Love Beyond the Grave

The Hulan Army encircled Shuozhou Prefecture like an iron barrel, leaving no gaps—except for the Guan River, which had thawed due to the explosions and warming weather.

In this tiny, fingernail-sized city, a dark cloud of despair pressed down on the hearts of the people, as if the city itself might collapse under the weight.

Liangzhou had once been the most favorable crossing point, but now that it had returned to Great Liang's control and the Guan River had thawed, attempting to cross the river to fight was practically a death sentence for the Huqi people. Xia Qingsheng, stationed in Liangzhou, had even deployed the navy to ensure the Huqi couldn’t launch their forces from that stretch of the river.

Yuzhou, currently held by the Huqi, meant that if they could just push past Shuozhou Prefecture, they would easily cross the river with support from the opposite bank.

This place was Danzhi’s thorn in the flesh, his greatest obstacle.

From the moment the Hulan Army arrived, the roar of cannon fire had never ceased, and the clamor of battle outside the city often shook the heavens. The people could only see the tightly shut city gates, black smoke billowing into the sky, and wounded soldiers being carried down from the walls.

When the Snow-Treading Army had earlier converged on the prefecture, Duan Xu had ordered them to bring large quantities of provisions, arrows, timber, stones, and tung oil—all of which were now proving invaluable. Wave after wave of Danzhi’s forces attacked, only to be repelled by volleys of arrows, flaming logs, and boulders. Taking advantage of the prefecture’s terrain, the Snow-Treading Army stubbornly held this pass, refusing to let the Huqi advance.

The people, seeing that despite the deafening battle cries and thick smoke, nothing catastrophic had happened in days, began nervously preparing for the New Year.

Indeed, in the world of mortals, celebrating the New Year was the most important event of all.

"Little Sister, should we buy some firecrackers?" Chen Ying hugged a stone jar as he scattered lime powder on the ground.

He Simu rubbed her temples and said, "More firecrackers? Haven’t you had enough of the cannon fire outside the city?"

She crouched down, watching Chen Ying sprinkle an uneven white circle in front of the door, and pointed at it. "What’s this for?"

"Little Sister, you don’t know? There’s something you don’t know?" Chen Ying puffed out his chest proudly and recited like an expert: "For the New Year, we set off firecrackers, paste door gods and 'fortune' characters, and draw circles with lime powder at the entrance to ward off evil and disasters!"

He Simu tilted her head, finding it utterly absurd. "Why would something like this ward off evil?"

"Because evil spirits and ghosts are afraid of firecrackers, door gods, the color red, and lime powder! That’s what the elders say!" Chen Ying declared with absolute confidence.

He Simu fell silent for a moment before saying, "I’ve always wondered—who first came up with such a brilliant idea?"

It was like those condemned prisoners paraded through the streets before execution, singing songs about how they’d be heroes again in eighteen years—just a way to bolster their own courage.

An evil spirit who didn’t flinch at cannon fire, could turn door gods into sugar figurines to eat, and didn’t even know what the color red looked like—He Simu took the jar from Chen Ying and helped him sprinkle lime powder around the doors and windows.

Lately, Duan Xu had been so busy he was practically invisible. When she occasionally went to check on him in her invisible form, he was either overseeing battles or discussing military strategy, barely stopping to rest. This didn’t seem like the best time to propose a deal, especially since she still hadn’t figured out Duan Xu’s true motives.

He Simu murmured to herself, "What could he possibly want?"

Breaking the siege of the prefecture? Driving off Danzhi’s reinforcements? Reclaiming lost territory? Returning to court as a marshal or chancellor? Each seemed like a plausible answer.

Yet none of them felt quite right.Moreover, according to her rules, the Ghost Realm was not allowed to interfere in human political affairs. If his wishes involved such matters, it would indeed be quite troublesome.

"Who wants what?" Chen Ying asked curiously.

He Simu looked up at him and smiled. "Your General brother, of course. What do you think his wish would be?"

Chen Ying thought for a moment, then held up eight fingers. "I think... it's eating eight buns per meal."

"..."

