Love Beyond the Grave

By the time Duan Xu had mostly dealt with the aftermath of the failed marriage and returned to his courtyard, Chen Ying and Duan Jingyuan were both gathered around He Simu in his Bright Moon Residence, watching her paint. She had changed into a moon-white gown with lotus patterns subtly woven into the fabric, sleeves rolled up as she meticulously worked on the rice paper.

An array of pigments in varying shades and colors was spread out beside her. Duan Jingyuan held Chen Ying close, both marveling at He Simu’s brushstrokes. When Duan Xu stepped inside, Jing Yuan whispered to her third brother, "Miss He’s painting skills are incredible—I think even the palace artists can’t compare to her."

After a pause, she added, "But it’s strange… she doesn’t seem to recognize colors. Earlier, I took out all the pigments I had and named each one for her. How can such a skilled painter not know colors?"

Duan Xu patted Jing Yuan’s shoulder but didn’t respond. Instead, he wrapped his arms around He Simu from behind, forcing her to pause her brush and pull her attention away from her intense focus.

"..." Jing Yuan covered Chen Ying’s eyes, muttering, "We won’t disturb you," as she dragged the struggling boy out of the room. Chen Ying protested, wanting to stay longer with "Sister Xiaoxiao," but he was no match for Jing Yuan’s strength.

"Third Brother, control yourself! I already told Sister-in-law and the steward that Chen Ying’s sister is visiting, but at least try to make it look believable. And… don’t set a bad example for the child!"

Duan Xu chuckled, releasing He Simu to close the door. "Thanks for looking after things, little sister," he called after Jing Yuan.

Once the commotion outside faded, he turned back and returned to He Simu, encircling her waist again.

"I thought you’d be gone by the time I got back."

He Simu’s gaze remained fixed on the painting as she smiled faintly. "You and Hejia Fengyi teamed up to strip me of my magical power. Where exactly could I run?"

"Su Yi has safely left the Southern Capital and reached Shunzhou."

"You should call her 'Madam' now."

"Simu..." Duan Xu drew out her name, almost pleading. She turned to look at him, her eyes still amused—until she caught sight of his profile. Her expression darkened. Setting down the brush, she reached up to touch his cheek. "Who hit you?"

Duan Xu was surprised. He had already iced the area, and no one else had noticed the faint mark all day. The perceptiveness of an Evil Ghost was truly unmatched.

He covered her hand with his own, eyes crinkling. "It’s fine. I can’t feel anything right now—it doesn’t hurt at all."

He Simu frowned, thinking for a moment. "Your father hit you?"

"Mhm."

"He left you to die back then, and now he dares to strike you?"

"My father naturally doesn’t believe he was wrong." After a pause, Duan Xu leaned against her shoulder. "I can’t blame him for what happened back then. Do you remember the mineral I mentioned in front of the generals—Sky Luo?"

"I remember."

"Back then, the Hú Qì people threatened my father because they wanted the refining method for the Sky Luo ore in Luozhou."

In his youth, his father had befriended some figures from the martial world, including members of the Echo Pavilion, an assassination guild. His father discovered that one of their assassins was a descendant of a renowned artisan family in Luozhou—one of the few in the world who knew how to refine high-purity Sky Luo.So his father helped the assassin escape from Echo Pavilion, intending to have him join the Ministry of Works to put the Sky Luo refining method into practice. However, the Huqi people somehow got wind of this and came to pressure his father with threats and bribes to hand over this person. When coercion failed, they abducted Duan Xu. Yet, in the end, his father did not yield.

“The Huqi people learned the news so quickly that my father suspected there were traitors in the court. He temporarily hid this person and his family’s handwritten notes, waiting for the day when Luozhou was recaptured and the mines reclaimed before making further plans. The greatest hiding is in plain sight—the descendant of that craftsman who mastered the Sky Luo extraction method was just a young girl back then. Now, she is Luo Xian of Yù Zǎo Tower.”

He Simu raised her eyes in surprise to look at Duan Xu, who then smiled and said, “What do you think? Sounds like my father was quite the hero in his youth, doesn’t it?”

How could he say his father was wrong?

How could he blame his father for prioritizing the survival of Great Liang, for keeping the nation’s vital secrets out of enemy hands, for sacrificing him for the sake of countless lives?

Of course, he couldn’t.

Moreover, his father had no idea of the suffering he endured in Danzhi. His father thought he had merely wandered displaced in Danzhi, surviving on martial arts skills before finding his way back to the Southern Capital. Thus, the guilt lasted only a year or so before fading away.

“But in the end, he grew old. He thought Luo Xian was still his trusted confidant, but she had long been mine. What he learned from her was only what I wanted him to know.”

Duan Xu spoke calmly, but then he saw He Simu turn to face him. She sat on the table, encircling his neck with her arms, and gazed intently into his eyes.

In his world of only black and white, the light and shadows flickered in her eyes.

“Do you feel wronged?” she asked, her tone so composed it seemed less a question and more a statement.

This was the first time he had ever been asked such a thing.

Duan Xu was momentarily stunned. He lowered his eyes, shook his head with a smile, and said, “If you never expected anything, there’s nothing to feel wronged about.”

