cried, "bring me the mirror. I want to see if it looks good."
"Why don't you come off the bed," Li Qingqian said after a second. "Go look by the table." As he spoke, he moved her only pair of embroidered shoes to the foot of the bed. Throughout all of this, he had not met her eyes once.
Only now did Hong Shao sense that something was amiss. She slowly turned her head to look at Li Qingqian. Hong Shao was such a noisy little drum, but in this moment, her voice was so soft she seemed like a timid kitten. She looked at him inquiringly. "Dage?"
Li Qingqian said nothing.
"Dage, is there something on your mind?"
With his hands balled into fists and sweat gathering in his palms, Li Qingqian told her about the guoshi seeking priestesses. He kept his head bent low as he spoke. As long as he couldn't see the expression on Hong Shao's face, he could avoid compounding his own sadness and guilt. Yet although he never looked at Hong Shao's face, how could he not see her tears fall down and soak into the threadbare blanket?
"I...I..." The little drum's voice was as soft as a kitten's. "I don't want to go..."
"Hong Shao..."
Hong Shao whimpered, then burst into tears. "I don't want to go! I don't! I've been sold back and forth since birth, Dage, and now even you don't want me anymore? You want to abandon me too! You want to hand me off for the fourth time!" She hugged her knees, crying piteously. "Even dogs and cats couldn't bear to change owners four times. But I'm human... Maybe I'm clumsy, maybe I'm stupid...but I have feelings too. I feel sadness too. I couldn't stand to be parted from you... I don't want to go! I don't want to leave! Just let me die of sickness—I only want to spend each day with Dage!"
She refused to listen to anything Li Qingqian said. But really, how could Li Qingqian possibly let her die before his eyes like this? Hardening his heart, he stood and turned to her. "If you go to the guoshi," he said, "your sickness will be cured and I will receive a thousand gold cowries. Your life will be saved, and I'll have money. It's a good deal for both of us. Please, do this for me."
Stunned, Hong Shao swallowed her tears and looked at him blankly.
Li Qingqian swept back his sleeves. "Go."
Hong Shao was bewildered, but she still managed to say, "You...you wouldn't..."
"Why wouldn't I?!" Li Qinggian turned sharply, the rims of his eyes red, and spoke through gritted teeth. "Consider this a plea. I'm already tired enough as it is after caring for you for three years. If I sold you, at least I'd be able to eat well. Why are you clinging to me? If you stay with me like this forever, how do you think we'll end up?"
Hong Shao's eyes were wide, her gaunt cheeks gradually losing their color.
How would we end up?
Would they kneel to the heavens and earth and get married? Or would they become two sword cultivators, wandering the world together? There was nothing more drawn-out and difficult than one person promising themselves to another and spending a lifetime together. A bouquet of passion and two true hearts weren't enough. They needed money, trust, opportunity, and hope—all of which these two lacked.
It was one thing to spend three years roaming the land together, but what excuse did he have to make her suffer a lifetime of poverty at his side? The stallkeeper was right: he couldn't afford to give her even the ugliest and shabbiest silk flower. Their feelings were no different from the peony blossom in her hair—so beautiful when first plucked, with the promise of being just as splendid tomorrow. But it would die. Together, the two of them could never possess an everlasting silk flower. They could only have a dirt- grown peony: fleetingly beautiful but withering to nothing in the next breath.
In this world, there were many lovers who were defeated by money, status, health, or even love itself. Li Qinggian didn't know which of these struggles had defeated him. To put it gently, he had lost to poverty. To put it harshly, he loved her, and refused to see her wither at his side; thus he had lost to love.
Either way, he was someone who had failed utterly. He had no choice but to send her away.
"A poor wretch with a poor woman, doomed to become a poor geezer dragging around a poor old hag? Do you think I want to live like that?! Have you ever taken a moment to think about me?!"
Hong Shao stared at him in shock. This was the first time since they met that Li Qinggian had spoken to her in anger. She raised her head, the peony tilting, and her face was stained with tears.