As if that wasn't enough, Chen Ying added, "All with meat fillings."

"...That sounds less like Duan Xu's wish and more like yours."

"No, no, no! I can only eat three buns per meal. But General brother is so amazing—he can definitely eat eight!" Chen Ying waved his hands, analyzing with utmost seriousness.

"I recall you once wanted to follow Duan Xu into battle to defend our homeland?" He Simu reminded him.

Chen Ying blinked, clearly remembering his past heroic declaration. He nodded. "Right! If the Hú Qì People invade, we won’t have any buns left to eat. So to eat eight buns per meal, General brother has to drive them back!"

He Simu silently studied him for a moment before smiling and patting his head. "What a practical child."

"Little sister, why do you want to know General brother's wish?" Chen Ying suddenly perked up, as if he had struck gold. He trailed behind He Simu, following wherever she scattered lime powder.

"I'm making an important deal with your General brother. To negotiate well, I must know my opponent," He Simu said offhandedly.

Chen Ying grinned slyly. "Little sister, are you embarrassed?"

"What?"

"You like General brother, don’t you? That’s why you want to fulfill his wish! I heard what you told Captain Meng last time—you said you fell in love with General brother at first sight!" Chen Ying finally recalled the idiom.

He Simu stared at the excited boy, speechless, then gave him a gentle smile. "Yes, yes. It seems fate truly destined us for each other."

After all, it had taken her over three hundred years to find someone she could form a Curse Bond with. Wasn’t that a match made in heaven?

For some reason, Chen Ying was overjoyed. He jumped three feet in the air, bouncing around He Simu. "Sister, you really do like General brother! You should visit him more! He hasn’t come in so long!"

He Simu continued scattering lime powder, ignoring Chen Ying’s chatter.

Unfazed, Chen Ying tugged at her sleeve. "Little sister, we still have the suona! Are you really only going to play it for General brother at his funeral?"

Suddenly, the wind seemed to shift strangely. He Simu looked up and met Duan Xu’s eyes at the courtyard gate, where the actual owner of the residence, Lin Jun, stood beside him.

Duan Xu was dressed in casual attire, his hair tied back neatly. His smile was bright, as if he weren’t a military general but a friendly neighbor paying a visit.

His dark eyes blinked, revealing a row of white teeth as he grinned. "At my funeral?"

What impeccable timing.

He Simu, who had never known the meaning of embarrassment, hugged the jar of lime powder and replied calmly, "General, how long have you been standing there?""Just arrived, probably from the moment heaven made a pair and earth shaped a match. Truly a match made by earth—you’ve even arranged to send me underground." Duan Xu teased with a smile.

He Simu replied generously, "I just didn’t want my beloved general to suffer any grievances on his final journey."

"Once the city is relieved, how about playing a tune for me, little girl?"

"Sorry, this tune is only for those on their final journey. It’s not very auspicious for the living to hear it."

Duan Xu chuckled, his gaze shifting to the ground beneath He Simu’s feet. Chen Ying, puzzled, followed his line of sight and immediately gasped in surprise.

Unnoticed, the lime powder on the ground had been scattered into the shape of a plum blossom painting—a few stark branches and five or six delicate blossoms, so sharp they seemed ready to pierce through the earth.

He Simu’s father was a ghost with a penchant for refined elegance, and from childhood, he had personally taught her to paint. Though she couldn’t distinguish colors, her ink wash paintings were quite skilled.

"Big sister Simu, you can paint too!" Chen Ying exclaimed in admiration.

He Simu dusted the lime powder off her hands and said, "Lime powder is truly useless, but a beautiful painting might make an elegant evil spirit hesitate to tread on it."

After a pause, she turned to Lin Jun and asked, "Boss Lin, you don’t mind me dirtying your floor tiles, do you?"

Lin Jun quickly waved his hands in denial, marveling, "Your brushwork is so masterful, like that of a seasoned artist with decades of practice."

...Well, that wasn’t wrong. It was centuries of practice.

He Simu felt that every time Duan Xu came to see her, it was to seek inspiration for his harebrained schemes—this time was no exception.

