CALID Chapter 43

Illusion

Yilier originally had four wives and over a dozen children, but only two sons survived to adulthood, both of whom are now serving as officials in the capital. Since Luda was sent to live with his brother in the capital at the age of ten, he had never returned to Fujian City. In the more than ten years since then, every time his father heard that his youngest son wanted to come home, his first reaction was to tell him not to come. Perhaps it was because for the past decade or so, he had been persuaded to return every time, but this time Luda finally refused to listen and insisted on coming back.

He Simu chuckled and said, “Why, is the master afraid of him discovering the ghostly aura in this mansion? You’re his father, you’ve given him his prosperity and wealth, along with his life. Are you still afraid he will turn against you?”

Yilier looked somewhat embarrassed.

Who in Fujian City didn’t know that Yilier’s youngest son was a rare talent? He was his father’s pride. Even the higher-ranking Huqi nobles would show him extra courtesy out of respect for Luda’s face.

Yet, he didn’t even dare to face his own youngest son.

Duan Xu shifted his gaze from He Simu to Yilier, then smiled and said, “Understood.”

He hugged his sword and bid farewell to He Simu and Yilier, “Take care.”

The black-clad youth with the veil neatly turned and walked out of the mansion, blending into the colourful spring light.

Tonight’s dream was a bit too real for He Simu. She saw the small town where she had lived when she was very young, bustling with activity, vendors hawking goods and toys, steam rising from the wonton stalls, the sunshine bright.

She had grown very slowly as a child, taking a hundred years to reach adulthood, then stopped growing altogether. Just like her body, her mind matured very slowly.

It seemed to be around the age of twenty when she still looked like a five or six-year-old child to ordinary people, going fishing in the river with a group of children. A girl, whose appearance she couldn’t quite recall, said to her in the midst of the spring scenery, “Why is your body so cold?”

Before she could answer, she heard a boy next to her say, “Don’t you know? She’s a little fairy! She’s a child brought by the lords of the Star Court.”

She asked in confusion, “What’s a little fairy?”

“A little fairy is a childlike immortal who can control the wind and rain and live forever! When we all grow old and die, you’ll still be young.”

“Little fairies also help us get rid of evil and catch evil spirits, just like the adults in the Star Court.”

From the mouths of those children who couldn’t see her face came various explanations, describing her, her mother, her aunt, and uncle.

Actually, at that time, she didn’t know what she was. She only vaguely knew that she was different from other children, and these people could never see her father. Her father also forbade her from telling anyone about his existence, which was very strange.

So she went to find her father and asked him what death was.

Her father stood tall in the bright sunshine, seemingly surprised by the question. He squatted down, his peach blossom eyes looking at her earnestly. He said, “Death is like turning into a bright lamp and rising into the sky, temporarily leaving this world, and then starting anew as another life.”

“If it starts anew… is it still the same person?”

“Yes and no. The original person can never come back.”

“Then will I become a bright lamp too?”

“No, only when a living person dies do they become a bright lamp. He Simu… you’re already dead.” Her father seemed hesitant as he said this.

She was already dead? What did that mean?

She was puzzled and asked, “But I haven’t lived yet, how can I be dead? Why haven’t I started anew?”

Her father thought about it seriously for a long time, as if it were too complicated a question for him to answer, or he didn’t know how to explain it without hurting her. In the end, he just hugged her shoulders and patted her back, saying, “I’m sorry.”

In her memory, her father often apologised to her mother, but this was the first time he apologised to her.

In fact, she didn’t understand why her father said that, let alone what she needed to forgive.

She thought she was very happy, with her parents, aunt, uncle, and these companions. If life continued like this forever, what did life and death matter?

Not understanding the meaning of the apology was actually a blessing.

Later, when she and her father, mother, aunt, and uncle left the small town, the whole city came to see them off. She was originally holding her mother’s hand, but soon her mother’s hands were full of gifts from the people, and she couldn’t hold her hand anymore. Even her own pockets were filled with candies, and she held a basket of pastries in her hand.

She asked her uncle in confusion, “Why are they doing this?”

Her always gentle and powerful uncle smiled and said, “Because they love us.”

These mortals loved their relatives, lovers, friends, along with this vast world. If you allow them to love and be loved peacefully, then every ounce of that love is related to you.

Perhaps they don’t know you, don’t know your name, or even that they’ve received help from you.

But they love you.

She didn’t quite understand those words. She just turned her head in a daze and saw those friends who had played with her in the crowd. The children waved to her happily, so she waved back with her basket of pastries.

She said, “Goodbye.”

She thought life was long, and there would always be another chance to meet. At that time, she didn’t know that she had seen these people for the last time in this life. What she thought was a goodbye was actually a broken promise.

She didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her aunt and uncle.

When her aunt and uncle passed away, it was a grand scene. She was shaken by the strong spiritual turbulence and ran out of the door to see snow falling on a September autumn day, covering the gingko, maple leaves, and osmanthus branches.

