Love Beyond the Grave

When Hejia Fengyi and He Simu had dealt with Consort Yu and the Rakshasa Hall Master, withdrawn their formation, and emerged from the palace, the bright moon had already risen to the center of the sky. A purple figure appeared in the alley of Yubian Lane, and Hejia Fengyi smiled happily at the sight, waving as he called out, "Ziji!"

He had only taken two steps forward when his legs began to falter, his wooden staff clattering to the ground, the bells on it ringing crisply. Amidst that sound, his thin, white-clad figure collapsed—only to be caught in time by Ziji.

Hejia Fengyi closed his eyes in Ziji's arms—unconscious. Seeing the terrifying red spots covering his body, Ziji lifted her head and cast a questioning glance at He Simu.

He Simu said, "His body reacts intensely to filth and malevolence. Exposed to ghostly energy, he can endure no more than three hours. Take good care of him. Once the red spots fade, he'll be fine."

The most powerful sorcerer in the world, yet the least suited to be one.

Ziji nodded, supporting Hejia Fengyi as she stood up. He Simu studied her discreetly before suddenly asking, "Ziji, how old are you this year?"

Ziji hesitated before answering, "Twenty."

"What is your zodiac sign?"

"..."

As Ziji faltered, He Simu chuckled and said, "Miss Ziji can't even remember her own zodiac sign. Are you really only twenty?"

She was indeed no ordinary person.

Ziji held Hejia Fengyi, standing silently in place.

"I don't particularly care who you really are. Fengyi is grown now—he doesn't need me making decisions for him. Whatever you are, since he keeps you by his side, he must have his reasons."

Beneath the veiled hat adorned with red beaded tassels, He Simu's voice was calm and gentle.

"Fengyi has always been a troublesome child—curious, frail, prone to illness and misfortune, unlikely to live out his natural lifespan. His path is his own to walk now. I see he respects you greatly. I hope you'll take good care of him by his side."

Ziji nodded and said, "Alright."

He Simu patted her shoulder. "Take him back. I'd like to clear my mind."

In the deep night of the Southern Capital, where all was silent, only the watchman's indifferent call of "Dry weather, beware of fire" echoed through the streets. Under the moonlight, He Simu walked straight through several courtyard gates and walls, finally arriving at a refined room in an elegant compound.

The room's occupant, surprisingly, was still awake. Dressed in thin robes, he leaned against the windowsill, gazing at the night sky. Following his line of sight, He Simu saw several bright lanterns ascending into the darkness.

"Another person has died," he said.

She had opened his yin eyes for him, and now he was quite familiar with this ghostly world—though he still couldn't see her, who deliberately concealed herself.

This was the Duan family's courtyard, and the man before her was her Curse-Bound Person—the soon-to-be groom, Duan Shunxi.

Duan Xu suddenly turned his head, as if sensing something. His eyes swept the room before he murmured, "I feel like someone is watching me."

A familiar scene—just like in Shuozhou, where she had hidden herself to observe him. His intuition remained as sharp as ever.

After a moment of silence, Duan Xu closed the window and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around before smiling. "Is it you?"He Simu did not respond—even if she had, he wouldn't have heard her. After a moment's thought, she simply sat down in the bright square of moonlight cast through the window onto the floor. The beaded veil of her hat draped over her entire body as she looked up at Duan Xu, who was seated on the bed.

Truthfully, she didn’t know what to say or why she had come here. She had merely been stirred by the Rakshasa Hall Master’s words, which had dredged up memories of the past, leaving her momentarily melancholic. After wandering aimlessly for a long while, she had found herself here without realizing it.

“What do you like?”

Thinking of the gift she had yet to prepare, she asked this question. But muffled by the sound-concealing spell, it was less of a question and more of a murmur to herself.

Duan Xu sat cross-legged just as she did, his cheek propped on one hand, his gaze distant. His eyes blinked softly, calm and quiet.

“Your Highness, I like you,” he suddenly said, as if answering her unspoken question.

He Simu frowned. “That won’t do.”

Duan Xu, still resting his head on his hand, looked around the silent, empty room bathed in moonlight and chuckled softly. He continued as if speaking to himself, “There’s one thing that bothers me—you’ve never asked me why I like you. If you don’t ask, it must be because too many people adore you. You’re used to it, so my reasons don’t interest you.”

He Simu watched him silently. His usual striking traits—his fervor, his bravery, his sincerity, his madness—now lay still as water in the night, as if all his emotions had settled into a clear, tranquil pond.

In a low voice, half-accusation and half-jest, he said, “You seduced me.”

He Simu arched an eyebrow.

“You seduced me with the tenderness beneath your cold exterior, the loneliness above all ghosts, and your love for this world. And I was willing—hooked without resistance.”

He tilted his chin down but lifted his eyes to look at her. From this angle, the sharp line of his gaze was clear and piercing, his eyes bright and intensely focused. For a moment, He Simu was stunned, as if captured by his stare.

Duan Xu leaned forward slightly and murmured, “Will you miss me?”

“From the moment I left Jade Zhou City until now, I’ve missed you constantly. Every day, in everything, I think of you.”

“When I met you on the street, you asked me who I was. Even though I knew you were pretending not to recognize me, I couldn’t help thinking—what if one day you truly forgot? My name, my face, me. By then, I’d have long turned to dust, with no chance to pull you back and introduce myself all over again.”

