Love Beyond the Grave

Since He Simu became mortal, she increasingly realized that the differences between people could sometimes be greater than those between humans and Evil Ghosts. For instance, some were born with extraordinary physiques, natural geniuses in Martial Arts; while others seemed to have limbs that were borrowed—they could fall off a horse even before it started running.

Take Duan Xu and her, for example.

Over the past two years, she had gradually adapted to the daily life of a mortal and was now eager to learn Martial Arts. After the twists and turns two years ago, Duan Xu's health had slowly recovered. When he heard He Simu wanted to learn Martial Arts, he volunteered to be her teacher.

From the start, Chen Ying was filled with concern upon hearing this. He said Third Brother's teaching methods were likely to lead to trouble, but He Simu paid no heed. However, once they began training in earnest, she realized Chen Ying’s words had actually been an understatement.

Duan Xu was ruthless.

Duan Xu was also infuriating.

He Simu flexed her left hand, wrapped in bandages, and snorted coldly. The middle-aged man beside her, in his forties, smiled and asked, "What troubles Miss He so?"

He Simu was currently staying in Daizhou. She had gifted Jiang Ai several landscape paintings of Daizhou, which Jiang Ai circulated among the local masters, earning widespread acclaim. Once the news spread throughout Daizhou, her reputation soared, and her paintings began fetching exorbitant prices.

She had to admit, Jiang Ai truly had a talent for making money.

Today, she was meeting with a merchant named Chen, the wealthiest man in Daizhou, who dealt in silk fabrics. His influence was vast. His mansion in the prefectural city had ninety-nine and a half rooms, adorned with intricate carvings and lavish decorations. Now, he beamed at her, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her.

He Simu pointed to the painting beside her and said, "Mr. Chen, have you decided? Will you buy it or not?"

"Of course! These days, anyone who manages to purchase one of Miss He’s paintings can boast about it for days. I’ve long heard that Miss He is doubly gifted—her paintings are beautiful, but she herself is even more so."

He Simu replied coolly, "As I mentioned earlier, if you want my painting, you must trade it for your treasured Tianlin silk. Have you prepared it?"

Mr. Chen chuckled and clapped his hands. A servant emerged from behind a screen, carrying a roll of silk. Its color was a rich vermilion, shimmering faintly with silver highlights.

He Simu walked over and ran her fingers over the fabric. It was as smooth as a baby’s skin, warm and sleek, light as cicada wings yet completely opaque. The silver glow over the red shifted with the light, resembling the glimmering ripples of the sea at sunset.

"This Tianlin silk is spun from the threads of rare celestial silkworms from the Western Regions. It took over ten years and more than two thousand silkworms to gather enough silk. Lan Yue Workshop wove it into fabric, and the color was dyed with the finest cochineal. Originally, there were five bolts in the world. Two were lost in the war, and two were buried with the emperor and empress of the previous dynasty. The only one left is this very bolt in my possession."

Mr. Chen puffed out his chest, proudly extolling his shop’s treasure.

He Simu bent down, examining it carefully, her black eyes reflecting the silk’s crimson hue. Softly, she murmured, "The color is truly exquisite."

Over the years, she had seen many fine silks and satins, but this one was undoubtedly the finest.

Seeing her admiration, Mr. Chen grinned until his eyes disappeared. He sighed and said, "I went through great lengths to obtain this silk. Many have tried to buy it, but I refused—I intended to keep it as a family heirloom."Upon hearing this, He Simu turned to scrutinize him: "So, Mr. Chen, are you giving it to me or not?"

Mr. Chen finally cut to the chase, smiling slyly: "You see, if we become family, what’s yours is mine. You get the silk, and I get to pass it down—everyone wins..."

He Simu looked Mr. Chen up and down, then down and up again before straightening up and withdrawing her hand. She turned to pick up the painting on the table: "Then I’ll take my leave."

Mr. Chen’s hand also landed on the painting, preventing her from taking it. He drew out his words with a drawn-out "Ah—" and looked at He Simu: "This fabric of mine isn’t something I show to just anyone. You’ve seen it, touched it—don’t be ungrateful."

