Moon

Wang Xiaoxia slowly opened her eyes. She looked up at the misty sky. At this moment, she missed her mother terribly. She missed her mother's every smile and frown, and she missed her mother chasing her with a duster. She also missed her father, that gentle and soft-hearted man, the man who would take her all over the mountains to dig for medicinal herbs.

For the past hundred years, Wang Xiaoxia has never dared to think about them. Whenever she does, she sees the blood everywhere and her mother calling her name before she dies. She sees herself holding a sword and plunging it into each of their bodies.

Therefore, she feared the cold, the darkness, and sleep.

"Wang Yue, how long have you known my mother?" Wang Xiaoxia asked after a long silence. She had never learned about her mother's past.

Wang Yue lowered her head, her eyes vacant as she looked away, a bitter smile on her face.

“It’s been almost a thousand years,” Wang Yue said, then sighed and added:

“A thousand years ago, I was harmed and suffered the pain of having my heart and bones ripped out. Someone like me should have been annihilated, but I never expected to meet your mother. She used her own blood and cultivation to rebuild my body, taught me magic, and helped me cultivate. Later, in order to repay my calamity, I stayed at the Netherworld Crossing as a ferryman. It was also your mother who helped me build the Forgotten Moon Pavilion little by little, giving me a place to stay.”

Wang Xiaoxia listened silently, calmly watching Wang Yue's bitter smile. Over the years, she had only cared about herself and had never learned about Wang Yue's past, nor had Wang Yue ever mentioned it.

“Wang Yue, I have never heard you mention your affairs before,” Wang Xiaoxia said to Wang Yue.

Wang Yue still smiled bitterly, her gaze lost in memories.

A thousand years ago.

The land, parched from prolonged drought, was scorched by the sun and seemed to be burning, radiating a bright, intense heat. To the naked eye, the world appeared to be in constant turmoil.

People huddled in the shade, trying to cool themselves down as much as possible to reduce the evaporation of sweat, their sun-darkened skin clinging tightly to their bones. Without the contrast of fat, everyone's teeth looked very prominent. They pleaded with their mouths half-open for a drop or two of water to fall from the sky, for thirst was more unbearable than hunger.

A figure in white staggered out from the scorching light. The woman was slender and wore a straw hat. She seemed to float in from the sky, like a fairy bringing rain and hope to this village that had been drought-stricken for two years.

She only prayed for rain once, and the village has had plenty of rain ever since and has never experienced drought again.

Later, people called this girl named Yue'er a goddess and worshipped her like a deity. After she came, the village had more rain, the fields had a good harvest, and people's lives began to become more prosperous.

They lived a carefree life for several years, and the village enjoyed good weather and abundant harvests. However, apart from praying for rain for the first time, the goddess Yue'er made no other contributions to the village.

People no longer need the goddess, so there is no need to worship her anymore.

Yue'er never intended to become a goddess. She lived in her own courtyard, where she planted rows of grains and vegetables in her huge garden. Fortunately, she didn't eat much, so the harvest from this garden was always enough for her. She lived alone and spoke very little. Gradually, her courtyard became deserted. No one knew why she came here, nor did anyone know when she would leave.

People have forgotten that this goddess named Yue'er was originally from this village. Because she was born during a thunderstorm, a bolt of lightning struck and snapped the village's only century-old mulberry tree, so she was considered an unlucky person by the villagers and was sent to a Taoist temple at the age of two, where she has been for fifteen years now. Yue'er's parents, unable to bear the villagers' gossip, both died young, leaving behind only this dilapidated thatched hut and a courtyard overgrown with weeds.

Having shed her goddess persona, Yue'er became an ordinary woman, a beautiful woman living alone.

She rarely left her home and was taciturn. Her aloof appearance seemed out of place in this simple village, as if she had nothing to offer except for her beauty. Gradually, people began to reflect that perhaps the rain wasn't something she had prayed for, or perhaps she simply happened to be there when the rain came.

So the matchmaker stepped into her house, but she refused to marry either of them, and later she even stopped going to the matchmaker.

It all started when the village chief's son got drunk and sneaked into Yue'er's room in the middle of the night, forcing himself on her. The next day, when Yue'er went to the village chief's house with bruises all over her body to argue, she was falsely accused of rape.

The village chief's son remained at large, and everyone in the village kept silent about the matter. Eventually, even Yue'er herself resigned herself to her fate and stopped struggling.

Later, the young men in the village finally couldn't stand the loneliness and secretly sneaked into Yue'er's room. One after another, day after day, they would sneak in at night and leave before dawn, as if taking off their pants and putting them back on could make it seem like nothing had ever happened. All that was left for Yue'er were the bruises from being tied up and struggling, and the fishy smell of blood from being bitten in the mouth.

