Love Beyond the Grave

Duan Chengzhang was stunned by Duan Xu's words. One stood under the eaves, the other knelt in the snow, separated by the swirling snowflakes as if by an unfathomable, insurmountable chasm.

They actually looked very much alike, and their stubborn, unyielding natures were similar too. The people on either side of the chasm were inexplicably bound together by the ties of blood.

Anger and sorrow welled up in Duan Chengzhang's heart, and he could only say, "You kneel here and don't get up without my permission!"

Snowflakes landed on Duan Xu's eyelashes. He blinked and smiled faintly.

The sunlight gradually dimmed, the wind grew more desolate, and snowflakes drifted between heaven and earth, settling on Duan Xu's hair, shoulders, and sleeves. A thin layer of snow slowly covered him, his face growing paler as his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

Duan Chengzhang sat inside, his face dark as he watched Duan Xu, seemingly waiting for him to say something—an apology, an admission of guilt, or a plea for mercy.

But Duan Xu said nothing. He didn’t even look at Duan Chengzhang, his eyes instead resting on a plum blossom tree in the courtyard. The tree had bloomed early, its branches adorned with specks of red, the flowers dusted with snow—cold yet enchanting.

As dusk approached, the snow danced wildly, half plum blossoms, half willow catkins.

"He Simu..."

He murmured, his eyes slowly closing as his body tilted to one side.

Amid the gasps of the courtyard's onlookers, he fell against someone's shoulder. This person's body was cold, brushing the snow from him before wrapping their arms around him.

With his eyes still closed, he whispered against her shoulder, "Simu, I'm so tired."

He Simu held his shoulders as she stood up. Duan Chengzhang, finally reacting, exclaimed in shock and fear, "Who are you?"

He Simu lifted her gaze to Duan Chengzhang. After a moment's thought, she replied calmly, "I am the Ghost King."

Her face was pale, the veins in her neck a bluish-purple, and her sudden appearance in broad daylight made it clear she was no living being.

Hearing this, Duan Chengzhang grew even more alarmed. "Let go of Xu'er! He is my son!"

"Your son?" He Simu laughed. She suddenly placed a hand on Duan Xu's neck and said, "Then perhaps I should strangle him now. Once he's a ghost, he won’t be your son anymore."

Fearing she might actually do it, Duan Chengzhang rushed forward. "Don’t you dare harm him!"

He Simu withdrew her hand from Duan Xu's neck, then lifted his chin and turned her face to press her lips against his in a kiss.

The entire courtyard erupted in shock. Duan Jingyuan, who had just arrived, froze in place, covering her mouth as if her heart might stop from sheer astonishment.

It was a deep kiss. Duan Xu, eyes closed, obediently parted his lips to accept He Simu, their tongues entwining as he slowly raised a hand to grip her arm. There in the courtyard, they shared this lingering kiss. When they finally parted, Duan Xu's breathing was ragged, and he remained slumped against He Simu's shoulder, eyes still shut.

He Simu turned her face back to Duan Chengzhang, who stood speechless, and said coolly, "Do you understand now? I won’t harm him. Duan Xu is in poor health. You made him kneel in the snow—it seems you’re the one who wants to hurt him. If you truly care, stop letting your pride get in the way of your posturing."

Duan Chengzhang was so choked with anger he nearly collapsed. Before he could retort, He Simu and Duan Xu vanished from the courtyard in broad daylight, leaving the Duan household in stunned silence.He Simu didn’t take him far, simply placing him in a room at Bright Moon Residence, changing his clothes and tucking him under a thick quilt.

“The physician Feng Yi found will be here soon.” He Simu bent down to embrace him, speaking softly.

Duan Xu’s physical and mental exhaustion had left him barely conscious. With great effort, he lifted his arm to rest on He Simu’s back.

“When I was little… I once fell into a pit in our backyard…” His voice was faint, as if murmuring in delirium. “That pit… so dark. The walls were slippery, the opening so high. Terrified, I cried for help.”

He Simu patted his shoulder, listening quietly.

“Then I saw my father. He stood outside the pit looking down at me. He said he wouldn’t pull me out, nor let anyone else rescue me. I had to learn to climb out myself. If I couldn’t… I’d starve to death in that hole…”

“I begged him through tears for so long, but he left without another word. Later, I tried climbing countless times, falling hard each attempt… but eventually, I made it out alone. That’s when I realized—I didn’t need to beg others. I could save myself… No one would come for me. Not even my father…”

He Simu thought: No wonder he never resented his father for not rescuing him when he was kidnapped to Danzhi. Their rift had begun much earlier.

“By the time I returned at fourteen… almost no one remembered this.” Duan Xu nuzzled against He Simu’s cheek, murmuring, “Once, I mentioned it to the steward. He recalled. He told me… that day, my father had actually stood guard near the pit the entire time. Under the scorching sun for hours… only leaving after seeing me climb out…”

He Simu’s comforting hand stilled. Duan Xu exhaled deeply, holding her tighter as he whispered, “Perhaps he did love me. He must have loved me…”

Compared to his mother, who’d scarcely acknowledged him, at least during those sun-baked hours, his father had shown genuine care.

“But it was too late. Every chance… came too late.”

Father and son—bound by blood, weighed by unspoken debts, yet hearts divided by irreconcilable desires.

Too late.

He Simu kissed his forehead, whispering, “Rest now. Sleep. Don’t dwell on this.”

Duan Xu nodded slowly.

While visiting Master Song Yun at Golden Peace Temple outside the city, Fang Xianye received a letter delivered by a maid on Duan Jingyuan’s behalf. It stated Duan Xu had returned but remained unconscious.