He Simu lifted his chin and said, “Even if you never expected anything from anyone before, now you can expect something from me. You are my beloved.”

With that, she pulled him into an embrace, laughing softly by his ear. “I don’t make promises lightly, but once I do, I won’t break them. You can trust me.”

Duan Xu remained silent for a long while before wrapping his arms around her back and burying his face in the crook of her neck. His voice, still tinged with laughter, was soft as he said, “I didn’t feel wronged before. He hid things from me, and I deceived him—we played our parts in this harmonious act. Maybe that’s just how family is.”

“Family isn’t like that.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. From now on, I’ll be your family too.”

Duan Xu held her tightly and said nothing more.

He had always been like a flame, merging everything in his path with himself yet never losing his essence—bright and sharp, an untouchable intensity, an unfathomable enigma.

But now, he wasn’t.

He Simu felt as though she was holding a beating bomb of a heart—fragile yet resolute, resolute yet fragile.

That little heart lifted its head to look at her, eyes shining brightly, and said, “You said I’m your beloved.”

“That’s right.”

“Want to leave a mark?”He Simu was somewhat taken aback when Duan Xu pointed to the pigments spread across the table and asked with a smile, "Oh mighty Ghost King, do you know how to tattoo? Would you like to paint on my body?"

He Simu froze for a moment. After staring at the green-robed Duan Xu for a long while, she finally smiled and asked, "What would you like me to paint?"

"Snow-covered red plum blossoms—like you," Duan Xu replied.

He Simu didn't understand how snow-covered plum blossoms resembled her. Perhaps it was because the red-and-white color scheme matched her usual attire. Without hesitation, Duan Xu removed his upper garment, revealing his toned torso covered in scars. He Simu circled him once before pushing him toward the bed and instructing him to lie face down.

"When I first saw these scars on you, I thought you looked like a piece of crackled porcelain," He Simu murmured as she traced her fingers along his back.

Duan Xu, buried in the bedding, chuckled softly. "I didn't know I looked so beautiful in your eyes."

He Simu's fingers brushed over the burn mark at his waist. "How did you get this injury here?"

"It used to be the slave brand of Heavenly Awareness. I burned it smooth."

"But you're afraid of pain, aren't you?"

"Actually, I'm very sensitive to pain, but I'm not afraid of it. All those times I cried out in pain before were just to make you feel sorry for me."

He Simu patted the back of his head. "You're quite honest now, aren't you?"

Duan Xu laughed quietly.

On his back was a slash wound, the scar branching out like a wayward twig. He Simu followed its path with pigment and needle, as if a vibrant plum blossom had sprouted from his flesh, dusted with a layer of delicate snow.

Having only recently learned about colors, she found everything in this world overwhelmingly vivid, even dizzying. The plum blossom on Duan Xu's back was no exception—it added a touch of enchantment to her snow-white youth, making him seem almost like a ghostly apparition.

The breeze lifted the gauzy curtains, their fluttering veiling the scene in fleeting glimpses: the pale youth lying on crimson bedding, the maiden in moon-white robes leaning over him, her arm braced against the mattress as she painted on his back—an indescribably alluring tableau.

"My father taught me how to paint," He Simu said as she worked. "He was skilled in all these things—music, chess, calligraphy, painting. Unlike me, he had once lived as a mortal, so he had a better grasp of these arts. He used every means to help me imagine what the human world was like, and he always felt guilty that I couldn't truly experience it. I never blamed him, though. I've always loved him dearly. To me, that's what family should be like."

At last, she set down her brush. A lifelike plum blossom now bloomed on Duan Xu's shoulder.

She bent down and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. When he turned his head, she kissed the corner of his eye, then his lips. Duan Xu pulled her onto the bed, and He Simu wrapped her arms around his neck, warning, "Careful, or you'll smudge it."

Duan Xu kissed her fingers—he always seemed fond of kissing them—before interlacing his long fingers with hers.

"If it smudges, we'll just continue tomorrow."

He Simu tilted her head back to look at him and smiled. "Don't make me hurt again today."

Duan Xu shook his head. "I won't."

As he leaned down, He Simu whispered in his ear, "Do you know what crackled porcelain symbolizes?"

"What?"

"The harsh winter has passed, and spring returns to the earth." After a pause, she added, "You'll be like that too."The harsh winter had passed, the nightmares faded, the wounds healed—let spring come into your life, and you will be the same.

Duan Xu chuckled softly and lowered his head to kiss He Simu. He thought that from now on, he might not be able to resist showing weakness in front of her. Perhaps he would even pretend to be upset when he wasn’t, just because he loved seeing Simu worry over him so much.

"Simu."

"...Hmm?"

"I really want to know what moved you, what made you agree to be with me."

"Fool."

"Ah, Ghost King, you’re so magnanimous—tell me, won’t you…?"

Duan Xu’s neck was pulled down, his words drowned in a flurry of lingering kisses and breathless gasps.

A moth drawn to flame, a drowning man clinging to a pillar—someone so clever, yet choosing to be such a fool. How could anyone not worry?