Love Beyond the Grave

In the Star Clarity Palace, Hejia Fengyi wore a light cyan robe with wide sleeves, adorned with ink orchid patterns and the Twenty-Eight Constellations Diagram embroidered on the back—the spring attire of the palace. Sitting cross-legged behind a small sandalwood table, he tossed copper coins while saying, "Ancestor, you initially said half a year, but it's been over a year now. They’ve even conquered Youzhou, yet the rebellion in your Ghost Realm still isn’t quelled?"

The woman in red seated before his table slowly raised her eyes. Amidst the swirling ghostly energy, her pitch-black eyes beneath dark lashes resembled an unfathomable night sky.

For the past year, every time Hejia Fengyi saw He Simu, her eyes had been completely black. She made no effort to restrain the ghostly energy around her, allowing its eerie and oppressive aura to linger. Merely approaching her left one breathless under the weight of such formidable power.

The Ancestor truly was strong.

Originally, when Hejia Fengyi learned the Ghost King had lost the Ghost King Lamp, he had been terribly anxious, fearing she might lose. Yet the Ancestor had simply tossed him a line—"Watch over Duan Shunxi. And I will never lose."

And indeed, the current situation proved her right. Both sides were locked in a stalemate, with Yan Ke gradually weakening. Despite obtaining the Ghost King Lamp, Yan Ke had somehow failed to gain overwhelming magical power to suppress the other ghosts, instead using the lamp merely as a banner to rally the wavering Hall Masters.

"The Ba-Demon Hall Master and the Tui-Demon Hall Master have been restless lately. Be wary of Fengzhou and Shuozhou," He Simu said indifferently.

"Another new battlefield? Ancestor, you’re suppressing rebellion in the Ghost Realm while also protecting the human world. Truly exhausting."

Suddenly shifting his tone, Hejia Fengyi slipped in a teasing remark amidst serious matters: "So, you really don’t plan to see Duan Shunxi even once?"

Under He Simu’s dagger-sharp gaze, he raised his hands in surrender. "Just asking. I promised to relay his message, so I need an answer. Besides, you told me to find someone to protect him but forbade me from mentioning him. That’s hardly fair."

Pausing, Hejia Fengyi lowered his hands and adopted a serious expression. "Speaking of which, when I last saw him, he didn’t seem to be in good health."

A flicker passed through He Simu’s gaze, her pure black eyes concealing unreadable emotions. She stood up, looking down at Hejia Fengyi with a faint smile. "Seems you’re too idle, still finding time to meddle in such matters."

With that, she vanished without another word.

Hejia Fengyi stared at the now-empty room, propping his chin on his hand with a long sigh. He didn’t even have the title of matchmaker, yet he’d gone above and beyond in playing the role. Next time he visited the Southern Capital, he’d have to make sure Duan Xu treated him well.

Behind him, the beaded curtain rustled softly as Ziji entered with medicine, sitting beside him and stating simply, "Time for your medicine."

Hejia Fengyi sighed. "Ziji, there’s no Ghost King as perfect as our Ancestor in this world, right?"

Ziji thought seriously for a moment, then nodded.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Hejia Fengyi—thin and sickly, with only his bright eyes betraying any vitality—seemed struck by sudden inspiration, ready to launch into a lengthy discourse."The master of the Evil Ghosts, who has no lingering desires, to restrain the Evil Ghosts born from deep-seated cravings; a fleeting lifespan to curb the formidable curse-killing power of the Mars Calamity Star. Everything in this world is meticulously preordained, interlocking to ensure smooth operation. Ziji, do you think this is good?"

Ziji's delicate face rarely showed any expression. Her deep eyes blinked as she replied, "As you said, the world operates smoothly."

Hejia Fengyi burst into laughter. Suddenly, he leaned closer to Ziji, gazing into her eyes and slowly said, "So we have no choice at all, merely tools? After all this time in the mortal world, do you still believe that?"

Faced with Hejia Fengyi's intense stare, Ziji finally lowered her eyes and pushed the medicine toward him, whispering softly, "Drink your medicine."

Hejia Fengyi studied her for a moment before reverting to his usual playful demeanor.

"You know full well this medicine is useless to me. You might as well go back early."