But I do, she thought. I've never dared to be greedy; I've never even dreamed of riches. The best end I can imagine is for us to be two old peddlers, walking together through the long shadows of sunset. The old hag would make a racket while the old geezer beside her smiled good- naturedly. Other than their heads of white hair and their wrinkled faces, they would be just as they were in their youth.
As it turned out, an ending like this was entirely too rosy for her. It was too much to ask, and was, in fact, absolutely out of her reach. She was just a little slave, selling herself to bury her adoptive father. Three years ago, Li Qingqian had fulfilled her wish, so he'd essentially bought her. What say did she have in the matter if he now wanted to sell her off?
Hong Shao wasn't a girl. Because she was low-born, Hong Shao was destined to lead a drifting, aimless life, to be no more than the plaything of others. She had been a child bride, a servant girl in a large household, and a farming family's purchased daughter. She had thought she could call Li Qingqian "Dage" for a lifetime and settle down at long last.
But it was fleeting, just like the others. Once again, she had nothing to rely on.
In the end, she went to the guoshi. At twilight, beneath the luminous clouds, Hong Shao followed the attending official onto the stage. Step by step, she climbed to the very top of those interminably long stairs to greet her fifth owner. The bells hanging from the eaves of the roof tinkled brightly. She turned at the corner of the stage to glance at the base of the city gate tower.
Li Qingqian was receiving heavy bags of gold cowries. After he thanked the attendant, he slowly walked away. She watched his retreating form, thinking, Why don't you turn? Can't you give me a proper goodbye? Can't you at least wave at me and allow me to willingly part from this three- year-long daydream?
But then she thought, Never mind, never mind.
Such was the bitter pain and attachment lodged in her throat that she was afraid she might collapse if he looked at her. She was afraid that she'd panic just as she had all those years ago, sobbing with no regard for anything else, inconsiderately clinging to him and begging him to keep her.
The wind picked up, ruffling the flourishing petals of the fragrant peony at her temple and setting her clothes fluttering. Her eyes swam with tears, yet she couldn't help but smile. A thousand gold cowries could buy so many steamed buns. Surely Dage would never go hungry again.
It was fine if he didn't turn around and didn't change his mind. Three years ago, she had only wanted to survive, which was why she had yelled so recklessly at him while he was leaving. But she was afraid now. Afraid that her cries wouldn't have the power to stop him. That would hurt so much she'd never be able to take another step forward.
She had to keep going. She had to...
Her tears still hadn't fallen. She tore her gaze away and walked with lowered head through the corridor hung with silks and chiming bells, continuing onward. On her feet were her embroidered shoes, and in her hair that red peony. They were so poor that these paltry sentiments were all that remained of those three years together.
The indistinct sounds of music and singing came from behind the curtains on the nobles' stage:
"The jackdaw mourns at dusk, yet soft are the lakeside willow's leaves. He who knows not parting's pain would never believe in white- haired grief."
The golden glow of twilight illuminated the roof and bathed the stage in splendor. Hong Shao carried with her this final piece of yearning. With each step, she walked further into the distance.
"In searing pain, with endless tears, once more I climb the red tower with a heavy heart. To lean against the railing and watch the horizon, despite the mountains keeping us apart."
The bloodred sun swallowed her shadow, and her surroundings sank below the horizon like the last light of day.
A long farewell.
From then on, Li Qinggian was all alone in the world. He never again kept anyone by his side. He gave away almost all of those gold cowries to those less fortunate, while hardly spending a single one himself. Many years later, while watching the peonies and flowering brambles in the courtyard, he finally mastered his Water-Parting Sword technique. The sword swung with a cry that was low and mournful, yet also like the ringing of a gong. Amid whipping winds and crackling lightning, he parted water and split the skies.
All these scenes from the past winked into darkness before Mo XI's eyes, like the end of a long night of fireworks. Like a swiftly spinning paper lantern, the vision finally stopped on a silent, desolate mountain, littered with white bones—here was the famous Battle of Maiden's Lament Mountain.
The moment Mo Xi had seen Hong Shao walk toward the city gate tower to become a priestess of the Liao Kingdom, he'd felt uneasy. Mo Xi wasn't as naive as Li Qingqian—he was all too familiar with those Liao Kingdom lunatics, especially their mysterious masked guoshi who was crazier than a mad dog.
