Chapter 64

“Those outside Reincarnation cannot know the sufferings of the mortal world and can only pretend at compassion. My heavenly mandate is drawing near. When the time comes, I may have to trouble you to look after things in my stead.” Xun Ruosu let out a sigh. “This situation is different from all the previous ones. I’ve developed mortal attachments. Before entering Reincarnation, I must go to Contemplation Cliff and endure a bout of Thunder Punishment.”

“Is it because of Xue Tong?” Jiang Changting’s knuckles rapped the table again with a dull thud. He pressed on, “The agony of Thunder Punishment sears the flesh and gnaws the marrow. You haven’t shown the slightest bias so far, nor broken any Rules. There’s truly no need for punishment or Reincarnation. Why bring suffering down on yourself?”

Xun Ruosu shook her head slightly. In her recollections, that voice of hers was forever cold and aloof, betraying no emotional ripples. Yet as the one living it, Xun Ruosu could detect a trace of helplessness. “One who possesses great compassion harbors no private affections. Otherwise, it would be unjust to me, unjust to Xue Tong, and unjust to the souls in Reincarnation ensnared by Karmic Obstacles. While I remain pure and untainted, I must sever ties cleanly. If true entanglements arise, Karmic Obstacles will bind me as well. How then could I ferry others across the river?”

“Then after you leave, the Karmic Obstacles will be attributed to…”

Jiang Changting’s voice droned on, but Xun Ruosu could scarcely make it out. A howling gale roared in her ears, yanking her back into her present body.

The Heavenly Thunder arrived slowly but departed swiftly, its full might unleashed in a single instant—precisely thirteen seconds. To one immersed in it, the duration felt endless, but Xun Ruosu had spent most of that time lost in thought. When she finally came to, nothing remained but throbbing agony in her sinews and bones, and stars exploding before her eyes.

Xun Ruosu was half-kneeling on the ground. Her limbs stung and prickled with numbness, an indescribable sensation. Her stiff fingers still clenched the umbrella handle in a death grip, unable to release it just yet. She let out a slow sigh. This strike of Heavenly Thunder felt far more tolerable than the one from her memories; it hadn’t left any psychological scars. Xun Ruosu figured she could withstand a few more.

Her gaze then shifted to Xue Tong, three meters away.

Xue Tong lay flat on her back atop the packed earth. Though it was paved with gravel, the rain had pooled into numerous puddles. Xue Tong was fastidious about her appearance; she’d crumple and discard any garment marred by a mere speck of dust. That posture made Xun Ruosu’s heart thud with alarm. Her already sore and numb limbs turned icy.

That was Heavenly Thunder meant for striking Fierce Ghosts! Even charging straight at it like Xue Tong had done could easily leave lasting damage.

One half-blind person at home was plenty; adding another missing an arm or a leg would be too much. Xun Ruosu quickly worked her hands and feet. The soreness persisted and movement hurt, but she confirmed Xue Tong hadn’t been crippled.

She exhaled in partial relief—only to worry next that Xue Tong had been knocked unconscious.

The downpour was relentless now, and Xue Tong was undoubtedly weakened, her clothes soaked from lying in the water. She must be miserable. Xun Ruosu hauled herself up. Every step felt like walking on knife points. Umbrella in one hand and dragging the Masked Man with the other, she inched slowly toward Xue Tong’s side.

Over that brief distance, she endured the Masked Man’s frenzied cackles. “Hahahaha! What good is leaving your name in Yama’s Palace? You’ve still tumbled into my trap, brought low like this!”

Xun Ruosu whipped around and kicked him. “For all your supposed infallible schemes, old timer, you’re still trussed up and getting dragged about. Get a grip on your situation before you spout off.”

The kick had landed on a numb nerve; the Masked Man lay still for a good long while.

Three meters was no great distance, but the torrenting rain, the blanket of black clouds, and the barren wilds around them—with not even streetlights installed—made faces indistinguishable beyond arm’s reach. It was only upon drawing near that Xun Ruosu realized Xue Tong was far less bedraggled than she’d feared.

Xue Tong lay on her back, yet hovered half an inch above the ground. She floated suspended, with only the hem of her skirt soiled by mud and water. She wasn’t out cold, either; her eyes were wide open. As Xun Ruosu neared, she turned her head and stared fixedly at the figure before her.

Xun Ruosu stretched the umbrella over to shelter Xue Tong’s face from the raindrops. “What’s wrong?”

“The moment the Heavenly Thunder came down, our senses linked. I saw your memories.” Xue Tong hesitated, her voice soft and drifting like mist unraveling. “Who are you, really?”

Xun Ruosu had no answer for that. She considered herself merely the final remnant of the Xun Family bloodline. All that followed had fastened itself to Xue Tong. It was her inexplicable arrival, her inexplicable meddling, that had prompted Xun Ruosu’s memories to resurface—and her willingness to embrace them.

“Who do you want me to be?” Xun Ruosu asked.

Atop Contemplation Cliff, that single bolt of Heavenly Thunder had cleaved her heart in two. One half returned to Reincarnation, enduring centuries amid the woes of all living beings, fit at last to rejoin the fold. The other half had come into being for Xue Tong’s sake, existing solely to love her with utter devotion.

And so there had been love at first sight in the graveyard. So the soul, forever sealed in its coffin, barred from Reincarnation for relinquishing worldly ties, had yearned to follow her home. So she worried for her, counseled her, sought every chance for a few words—to let her dwell in the human world with joy and sorrow, anger and mirth, rather than perch aloof and desolate amid the clamor, squandering her Merits in vain.

