Love Beyond the Grave

The Imperial Decree had been issued, and the matter was settled. Duan Xu did not say much more to Commander Qin. As he bid farewell and left the camp, Qin Huanda watched the young man’s figure disappear beyond the camp gates and suddenly felt a fleeting moment of bewilderment.

He wondered if he had been like this in his youth—sharp, brash, and charging forward without hesitation.

The long passage of time and the comfort of the borderlands had worn away his ambition to reclaim the lost territories, leaving him entangled in the turbulent power struggles of the court. Now, he realized he was so deeply mired in factional conflicts that he no longer had the boldness to appreciate and promote a talented young man who belonged to a different faction.

Would this young man still remember his aspirations when he reached his age? Or would he, too, become ensnared in worldly affairs, struggling to move forward?

Commander Qin let out a long sigh and closed the Imperial Decree before him.

As soon as Duan Xu stepped out of Commander Qin’s camp, he spotted a familiar attendant waiting by the gate. After a brief thought, he recognized the man as one of Zheng An’s subordinates.

The attendant bowed and said, "General Duan, Lord Zheng requests your presence."

Duan Xu smiled and nodded. "Lead the way."

Following the attendant through the camp, he arrived at Zheng An’s carriage. The attendant lifted the curtain and said, "General, please."

Duan Xu lifted the hem of his robe and stepped into the carriage, bending slightly as he entered. Inside, he met Zheng An’s gaze. Zheng An gestured to the seat beside him and said, "Sit."

Duan Xu took his seat and greeted with a smile, "Uncle Zheng."

Zheng An’s usually stern expression softened slightly, revealing a hint of a smile. He had intended to pat Duan Xu’s shoulder but paused when he noticed the bloodstains seeping through the clothes beneath his light armor.

His hand hovered mid-air before lowering. With a heavy sigh, he said, "You’ve suffered so much. If Chengzhang saw you like this, he’d be heartbroken. Your eldest and second brothers died young, and now you’re the only son left in his household. If anything were to happen to you, how would Chengzhang bear it?"

"When I was young, Master Qingxuan said that I would always turn misfortune into blessing. Uncle and Father need not worry."

"Recently, the court uncovered corruption in the Horse Administration, and the Emperor was furious. Your memorial regarding the Northern Territory campaign aligned perfectly with His Majesty’s wishes, so he immediately ordered me to rush to the frontlines to deliver the decree. Though your name wasn’t mentioned in the decree, the Emperor holds you in high regard. With your outstanding military achievements, you’ll surely be entrusted with greater responsibilities upon your return to court," Zheng An said.

Duan Xu nodded, his smile bright. "Thanks to Duke Du and the support of all my uncles."

"Your father and I were classmates. This is nothing."

After a pause, Zheng An’s expression turned serious. "Shunxi, let me ask you—do you have any grievances with Fang Xianye?"

"What do you mean?"

"He recently impeached you for submitting a memorial directly to the Emperor without Commander Qin’s approval, violating protocol. If the Emperor hadn’t been pleased with your memorial, you would’ve been in trouble again. Though Fang Xianye is Duke Pei’s man, he has repeatedly targeted you as if you had a personal feud. I asked Chengzhang but got no answer. Have you offended him in some way? He’s gaining influence in court now. If you tell us, we can help you deal with it."

Duan Xu looked puzzled. "I don’t know either. I didn’t know him before we passed the imperial examinations together. Father did warn me to avoid provoking him, but he never explained why."Zheng An remained silent in thought for a while before letting out a long sigh.

After exchanging a few more words with Zheng An, Duan Xu took his leave. As he stepped down from the carriage and watched it disappear into the distance beyond the camp, his smile turned faint and unsteady.

Duan Xu thought to himself, this place isn’t much better than Heavenly Awareness—just another pit of fire after escaping hell. Even allies would scheme to pry some leverage from you.