"Learning astrology and offering prayers for the nation's prosperity"? Even if others believed it, Mo Xi did not. The Liao Kingdom ate human flesh and drank human blood—they were utterly deranged. The fact that Hong Shao had gone there did not bode well. He remembered a rumor about Maiden's Lament Mountain. It was said the Liao Kingdom had captured a few hundred girls, dressed them up as brides, and sacrificed them to a mountain god. Linking these two stories, Mo Xi could more or less guess what had happened...
And his guesses regarding the Liao Kingdom were usually correct.
Li Qingqian had suppressed droves of the teeming vengeful ghosts on Maiden's Lament Mountain. But since his heart was kind, he refused to let anyone harm the souls of those girls after he'd obtained them. He entrusted his manual for the Water-Parting Sword to his younger brother for safekeeping and retreated to a remote island with those hundreds of souls, wishing to help them find peace.
Each vengeful ghost had to be sent off individually. Li Qingqian let them release their malicious energy one by one so their souls could return to the cycle of reincarnation. He watched each soul he sent off depart and soar out over the vast sea.
The dead maidens all wore stained red robes. While they yet possessed malicious energy, they had no awareness, but once that energy dissipated, they lost all memories of their life. Every day, he watched one dead soul come bitterly and depart blankly. Just like that, day in and day out.
The more souls Li Qingqian released, the more frightened he grew. He noticed that every one of these maidens looked very much like someone he knew. They looked like the girl who had chased after him, the girl he'd left behind at the city gate tower.
Before their resentment dissipated, each ghost would mindlessly repeat their last words in life. Li Qingqian heard many different things: some screamed in pain, some called for their parents, and some mumbled...
"Don't bury me... Don't lie to me... I don't want to die..."
"Don't bury me."
"Don't lie to me..."
"I don't want to die! I don t want to die"
These words and the ghosts' likenesses all stoked the fire of unease in Li Qingqian's heart—where had the Liao Kingdom gotten these women? Why did they all look so alike? There was an answer at the fringes of his consciousness, but he was too afraid to believe it, too afraid to think it.
The number of resentful ghosts in the soul lamp shrank with each passing day. Mo Xi noticed that Li Qingqian's hands shook with every spirit he let out. Only when he had ascertained the ghost wasn't Hong Shao did they fall still. As if grasping onto a lifeline, he would heave a sigh of relief.
Until he released the final ghost.
That day, Li Qingqian carried the soul lamp out in the early morning as usual. Mo Xi noticed his gait was much more relaxed than before. Only one ghost remained from Maiden's Lament Mountain, and Li Qingqian thought his previous fears must have been unfounded after all. His Hong Shao was probably fine, busy reading the stars and learning to be a good priestess in the guoshi's palace. The fate that his wild imagination had conjured up certainly hadn't befallen her...
One last ghost, like a lonely wisp of smoke, drifted out of the lamp and coalesced. The ghost's figure was slight, clad in the scarlet robes and phoenix crown of wedding regalia. She was...
Li Qingqian felt as though he'd been struck by lightning, and his blood ran cold.
"Hong Shao?!" he blurted.
The faint image was like a nightmare come to life. Hong Shao's resentful spirit hovered blankly in front of him, looking just like the girl who had appeared countless times in his dreams. There was even a peony at her temple, and she still wore her goose-yellow embroidered slippers. But she couldn't laugh or jump around. She couldn't squabble with him like a little drum. She was just like all the other ghosts he had exorcised; her mind and memories had already been obliterated, leaving only a lonely soul to float before him.
Even the most naive and stupid person would have realized by now that the guoshi had deceived everyone. The maidens entrusted to him never became priestesses—they were offered up to the mountain god, their corpses piled high and buried deep. The nobles' trickery had deceived all those desperate souls.
Hong Shao floated in midair and muttered her final words. With vacant eyes, she said over and over, "Turn around... Dage... I want to say a proper goodbye..."
