4 Parents

The water source of Peach Blossom Cove had been lost, leaving the lakebed dry and exposing bones that had been buried in the silt for years. Among them were the parents of Lu Chanji.

"Merit fulfilled, the soul returns to the heavens!"
"Since ancient times, flowers do not bloom forever, nor does the moon always remain round."
"Though one may pile gold and jade, one cannot purchase immortality."

Dusk was falling. Outside Peach Blossom Cove on Qianyue Island, the old Taoist priest stood amidst the encroaching shadows of the setting sun. With his back to the crowd and facing the mounds of white bones in the lake, he brandished a copper-coin sword, shook his Sanqing bell, and performed the rhythmic steps of a ritual dance. As he shook the bell, he chanted:

"The flying crane may live a thousand years, yet in this world, a centenarian is a rare sight."
"Life is spent in ceaseless toil, death in hurried haste."
"When do you intend to awaken? How can you hope for longevity when you wish for it?"

He shook the bell again and continued:

"Floating clouds lock away the rain, with nothing to do but sigh at the shifting warmth and cold."
"Why boast of fame and fortune? Why flaunt your flowery prose?"
"You must believe that in the end, it is all an illusion; when the limit is reached, it is truly but a dream of millet."

Around the lake, mourners wailed. The sounds of sobbing, the piercing cries of grief, and the hoarse, desolate chanting of the priest blended into a cacophony:

"Father—"
"Mother—"
"My child—"

Lu Chanji stood in the crowd, her face wooden as she listened to the chaotic din. She was not the only one there to identify the remains; fifty-five others had perished alongside her parents. Those whose identities had been confirmed, and whose relatives were both willing and able to come, were all present at this funeral rite.

Lu Chanji had expected to be overcome with tears at the sight of her parents' remains. Yet, as she stood on Qianyue Island, gazing at the piles of bones stacked like a small hill in the lakebed, and listening to the priest’s funeral oration, she felt a sudden, surreal detachment. Her mind went blank, and she even forgot to weep.

The skeletons were scattered, no longer forming complete bodies. It was impossible to distinguish whose skull was whose, whose hand, or whose shinbone.

Lu Wenshu stood beside her and said, "Decades ago, a soul-demon lived here. It was cunning and skilled at creating illusions, manifesting an aerial pavilion of an inn to lure travelers in for the night. In their sleep, it would drain their life force to fuel its own cultivation, then sink their withered husks to the bottom of the lake. Thirteen years ago, your parents died under its deceptive spell. The following year—twelve years ago—the creature was slain by a wandering cultivator, and no one else has been harmed since. For some reason, the water of Peach Blossom Cove recently dried up, and only today have these bones been brought back to the light of day."

Lu Chanji’s expression remained vacant.

The air was filled with the wailing of mourning, like the moaning of a cold wind, overlapping with the cries of the living. Every few steps, one could see mourners draped in hempen garments, kneeling by the lake in their white funeral attire. Some were calling for their sons, some for their daughters, others for their spouses, all chanting the names of the departed as white spirit money fluttered everywhere.

Wherever she looked, there was only the bleak white of mourning; wherever she listened, there was only the sound of agony. In contrast, her own green robes made her seem like an outsider, an indifferent bystander passing through rather than someone here to collect the remains of her parents.

Lu Wenshu continued, "After death, the flesh decays and the bones scatter. They have become so mingled that even the closest kin could not discern which pieces belong to their loved ones. The Island Master invited the priest to perform these rites to dispel the foul aura, guide the souls to salvation, and ensure they may enter the cycle of reincarnation for a peaceful and happy afterlife. Once the rites are complete, the priest will bury them together and erect a single monument inscribed with the names of all those whose identities could be determined."

"A-Chan, A-Chan." Seeing that Lu Chanji remained motionless, Lu Wenshu called her name softly, fearing she hadn't heard him.

Lu Chanji came to her senses, her eyes suddenly turning bloodshot. "Then my father and mother will be able to enter the cycle of reincarnation properly, right?"

"Yes," Lu Wenshu said. "The Island Master invited the priest to guide them so they may be reborn in peace and find a good destination in their next life."

Lu Chanji asked again, "Must I cry as bitterly as they do for my parents to be happy?"

She bit her lower lip, her lips trembling faintly. Having lived in seclusion on Green Peak for many years, Lu Chanji knew little of human customs and rules—even less than Lu Wenshu, who occasionally descended the mountain to slay demons and was more familiar with the ways of the world.

Lu Wenshu sighed softly. "No."

"Your father and mother will be happy just knowing you came. If you cannot cry, then do not cry; there is no need to force yourself."

Tears suddenly spilled from her eyes, and Lu Chanji began to sob violently. Twelve years later, after seeing the bones of her parents, she had once again become an orphan. This time, it was a true, irrevocable orphanhood. There was no longer even the smallest, self-deceptive hope that they might still be alive somewhere in the world.

Seeing the tears on Lu Chanji’s cheeks, Lu Wenshu was momentarily stunned, though he quickly averted his gaze. When he had rescued her from the Snow Demon years ago, she hadn't cried, and in the twelve years at the Sword Bearing Sect, he had never seen her shed a single tear. During those years, she had always been busy playing with her swords and puppets, and she was always so cheerful in his presence that he had never realized she was capable of crying.

Two months ago, when he heard her say that if her parents were still alive, she would seek them out to live with them, Lu Wenshu had pondered how he would handle it if they were indeed alive. He had needed no time to decide: the only way to ensure no future trouble was to uproot the weeds completely. That was the foolproof plan.