It seemed the world was nothing but an endless succession of fiery pits. Where could one find paradise?

Returning alone to his residence, he removed his light armor, rewrapped his bleeding wounds, and changed into a soft round-collared robe before heading out into the streets. Walking among the bustling crowd, he absentmindedly ran his fingers over his sword, drawing it slightly before sheathing it again.

Earlier, he had knelt and bowed in the military camp. Now, as he strode through the streets, his body moved purely out of habit. Only when he saw his limbs performing the corresponding actions did he believe he still had control over them.

If he were to draw his sword now and engage in combat, relying solely on this muscle memory, what were his chances of victory?

Losing sensation was like falling into a dark cave at the age of five—utter blackness with no way out. His stern father had stood at the mouth of the cave and said, "I won’t save you. You must climb out yourself."

He had cried from dawn till dusk, but in the end, he had indeed climbed out on his own. From then on, he had never begged for anyone’s salvation. He knew no one would save him—not his father, not the gods. Only he could pull himself out.

That childish stubbornness had ultimately saved him in Heavenly Awareness, because his father truly hadn’t come to his rescue. He didn’t know whether that was fortune or misfortune.

Duan Xu raised his hand above his head. Sunlight filtered through his fingers, casting shadows over his eyes as he peered through the gaps at the blazing sun.

This was his hand, yet he felt nothing.

The body he took such pride in—the sharpest, strongest tool of his survival—what if one day even that failed him? What else could he trust?

"General!"

A familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Lowering his hand, he saw Meng Wan rushing toward him with a grimace. "Shunxi," she said, "what’s the deal with your friend? She’s been touching everything in sight all the way down the street and has already ruined who knows how many things."

Her tone subtly conveyed, "This is just too unsophisticated."

Duan Xu looked up and saw He Simu, now dressed in the fashionable light pink beizi and skirt of the time, standing by a street vendor’s stall with a pinwheel in hand. She reached out and directly pinched the face of a dough figurine on the stall—still soft and freshly made—leaving a deep dent under her fingers.

She continued kneading it until the figurine was utterly unrecognizable, her eyes alight with fascination.

The vendor cried out in dismay, but He Simu remained unfazed. Turning to Meng Wan, she called out, "Lieutenant Meng, pay up!"

Meng Wan stamped her foot in frustration.

He Simu leisurely ran her hand along the tables of the stalls, smiling as she made her way toward them.

The pinwheel in her left hand began spinning rapidly. The gentle spring breeze, having swept across the turbulent waters of the Guan River from the south, passed through pavilions and towers before arriving at this broad street. It rustled through the gaps in her hair, setting the colorful little pinwheel whirring with a faint, fluttering sound.

He Simu spread her arms wide, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as the sunlight bathed her in its glow. The wind billowed from behind, lifting the hems of her robes into flight.Duan Xu was momentarily stunned.

He suddenly remembered the moment he had killed Shishi. Shishi's curse—"You will always be a monster"—echoed in his exhausted, frenzied, and desolate mind, that sinister thrill and despair climbing up to strangle his throat.

Then this girl walked toward him, patted his face, and said to him—"Wake up."

In all these years, she was the first, the only one besides himself, to tell him "Wake up."

Now, pushed by this radiant spring, she walked toward him as if she had attained supreme happiness in this world.

Duan Xu stared fixedly at He Simu, then suddenly burst into laughter, his chest shaking, his eyes crinkling with mirth: "Is this world really so lovely? Meng Wan, look at her—how can she smile so foolishly?"

Meng Wan gazed at Duan Xu in a daze.

The wind lifted his hair ribbon, his bright smile like a sea of crabapple blossoms in spring in the Southern Capital.

Duan Xu had always been fond of smiling—whether encountering good or bad, he smiled. Often, Meng Wan couldn't tell what he was thinking or if he was truly happy.

But no matter how she searched her memories, she couldn't recall a single instance where Duan Xu had smiled with such genuine, heartfelt joy as he did now.