Turn around, please—I don t expect to grow old with you; I dont expect you to give me your hand again, to take me on your journeys or teach me the sword. I was just thinking that, all along, I've always been the one chasing you, the one looking at you from behind. When we say goodbye, could you be the one to watch me go up the tower, to finally take a good look at me?
I dont want to die like this, Dage. I never got the chance to say goodbye.
Mo Xi couldn't see Li Qingqian's face from where he stood. All was silent; he made not a single sound. But after a long while—as though a flood had finally broken through the dam—a violent, animalistic howling burst from Li Qingqian's throat. Hoarse, wordless sobs and screams reverberated through the vision. Each cry sounded like it was gouged from his throat with bloody claws.
"I shouldn't have sent you away..." he cried. "I shouldn't have. If I hadn't sent you away, I wouldn't have been able to make you well, but I could have kept you company; the one to suffer would have been me. But I was selfish and weak. I pushed you onto others, made my escape, and left all of the suffering to you."
He knelt before Hong Shao's dead soul, just as Hong Shao had knelt in the dirt back when they first met, shaking with grief as he sobbed. "I didn't even have the courage to say goodbye. I never told you honestly that I didn't want to see you go."
For an entire day, from the break of dawn to the brilliant sunset, the man and the ghost kept each other company one last time. But the sky finally grew dark, and resentful spirits who had exited the soul lantern could no longer linger. Hong Shao either had to be sent off or fall into eternal suffering. Li Qingqian had no choice but to muster up his energy. Tears streamed down his face as he began to hoarsely recite the rebirth mantra.
He was sending her off, letting her pass on. This time, against the backdrop of the changeable sea and the quiet cadence of Sanskrit, he was the one to watch her go.
"Namo amitābhāya tathāgatāya..."
Again and again.
"Tadyatha amrtod-bhave..."
Hong Shao, caught in the murmuring of the rebirth mantra, unwittingly began to repeat her last words. "Turn around... Dage... I want to say a proper goodbye..."
The black qi vanished without a trace. Through the rosy clouds at the horizon, a thousand golden beams streamed into the waves. Li Qingqian's lips trembled as he uttered the last word and slowly raised his head.
Hong Shao's soul was free, her eyes now truly empty. She was silent, as though perplexed to find herself on this vast earth. Then, she turned her face toward the horizon, toward the sliver of twilight at the edge of the sea. Without the slightest reluctance, she drifted away.
To you, I want to say a proper goodbye.
Li Qingqian broke down into sobs. Tracking her retreating figure, he chased after her, hoarsely calling her name, wading into the sea... The water came up to his thighs, then his waist, as the waves battered him. He staggered and fell to his knees, but he did not lower his head. He watched her disappear into the golden glow between the heavens and earth.
When we said goodbye at the tower, I didn't look back. This time, its my turn to look at you...my turn to send you off. In this life, we 'll never have the chance to say a proper goodbye. But I'll send you off, I'll help you cross, I'll watch you embark on this long journey.
Hong Shao. Hong Shao.
Will you forgive me like this—forgive my deficiency and weakness? Did you ever forgive me? Could you ever forgive me...?
The skies were empty, the sun a bloodred sickle on the edge of the world. Twilight deepened as the sea swallowed that final scrap of light. Darkness engulfed the solitary island, and night rushed to cover the sea amid his tortured sobs.
Mo Xi didn't move, nor did he look at Li Qingqian's face. He had spent half of his life on military duty in places ravaged by poverty, and he had seen that kind of broken, ruined visage countless times. He had no wish to witness such a sight again now.
Not long after, Li Qingqian traveled back to the Liao Kingdom. He sought an explanation from the guoshi—what kind of "priestesses" are used to fill the soil of mountains and placate the gods?
Those are called sacrifices! Sacrifices!
Li Qingqian has already cultivated his Water-Parting Sword to its peak. With a chest brimming with hatred and a belly full of vengeance, the Liao Kingdom's guards were no match for him. He swiftly flew across roof tiles and peaks to land before Guoshi Hall. With three blows, he slaughtered the guards, then kicked in the door.