Love Beyond the Grave

New Year's Eve in the mortal realm was always the liveliest time of the year. Countless fireworks bloomed across the night sky of the Southern Capital, with every household adorned in festive red lanterns and decorations. Fang Xianye's residence was somewhat quiet due to its sparse household, so he busied himself decorating the estate with his servants. While hanging lanterns at the entrance with He Zhi, a cluster of fireworks suddenly lit up the distant sky in a brilliant display.

Fang Xianye gazed at the fireworks for a moment, and when he lowered his head, he unexpectedly saw Duan Jingyuan standing at the gate. She wore an orange fur-lined cape, her cheeks flushed and slightly breathless as she looked up at him. Her maid stood behind her, holding a lacquered wooden box.

Descending from the ladder, Fang Xianye bowed and greeted her, "Miss Duan."

Duan Jingyuan returned the courtesy with a slight curtsy, glancing at him awkwardly before saying, "Lord Fang... Our household made extra dumplings, and since you have no family in the Southern Capital, I thought to bring you a bowl."

Her maid handed the food box to He Zhi. When Fang Xianye lifted the lid and saw the steaming dumplings, he stared at Duan Jingyuan in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words.

Misinterpreting his silence as distrust, Duan Jingyuan widened her eyes and puffed her cheeks. She picked up a dumpling and ate it herself, blowing on it from the heat and mumbling, "See... I ate it too. It's not poisoned."

Fang Xianye paused, then couldn't help but chuckle. Closing the box, he said, "Why would I suspect poison? Thank you for your kindness, Miss Duan."

The distant fireworks illuminated her face, her eyes shimmering as she shyly averted her gaze. "It's nothing special... We just made too many."

With that, she turned decisively and boarded her sedan chair with her maid, heading back home. Fang Xianye watched her leave, shaking his head with a smile.

He Zhi, holding the food box, asked curiously, "Why would Miss Duan bring you dumplings? Doesn't she dislike you?" After a pause, he added, "And she clearly came by sedan chair—why was she out of breath?"

Taking the box, Fang Xianye smiled at He Zhi. "Finish hanging the lanterns yourself."

Then he carried the box inside.

Why was she breathless? The Duan residence was quite a distance away, yet the dumplings were still hot. She must have rushed to pack them fresh from the pot and run all the way here.

The thought made Fang Xianye smile uncontrollably. This New Year had turned out rather well, and he hoped the next would be even better.

While the mortal realm celebrated noisily, Yan Ke knelt in the palace hall, bound by the Immortals Binding Rope, his hands twisted behind his back. This treasure, given by Hejia Fengyi, had finally allowed him to atone for his mistakes by capturing Yan Ke.

The hall had been filled with lords answering He Simu's call to defend the throne. The interrogation and sentencing were over—Yan Ke was to face soul flaying, and his remaining followers would be dealt with swiftly.

Now, only He Simu and Yan Ke remained in the hall. Rising from her throne, He Simu descended the steps and stood before him. She leaned down, meeting his furious gaze, and said calmly, "Yan Ke, you've lost in the end."

Gritting his teeth, Yan Ke spat, "Soul flaying and merging with the Ghost King Lamp—failure means the lamp shatters and the soul is wounded. Of course, I lack your ruthlessness.""In your eyes, the Ghost King Lamp is a treasured gem, a supreme sacred artifact, but to me..." He Simu pointed at the silent locust wood and silver-inlaid throne on the high platform and said, "It's no different from that seat—just an object."

From Yan Ke's life to his death, he had attempted rebellion five times, each ending in failure. Thus, desire too deep becomes a shackle; pursued in life and sought in death, it only tightens its grip—the more one seeks, the more it eludes.

Yan Ke lowered his head, then raised his eyes to look at He Simu. The anger in his gaze remained unchanged, but his voice trembled slightly: "Since when did you know... that I killed your father?"

"I suspected from the very beginning. It was confirmed when I exiled Bai Sanxing to the Nine Palaces Maze Prison."

"So even back then, you... Then these three hundred years of your dependence, trust, and closeness toward me... were they all lies?"

"Yes, all of it was false."

