Love Beyond the Grave

He Simu seemed to pause for a moment, narrowing her eyes slightly as she said, "Are you truly not planning to use this bargain for something more valuable?"

"Valuable?"

In the summer morning's grassy field, the already sweltering wind carried dust and the scent of blood, blowing her long hair and sleeves toward Duan Xu—close enough that he could touch them if he reached out.

Duan Xu lowered his gaze, then raised his eyes to look at He Simu. Having just killed many, he was still in an exhilarated state, his eyes burning bright.

"I want you to see me in wedding robes. It only happens once in a lifetime—don’t you think that’s valuable enough?"

He untied the black silver-traced hair ribbon from his head and extended it toward her, his smiling eyes like crescent moons. "Consider this my invitation. On the auspicious date of June eighteenth, a banquet will be held at my residence. I humbly request your esteemed presence to bless this joyous union and grace the occasion with your radiance. I sincerely hope you will not refuse."

He Simu looked down at the black ribbon with its silver pine and cypress patterns between his pale fingers. She wasn’t certain if it was truly black and silver, but she had once heard from Meng Wan that Duan Xu favored the combination of black and silver.

When she had guided him through the Ghost Realm, he had always dressed in black with silver ornaments, much like the ebony-and-silver Illusion-Breaking Sword. She had once asked why he dressed that way, and he had replied with a smile, "I want the version of me you see to be my truest self."

He was adept at doing things that were hard to understand yet unforgettable—like wearing black and white around her, like inviting her to his wedding.

He Simu met Duan Xu’s gaze and, after a moment of silence, said, "Very well. I accept."

She took the black silver-traced ribbon from his hand and smiled. "Congratulations, General Duan."

This was a good thing. The mortal world was full of color—why should a ghost be confined to black and white?

By the time He Simu vanished into a wisp of blue smoke, Fang Xianye had been staring blankly for a while before finally rubbing his temples and turning to Duan Xu to demand, "Who was that?"

Duan Xu seemed reluctant to look away, his gaze lingering on the spot where the girl had disappeared. He chuckled softly. "The one who holds my heart."

"The one who holds your heart? She’s clearly not human—she’s a ghost, isn’t she? You said she’s the Ghost King, she—"

"Fang Ji..." Duan Xu suddenly drew out his words, turning to him with a lazy, radiant smile. "How about this—when you have a child someday, let them call me godfather. Or, if you don’t mind, you could just give them to me outright."

The question seemed unrelated, but its implication was unmistakable—Duan Xu was serious, dead serious, beyond any hope of dissuasion.

Fang Xianye froze, his expression darkening as he turned away and strode toward his sedan chair, angrily muttering, "You lunatic. You’re destined to die alone!"

Duan Xu burst into laughter behind him.

The assassination attempt on Fang Xianye was not made public. Over the following days, Duan Xu observed Duan Chengzhang’s sullen expression and concluded that his father likely wouldn’t be scheming anything else for the time being.

Duan Jingyuan, naturally inept at detecting undercurrents, was perhaps the only person in the Duan residence wholly preoccupied with Duan Xu’s wedding.She had thought her brother and father would deliberate longer, but unexpectedly, they swiftly settled on the Wang family's daughter and proceeded with the betrothal and wedding arrangements. Wang Suyi preferred tranquility over social gatherings and rarely attended the usual gatherings of young ladies, so Duan Jingyuan wasn’t very familiar with her. However, Wang Suyi was exceptionally beautiful and spoke gently—she seemed like a graceful girl, and having her as a sister-in-law didn’t seem like a bad idea at all.

The news of her third brother’s impending marriage inexplicably left Duan Jingyuan feeling somewhat melancholic. Since childhood, she had dreamed of marrying someone like her third brother. Though his personality had changed as he grew older, deep down, she still used him as a yardstick to measure the young masters of the Southern Capital. Now, that yardstick was about to be taken by someone else.

Yet, she sensed that her third brother didn’t seem particularly happy about the upcoming marriage. Perhaps it was due to the troubles in court—she vaguely heard about some case being investigated, and her brother had gotten entangled in it.

Ugh, damn the Pei Party!

The serene and composed image of Fang Xianye flashed through her mind. After a brief hesitation, she cursed inwardly: Damn Fang Xianye!

Banquets had always been Duan Jingyuan’s stage to shine. She decided to craft the most unique set of robes and blend the most refined and sweet fragrance to show her utmost respect for her dearest third brother’s life-changing event.