She passed through the thick city walls and ascended the barbican, beyond whose gates lay the encampment of the Hú Qì People. The barbican was ingeniously designed—narrow and guarding the main gate, so that if the enemy breached it, both the barbican and main gates could be lowered, trapping them like turtles in a jar.

To win wars, mortals truly exhausted their ingenuity. Yet these walls were originally built by the Han people of the previous dynasty, later used to protect the Hú Qì People, and now returned to Han hands once more.

Attack and defense shift; contradictions clash.

"I recall an ancient fable," He Simu said as she climbed the barbican’s steps. "Once, there were two kingdoms—one on the left horn of a snail, the other on the right. They fought over this tiny land, leaving tens of thousands dead."

Duan Xu, leading the way ahead, turned to look at her, his expression unreadable in the darkness. "That ancient was Zhuangzi, wasn’t it? Zhuangzi said, 'On the left horn of a snail was a kingdom called Chu; on the right horn, one called Man. They often fought over territory, leaving tens of thousands dead, and pursued each other for fifteen days before returning.'"

He Simu thought this young general had an impressive memory, much like the rumored Duan Xu of his childhood, who could recite anything after a single glance.

As they emerged from the dark staircase onto the barbican’s walls, Duan Xu’s voice paused. Slowly, he said, "We’re no different. A human life is pitifully short, insignificant, and humble, isn’t it?"

Even when speaking such desolate words, Duan Xu was smiling, his eyes bright. He didn’t seem the least bit humble, let alone pitiable.

"Why do you smile so much?" He Simu couldn’t help asking.

"I was born this way."He Simu finally stepped onto the city wall, surveying the devastated barbican. The battlements were covered with charred remnants of war, and the soldiers coming and going were visibly tense. The scent of blood and burning hung thick in the air.

It seemed the previous battles to repel the enemy had been brutal. Outside the walls, the sprawling enemy camp stretched endlessly—200,000 troops poised like a crouching black panther, waiting for the right moment to pounce and tear this fragile city apart.

Yet the people inside remained oblivious, bustling about preparing for the New Year celebrations.

He Simu rubbed her temples. "They say a great general is one who can remain calm as still waters while thunder roils within. I see now they were describing you."

Duan Xu smiled, his eyes curving. "I'm honored."

It wouldn't be long before the Hú Qì People launched their next assault, and Duan Xu needed to devise another way to keep them at bay.

"After today's observation, I think quicklime powder would work well. Coincidentally, burning rain is the second punishment in the Scripture of Azure Words. Has there been any east wind bringing rain recently?" Duan Xu leaned against the battlement, grinning.

Clearly, he had mastered the Scripture of Azure Words to perfection.

He Simu narrowed her eyes, offering a sarcastic smile. "I'm not the God of Wind or Rain—do you think I can conjure any weather you want? Lately, it's been clear and dry. No rain in sight."

Duan Xu shook his head with a sigh. "What a shame."

"You're a proper general—why do you keep resorting to such underhanded tricks?"

"War is the art of deception. Only by balancing the unorthodox with the conventional can victory be achieved. Danzhi has 200,000 troops; I have only 50,000. A direct confrontation would be suicide."

As soon as Duan Xu finished speaking, a loud, taunting voice bellowed from below the walls.

"Duan Shunxi, you pretty-faced coward! Hiding in your city because you're scared of your Danzhi granddads, aren't you? Come out and fight us if you dare! We'll smash your skull open and send you crying for your mama!"

"Come on out and fight!"

The voice was rough and arrogant, dripping with mockery. From the enemy camp below, waves of laughter and jeers rose, blending into a chaotic uproar.

Duan Xu didn't even glance down, casually explaining to He Simu, "They've been shouting like this for days."

"They're insulting you, trying to provoke you into leaving the city to fight."

"Are they insulting me? They called me 'pretty-faced'—isn't that just another way of saying I'm handsome?" Duan Xu placed a hand over his heart, grinning. "I'll take it as a compliment."

He Simu paused for a moment before clapping slowly. "Truly, General, your magnanimity is admirable."