Meng Wan murmured blankly, "Shunxi... you..."

Before she could finish her question, He Simu had already reached them. She said leisurely to Meng Wan, "Captain Meng, why are you still standing here? The shopkeeper wants payment."

Before Meng Wan could react, Duan Xu took out his purse and handed it to her, instructing her to cover all the damages for the day from his funds.

Meng Wan asked, "Shunxi... who is this young lady?"

Before Duan Xu could answer, He Simu replied for him: "Didn't I say? My name is Seventeen. Just call me Seventeen."

Duan Xu fell silent for a moment, then laughed. "Seventeen?"

"Yes."

Meng Wan glanced between the two, sighed, and turned away to settle the bill.

He Simu showed not the slightest guilt over the debt. Holding her pinwheel, she spun in place twice and said, "So this is wind!"

Clearly still unaccustomed to this sentient, mortal-like body, she stumbled twice over a stone on the road after just two spins.

Duan Xu immediately steadied her hand, and He Simu's flushed fingers tightened between his, interlacing one by one until their hands were fully entwined.

It seemed she now had a living, vibrant body—perhaps her hands were warm now, no longer icy as they once were. Her warmth came from his very being.

He Simu gazed at their interlaced fingers and chuckled softly. "I've heard that the fingers are connected to the heart."

"Hmm?"

"Then... have I grasped your heart?"

Have I grasped your heart.

She said it lightly, and Duan Xu knew it was merely innocent curiosity.

Their fingers fit together seamlessly. He felt nothing, yet not entirely nothing.

His hand sensed nothing, yet his heart trembled.

The shards of ice that had pierced his heart when she first said "It hurts" finally melted, merging into his blood, becoming part of the life he was living now.

Duan Xu lowered his gaze briefly before looking up with a smile, his bright eyes shimmering. "Yes."

Somewhere along the way, you've grasped my heart.He Simu was so overjoyed that she didn't notice the boy's intense gaze fixed upon her. She released Duan Xu's hand and looked around at this bustling, lively world.

Four hundred years of memories flowed before her eyes like a tide. Softly, she murmured, "So you really weren't lying to me. This world is so beautiful... worth all these centuries..."

Centuries spent painstakingly protecting this world.

Father, mother, aunt, uncle.

He Simu silently called out their names in her heart. She wanted to say this was her first time feeling wind and sunlight—just as gentle and blissful as they'd described.

She hadn't failed them, and they hadn't deceived her.

But where were they now?

Her eyes trembled slightly. The overwhelming joy suddenly felt veiled, as if obscured by mist.

The cloudless azure sky stretched endlessly high, impossibly distant. A formation of wild geese flew far away in perfect V-shape, gradually disappearing into the vast blue. He Simu gazed at the pristine sky, then let her eyes fall upon the bustling streets below, suddenly letting out a soft laugh.

Boundless heaven and earth, teeming multitudes—yet I walk alone.

All life's joys and sorrows, with none to share.

That night, the Evil Ghost He Simu dreamed for the first time in four hundred years. Being an ignorant ghost who'd never been human, she'd naturally never dreamed before, so at first she thought it was real.

In the dream, her youthful mother held her hand while her father played the flute for them amidst the sunset's glow, surrounded by radiant white light.

She asked her mother what was so pleasing about the flute—she couldn't discern any melody at all.

Her mother replied that actually, her father couldn't hear it either now—he just mastered the technique.

Then why does father bother playing? she asked.

Her mother laughed, patting her head as she said—But I can hear it. Your father plays for me because he loves me, knowing I can perceive his affection. This is why the living cherish music—because it carries emotion.

Her mother continued—Simu, the living people of this world are fragile yet sensitive, passionate and vibrant. Your power is too great—you must learn to understand them, then treat them gently.

One day, you'll maintain the balance between ghosts and humans like your father did, protecting this world.