Men have all found satisfaction here, yet because of that, they treat the moon like trash. Women, unable to obtain men's love, are consumed by jealousy, and driven by jealousy, they seek destruction.

So everyone pointed and whispered about the little courtyard, and even avoided it when walking. But they didn't realize that the village hadn't seen rain since the first man sneaked into the courtyard.

Meanwhile, Yue'er's appetite began to decrease. She reduced her meals from three to two, then to one, and eventually ate only one potato a day, and finally just a few green vegetables. Her body became increasingly emaciated, and the marks of the torture she had endured slowly began to show. Large and small bruises began to appear on her arms, neck, legs, and even face. Her eye sockets became sunken, and her gaze began to become numb. Her pale skin, covering her bones, looked as thin as paper. She rarely spoke anymore.

"Miss Yue'er, what's wrong with you lately?" a man asked, putting down his vegetable basket.

The summer heat made him sweat profusely, as if his whole body had been soaked in water. His house wasn't too far from Yue'er's house, just a few steps away, but even those few steps made him pant heavily, his mouth agape and teeth bared as he gasped for breath.

"My master said before I left the mountain that I would face a tribulation in my life, and I think it's coming soon," Yue'er said softly, a hint of bitterness on her face.

Yue'er didn't dislike the man named Sangmu. He was a few months younger than her, and in the entire village, he was the only one who had never broken into her room at night. He was also the only one who had come to bring her food day after day for years.

“Miss Yue’er is a goddess with cultivation; she should know how to break this,” Sang Mu said, grinning sheepishly.

Yue'er's mood only improved when Sangmu came; only in front of him did Yue'er feel like she was still a human being, a person with dignity.

"Sangmu, why don't you get married?" Yue'er asked with a smile when she saw his simple and honest appearance.

Logically speaking, Sang Mu should have been married and settled down by now at his age, but he has always lived alone.

“My family is poor, my parents died early and I’m all alone. Why should I burden a good family’s daughter?” Sangmu said, scratching his head and smiling with a simple and honest expression. His broad palms were covered with calluses from his work, and his tanned skin shone brightly under the scorching sun.

"How can someone as hardworking as you be poor?" Yue'er retorted.

She had never inquired about Sangmu before. After the incident involving the village chief's son, the villagers all gossiped about Yue'er. Only Sangmu continued to bring her food and help her with the work in the garden. He never knew what had happened between the villagers and Yue'er. He simply felt that it was not easy for Yue'er, a woman, to live alone, and wanted to help her.

“When my parents were seriously ill, we incurred a lot of debt for medical treatment and medicine, which we only just paid off last year,” Sangmu said, smiling apologetically.

“Nine years have passed since I came here in the blink of an eye. You are a year younger than me and are twenty-five this year,” Yue’er said, her thin, sunken eyes gazing at the sky.

Twenty-five is a good age, and her own life is already a mess; she shouldn't ruin the life of a good person.

“Miss Moon has a good memory, she is indeed twenty-five,” Sangmu said in a simple and honest manner.

He always found himself tongue-tied when he visited Yue'er; to him, Yue'er was like a fairy.

"Sangmu, you're still young. Pack your things and move out in the next couple of days! Don't come back," Yue'er said, looking at Sangmu with a gentle expression as if she were looking at her younger brother.

"Why move out of here for no reason? Besides, if I leave, who will bring food to the girl?" Sangmu said, walking to the wooden table in the yard and picking up a bowl to drink water in big gulps.

Water has become precious. All four wells in the village are dry, and the farmland is parched. Yue'er's water is delivered by Sang Mu. When he comes, Yue'er always prepares a bowl of clean water in the yard for him to drink when he is thirsty. Because men and women are different, he has never entered her house. When he delivers water, he waits at the door for Yue'er to take the bucket and then brings the empty bucket out.

"You don't need to send them anymore, someone will come to send them," Yue'er said, giving a bitter smile.

"Oh," Sangmu replied in a simple and honest voice.

"Let's leave here! The farther the better," Yue'er said again.

Sangmu simply responded with an "Oh".

Before the next day arrived, the village chief came with a chicken as dusk fell. This time he went through the main gate, and with a smile on his face, he placed the chicken in the yard. The chicken's legs were tightly bound, and its wings struggled to break free from the gaps in the ropes to support its body. It stared at the unfamiliar yard with its round eyes and occasionally tilted its head.

"Miss Yue'er, I haven't been able to visit you for the past few years because I've been too busy with farm work. I hope you won't mind," the village chief said, plopping down opposite Yue'er with a smile on his face, as if it were the first time they had met in ten years. Only now, with a few more wrinkles on his face, he looked even more peaceful and approachable.

After Sangmu left, Yue'er sat in the courtyard, staring coldly at the village chief in silence.