Despite saying this, he still picked up the bowl and drained it in one gulp.

The last time Duan Xu returned from the battlefield, he was merely one of the generals following Commander Qin. This time, summoned back to the Southern Capital, he was already a marshal commanding a formidable army.

Shi Biao had been extremely reluctant to return. His mind was preoccupied with the old emperor's ignored envoys and decrees, convinced that returning to the Southern Capital was tantamount to losing his head. But he couldn't dissuade Duan Xu from coming back. Remembering his vow—"As long as my head stays on my shoulders, Marshal Duan’s will never fall"—he gritted his teeth and followed.

The entire journey back, Shi Biao was on edge. Even Chen Ying couldn’t bear it and often tried to comfort him with jokes, but within a couple of sentences, Shi Biao would circle back to his worries.

"We were right at the doorstep of the Huqi royal court, just one push away from storming the Upper Capital and wiping out those little bastards. And now, at this critical moment, we’re ordered to cease fighting and return. Just because Danzhi sues for peace, we agree? What kind of peace? What else do they have left?"

Duan Xu smiled without answering.

In his view, what Danzhi had left didn’t matter. What mattered was the new emperor’s true intentions in the Southern Capital.

The Southern Capital, having weathered the turmoil of war, had quickly rebuilt after the new emperor’s ascension, restoring its former bustling appearance. At a glance, many new towers had risen. In this familiar yet unfamiliar city, Duan Xu was warmly received by the new emperor, lavished with banquets and honors. After attending all the welcoming feasts, accepting his rewards, and concluding private court discussions, Duan Xu finally understood the emperor’s calculations.

"The emperor is young and newly enthroned. Naturally, he wants to defeat Danzhi, achieve glory, and leave his mark in history. But he’d prefer it if the one leading the army to annihilate Danzhi weren’t me."

Dressed in his night suit, Duan Xu sat in Fang Xianye’s residence, leisurely sipping tea as he spoke.

"My father was part of Duke Du’s faction and previously supported Prince Su. The emperor and Prince Su clashed so fiercely that blood was spilled in the throne hall. Naturally, he looks at me with a thousand and one misgivings and doesn’t want me to capture the Upper Capital and add the glory of destroying Danzhi to my name. But since I’ve just secured five provinces in the Northern Territory, contributing greatly to the court, he has to treat me politely—at least on the surface."

Over a year apart had left Fang Xianye more somber. He lowered his gaze, rubbing the teacup absentmindedly, his brow furrowed with worry. He looked up at Duan Xu and asked, "So, do you still plan to return to the front lines?"Duan Xu smiled and said, "Of course. Those chariots, tactics, and soldiers have been with me for years. If someone else took over, the effectiveness would likely be greatly diminished."

Then he pointed north and added, "Does he really think those Huqi people in the north are sincere about peace? I know them too well—they’d rather fight to the last man than surrender easily. This is probably just a delaying tactic."

"It’s precisely because you’re too independent that neither the late Emperor nor the current one can fully trust you." Seeing Duan Xu’s relaxed and self-satisfied expression, Fang Xianye couldn’t help raising his voice. "Your position in the army is irreplaceable—so does the army belong to you or the Emperor? The Southern Capital is in chaos, yet you have food, soldiers, and armor in the Northern Territory, fighting your own battles without relying on the court. How can the court possibly control you?"

Duan Xu looked at Fang Xianye in surprise, puzzled by his sudden anger.

Fang Xianye realized he had misspoken and rubbed his temples. "You... need to hide your edge. You can’t be so openly defiant."

Duan Xu chuckled, leaning on the table with his chin propped on his hand. "There’s a saying: 'When a general is capable and the ruler does not interfere, victory is assured.' Do they understand the battlefield? If I listened to them, how could I fight?"

Fang Xianye felt a headache coming on, his mind in turmoil.

Duan Xu was a reckless madman—no one could make him do what he didn’t want to do. He would cut down gods and buddhas alike if they stood in his way. But not everyone could operate like him.

Fang Xianye certainly couldn’t.

Duan Xu continued casually, "I have no wife or children, and no one else in the Duan family serves in office. Once Danzhi is destroyed, if I just disappear, the Emperor will no longer see me as a threat. He’ll probably even pretend to mourn me and show favor to the Duan family."