“It’s unfair, isn’t it? You must rarely think of me, so forgetting comes easily. If you missed me the way I miss you, you’d at least remember me for a hundred years.”

He spoke lightly, as if joking, his gaze fixed on the stone tiles before He Simu. In truth, they were so close that if she reached out, she could have touched his lowered cheek.

As if under some spell, He Simu raised her hand, parting the crimson beaded veil as she reached toward Duan Xu—until her fingertips passed through his face. She paused, realizing that in her current state, she couldn’t touch his spectral form.

He lifted his bright eyes and asked earnestly, “Simu, are you still there?”

He Simu’s hand hesitated in the air before slowly withdrawing. She didn’t lift the concealment spell, nor did she speak to Duan Xu.Duan Xu lowered his eyelids and chuckled softly, saying, "Gone, without even a word to me."

Finally ending his soliloquy, he lay back on the bed, pulled up the covers, turned toward the wall, and closed his eyes. He Simu watched his back for a long while, only standing up when his breathing became steady and even. She let out a quiet laugh.

"Little Fox Duan, I’m quite busy, you know."

If he were to wake up now, if he could hear her voice, he would find it surprisingly tender.

"But occasionally, I do miss you."

He Simu fell silent for a moment, as if realizing how laughable it was that even now, she couldn’t bring herself to speak the full truth.

So she added, "I miss you often."

The moon set, and the sun cast a faint glow on the horizon as the chirping of insects and birds filled the air with vitality. He Simu thought to herself—she had inexplicably come here, listened to Duan Xu’s ramblings for so long, lingered even longer, yet still hadn’t decided what wedding gift to give him.

On the night of May 20th, Consort Yu and the Fifth Prince attempted to flee the palace and assassinate the Emperor. Their plot was exposed, and they took their own lives in Guanghe Palace. The Emperor, enraged, punished their clans and ordered the confiscation of the household of Sun Zi’an, the Minister of War. Jing Yan, the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, was sent to oversee the confiscation. Hidden compartments in Sun’s residence yielded irrefutable evidence of corruption in the Horse Administration case, and witnesses once again came forward. The case was finally concluded. Sun Zi’an, the Minister of War, and the Minister of the Court of Imperial Stud were executed. The Emperor decreed reforms to the Horse Administration and the large-scale construction of the Yun Province Horse Ranch.

On June 18th, as the turmoil began to settle, the third son of the Duan family, the young General Duan, was to be married.

That day, the Southern Capital was bustling with excitement. Firecrackers filled the sky, drums and gongs resounded, and crowds thronged the streets to catch a glimpse of the dashing young General Duan as he welcomed his bride.

He Simu and Hejia Fengyi stood atop a rooftop along the street, watching Duan Xu emerge from the Duan residence. His face was radiant with a brilliant smile as he effortlessly mounted his horse, his robes and hair ribbon fluttering in the wind—a display of youthful exuberance and confidence.

Hejia Fengyi sighed dramatically, fanning himself. "I, at least, was properly invited to the Duan residence with a wedding card—far more official than your little hair ribbon, Ancestor. Yet here I am, standing under the scorching sun on a rooftop, admiring the groom in such a pitiful state. What kind of punishment is this?"

He Simu scoffed. "Go enjoy the banquet at the Duan residence if you wish. Who asked you to come?"

"I just thought, since you’ve never attended a wedding before, I’d keep you company," Feng Yi said, feigning hurt.

The noise of firecrackers and the crowd drowned out their conversation. Servants held long bamboo poles from which strings of firecrackers dangled, all ignited from the bottom at once. The crackling explosions surged upward in a fiery wave, their echoes shaking the heavens. Shreds of red paper fluttered through the air like sparks or a jubilant snowfall.

Bright red wedding couplets swayed in the breeze as musicians played lively tunes, filling the streets with an atmosphere of boiling joy. He Simu wondered—why were these people, packed into the streets and gaining nothing from this wedding, so happy?

What was there to be happy about? What was the true meaning of a wedding? Why had Duan Xu insisted she attend his marriage? What did he want from her?

Did he want her to feel sorrow or regret?On horseback, Duan Xu suddenly looked up. This time, He Simu hadn’t concealed herself much, so he spotted her immediately. He gazed at her deeply for a moment before breaking into a radiant smile. From his sleeve, he pulled out a spell, waved it in the air, and tossed it upward. The spell ignited midair, turning to ashes in an instant.

From that moment, the world in He Simu’s eyes transformed abruptly. The monochrome shades of black, white, and gray dissolved as if melting into water. In a flash, everything was painted in dazzling, chaotic hues, each color clamoring to leap into her vision—vivid, breathtaking, and utterly overwhelming.

Amidst that riot of brilliant colors, Duan Xu stared back at her unblinking. His dark hair ribbon, robes, and pale hairpiece suddenly took on a new form. He was bathed in a fervent, warm, and dazzling radiance, shimmering under the sunlight—just like the heartbeat she had once felt against her fingertips on the day she first gained the sense of touch.

Those colors seemed alive, pulsing across his being. It was impossible to tell whether he had breathed life into them or if they had made him all the more vibrant.

Belatedly, He Simu realized—that was what people called red. Duan Xu in red robes was breathtakingly beautiful.

He grinned at her, stunning against the flurry of crimson paper scraps drifting through the air, like a painting set aflame.

He wanted her to attend his wedding—and to gift her his perception of color.

He wanted the first vibrant world she ever saw to be him, clad in wedding robes.