That day, she eagerly headed to the largest perfumery in the city, Yueranju, to procure the finest amber for her incense. While selecting ingredients, she noticed a girl of average height and plain features but well-dressed enter the shop. The girl untied the scent pouch from her waist and tossed it to the perfumer, saying, "Make me another pouch just like this. The ingredients are agarwood, amber, storax, mint leaves, bletilla striata, and benzoin."

The moment Duan Jingyuan caught the scent of the pouch, she was startled by its familiarity. The shop was filled with mixed aromas, so she couldn’t immediately confirm it, but when the girl listed the ingredients, her surprise deepened—wasn’t this the very fragrance she had blended for her third brother?

Duan Jingyuan studied the girl curiously. The girl seemed to notice and turned to glance at her, smiling. "Why are you staring at me, miss?"

Her smile carried a hint of arrogance and nonchalance, yet strangely, it wasn’t unpleasant—there was even a faint sense of intimidation.

"Ah… I just thought the fragrance was lovely. Did you blend it yourself? What’s its name?" Duan Jingyuan asked, sidestepping the truth.

The girl tapped her fingers idly on the counter and shook her head. "No. The fragrance is called…" She seemed to ponder for a moment before smiling as if recalling something.

"Duan Shunxi."

Duan Jingyuan’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. When she looked at the girl again, her gaze held pity.

The perfumer at Yueranju seemed distracted that day, nearly giving Duan Jingyuan the wrong amber and omitting the bletilla striata from the "Duan Shunxi" fragrance, altering its scent. The girl ordering the incense didn’t notice at all—it was Duan Jingyuan who pointed it out, prompting the perfumer to correct his mistake.

As she watched the girl leave, Duan Jingyuan sighed inwardly. This must be one of her brother’s admirers, who had somehow learned the ingredients of his fragrance and wore the same scent to feel closer to him. Her third brother’s marriage would surely break countless hearts in the Southern Capital—truly, a devastatingly handsome man was nothing but trouble.After returning home, she asked Duan Xu if he had ever shared the fragrance formula she had blended for him with others. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, she told him about the incident and similarly expressed her amazement.

Upon hearing this, Duan Xu paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, as if greatly amused. He confirmed, "You're saying the perfumer mixed the wrong ingredients, yet she didn’t notice at all?"

"Yes, it’s quite strange."

Duan Xu laughed even more heartily, murmuring softly, "How adorable."

Duan Jingyuan felt there was something off about Duan Xu’s expression. She poked his shoulder and warned, "Third Brother, you’re about to get married. You can’t just go around finding others adorable anymore. In my opinion, you should also stop competing with Fang Xianye over Luo Xian from Yù Zǎo Tower."

Duan Xu readily agreed to everything. Jing Yuan then proudly presented the new fragrance she had blended that day, holding it out for him to smell and guess its components. This was a game she often played with him, as Duan Xu had an exceptionally keen sense of smell and could usually identify all the ingredients she used with just one whiff.

This time, Duan Xu sniffed it as usual and leisurely listed the components of his younger sister’s new fragrance. However, Jing Yuan frowned and said, "Third Brother, you missed two—fennel and lily."

Though she had used only a small amount of these, it was unlike Duan Xu to miss them. Hearing this, Duan Xu also seemed taken aback. He lowered his head and carefully smelled the Scent Pouch again, his eyes darkening slightly.

Seeing his silence, Jing Yuan thought he was upset and awkwardly tried to console him. "It’s possible to slip up occasionally. Don’t take it too hard, Third Brother."

"I can’t smell them anymore…" Duan Xu murmured softly. He raised his eyes to look at Jing Yuan, his gaze filled with complex emotions that startled her for a moment. But soon, Duan Xu smiled again, returning the Scent Pouch to her and saying, "It seems I’m getting old, Jing Yuan. I might often fail at this game from now on."

Jing Yuan whispered, "You’re not even twenty until August this year. What do you mean, getting old?"

"Haha, after all, one’s senses naturally decline with age." Duan Xu patted Jing Yuan’s head lightly and said dismissively, "Such is the way of the world."

With that, he turned and walked out, hands behind his back, his cyan robes fluttering. He looked so youthful, as if he would remain that way forever. Jing Yuan held the Scent Pouch, feeling an inexplicable melancholy at the word "decline."