Yan Ke's hope was mercilessly shattered, yet he still choked out, "But you appointed me as Right Chancellor, let me implement the Golden Wall Law..."

"You truly are capable. And you enjoyed the sight of the various hall lords obeying your commands when you enforced the laws as chancellor, didn't you?" He Simu crouched down, smiling faintly. "You had to be given some reward. As the saying goes, 'Make the best use of everything.'"

Bathed in the glow of candlelight and Bright Pearls, her deep-set eyes held an unbreakable resolve beneath that shallow smile. She was still as beautiful as ever, just like when he first fell for her.

Just like when he was first deceived.

Yan Ke's eyes darkened, his ghostly energy surging as he roared and tried to lunge at He Simu. But the Immortals Binding Rope held him firmly in place, rendering him immobile. His furious cries echoed through the hall, wave after wave.

He Simu didn’t flinch. She blinked and even smiled. "You seem to be in pain. Good."

To make an Evil Ghost—who couldn’t feel pain—suffer, she had spent considerable effort and over three hundred years. She had propped Yan Ke up, and after his departure, she would need to find another Evil Ghost to fill the power vacuum he left behind to avoid chaos. Only after Feng Yi crafted a Magical Artifact capable of controlling Bai Sanxing was everything truly in place.

Her finger touched Yan Ke’s forehead. His eyes trembled, finally revealing confusion and sorrow. He whispered, "If I hadn’t killed the former king... would things have been different between us?"

"If you could have resisted that, you wouldn’t have become an Evil Ghost," He Simu replied flatly.

He murmured, "I loved you. I truly did."

He Simu smiled.

"I know."

Your love for me was genuine but shallow; your lust for power ran deep and long.

"You never wanted to be Ghost King."

"I didn’t. But I won’t leave this world to those I despise."

The Ghost King Lamp at He Simu’s waist emitted a blue glow. Blue flames ignited at her fingertips, spreading from his forehead down to his shoulders and body, engulfing him entirely in fire.

"Farewell, Yan Ke."

He Simu stood and bid him goodbye.

Yan Ke gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out in pain. Through the flames, he stared fixedly at He Simu, as if seeing once more the streets where he had been torn apart by chariots a thousand years ago—his agony and resentment, his ambition and grand aspirations, all slipping away with his limbs and life.How he hated, how he hated! He was so close, just a little more and he could have succeeded.

The raging flames devoured everything he had. At the peak of his excruciating pain, a sudden thought struck him—was it really just a little more? Would that truly have been success? The thing he had pursued for a thousand years—would obtaining it have brought him happiness?

He had gone too far, so far that he lost the chance to start anew.

The obsession that had bound him to this world was finally set free as it turned to ashes.

He Simu raised her eyes to the fine ashes on the ground and waved her hand to open the palace doors. The wind swept the ashes away swiftly, scattering them into the vast world beyond. The bright moonlight streamed through the doors and pooled at her feet. Gazing at the night sky outside the window, He Simu slowly stepped into the light.

There was no moon, yet moonlight could still be seen.

She dissolved into a wisp of blue smoke in the moonlight and reappeared atop Ephemeral Mountain, standing before the two tombstones of her parents.

Kneeling before her father’s tombstone, she wiped away the dust that had settled on it and said, "Dad, Mom, Happy New Year. I’ve avenged you. Are you happy, old man?"

Calling him "old man"—yet she had long surpassed the age at which her parents had been buried here.

After a moment of silence, she chuckled softly. "You might have a new neighbor soon. When he grows old, when he passes away, I plan to bury him beside you. He’s a very interesting person—you’d definitely like him."

"When you left, I had already made up my mind—I would never be abandoned again. I would be the one to leave first. But Duan Xu…" He Simu paused, then whispered, "I’ve decided to give him that right—the right to leave me first. I suppose one day, it will break my heart."

"But there’s no helping it, is there?" She stood up and looked at the vast sea of stars above, shimmering with silver light.

Why become the Ghost King? When would a better Evil Ghost appear, one who could take on the mantle?

—These mortals love their family, their lovers, their friends, and this vast world. If you let them love and be loved in peace, then every bit of that love is connected to you.

—Perhaps they don’t know you, don’t know your name, or even realize they’ve received your help. But they love you.