Others told her that the snow was red, like the debris of firecrackers falling from the sky during the Spring Festival, but she didn’t know what red looked like. She stood there, watching the two bright lamps slowly rise into the sky amidst the snow, suddenly not knowing where to run.

Her aunt wouldn’t give her little trinkets anymore, her uncle wouldn’t give her books anymore, and they wouldn’t rush out to protect her when her mother punished her. Perhaps they would start anew in this world, but starting anew meant that she had no connection with them anymore.

Her father told her that her aunt’s family had a destined fate, and her aunt was the longest-lived in their family.

“One day, your mother will leave us too, and then it will only be you and me left, truly a bit desolate.” Her father sighed and smiled, stroking her hair.

Her father promised to stay with her.

But her father broke his promise too.

That year, she wore mourning clothes and a white flower, sitting beside her mother’s coffin. Her mother lay quietly in the coffin, as if sleeping. Because of her cultivation, even when she passed away at over ninety years old, her mother still looked young, without any signs of aging.

She held a jade box in her arms, filled with ashes.

Or perhaps, her father was in this box.

She gently stroked the coffin, which was made of sturdy and delicate nanmu wood, personally chosen by her mother. Her mother always said that birth, old age, sickness, and death were part of life, and there was no need to be overly concerned. Her mother did indeed pass away naturally at an old age.

She wasn’t sure whether she should care or not. She thought she should have the right to grieve or refuse to accept.

But she was no longer the child who could be stubborn and spoiled with both parents by her side.

So she turned over and jumped into the coffin, lying beside her mother, reaching out her arms as she used to, tightly embracing her mother, with the jade box containing her father’s ashes in her arms.

She whispered softly, “Look, now I can hold both of you with one hand.”

“You used to say you loved me, but one by one, you all left, leaving me behind, you deceivers.”

She had matured enough to understand her fate.

Born only to die, henceforth a ghost, enduring endlessly. All loved ones are transient like smoke, only the abyss accompanies her, sharing longevity with the heavens.

In the silent afternoon, she curled up in her mother’s coffin, no one responding to her soliloquy, only the ghost king lamp jade pendant around her waist emitting a faint light, which she took off and held up in the air repeatedly, examining it.

“You left me… and this thing.” She said softly.

The sunlight streamed fiercely through the ghost king lamp, in that moment she vaguely sensed a strange and subtle feeling, something she had never experienced before, as if there was another person beside her.

It was a scent.

The word suddenly appeared in her mind, as if it had sprung out of nowhere. She hesitated, the scent was clearly unfamiliar and distant to her, as if it was something that only existed in other people’s mouths.

What is a scent?

Why did she instantly conclude that this was a scent, so long, refreshing, like threads of wind floating, entwining her nostrils and heart.

This is… Agarwood, ambergris, spikenard, mint leaves, orris, frankincense…

This is…

This is…

The scent of Duan Xu.

His sachet.

He Simu paused with the ghost king lamp in her hand. Amidst the long silence, like the changes of the sea, she tidied up her confusion and sadness, then chuckled softly, “Trying to rummage through my memories to find my weakness, Lord of the Ghost Palace, you’ve really worked hard.”

The sunlight, the coffin, the jade box, and the ghost king lamp all disappeared. When He Simu opened her eyes again, she saw a full moon hanging in the sky. She was sitting in the Yilier Garden, enveloped by a spell formation. The glass tower in front was surging with strong ghost energy, shrouded in black mist, and Yilier stood beside the glass tower, watching her nervously.

He Simu smiled faintly and said to the ghost energy in the glass tower, “Lord of the Ghost Palace, it’s not easy to meet you once.”

Meanwhile, near the capital, Luda entered the room in the inn and closed the door. Sensing an unusual atmosphere in the room, he frowned and turned around, only to see his window wide open, with a black-clad youth wearing a black veil hat leaning against it in the moonlight.

An evil spirit, an evil spirit holding a spirit sword.

The evil spirit took two steps closer to him, as if wanting to say something. Luda furrowed his brow and pulled out a bone flute from his sleeve. It was made of eagle bone, engraved with strange runes. When the bone flute sounded, its sharp sound was like a blade attacking. Several ghost symbols appeared on the hat of the evil spirit, then it suddenly shattered and fell.

As the veil hat fell, the features of the youth became clear. His eyebrows and eyes were deep, his facial features distinct, handsome and charming, with eyes that were round and slightly upturned, radiating a glow.

Luda was somewhat surprised as he lowered the bone flute and said, “Seventeen?”

The youth seemed even more surprised. After a moment of silence, he smiled, “The esteemed Priest actually recognizes me?”

Luda took a few steps forward and rested his hand on Duan Xu’s arm, feeling the cold ghost energy emanating from it.

“You’ve been missing for years, are you already dead?”

Duan Xu nodded solemnly and said, “Yes.”

“Why are you appearing here?”

“To be honest, your father sent me to drive you back to the capital.” After a pause, Duan Xu smiled brightly, “Of course, it’s just an excuse your father used to send me away.”