These were Xun Ruosu’s instincts. Her memories and past trials had shaped her temperament, but they could not conceal those instincts. Xun Ruosu had never been the Bodhisattva. She was simply the portion the Bodhisattva had cast away.

Xun Ruosu asked once more, “Who do you want me to be?”

Xue Tong found herself at a loss for words.

In Reincarnation, she had watched Xun Ruosu from afar, timidly keeping her distance, convinced she was the one she had lost long ago.

In ages past, brash in her youth, she had marched straight to the Bodhisattva and declared, “I’m falling for you, deeper every day, unable to pull myself free.” The Bodhisattva had replied, “Amid all sentient beings, I love you too.”

But it was not that kind of love, and Xue Tong knew it better than anyone.

Not long after, the Bodhisattva had gone to Contemplation Cliff, struck by thunder until she tumbled into Reincarnation—

Truth be told, when Xun Ruosu endured that thunder, Xue Tong had been at Contemplation Cliff herself. She had gazed up at the web of lightning crashing down again and again upon that figure, her own heart turning to desolation.

Look at her, willing to enter Reincarnation just to sever all ties, content to become some flower or blade of grass in the world.

Xue Tong had boiled with rage, gnashing her teeth in hatred for decades before she could bear it no longer and sought her out in secret…

She never voiced it aloud, but her feelings toward Xun Ruosu were tangled beyond measure: one part craving revenge, to first claim her heart and then shatter it utterly for the sake of fairness; another part reluctant to collect that debt, to demand such justice. And so she dawdled and dithered, changing her mind a dozen times a day.

Now came this sudden twist along the winding path, leaving Xue Tong momentarily stunned. The truth she had clung to for centuries had another explanation that rang just as true. Yet she couldn’t fathom it: if “emotion” had been stricken out into the open, why all the evasion? A direct word could have spared endless trouble.

At the very least, during Xun Ruosu’s first Reincarnation—when she bore no such name—Xue Tong could have confronted her outright, without fear of disrupting her cultivation.

Xue Tong reached out and tugged Xun Ruosu’s garment corner. “I regret it.”

“Regret what?” Xun Ruosu replied. She fished a towel from her bag and draped it over Xue Tong’s face.

“…”

The tone was gentle enough, but the gesture left much to be desired. With rain falling above and her face already wet below, slapping a dry towel over it smothered her breath like pasting on some cheap talisman.

Fortunately, Xue Tong’s breathing was mere pretense, not vital to her survival. She yanked the towel down halfway, leaving just her eyes exposed. “I should have laid my cards on the table sooner.”

Xun Ruosu didn’t wait for her to finish. She seized the towel in both hands and scrubbed vigorously at Xue Tong’s face until the latter could endure no more. “Xun Ruosu, don’t you dare take an inch and demand a mile just because I once had feelings for you!”

Xue Tong had delicate skin, and this was a bargain towel from the supermarket outside Aunt Fang’s clinic—three for a dozen bucks. Xun Ruosu’s rough treatment had already rubbed her cheeks bright red. Xue Tong grabbed Xun Ruosu’s hand, wrenching both her and the towel away from her face. “What’s gotten into you?!”

Xun Ruosu betrayed no delight. From the first sight, she hadn’t dared fall in love, knowing her very existence defied the natural order. Xue Tong’s immortality came at the price of her name etched into Yama’s Palace, binding her to Rules dozens of times more stringent than for ordinary souls—downright tyrannical.

For someone of Xue Tong’s temperament to sacrifice her freedom by carving her name there was concession enough. That was why, in her memories, upon the white bone bridge of Contemplation Cliff, that version of Xue Tong had clenched her jaw and spat, “I hate you.”

And yet, for all that staggering cost, Xue Tong had ascended to master the Tenth Hall on that person’s account.

A life defying order would inevitably be reclaimed one day, casting her back into Reincarnation. In the Underworld would remain another—

To be precise, the one Xue Tong awaited had always been this person. She too possessed an endless lifespan, suited to eternal companionship. Time would wear away all things, allowing Xue Tong to release her burdens—and her feelings—and stand as colleagues with the Bodhisattva.

It wasn’t a happy ending for Xun Ruosu herself, but for Xue Tong, it would have been ideal.

Xue Tong waited a beat, receiving no reply, and roughly divined what nonsense this living Bodhisattva in human form was mulling over. “How I choose to live is my decision. You don’t get to make it for me.”

Xun Ruosu gave a wry smile. “I know, I know. Get up first. Lying there like that, if anyone passes by, they’ll think I’m out here murdering and burying bodies.”

From a distance, it did look suspicious—even the trussed-up Masked Man resembled the next victim in line.

“I can’t stand,” Xue Tong said, staring up at the sky. “I picked a lousy position when it hit. My legs are numb; still recovering.”

Though Xun Ruosu was a Half-Body, sharing fortune was optional, but adversity was mandatory. A bit of scalp itch and limb numbness hardly qualified as dire straits, nor demanded perfect synchronization. Even so, Xun Ruosu recovered a hair faster.

She extended her hand. “Need help up, Miss Xue?”

Xue Tong wavered, then turned her head away and squeezed out two words. “Carry me.”

Not a princess carry or anything more intimate—just hoist her upper body so her feet touched down. She was floating unsteadily now, nothing solid beneath, hard to rise from and prone to slipping.

To her surprise, Xun Ruosu leaned in and scooped her into an embrace. “What a coincidence. I’ve liked you once upon a time, too.”