"Master Hu, do you know how ghosts are formed?"
"Why do you have so many questions?"
The so-called 'seeking a way to lift the curse of immortality' wasn't Victor Wang's true goal. Even if there truly was a way to die and never come back, he had no desire to test it.
His growing strength had rekindled hope of completing the journey of humanity. Besides, he still had unfinished vengeance and dreams to chase. Talking about death was far too premature.
His visit to the boundary of life and death was meant to uncover what happens to the spirit after death, and to uncover the truth about the void he might end up in. So of course he would seize the chance to consult Hu Tao, a true expert.
"After all, I really did meet a ghost once—at Wangshu Inn. She came to me in the middle of the night asking for a flower crown..."
Hu Tao sighed, but still began to speak slowly:
"In Dihua Marsh, there's a story. It's said that back when the gods still warred on the lands of Liyue, Dihua Marsh was a vast expanse of land, connected from Wuwang Hill in the north to Guili Plains in the south.
"Among the humans barely surviving between the gods' conflicts, there was a young man named Weisheng. He was upright, helpful, and always kept his word."
Weisheng? Like the legend of the man who clung to a pillar?
"Once, Weisheng went to Guili Plains on business. On the road, he met a beautiful young woman. The two fell in love at first sight—an ideal gentleman and lady, secretly vowing to marry."
No doubt about it. I've heard this story before, Victor Wang mused, but he stayed silent.
"But the girl's parents disapproved of Weisheng because his homeland followed a different god. They strongly opposed the union.
Longing for love and happiness, the girl decided to elope with Weisheng, escaping to live together in Wuwang Hill. That day, they agreed to meet by a bridge in Dihua Marsh and run away together.
At dusk, Weisheng arrived early and waited at the bridge. But suddenly, the sky darkened, the earth shook, and thunder roared from all directions. In places far from his sight, war triggered landslides. Countless mountains collapsed into the Bishui River, unleashing a flood.
The raging floodwater, filled with mud and debris, surged forth, drowning the land of Dihua Marsh, and soon reached Weisheng's knees.
'At the bridge beneath the Bishui, I'll wait—no matter what.' Weisheng remembered their promise. All around him was water, but not a trace of the girl. Still, he didn't move an inch, clinging to the bridge pillar until he drowned."
So, it was the pillar story. But what's Hu Tao getting at here…? What does this have to do with ghosts?
Victor Wang was just about to interrupt when Hu Tao shot him a glare. That look said: Shut up. Let me finish.
She continued: "After Weisheng died, he stood on the submerged bridge for a full day and night."
Huh? You're sure he waited after dying?
"Now as for the girl—it wasn't that she broke her promise. On the way there, she too was caught in the landslide. A falling boulder crushed her, pinning her arms and legs. Miraculously, it didn't injure any vital spots.
She was in despair, sobbing. Injured, bleeding, with no food or water, she couldn't even die quickly. She could only wait to die slowly. Since her place was higher up, it wasn't until she was near unconsciousness that the flood reached her and drowned her."
...What?
"After death, she broke free from the rocks and ran to the Bishui Bridge, where she finally saw Weisheng waiting. They embraced and cried, confessed their love—only then realizing they were both already dead. Then they vanished from the world together."
"This story teaches us the suffering war brings, the importance of keeping promises, and the beauty of love. Though personally, I think Weisheng was kind of a fool—but still, what a touching tale~"
"If he weren't so foolish, wouldn't he have gone to look for her instead? Found her body, then thrown himself into the river with her?"
"Maybe. So did you understand?"
"You're saying Weisheng and the girl became ghosts because of their lingering regrets?"
"Exactly! That's also the essence of how ghosts are born. A ghost is a spirit detached from the body. Most people's spirits aren't that strong, but intense obsession can cause anomalies."
Just then, they happened to cross the bridge from Dihua Marsh to Stone Gate. Victor Wang couldn't help but take a longer look.
"Quit staring. That story's from thousands of years ago. There's no proof it's even true. Besides, the Bishui Bridge has long been submerged..."
By the time the sun was directly overhead, the two had rushed all the way to the wooden bridge from Stone Gate to Wuwang Hill.
"That stone arch bridge earlier didn't have pillars. This one does."
"I told you, the Bishui Bridge is long gone."
Victor Wang leaned on the bamboo railing and gazed across to Dihua Marsh. Hu Tao had no choice but to stop as well.
"I've been wondering—if humans can become rational ghosts after death, then could gods retain their awareness too, watching the world from underground?"
"Nope. When gods die, they really die."
"Why?"
"I refuse to answer more of your questions! Move it! You're slower than I thought—keep this up and we'll miss dinner, and then supper too."