The room was tightly surrounded by his servants, standing shoulder to shoulder. Mr. Chen’s gaze made it clear: once you’re here, you’re not leaving.

He Simu glanced around, then withdrew her hand leisurely: "It seems Mr. Chen wants me to stay for dinner."

"You can have as many meals as you like—delicacies from land and sea, whatever you desire. You’ve seen the Chen family’s wealth; we’d never mistreat you." Mr. Chen’s smile was anything but kind.

He Simu scoffed and took out a Luminous Pearl from her sleeve: "Then I hope Mr. Chen won’t mind if I invite a friend?" After a pause, she called: "Feng Yi."

The pearl immediately glowed with a soft radiance.

"Ancestor?"

"A certain host is insistent on keeping me for dinner. I couldn’t refuse. Care to join?"

After a brief silence, laughter came from the pearl: "How could I miss such an opportunity?"

From the moment the pearl spoke, Mr. Chen’s expression turned to shock. The servants in the room looked around in panic, murmuring fearfully. Just then, a violent wind erupted out of nowhere, sending papers and curtains flying. As everyone stumbled from the sudden gust, two figures emerged from the whirlwind.

A tall, slender man in white silk robes embroidered with red lotus patterns and a Twenty-Eight Constellations Star Chart on his back leaned on a cane. Beside him stood a purple-clad woman with a porcelain-doll-like face—pale skin, jet-black hair, and deep, inky eyes set in an expressionless yet beautiful visage.

The man tapped his cane on the ground, and the wind instantly dissipated, leaving only chaos in its wake.

Mr. Chen fell to the floor in terror, screaming, "Monsters! Monsters!"

He Simu’s gaze fixed on the woman, frowning: "Why is Zi Ji here?"

He Jia Fengyi replied, "She happened to be visiting the mortal realm, so I brought her along."

After answering, he turned and approached the cowering Mr. Chen, grabbing his shoulders and lifting him up as if greeting a long-lost relative: "My apologies for the sudden entrance—terribly rude of us. With such an imposing and prosperous aura, you must be our generous host, yes? What’s your surname?"

Mr. Chen shrank back, trembling too much to speak. His already short neck made him look like a neckless turtle.

He Simu said, "Mr. Chen."He Jia Fengyi clapped his hands in amazement and exclaimed, "Oh! The surname Chen! Chen is a great surname! My senior brother's uncle's daughter-in-law's aunt is also surnamed Chen! What a coincidence, don't you think? We must be fated to meet—no wonder we're having a meal together today."

With an easy familiarity, He Jia Fengyi pulled Boss Chen along, righted the chair that had been blown over, and seated him at the table. Then he ushered Zi Ji and He Simu to their seats as well. Smiling warmly at the still-stiff Boss Chen, he said, "Please don’t stand on ceremony with us. Even if we ate ten pounds of dragon liver or leopard gall, or the rarest delicacies from land and sea, we wouldn’t tire of it. But you can just order whatever you like."

"Why have you descended to the mortal realm?" He Simu asked Zi Ji directly.

Over two years had passed in the blink of an eye, yet the day she became mortal felt like yesterday. Zi Ji had shortened her own long life to that of a mortal’s span and saved the dying Duan Xu in the process.

But Zi Ji hadn’t come specifically to save her. She later learned that this was the result of He Jia Fengyi’s long-standing battle with Zi Ji, in which Feng Yi had ultimately emerged victorious. She had merely benefited from his triumph, finding a way out in her darkest hour.

Still, she held little goodwill toward Zi Ji. After all, those trapped in a cage would hardly feel fondness for the one who built it.

"I came to see the new order," replied the divinity, seated at the round pearwood table carved with the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea. She studied He Simu’s eyes for a moment before continuing, "There’s no need for hostility, Miss He. Beasts are weaker than men, men weaker than Evil Ghosts, and Evil Ghosts weaker than divinities. Each life has its place, with its own limits. To live earnestly with a mortal body and the faith of existence—love and hate, joy and sorrow, life and death—all are worthy of respect."