"Because they love me," He Simu murmured.

And the one she loved was both black and white, crimson and gold.

The sum of all colors in this world.

The sound of all things, the frozen river, the warmth of a touch, the fragrance of wine, the taste of delicacies.

And in the end—three feet of earth over bones, four inches of pain in the heart.

When He Simu returned to the palace, Duan Xu had just woken up. Leaning against the headboard, he held a medicine bowl and was chatting with a ghost servant, his pale face wearing a smile—that familiar expression of feigned sincerity masking true cunning. Seeing He Simu, the ghost servant looked as if granted a reprieve and hurried over to report that this living man refused to take his medicine.

Duan Xu turned an innocent gaze toward He Simu. She waved the ghost servant away and sat down beside his bed.

"How long have you been coughing up blood?" she asked.

Knowing he was in the wrong, Duan Xu cleared his throat. "About... two and a half years..."

"Two and a half years. When did the first episode happen?"

He Simu’s tone was eerily calm, just like the day they had parted. Duan Xu tensed up immediately."Is it because you gave me your senses? Why didn't you tell me?" When Duan Xu didn't respond, He Simu confirmed it herself.

Duan Xu hesitated for a moment, feeling that honesty would be best at this time, and said, "If I had told you, you wouldn't have exchanged senses with me anymore, right? Then you wouldn't be able to perceive colors, temperature, scents, or melodies anymore—that would be such a pity."

He Simu fell silent for a beat before letting out a cold laugh. In a dizzying motion, she pinned Duan Xu down onto the bed. The medicine bowl shattered on the floor with a crisp sound, and the bitter scent of herbs filled the air.

Leaning down slowly, He Simu glared at Duan Xu with near-mocking disdain. "What exactly do you take me for? A villain who would drain your senses and walk away without a care? Someone who wouldn't care even if you died? Duan Shunxi! Do you think I wouldn't feel pain? That I have no heart?!"

She slammed a fist beside Duan Xu's face. Stunned, he stared into her trembling eyes—if ghosts could cry, she would likely be weeping now.

She was always composed, burying her emotions so deep that now, when sorrow broke through the dam, it surged forth uncontrollably.

Duan Xu kept his eyes fixed on He Simu, on the profound grief in her gaze. He said, "You are a compassionate and gentle Evil Ghost. Of course, you wouldn't drain my senses. But that's your choice, not mine. I never expected to live a long life—even the longest human life is fleeting compared to yours. To me, my senses are just senses, but to you, they're the entire world."

"What do you mean, 'just senses'? Duan Xu, I only have this one life, and you only have this one life too. Your senses are your world! Don’t you understand... what you mean to me..."

She trailed off, unable to finish. After a pause, He Simu gave a bitter smile and abruptly changed the subject. "Do you know why I left you?"

"...Because you used the Ghost King Lamp to trade for my antidote, going against your principles," Duan Xu guessed.

He Simu slowly shook her head. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, "It was because I suddenly realized I had grown too fond of you—so much so that I couldn't bear the thought of one day watching you leave me."

Duan Xu's eyes widened gradually, his voice hoarse as he murmured, "Birth, aging, sickness, death—haven’t you seen it all before?"

He Simu let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I've seen it all—so much that I'm sick of it, numb to it, unwilling to see it anymore! But when it comes to you... I still can't accept it..."

Even though she was extraordinarily gifted, undefeated in battle, and skilled in all arts despite lacking senses—even as the ruler of all ghosts—there were still things she couldn't master.

Four hundred years, and she still hadn't learned to accept farewells.

She never wanted to part with anyone ever again.

She kept everyone at a distance; if they drew too close, she would leave first. That warmth was just enough to stave off the cold—like the lingering heat of ashes that would never burn again.

But Duan Xu, this fox, had worn her down, pleaded with her, lured her with a vitality she'd never known before, promising to warm her. Yet he was a raging fire, igniting her with an irresistible blaze."You will eventually fade away. Like my aunt and uncle, like my parents, vanishing without a trace, leaving me alone in this world." He Simu gently stroked Duan Xu's cheek as she whispered, "I know you've always feared I'd forget you. I... I fear it too. I don't want to forget you. I want to remember you."