Not far ahead, a middle-aged man in a wine-red robe and black tunic paced back and forth under the blazing sun by the Bishui River.
"What are you doing?"
The man was startled when Hu Tao called out.
"...Hm? I'm called Mr. Bohuan. I'm a poet. The sight of this gently flowing Bishui stirred my heart, so I came to compose and recite poetry."
"You see, the Bishui River splits from Dihua Marsh—one branch flows north, nourishing the vineyards of Mondstadt; the other goes south to the sea, boundless and infinite. Such grandeur naturally inspires reverence."
"Poetry? Now that's my thing!" Hu Tao perked up. "I'm a dark verse poet from the Alley School—that's me!"
"A fellow poet by chance? How delightful. Young lady, would you compose a poem about the Bishui River and surrounding mountains? Let's learn from each other."
"Hmm... of course, no problem."
Hu Tao nodded thoughtfully, then recited with a rhythm like a tongue twister:
"Clear waves like mirrors flow through the day,
Mountains and waters in scenic display;
By Bishui banks, wanderers laugh and sing,
At such beauty, hearts feel light as spring!"
Mr. Bohuan applauded politely: "First two lines for scenery, last two for sentiment—mountains and river both present. Well done in such a short time."
"Hehe~ Your turn! After all that pacing, got something yet?"
"Ah... embarrassed to say, I've been here a while, but only managed two lines." Mr. Bohuan scratched his head.
"No worries! This is how we grow!"
"Ahem. Then allow me to try." Mr. Bohuan straightened his robe, turned toward the river, and recited with eyes closed:
"Helpless the unmoving mountain remains,
While fickle waters rush to part again..."
"Good verse! Too bad that's all..."
"Yes... that's all I've got... sigh..."
"Why not keep thinking it over?" Hu Tao encouraged him—it seemed she was ready to wait for him to finish.
Victor Wang had to nudge her: "Hey, weren't you the one who said we'd miss supper if we didn't hurry?"
"Aiya, don't be so rigid! Finding a fellow poet in the wilderness—how rare and lovely!"
"You've had a poet tailing you the whole way."
"Who? Oh—" Hu Tao's eyes twinkled. "Then how about you write one? If you do, I'll answer that last question of yours."
"...Guess I've got no choice. So, a poem on the Bishui River and the nearby mountains, right?"
Victor Wang stepped closer to the river, searching his mind for any poem that fit.
But he soon found it tough. Plenty of poems had both mountain and water, but most referenced specific places or scenes. Turns out even plagiarism was tricky.
He copied Mr. Bohuan's pace, surveying the entire view. After spending about the same amount of time as Hu Tao, he suddenly spoke:
"Dizhou breaks as this river splits."
Both Mr. Bohuan and Hu Tao perked up—Hu Tao recognized the reference to the Weisheng story she'd just told. So did Mr. Bohuan.
Anyone familiar with Liyue's history knew Dihua Marsh and Guili Plains had been flooded.
Victor's left hand gestured toward the east, where the stone bridge they'd crossed earlier stood:
"Bishui flows east and won't revisit."
Mr. Bohuan nodded. He had mentioned how the river split—north to Mondstadt, south to the sea—but both flowed east in the end.
"Facing green peaks on either side."
Behind them was the high terrain of Wuwang Hill. Across the river were lower hills in Dihua Marsh. This line covered the "mountain" theme.
Lastly, Victor pointed to the river: "A lonely sail comes at high noon light."
"Bravo—!"
"Great poem!" Hu Tao had just begun to shout when Mr. Bohuan's louder voice drowned her out. She stomped her foot in frustration, but couldn't stop him.
"This final line is brilliant!" Mr. Bohuan cried, fists clenched in excitement.
It was just past noon. The sun reflected on the water in dazzling waves, and a small boat happened to pass across the sun's reflection from their vantage point.
"Dizhou breaks as this river splits,
Bishui flows east and won't revisit;
Facing green peaks on either side,
A lonely sail comes at high noon light!
The first line draws from history.
The second expresses the sorrow of time passing—paired with the first, it builds a mournful tone.
The third, though slightly weaker—the hills of Dihua and Wuwang don't quite match—but it fits.
The fourth is masterful. It blends reality and reflection, making those unaware wonder what kind of ship could emerge from the sun!
But we three know! This vivid line sweeps away the sorrow of the first two with the majesty of 'high noon's arrival'—a perfect finishing touch!"
Victor Wang scratched his head. He had borrowed and modified this from Li Bai's View of Tianmen Mountain. He hadn't been sure what response it would get—but this seemed pretty decent?
"Young man, have you named this poem yet?"
"This poem... how about 'On the Bishui River Beneath Wuwang Hill'?"
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"