Zi Ji gestured between herself and He Simu. "The same goes for us. I respect your pain and struggles, which is why I altered the order."

He Simu fell silent for a moment, as if acknowledging her answer, then shifted the topic to He Jia Fengyi. "Your Divinity, what are your thoughts on Feng Yi now?"

After consulting with his family, He Jia Fengyi had already passed his Yinghuo Disaster Star fate to his nephew. He was no longer the Yinghuo Disaster Star, nor the world’s most powerful sorcerer—but this also meant he could now cultivate the Dao for ascension.

Starting to seriously pursue ascension at his age seemed like a dim prospect.

"If he ascends, he’ll likely be a better god than I."

"And if he never ascends?"

Zi Ji paused before answering, "Then so be it."

He Jia Fengyi sat to the side, stroking his cane as he watched the back-and-forth between these two ancestors. He felt like a child about to start school, with these two acting as teacher and parent discussing his academic future.

Boss Chen sat stiffly at the table, rubbing his hands nervously as if this weren’t his home but someplace he’d been dragged to as a guest. He glanced around in panic, stammering, "D-divinity? A-ascension? Just who exactly are you all—"

Just as he mustered the courage to confront this unbelievable situation, the door was suddenly kicked open. A panel crashed straight to the ground with a thunderous bang, sending dust flying. At the sight, Boss Chen let out a wail, heartbroken over his precious sandalwood door.A man in a blue round-collared robe with tight sleeves stood behind the door, holding the collar of a fainted servant in his hand. The man appeared to be nearly thirty years old, handsome and tall, with an upright posture from years of martial arts training. His round eyes sparkled like stars.

He seemed quite surprised by the scene in the room. After sweeping his gaze over everyone, his eyes settled on He Jia Fengyi, the most likely person to explain the situation.

Meeting his gaze, He Jia Fengyi immediately beamed and waved his cane. "Well, well, isn’t this Young Master Duan? Boss Chen insisted on treating our ancestor to a meal, but she thought it’d be too quiet with just the two of them, so she called Zi Ji and me over. Are you joining us to liven things up, Young Master Duan?"

Duan Xu fell silent for a moment, glancing at Boss Chen, who was wedged among the group like a frightened chick. He released the servant, letting him drop to the floor, then clasped his hands behind his back and flashed an innocent smile as if nothing had happened. "Boss Chen is so hospitable—surely you wouldn’t mind setting an extra place?"

Boss Chen stared at his broken door in distress, raising a trembling finger to point angrily at Duan Xu. But before he could speak, He Jia Fengyi interjected, "Now, now, what kind of talk is that? You’re insulting Boss Chen! A man of his stature wouldn’t mind an extra place at all. Look how excited he is—he’s about to call for the dishes right now!"

He then turned to Boss Chen with a grin. "Isn’t that right?"

Boss Chen silently lowered his hand and forced a smile. "Y-yes… yes… Hurry up and serve the food!"

Duan Xu walked to the table. The seats on either side of He Simu were empty. After glancing at her expression, he pressed his lips together and sat opposite her—next to He Jia Fengyi. Observing the tension between the two, Feng Yi concluded they must have had a fight.

"May… may I ask for the esteemed names of you all?" The poor Boss Chen finally managed to voice the question weighing on his mind about this clearly unusual gathering.

He Jia Fengyi chuckled. "Ah, how careless of me! I’m He Jia Fengyi from the Starry Palace, and this is Zi Ji. I’m a relative of Miss He."

"Oh! So you’re a Daoist from the Starry Palace! I’ve failed to recognize such esteemed guests!" Boss Chen hastily bowed in reverence. While ordinary folk might not know much about other Immortal Sects, the Starry Palace was a household name.

Duan Xu glanced at He Simu, but she averted her gaze.

He said, "I’m Duan Xu. He Simu is my betrothed."