Holding the letter over a candle flame, he watched it burn. “Vanishing over a month, only to return causing more trouble,” he muttered under his breath.

At least he’d no longer need to impersonate Duan Xu at the Duan residence periodically. Fang Xianye sighed in relief—yet no sooner had one weight lifted than another settled in. The Imperial Decree still hidden at home lodged in his conscience like an unswallowable bone.

“Master, what should I do?” Fang Xianye asked the elder seated across from him.

Though unspecified, Song Yun understood. The perpetually serene old monk fingered his prayer beads, sighing, “Amitabha. When flames never cease, and consciousness battles nature, how can peace prevail? Let your heart be without reproach.”

“Without reproach…” Fang Xianye repeated faintly.

Yet human hearts are labyrinthine—even one’s own remains an enigma few can decipher.Fang Xianye bid farewell to Master Song Yun and had just returned to his residence from Jin'an Temple when the steward came running in a panic, exclaiming, "My lord! My lord, something terrible has happened! While you were away, thieves broke into the house!"

Fang Xianye froze for a moment before hurriedly asking, "What was stolen?"

"Your study and bedroom were ransacked, my lord. Since you usually don’t allow us to tidy them, we didn’t dare—"

Fang Xianye’s gaze sharpened. He immediately strode past the hall and rushed straight to his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he reached for the hidden compartment beneath the bed. Opening it, he retrieved the Secret Decree stored inside and unfolded it to confirm it was unharmed. Only then did his frantically pounding heart settle.

A servant outside the door asked if they should clean the room.

Fang Xianye declined, then returned the Secret Decree to the hidden compartment and slid it back under the bed.

The room had been thoroughly turned upside down, with many of his prized paintings and porcelain collections missing. As Fang Xianye methodically restored order to the room, he pondered whether this theft was truly just an unfortunate accident.

In these turbulent times, every mishap had to be treated with caution.

After personally tidying the bedroom, he went to inspect the damage in his study. But as soon as he glanced around the study, his heart clenched in alarm. He dashed back to the bedroom and bent down to check under the bed.

The hidden compartment containing the Secret Decree was gone.

This was a trap! The initial theft had been staged to provoke his urgency, luring him to check his most critical secret—revealing its hiding place. The real theft had occurred while he was away again.

A chill ran through Fang Xianye’s heart. Gripping the bed frame, he slowly straightened up. A servant who had followed him asked, "My lord? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Fang Xianye replied coldly.

Who was targeting him? Had they known about the Secret Decree beforehand?

Should he… seek out Duan Xu? But according to Duan Jingyuan’s letter, Duan Xu was unconscious. Even if he went to him now, they couldn’t discuss anything.

Strangely, the thought of not having to inform Duan Xu about this matter brought Fang Xianye a faint sense of relief—though his own evasion only deepened his agitation. He sighed, rubbing his temples, then slammed a fist onto the table. The teapot clattered against the porcelain plate with a jarring sound, mirroring the turmoil in his mind.

Rumors spread that Duan Xu’s condition had worsened, leaving him unconscious. It was said an exceptionally skilled physician had been summoned from afar to treat him at Bright Moon Residence, and no one was allowed near him. Fang Xianye attempted to send a message to Duan Xu using their prearranged method, but there was no response. It seemed Duan Xu truly was gravely ill and unaware.

Four or five days later, news broke that Marshal Zhao had committed suicide on the front lines out of guilt, shocking the court. Yet after Zhao Chun’s death, the Great Liang army performed even better in battle, reclaiming the lands of Fengzhou.

That day, as court adjourned, Lin Jun suddenly called out to Fang Xianye, saying the Emperor wished to summon him in secret.

Lin Jun was no longer the timid young man Fang Xianye had brought from the Northern Territory. Now a fourth-rank Grand Master for Proper Consultation and Vice Minister of Personnel, he had initially arrived in the Southern Capital as a minor official who couldn’t even attend court. However, his fondness for flowers and birds had endeared him to the then-Prince Jin, quietly making him a trusted confidant. When Prince Jin seized power and ascended the throne, Lin Jun rose swiftly through the ranks. Now a favorite of the Emperor, he was someone court officials couldn’t afford not to flatter.However, Lin Jun had long intended to distance himself from officials affiliated with Prince Ji and Prince Su's factions, and Fang Xianye had been demoted to an idle position. As a result, the two had hardly interacted over the past year.

Fang Xianye glanced at Lin Jun and bowed slightly. "Thank you for guiding me, Lord Lin."

He was not one of the Emperor's trusted confidants. Previously, the Emperor had deliberately sidelined him—why would he suddenly summon him in secret now?

Lin Jun walked beside him toward the Emperor's Níng Lè Hall, smiling as he said, "Years ago, Lord Fang brought me from the Northern Territory to the Southern Capital, granting me an opportunity I could never repay. I can only offer my humble assistance now. Congratulations in advance, Lord Fang—your rise to prominence is assured."

Fang Xianye turned to look at Lin Jun, his expression unreadable. "I don’t understand what Lord Lin means."

Lin Jun remained composed, his words carrying an implicit meaning. "Doesn’t Lord Fang possess an Imperial Decree? One that supports the virtuous and punishes traitors?"

Fang Xianye halted abruptly, staring at Lin Jun through gritted teeth. "...It was you?"

"What was me? Now it’s Lord Fang’s words that I don’t understand. Lord Fang entrusted me with delivering an Imperial Decree to His Majesty to fulfill the late Emperor’s final wish—isn’t that so? Surely Lord Fang wouldn’t conceal an Imperial Decree and withhold it in secret?"