Yet, for a brief moment, he had wondered how Lu Chanji would react if she found out he had acted in such a way. He would never let her know the truth—it wasn't a question worth dwelling on, so he hadn't.

And yet, fate had made the choice for him and provided the answer to the question he deemed unworthy of thought. She could cry.

"It is good to have a good cry," he sighed. It was better than harboring distractions and dwelling on it endlessly.

Once her tears subsided, the funeral concluded. The new tomb was built, and the mourning was settled. But Lu Chanji did not want to leave. She asked Lu Wenshu, "Can we stay in the mortal world for a few more days?"

"I want to stay with my father and mother a little longer," she said.

Lu Wenshu, as always, did not refuse her. "Very well."

***

The two stayed at the Tongfu Inn in Qianyue City. Peach Blossom City was filled with peach trees. Unlike the climate in Yan Province, it was the late spring of April in Qianyue City, the most beautiful time of the year. The peach blossoms were just about to fade, and petals littered the paths; when the wind blew through the alleys, it stirred up waves of pink and white.

Back at the inn, they each took a room. Once inside his own, Lu Wenshu unfolded Lu Chanji’s Star Ruins Fate Chart. The star in the Parents’ Palace had dimmed, and only one star remained, shining brightly and alone on the entire chart.

Having suppressed the discomfort he felt at seeing her tears, Lu Wenshu was about to put the chart away when he noticed another star beginning to flicker into existence. The starlight was faint, yet piercing.

A sense of irritation rose within him. He immediately put the chart away and stepped out of his room. As expected, Lu Chanji, who should have been resting, was on the first floor, talking to an attendant of the inn. Lu Wenshu walked down the stairs and quickly reached them.

"What are you talking about?" His voice was indifferent, his demeanor as cold as frost. He intervened between them with an air of natural authority, yet his youthful face, with its ethereal beauty and the refined grace of a noble sect disciple, made his intrusion seem perfectly acceptable.

When traveling in the mortal realm, they dressed as mortals, but while clothes could be changed, their natural aura could not. At a glance, both possessed a sense of detachment, marking them as people of extraordinary status, and their sincere, youthful faces were particularly endearing.

The attendant replied warmly, "We were just talking about the customs of Qianyue Island."

Lu Wenshu asked, "What customs?"

Lu Chanji pointed to the street outside. Every house had a yellow-white lantern hanging by its door. From a distance, they looked like rows of moons, neatly arranged, as if some ceremony were being held.

Lu Wenshu watched for a moment and asked uncertainly, "Is this... a holiday?"

The attendant shook his head. "Not at all. You wouldn't know, but this isn't a holiday; it’s a ritual we hold here on Qianyue Island called 'Sending the Souls.'"

He explained, "We believe in the Moon Goddess and trust that after death, souls drift toward the Lunar Palace. We light a moon lamp to guide them so they don't lose their way. These fifty-seven bodies in the lake mostly died far from home; it is truly pitiful. There are about a hundred households here, and if every family lights a lamp, a hundred lamps shining together can guide all the souls to the Lunar Palace without leaving anyone behind."

He looked at Lu Chanji with sympathy. "I was just telling your sister that I know your parents were among them, and I am truly sorry for your loss. My condolences. There is a 'Moon Wall' on the island where people light lamps to pray for the deceased. I meant to take her to light one for your parents, but since you two are traveling together, perhaps you would like to go yourselves?"

Lu Wenshu did not correct the attendant’s assumption about their relationship. He merely looked at Lu Chanji, waiting to see what she would do.

Cultivators of the Ten Continents of the Great Sea did not have the habit of praying to gods or Buddhas. Since the fall of the Primordial Gods, there were no true deities left in the world, at most only a few lingering remnants of spirits. The Ten Continents were already as close to the Immortal Realm as the mortal world could get.

In her years at the Sword Bearing Sect, Lu Chanji had never burned a single stick of incense. However, she was beginning to realize that life in the mortal world was very different from life at the sect. She wanted to use this opportunity to experience mortal life more fully, so that when she eventually left the sect to return to the world, she could live like an ordinary person and not be an anomaly, as she felt she was at the sect.

Her parents were gone, and she had no place to return to; it was time to consider where she belonged.

"May we?" Lu Chanji asked.

"Let’s go." Lu Wenshu could see the expectation in her eyes. If he didn't accompany her, the attendant would, so he had no choice but to agree.

They soon followed the attendant's directions to the Moon Wall. It was a square enclosure surrounded by four walls, each embedded with a circular glass window. The glass was as thin as a cicada's wing, and the light from the lamps inside shone through, appearing like moons from a distance.

When they arrived, the lamps within the wall were already lit, the flickering candle flames casting the silhouettes of those inside onto the glass windows. After buying a lamp from the keeper, Lu Chanji walked toward the wall.

She asked Lu Wenshu to wait outside. As she held the lamp, she couldn't help but wonder: after a hundred years, when she, like her parents, lay in a place where the sun never shone, her bones turned to dust, would Lu Wenshu—for whom a hundred years was but a blink of an eye—come to light a moon lamp for her, to send her soul to the Lunar Palace to reunite with her parents?

She became lost in thought.

Lu Wenshu watched her back as she walked away, a sudden, inexplicable jump in his heart. Her Star Ruins Fate Chart showed that her Parents’ Palace had gone dark. It meant her final worldly tie had been severed, and her connection to the mortal world was completely cut. Yet, watching her walk further away from him, he felt a vague, haunting sense of unease.

He couldn't help but call her name. "A-Chan."

"Do not be afraid," he said. "I will be with you, and you will be with me. We will be together forever and ever."

Lu Chanji paused, but she did not look back. She continued walking until her figure was gradually swallowed by the Moon Wall.