Ye Wangchuan
The river is shrouded in mist, and the green mountains can be vaguely seen in the fog, like an exquisite ink painting.
"To you ghosts from the mortal realm, this place is like a painting, but to us, who have lit the Yin Soul Lamp for thousands of years, this is a battlefield of life and death. When the ancient gods fought, the corpses they slaughtered filled the River of Oblivion." The ghost messenger untied the rope hanging from the stern of the boat. "Follow the boat, and you will soon see the Bridge of Helplessness."
Yan Dan discreetly observed the ghosts around her. Each one was dazed and unconscious, obeying whatever the ghost messengers told them. Although she hadn't been cast into the cycle of reincarnation, she had lost her celestial status. According to the rules of the underworld, she wouldn't be allowed to leave easily. Could it be that she, like these mortal ghosts, would also have to cross the River of Oblivion and be reborn as a human?
She recalled what Ying Yuanjun had once told her about the mortal realm, where mortals only live for a short hundred years. Within those hundred years, some live freely, while others suffer. The process is beyond their control, but they can always choose how they live—whether they laugh or cry.
Yan Dan followed the ghosts, slowly wading down the River of Oblivion. Beside her was a small boat of ghost messengers, with a dilapidated soul-guiding lamp hanging at its bow, its dim yellow light flickering slowly.
Once she crosses the River of Oblivion, she will forget her past life, and from then on, the old stories will no longer concern her.
Even though she could sever the romantic ties, she couldn't sever the longing. Unless she completely forgot, she would always remember her initial thoughts and those persistent feelings.
She didn't know how long she had walked. Her body slowly grew numb in the icy waters of the River of Oblivion. The mortals around her gradually drifted further away, and no matter how hard she tried to catch up, she couldn't—it seemed like only a blink of an eye had passed, and before she knew it, even the few figures that had been walking away had disappeared completely. At the horizon, where the water met the sky, there was only emptiness. The vast, still River of Oblivion was now empty except for her. Yan Dan watched the sun move from the east to the west, finally disappearing from sight. The shimmering, fragmented light on the water swayed and then lost its luster.
The world is so quiet, it's as if this place has always been empty, with nothing but the faint sound of the wind. It's as if she was the only one in this world. Those people, those familiar faces, those events, the laughter and the tears, are all just a mirage, vanishing completely when you reach out to touch them.
Those illusions were shattered without anyone noticing.
Yan Dan walked slowly through the water. The River of Oblivion was deep, yet she walked without her feet touching the ground. She didn't know how much longer she would have to walk before crossing the Bridge of Helplessness; all she could see was the vast, boundless river. Perhaps she had gone the wrong way, for so long no one had passed by to tell her where she was supposed to go.
After a very long time, a group of spirits finally passed by her. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared, leaving her alone again.
She hadn't gone astray; as long as she kept walking along the River of Oblivion, she would find her final destination.
She is not alone in this world; if she walks too slowly, she will inevitably fall behind.
She kept telling herself that if she waited a little longer, other people would pass by. She knew that day would come eventually, and she would be able to get to another place with others, just a little slower.
The sunset over the River of Oblivion is beautiful yet lonely, like a blush on a beautiful woman's cheek. But how magnificent must the sunset be to dye the vast river water with a faint blush?
Yan Dan had lost count of how many mortals had walked up behind her and then disappeared. She only heard the ghost messenger sigh as he rowed away, saying, "What a fool, how can he not forget his past life?"
Is it that you can't forget?
Yan Dan's body was already so cold that she had lost all feeling, and she was getting more and more tired, but she could not see the shadow of the Bridge of Helplessness.
She thought wearily, how long had she been in the River of Oblivion? A few years, a dozen years, or decades?
She didn't know that, day after day, the sunset was just as magnificent.
The ghost messengers would still row past her in their boats, carrying soul-guiding lamps. Sometimes, the boatmen would be Ox-Head and Horse-Face. Each of them would shake their heads and sigh at her before disappearing into the distance.
But her appearance remained unchanged, and she had no idea how much time had passed.
Finally, the ghost messenger stopped, sighed, and said, "Do you know how many years you've been wandering in the River of Oblivion?"
Yan Dan shook her head blankly.
The ghost messenger made a hand gesture.
Has it really been eighty years?
It's been over 800 years. If you continue like this, you'll become a pile of ghostly corpses at the bottom of the river, unable to be reincarnated, and will remain ignorant and unaware for the rest of your life.
Eight hundred years. In the blink of an eye, fleeting beauty.
Yan Dan's smile was faint.
She looked up and gazed ahead. On the misty river, the setting sun was like blood, as if a crack had forcibly cleaved heaven and earth apart.
The person in front of me was sitting at the table, carefully exploring and slowly carving the shape of a sandalwood incense burner. When he heard her footsteps, he turned his head slightly and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
Yan Dan did not become a ghost corpse, nor did her soul dissipate.
She slowly opened her eyes and moved her body, which was slightly sore from the wooden bed frame beneath her. It was a very simple room; the tables, chairs, and window frames were all a bit old, with a faint brownish sheen.
Yan Dan had just sat up when she heard the door creak open. She looked up and saw a simply dressed man standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of steaming hot medicine in his hand. His features were obscured by the steam.
"You're awake? Then drink this bowl of medicine." The man approached and handed over the bowl. He had delicate hands with neatly manicured nails, as if they were hands specifically for writing.