When He Simu returned to the State Preceptor’s residence, Hejia Fengyi was standing in the courtyard, leaning on his white birch staff and observing the stars. The floor tiles of his Star Chart Courtyard were painted black with golden constellations, encapsulating the vast night sky within a small space. He stood amidst the depiction of the Dipper, tapping his staff on the three stars of the Dipper’s bowl. One of the four bells hanging from the top of his staff chimed crisply as he swiftly calculated something with his fingers.

Noticing He Simu entering the courtyard, he planted his staff firmly on the ground and leaned against it, grinning. "What’s our Ancestor been up to?"

The staff seemed rooted in the earth, standing unwavering despite his weight.

He Simu raised the Scent Pouch in her hand. "Blending fragrances."

"You can’t smell anything. Why bother blending fragrances?"

"I may not smell, but I like the idea of others smelling this scent on me. Is that not allowed?"Hejia Fengyi immediately replied, "Got it, got it." Just as He Simu was about to enter the house, she suddenly turned back to look at him. Leaning against the doorframe, she hesitated for a moment before asking, "What kind of wedding gifts are popular in the mortal world these days?"

"That depends on who's getting married. Are you planning to give Duan Xu a gift?"

"He invited me to his wedding. Since I'm going, I can't show up empty-handed."

Hejia Fengyi swayed, nearly losing his balance on his wooden staff. This ancestor of his had never been fond of attending weddings or funerals. She hadn't attended his parents' wedding, nor their funerals, nor any of his siblings' banquets. He had assumed she would ask him to deliver the gift on her behalf—never did he expect her to attend personally? This was truly a case of favoritism, valuing romance over friendship.

Receiving Hejia Fengyi's accusatory glare, He Simu—uncharacteristically—felt a twinge of guilt. She coughed twice and said, "It's different this time. This is part of the condition for exchanging senses with him."

Hejia Fengyi clicked his tongue and sighed, "I've noticed you're unusually indulgent toward him."

"It's just a transaction."

Waving his hand to drop the subject, Hejia Fengyi knew his ancestor would never admit her repeated concessions to Duan Xu. He steered the conversation back: "As it happens, I've prepared an unexpectedly generous gift for him. Recently, the court has been investigating corruption in the Horse Administration. Originally, both the Minister of War and the Minister of the Imperial Stud were to lose their heads, but then the key witness suddenly recanted, claiming he had been coerced and that the evidence was forged. The timing of this corruption case aligns too perfectly with Duan Xu's push to attack Yun and Luo provinces. Jing Yan, the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, suspects Duan Xu's involvement. Now, he's also being watched by Duke Pei's faction, who will likely use this incident to keep pressuring him."

"And the matter I'm currently investigating, though unrelated to this case, could be of great help to Duan Xu. Someone like him probably doesn't care much for material possessions, so I'll just prepare some other gifts casually."

He Simu knew little—and cared even less—about the affairs of Great Liang's court. Frowning, she said, "That's your gift. But what should I give?"

"You've spent so much time with him—don't you know what he likes? You've exchanged senses with him. The things you enjoyed when you gained sensation, aren't those the things he likes?"

The things she enjoyed when she gained sensation? He Simu pondered seriously. What had she liked?

Sunlight, wind, ice, rain, snow.

Peonies, green grass, firewood, the aroma of food.

Duan Xu's pulse, heartbeat, breath, scent.

How could any of these be given as gifts?

This wasn't He Simu's first time giving a gift. In the past, she had always been straightforward, selecting ancient treasures from her vault and presenting them generously. But she knew Duan Xu wouldn't care for such things. Perhaps because he had once given her that meticulously crafted painting, she found herself unconsciously more cautious about her return gift.

She wanted to give Duan Xu something he would truly like, something that would make him happy. But she wasn't good at this sort of thing—she was better at destruction or protection than at giving.

He Simu sighed, rubbing her temples. The feeling of trying to please someone was subtle and unfamiliar to her.Hejia Fengyi studied the expression on the ancestor's face for a while, then waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it. Ancestor, have you forgotten you're an Evil Ghost? For mortals, receiving gifts from ghosts during a wedding isn't just inauspicious—it's downright unlucky. If you give him a present, do you think he'd dare accept it?"

He Simu paused, then chuckled softly after a moment. "You're right."

She turned and walked into the house.

Shaking his head, Hejia Fengyi retrieved his wooden staff and tapped it against the Heart constellation. The staff began spinning rapidly, all its bells chiming in a crisp, discordant melody, as if countless voices were chattering about something. Crossing his arms, he smiled contentedly and said, "Mars guarding the heart—an auspicious day is coming."