Before Boss Chen could react in shock, He Simu let out a cold laugh. "Who’s your betrothed? Forget marriage—I’m not going through with it."

Duan Xu stared at her for a moment, then curved his eyes into a smile. "Fine, if you don’t want to, then we won’t. We’ve managed without titles all these years. But you have to tell me why."

He Simu didn’t look at him, merely tracing her fingers lightly over the painting on the table in silence. The bandage wrapped around her left hand stood out starkly.

Duan Xu rubbed his fingers together. "If it’s because I accidentally injured your hand earlier, I apologize."

The Illusion-Breaking Sword at his waist left its sheath. As cold light flashed, Boss Chen dropped to the ground, covering his head and screaming, "Spare me, young hero!"

But the sword wasn’t aimed at him—and He Simu swiftly pressed it down. Grabbing Duan Xu’s left hand, she snapped, "Duan Shunxi, what are you doing?""If you're truly that angry, then I'll compensate you with this hand of mine. Do whatever you want—sever the tendons, crush the bones—I won't utter a word of protest." Duan Xu stared at He Simu with a smile.

"It's not about that! I know you didn't mean to. You just didn’t realize how weak I am."

Catching the fleeting irritation in He Simu's eyes, Duan Xu fell silent for a moment before gripping her uninjured wrist firmly. "I understand. Come with me."

"Let go!" He Simu snapped.

Without hesitation, Duan Xu strode over, hoisted her onto his shoulder, and turned to leave. He Simu flushed with anger, struggling against his hold as she called out to He Jia Fengyi, "Feng Yi!"

He Jia Fengyi covered his eyes and said, "Ah, my ears aren’t working too well today. Zi Ji, isn’t there a saying among mortals about how even the wisest judge can’t settle... what was it again?"

"Even the wisest judge can’t settle domestic quarrels," Zi Ji supplied.

Once the sound of footsteps and calls faded away, He Jia Fengyi lowered his hands and turned to face Boss Chen with a grin. "Boss Chen, you ought to thank me today. That young lord has quite the temper. If not for me, your fate would’ve ended up like that door of yours. For that alone, we’re adding dishes to the menu today..."

Once outside the sprawling Chen estate with its ninety-nine and a half rooms, Duan Xu set He Simu down and mounted his horse, galloping back to their residence in Daizhou. Only when they were truly inside the room did he finally release her.

He Simu had long stopped struggling. When he turned to look at her, her face was flushed with anger, her eyes rimmed red, biting her lip as she glared coldly at him.

After a moment of silence, Duan Xu asked softly, "Simu, do you regret it?"

He Simu’s gaze sharpened. "I don’t regret it at all. I just..."

Just... what, she wondered.

The room was unlit, the light gradually dimming. The orange hues of the setting sun reflected in Duan Xu’s bright eyes, giving them a viscous, syrup-like quality—warm yet fragile.

She loved this world she now possessed. Had she not become mortal, she would never have seen such a vivid world or felt such a vivid Duan Xu. How could she possibly regret it?

It was just that she wasn’t yet accustomed to being the fragile, powerless mortal He Simu.

Once, she had been born with formidable ghostly power. All Evil Ghosts prostrated before her; nothing in this world could threaten her, and nothing but life and death could shake her. She had looked upon the masses with both pity and longing—pity for their weakness, longing for their vitality.

Now she had gained their vitality, but with it came their weakness.

Duan Xu was so strong. Before him, she had become utterly defenseless. Even a casual sparring lesson with him had easily injured her hand. When he carried her or dragged her along, she couldn’t resist. The skills he taught her, she learned slowly and laboriously, as if she were inherently incapable of wielding such strength.

In the past, her innate talents had made her invincible. She had never known this kind of defeat, never liked looking up at others. She hated this feeling of losing control.

She was angry at herself.

Under the glow of the setting sun, Duan Xu’s chest rose and fell. The surroundings were silent, save for the sound of their breathing."Living inevitably brings birth, aging, sickness, and death—that's part of this world. Are you disappointed in it?" Duan Xu gazed at He Simu with burning intensity.