To forever recall your face, your smile, your scent and colors as vividly as this moment.

Remember the fireworks and lanterns, the fragrance of flowers and wine, the blood and wedding robes, the polo matches and sunlight—your breath, warmth, pulse, scent, smile, bold words and tender whispers, pleas and coquetry.

I don’t want to forget. I don’t want everything to turn into silent dust, like water disappearing into a long river. I don’t want to become dust vanishing into the earth or water lost in the river.

He Simu let out a soft laugh. "But in the end, I must."

Her life's path was lined with the unmarked graves of others.

Duan Xu gazed at He Simu, silent.

His eyes were wide, round and bright, glistening with a thin layer of moisture, clear as crystal. That moisture trembled, gradually tinged with red, spreading from the corners of his eyes.

He Simu's throat tightened. "Why are you crying?" she murmured.

Duan Xu curved his eyes into a smile, and as he did, tears rolled down his cheeks, disappearing into his hair.

"I cry for you," he said, his voice trembling slightly.

He cried for the one he loved, who had given love as he had; for the loneliness his beloved would ultimately endure.

He reached out to embrace her back, cold and stiff, held rigidly straight. Patting her back, he said, "Simu, our Ghost King, why are your bones so unyielding? Relax, relax. I'm here."

He Simu stiffened for a moment before gradually softening, leaning into his chest under his gentle pressure.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

Duan Xu wrapped both arms around her. After a pause, he chuckled softly. "Holding you, to warm you up."

Though he deliberately avoided dwelling on it, he knew his life had been filled with hardships and would remain so.

But holding her, he recalled the prophecy that turned misfortune into blessing.

Could she be the light at the end of these trials?

She would be the fortune in his troubled life.

Even when rejected, distanced, angry, or sorrowful, he still found it all worthwhile. Regardless of the outcome, if given a thousand chances, he would choose to meet her every time.

"Would you regret meeting me? If given another chance, would you still want to know me?" Duan Xu whispered.

He Simu remained silent, closing her eyes as she rested against his chest. With a long sigh, she returned his embrace.

"I would."

No matter how many times life reset, she would take his hand on that New Year's Eve, lifting him from the ground. And she would hold him now, choosing to accompany him through his fleeting life.

She would grieve, but never regret.

In this, they were entirely alike—perhaps that was enough.

Duan Xu chuckled softly. "Earlier, you said you'd only say it once. Did that include the first line?"

"What?"

"You said you loved me," Duan Xu replied. "It's the first time I've heard you say it."He Simu looked up at him and said, "You never asked. I thought you didn't want to hear it."

"I do want to hear it. How could anyone not want to?"

After a moment of silence, He Simu slowly wrapped her arms around Duan Xu's shoulders, lowering her eyes as she murmured, "I love you. If you want to hear more, you'll have to live a long life."

Duan Xu held her close, whispering, "Alright."

Due to severe blood loss, Duan Xu was weak, so Jiang Ai's chef prepared numerous nourishing dishes to replenish his qi and blood. Hejia Fengyi also sent some miraculous elixirs, mentioning that Duan Xu's condition was related to the Five Senses Spell and that mortal physicians might not diagnose it properly. He promised to send a senior brother from Star Clarity Palace skilled in medicine to examine Duan Xu in a few days.

Under He Simu's stern gaze, Duan Xu drank his medicine with a frown and said, "Simu, I stayed in the Ghost Realm too long. I don't know what's happening in the Southern Capital—I need to return."

"You vomited so much blood and fainted. You just woke up and can barely walk steadily. What could you possibly do even if you went back?"

That winter day, the sunlight was warm as they chatted idly, savoring the peaceful moment. He Simu leaned against Duan Xu, half her body warmed by his presence, while she held the Ghost Records and turned to a new page. As her eyes scanned the text, she suddenly froze. She reached out to wipe the newly appeared entries, as if unable to believe what she saw.

Duan Xu glanced over curiously. "What's wrong?"

Then he saw the line her fingers had traced.

Xue Chenying, born in the second year of Tianyuan, died on the third day of the first month of the Xinhe era, You Province Comforting Sight.