"Are you still planning to go find your Evil Ghost wife later?"

Hearing this, Duan Xu fell silent for a moment before smiling. "Yes. I can hardly wait."

The candle on the table burned steadily, casting dim light in the room. Duan Xu idly tapped his teacup and turned to Fang Xianye, changing the subject. "How about you? The Emperor’s attitude toward Prince Ji’s faction is ambiguous. I don’t think the purge will implicate you, but he won’t trust Prince Ji’s people either."

The Emperor’s recent appointments in court were all paving the way for his own faction or loyalists, clearly intending to cultivate these forces in the future.

Fang Xianye was silent for a while before murmuring, "Take it slow, I suppose."

Last month, news came from the palace that Zhao Gonggong had suddenly died of a severe illness. Though it was called an illness, it might have been an assassination in the power struggles of the inner court. Rumor had it the incident was so sudden that Zhao Gonggong left no last words. Now that Duan Xu had returned to the Southern Capital, the Emperor seemed to have no pretext to suppress him—likely unaware of the existence of that secret decree.

So if Fang Xianye didn’t speak up, perhaps this decree would vanish without a trace.

"Xianye, you seem unsettled today. Did something happen?" Duan Xu tapped the table, pulling Fang Xianye out of his thoughts.

He looked at his friend, still as bright-eyed and spirited as he was at fourteen, and suddenly felt a surge of irritation and disgust. He couldn’t tell whether it was directed at Duan Xu or himself."Duan Shunxi, have you ever considered what you would do if one day I betrayed you?"

The moment the words left Fang Xianye's lips, he regretted them. Duan Xu's eyes widened, the smile still lingering on his face. After a brief silence, Duan Xu quickly laughed again, his gaze clear and his eyes curved in amusement.

"Betrayal is just betrayal. What I seek from you was never loyalty to begin with. People must always pay the price for what—or whom—they believe in, no?"

Fang Xianye was taken aback, then fell silent.

Duan Xu's expression turned serious as he asked, "Xianye, do you need help?"

Fang Xianye slowly shook his head.

Duan Xu seemed about to say more, but before he could speak, his face suddenly twisted in pain. Clutching his chest, he bent over as blood unexpectedly gushed from his mouth, splattering onto the ground and seeping between the brick seams. He suppressed his coughs as much as possible, but blood still trickled intermittently from the corner of his lips.

Fang Xianye stared in shock as Duan Xu wiped his mouth with his sleeve as if nothing had happened. The man even grinned, pointing at the pool of blood and saying, "Well, this is a problem. How are you going to explain the sudden appearance of blood in your room tomorrow?"

Fang Xianye frowned deeply, gripping Duan Xu's sleeve tightly. "Duan Shunxi, what's wrong with you?"

"Just a minor illness. My organs bleed occasionally—nothing serious." Duan Xu waved it off lightly, patting Fang Xianye's arm. When he stood from the chair, he swayed slightly, but Fang Xianye swiftly steadied him.

"How are you getting back? Climbing the wall?" Fang Xianye asked.

Duan Xu nodded as if it were obvious.

Fang Xianye glanced at the blood staining Duan Xu's front and face, then sighed. "It's the hour of Hai. There aren't many people on the streets, and no one's watching my residence. Just leave through the side gate."

Duan Xu couldn't help but laugh. "Fang Ji, oh Fang Ji. Who would have thought the day would come when I could leave your house through a door?"

From the ages of fourteen to twenty-four, their interactions had always taken place in the darkness, away from prying eyes.

Fang Xianye escorted Duan Xu out through the side gate of the Fang residence. His friend's agile figure vanished into the silent, empty streets. Even after Duan Xu was long out of sight, Fang Xianye remained standing there. The north wind howled through the alleys, yet he seemed utterly numb to the cold.

In the end, he still hadn't told Duan Xu about the Secret Decree.

He didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to say it. The reason was like a monster locked in a pitch-black box—out of some inexplicable fear, he dared not examine it too closely.

That pitch-black box named Fang Xianye.

Unbeknownst to him, someone standing by the street watched this scene in shock, wondering just who this bloodstained, masked man was that Fang Xianye had sent off in the dead of night.