He Simu shook her head. "I'm not disappointed in the world. I'm disappointed in myself."

Duan Xu chuckled softly. "Yes, you don't have the immense power you once did. But in this mortal realm, you still have me, He Jia Fengyi, Jiang Ai, and Chen Ying. What are you afraid of?"

"But after all..."

"After all, it's not your own strength? Then why do you want me by your side? Only to share joy but not hardship? Do you think needing my help is something shameful? Would I ever look down on you even slightly for it? He Simu, did I refuse your help when I was gravely ill? Even knowing I could never shake your eternal life, knowing I'm as fragile as an ant compared to you—did I ever shrink back or blame you?"

Duan Xu's voice grew louder as he spoke, his eyes trembling and reddening. After finishing, his chest heaved violently as he pulled the stunned He Simu into his arms and whispered, "Can't you... stop running away silently every time you're angry? Back then, you were the same—ending things just like that. I'm truly afraid of you."

His heart pounded fiercely, and even through layers of clothing, she could feel his anger and fear. She remembered the youth who had fought his way to her through the Ghost Army years ago. If she could have sensed it then, would his heartbeat have been the same?

He Simu wrapped her arms around his back and murmured, "So how you felt back then... is how I feel now."

Duan the Fox was indeed brave. If it were her, with such a beginning, she likely wouldn't have persisted.

Duan Xu had gambled his way through all twenty-six years of his life, his soul perpetually suspended—half clutched in his own hands, half surrendered to fate. Only in these past two years had he found stability because of her.

This was how he had always lived—never fully in control, fragile yet tenacious.

But it was precisely because of fragility that passion burned so fiercely, because of pain that happiness was known, because of cold that warmth was cherished. This was the mortal world she loved.

"Being mortal is truly difficult..." He Simu grumbled. "I need time. I'll learn slowly."

"We have plenty of time. Lean on me—don't leave me," Duan Xu sighed against her ear.

"Alright."

"You scared me. You owe me compensation."

He Simu laughed softly. "Alright."

Duan Xu inhaled deeply at her neck, then swept her up and carried her to the bed, lowering himself to kiss her. As she hooked her arms around his neck, he murmured, "Mind your hand."

"Mortals are so troublesome..."

He Simu's words dissolved into breathless gasps.

The night had darkened completely, but the lamps in the room remained unlit.

Amid overwhelming sensation, He Simu opened her eyes to see Duan Xu's expression—fervent, infatuated, as if he were a flame plunging into water, trading his own scorching intensity for a moment of warmth. His eyes were glazed, sweat-dampened hair clinging to his forehead, his perspiration dripping onto her neck—so searing it might have burned her. Their shared scent of sandalwood entwined, saturating the room like mist.She raised her head and offered her lips, their tongues entwining as she let out a sigh between breaths, murmuring, "This is bad. I think I'm falling for you more and more."

In this vibrant world, he still shone the brightest.

She had seen many sights, yet she could never forget his smile years ago when he wore a red Wedding Gown amidst the flurry of firecracker confetti. Nor could she forget the clear, gentle fragrance that lingered around him.

And now, especially not the warm, radiant, living Duan Xu in her arms.

The consequence of her words was a cry from her lips, making the moment even more unbearable.

Duan Xu's ears flushed red, so she nibbled on his earlobe.

He trembled slightly and chuckled softly, "Seems like you don't want to walk tomorrow."

"Having you serve me... isn't bad either."

He Simu paused mid-sentence, then kissed the premature silver strand at his temple.

They would live as mortals in this vibrant, lively world. Time would pass, but the passage of time held no fear—they too were passing through it, until He Simu's entire life became completely intertwined with Duan Xu's.

The greatest fortune of my life is growing old with you.

Later, Boss Chen's unparalleled Tianlin silk still became the wedding dress for the former Ghost King—though He Simu was still angry with Duan Xu that day, she had indeed gone there specifically to obtain the fabric for her bridal gown.