Yan Dan took the bowl of medicine, drank a few sips, and frowned, finding it extremely bitter. She knew many immortal techniques for healing injuries, but was completely ignorant of mortal herbs and pulse diagnosis. Besides, although she had lost her immortal status, ordinary herbs were of little use to her body and bloodline. It was just that the other party might be her savior, and she felt embarrassed to refuse the medicine that the other party had painstakingly prepared.
When the man saw her frown, he suddenly laughed: "You really are afraid of bitterness, but at least you're not being stubborn and refusing to take your medicine like before."
Yan Dan's heart skipped a beat, and her hand holding the medicine bowl paused. Something seemed amiss, but the situation was so sudden that she couldn't immediately grasp the answer. Taking advantage of the other person turning away, she leaned to the side and poured the remaining half-bowl of medicine into a plate of orchids on the bedside table, then continued holding the bowl with only some dregs left.
The man walked to the table, opened a porcelain jar, poured something into a porcelain bowl, and carried it over: "After you finish your medicine, drink a few sips of white fungus and lotus seed soup, and you won't feel the bitterness."
Yan Dan looked warily at the porcelain bowl he was holding, feeling a chill in her heart. She would never drink white fungus and lotus seed soup, even if she were beaten to death: "...Please give me a glass of water, thank you."
The man smiled, turned around and poured a glass of water, but instead of handing it to her, he brought it to her lips: "Why are you thanking me, Madam? You're too kind."
Yan Dan put the medicine bowl aside, took the teacup from his hand, took a sip to moisten her parched throat, and suddenly froze: What did he just say? Why is Madam being so polite... Madam?!
Although she had never been to the mortal world, she had seen it in books. "Madam" should mean "wife," right?
Could it be that she actually misremembered, or that the customs of the mortal world have completely changed, and recently "madam" has been used to address women she doesn't know, just like "young lady" or "miss"?
But generally speaking, even if mortal customs change, they wouldn't change this quickly. Perhaps she'd just been soaking in the River of Oblivion for too long, creating a kind of illusion? Yan Dan considered it for a moment, thinking it was more likely she'd misheard. Half-doubting, she lowered her head and took two large gulps of water. Suddenly, she heard the other person's tone rise slightly, and they called out again, "Madam?"
"...Cough, cough cough cough!" Yan Dan choked.
She coughed a few times, barely managing to steady her breathing, and turned to look at him: "Madam? You called me Madam?"
The man lowered his head slightly, his face full of surprise: "What's wrong with you today? You're acting strangely. If you don't want me to call you Madam, then I'll call you Lady instead." He had a rather refined appearance, but his eyes were sharply upturned, giving off a hint of aloofness.
Yan Dan looked at him for a while, and feeling that he didn't seem to be making any silly jokes, she said seriously, "But I'm not your wife. This is the first time I've met you. Maybe your wife just looks a bit like me?"
The man's face remained expressionless, showing no sign of joy or anger. He didn't examine her closely to make a proper identification; he simply took the cup from her hand, turned, and walked to the table: "Would you like some more water?"
Yan Dan shook her head, about to speak, when she heard a woman's loud voice from outside: "Mr. Zhao! Mr. Zhao, are you in the inner room?"
The man replied casually, "I'll be right out." He put down his cup, paused slightly at the door, and said to Yan Dan with his back to her, "Madam, you're not feeling well, so please rest at home."
Yan Dan was speechless with anger. What was wrong with this person? He kept calling her "Madam." She had grown up in the Heavenly Court and then spent eight hundred years in the River of Oblivion. How could she suddenly have a husband overnight?
The woman's voice, which had just spoken, was faintly heard coming from the outer room: "Mr. Zhao, is your wife's illness still not improving?" After Mr. Zhao replied with something, the woman immediately said, "Heaven has mercy on you, Mr. Zhao. Your kindness will surely be rewarded."
Yan Dan felt dizzy and disoriented. This Mr. Zhao seemed so refined and aloof, and his manner was so peaceful and considerate; he didn't seem like someone who had lost their mind at all. What on earth was going on? She had only been awake for a day when she found herself gone from the River of Oblivion to here. What had happened in between? Where was this place? Was she still in the Netherworld?
Yan Dan held her head in her hands, racking her brains but unable to find a solution. Suddenly, she heard two soft knocks on the door, and then the door was pushed open. A slender and inconspicuous young woman walked in carrying a wooden tray with a comb, a bronze mirror, and hairpins on it. The young woman approached, bowed slightly, and whispered, "Madam, let me help you comb your hair."
Yan Dan raised her head, slightly impatient: "I am not some lady, you have mistaken me for someone else."
The young woman was taken aback, then looked at her cautiously: "What are you saying, Madam? Mr. Zhao will be angry if he hears this." She placed the wooden tray on the bedside table, picked up a wooden comb, and gently lifted Yan Dan's hair, slowly combing it to the end with light and skillful movements.
Yan Dan didn't move, but stared intently at the image in the bronze mirror.
The bronze mirror was old and slightly worn. Although the face reflected in it wasn't very clear, it was enough. Yan Dan finally understood why Mr. Zhao and the young girl had mistaken her for someone else.
It wasn't because she and Madam Zhao looked similar in any way, but rather—
The face reflected in the mirror was no longer Yan Dan's original appearance.
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