Chapter 67:
This Venerable One’s Heartfelt Anguish
THE CITY GOD TEMPLE stood at the very edge of Chu Xun’s range of power. His barrier reached the stairs of the temple, but no farther.
Inside the temple, candles flickered weakly. A dozen ghosts who had cultivated corporeal forms lined either side. Between the lines was a woman in red, tied up and facing away from them, her head tilted back as she gazed up at the statue on the altar.
Next to her stood Xiaoman, his eyes downcast as he held firmly onto a young child.
“Lan-er!” Chu Xun cried out.
The child was none other than Chu Xun’s son, Chu Lan. Mo Ran’s heart lurched at the sight of the kid in trouble; he could still taste the pastry on his tongue. He made to go over but was blocked by Chu Wanning.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?!”
Chu Wanning glanced at him. “Every one of them is already two hundred years dead,” he said quietly. “But this illusion has been manifested. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Mo Ran fell silent. It was the truth. No matter what he did now, the dead were already gone, and there was no way to change that.
The boy wailed from outside the barrier, nearly unintelligible. “Papa! Papa, help me! Papa, please help Lan-er!”
Chu Xun’s lips quivered. “What are you doing?” he yelled at Xiaoman. “I’ve never done you wrong. Let him go!”
Xiaoman ignored him, head lowered as if he had heard none of it. However, the hands clutching Chu Lan betrayed his inner hesitation. There was a mole between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, and his hands trembled without stop, the veins on their backs starkly visible.
By now, everyone taking refuge at the governor’s residence had arrived as well. They murmured to one another, aghast and furious at the sight within the temple.
“That’s the gongzi’s son…”
“How could this happen…”
In a single motion, Xiaoman cut the ropes binding the red-robed woman. She seemed to come back to her senses and turned slowly around. She was beautiful, pure as a lotus flower, her neck long and elegant—but her face was paper-pale, and her lips were tinted red as blood. The smile she directed at Chu Xun was more terrifying than it was lovely.
The low light of the candles illuminated her face. The moment Chu Xun saw her, he froze, as did the people old enough to recognize her.
There was sadness in her smile. Softly, she said, “Husband.”
Mo Ran’s expression was pure shock.
Chu Wanning watched on silently.
The woman was none other than Chu Xun’s deceased wife.
Madam Chu looked to her side and lashed out her arm to take her son from Xiaoman. Though Xiaoman was unwilling, Madam Chu was a ghost and much stronger than he was, now that she had been freed from her bindings. She easily pulled the child from his grasp. However, the madam had died of illness before her child was even a month old, so the boy had never seen his mother. He kept crying for his father to save him.
“Be a good boy and don’t cry anymore. Mama will take you to your papa.”
Madam Chu hefted the child in her delicate arms and slowly walked out of the temple, down the rain-soaked stone steps, to the edge of the Shangqing Barrier. She stood facing Chu Xun, her joy mixed with sorrow.
“My husband, it’s been a long time. Have…have you been well?”
Chu Xun couldn’t speak. The tips of his fingers shook uncontrollably at his sides as those phoenix eyes stared at the woman behind the barrier, their rims slowly reddening.
“Lan-er has already grown so big,” Madam Chu continued softly. “You’ve grown steadier too. A little different from the man I remember… Let me take a good look at you.”
She reached out and her hand pressed against the barrier. She couldn’t cross it, not while her body was that of a ghost. She could only gaze quietly across the flowing colors of the barrier at the person on the other side.
Chu Xun’s eyes slid closed, wetness clinging to his lashes. He pressed his hand to hers, separated by the barrier. Then his eyes opened. The pair gazed at each other, across life and death, just as in days before.
Chu Xun choked back a sob. “My wife…”
Where the family had been separated by life and death for many years, the time they had spent together had been pitifully meager.
“The haitang tree I planted in the courtyard that year, did it take root?” she asked.
Chu Xun smiled with watery eyes. “It’s grown tall and beautiful.”
“I’m glad,” said Madam Chu, smiling gently.
Chu Xun tried his best to keep smiling as well. “Lan-er loves that haitang tree. He’s always playing under it in the spring. He likes haitang flowers, just like you, every…every year, during Qingming…”13 Unable to keep up the act any longer, Chu Xun pressed his forehead against the barrier, tears falling without stop as his voice broke. “Every year, during Qingming, he always picks the prettiest flower to place before your grave. Wan’er, Wan’er, did you see? Every…every year, did you see?”
He was wracked with sobs by the end, every word bleeding misery, until his composure finally fell apart altogether.
Madam Chu’s eyes also grew red. She was a ghost and had no tears to shed, but her miserable expression was no less unsettling to the onlookers.
For a moment, all were silent, everyone wordlessly watching the scene before them. Someone wept quietly.
Then a cold voice rang out from above. “Of course she knows. But not for long.”
Mo Ran’s face instantly changed. “It’s the ghost king!”
Chu Wanning’s expression grew dark as well. “This coward won’t even show himself. Shameless!”
The ghost king’s laugh sounded like nails against metal and made their blood run cold. “Lin Wan’er is one of our number now. I didn’t want to hurt her, but since you’re so set on opposing me and even ruined one of my eyes, I’ll just have to dig out your heart to inflict a worse pain on you!”
At these words, the ghosts in the temple began chanting incantations.
“The heart is no more, let the past be erased—”
Madam Chu’s eyes shot wide open and her voice shook. “My husband—Lan-er! Take Lan-er!”
“The heart is no more, let connections be severed—”
“Lan-er! Quickly! Go to your papa!”
Madam Chu tried to push her child across the barrier, but the thin layer of light kept him out as if he too was a ghost.
Xiaoman looked down at them from where he stood by the railing of the temple. His face, originally charming, twisted with a mixture of sorrow and glee. “It’s useless. I put a ghost mark on him, as the ghost king instructed. He’s just like you now—the barrier won’t let him in.”
Behind them, the incantation rose like a tide. “The heart is no more, let reason be shattered—”
“Husband!” Madam Chu was already panicked beyond measure, clutching her child to her breast and banging on the barrier. “Husband, take the barrier down. Take it down and let Lan-er in—you have to protect him! You have to protect him. I—I’m almost…I…”
“The heart is no more, let compassion be smothered—”
“Husband—!”
Madam Chu fell to her knees, her eyes wide as her whole body shook uncontrollably. Curse marks the color of blood slowly climbed up her face. “Our child—Lan-er… You promised me, you promised me that you’d take care of him… Take it down… Please, I’m begging you… Take it down… Husband!”
Chu Xun felt as if his insides were being ripped apart. Again and again, his hand lifted to dispel the barrier only to fall back down.
Outside the barrier, Chu Lan bawled loudly, staring up at him with a tear-stained face, his little hands reaching. “Papa doesn’t…want Lan-er anymore? Lan-er wants Papa… Papa, hold me…”
Madam Chu held her child tightly in her arms, kissing his cheek. The pair of mother and son, one kneeling, one crying, begged Chu Xun to take down the Shangqing Barrier and let the child in.