Sea of No Return

Тоdау is the seventh dау after dеath—the оld sауing gоеs thаt on the sеventh day, the soul returns hоmе. Thеn surelу Wаnwаn will сomе bасk tоо?

With so mаny peорle аround, would she bе too frightеned to еntеr? Shе hаd аlwауs been sеrеne аnd shу, сoming intо this world рurе and leаving it рure. Fоr twenty-threе years, shе driftеd thrоugh the wоrldly mire, yеt hеr lоyаl hеаrt nеvеr wаverеd. Nоw that shе was gоne, he рraуеd hеr soul hаd nоt strауed far. Feаring she might hesitate, he dismissеd everyоne, leаving onlу Тong Нuan behind. He had some questions to ask her.

Outside, the sky was dark and gloomy, but inside the Silver Peace Hall, silence fell. Night had come, and only the long, lingering sound of the chime drifted through the wind and rain. Tong Huan knelt before the spirit altar, burning paper offerings, while he remained by the coffin. Even if she was now just a shell, he could not bear to leave her.

The woman in the coffin looked peaceful, as if death had been her liberation. He gazed at her again and again, unable to hold back his tears. Only now did he understand what it meant to have a heart turned to ashes. His girl—he knew every detail of her growth. He had once longed for her to grow up, longed to marry her, but when she finally lowered herself to rest by his side, he had failed to protect her.

Such a farewell was meant to take his life. With her gone, what was left for him to strive for? Regret came too late. Why had he rebelled back then? Even if his fief had been stripped away, what did it matter? As long as they were together, even coarse tea and plain rice would have been sweet.

Facing that face, he had so much to say, yet he didn’t know where to begin. Choked with sobs, every word he uttered was painfully difficult.

“The fault is all mine. I couldn’t suppress the demons in my heart, insisting on achieving glory and success. My ambition was too great; I was unworthy of you. During this past year away, not a day went by that I didn’t think of you. I considered returning to see you, but I was afraid—afraid you would resent me, ashamed to face you. How I regret it now. Had I known it would end like this, why would I have sought to conquer the world? You married me at sixteen and followed me for seven full years. Yet the time we spent together was less than half of that. How did we waste these years to such an extent? I thought I had plenty of time to make it up to you, but who knew it would be too late? You didn’t give me that chance…”

His mournful cries fell like rain of blood and tears. People always regret only after they’ve lost. “I thought” is often the root of missed opportunities. How many beautiful fates have been ruined by “I thought”? It’s a pity that by the time one realizes it, it’s already too late. That person is gone, never to be seen again in heaven or on earth. Perhaps, even in death, she never forgave him.

He stroked her cheek. She had always feared winter, yet now she was so cold. He took her hand, hoping to warm it, but she stubbornly clenched her fists, stiffened, never to open again.

Kneeling, he pressed his forehead against the coffin, murmuring in despair, “Come back, take me with you. I couldn’t bear your pain for you, but at least let me accompany you…”

Tong Huan, who had remained silent for a long time, finally couldn’t hold back upon hearing his words. “Does the Prince think Your Highness passed away from illness? Do you truly believe she died of sickness?”

He lifted his vacant eyes, staring fixedly at her, his lips trembling slightly, but no words came out.

Tong Huan cared not whether his grief was genuine or feigned; nothing could shake her resolve to drive a knife into his heart.She smiled bitterly, "Your Highness, you who have been wise all your life, are you feigning ignorance now? How could someone who died of illness have such a good complexion? They should be gaunt and haggard. Her Highness could not bear the humiliation and took her own life. She had three sets of vermilion-gold turtle seals, and she took the one from the Mingzhi era with her, never forgetting even in death that she was a descendant of the Murong Clan. Your Highness, who cared for her so deeply, how could you not know her temperament? She was noble and self-respecting—how could she willingly submit to her enemy? From the day you raised the banner of rebellion, you should have foreseen this outcome. It was merely your own wishful thinking that kept you hoping. You pushed her step by step to the edge of the cliff, and not only that, you deliberately had her trace a false map, using her to mislead the Emperor. A person like her, who cared so deeply for the world, you forced into becoming a sinner of Great Ye. To her, this was a torment worse than death. Did you not anticipate this? After all, she was just a young woman, isolated and helpless in the Southern Garden, with no one to confide in except us servants. When the Princely Mansion rebelled, even the Old Imperial Consort Dowager paid her no heed. How strong must her heart have been to endure such pressure? When she was alive, you never considered her feelings. Now that she is gone, what use is it to weep and wail? I advise Your Highness to save your tears. Her Highness may not need your false compassion. I suppose Your Highness now wishes to kill me for saying this, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it costs me my life, I must cry out for my mistress’s grievances. When we reunite in the underworld, I will accompany her, so she will not have to journey alone in loneliness."

Tong Huan’s words were undoubtedly another excruciating torture, like a thousand cuts. It was not illness but suicide… death by swallowing gold. No wonder her fists were clenched so tightly—she must have suffered terribly. What had he done to drive her to such a state? What he owed her could never be repaid in this lifetime. Only death remained.

"That map… it was indeed born of my selfishness. I knew you could not let go of Great Ye, and only by completely severing ties with the imperial court could you truly abandon your responsibilities and return to my side," he murmured against the coffin, his voice faint as a thread. "So I was wrong again… wrong again…"

"I fear Your Highness was not merely trying to keep Her Highness but also seeking revenge," the mourning veil cast shadows on Tong Huan’s face, making her look like a vengeful ghost under the lamplight as she tore open the bloody wound word by word. "Your Highness resented Her Highness for deceiving you with a false pregnancy, and in your despair, you wanted to teach her a lesson. But Your Highness did not know that Her Highness was truly pregnant, yet due to the relentless blows, the child died in her womb… Your Highness, this move of cutting off the firewood beneath the cauldron destroyed not only Her Highness but also the Little Heir who had finally found a chance to be reborn. Do you regret it? Does it pain you?"

His mind sank into a daze, feeling as though he were already half-dead. Blow after blow had left his heart torn and bloodied. After a long while, he managed to raise his hand with great effort. "You may go. After the funeral is over, leave the mansion with the others. I know Wanwan could not bear to harm you, and I can no longer create more karma…"

In the past, he had been an arrogant and unyielding man, never tolerating a servant pointing fingers and scolding him. But now, he had lost all vitality in life. He almost wished for her former attendants to vent their anger on her behalf, to curse him with piercing words, so that his heart might find some relief.Her life ended in such a tragic state. If he had simply taken a knife to atone for his sins and died too easily, he would have tormented himself tenfold to satisfy his hatred. Tong Huan wiped away her tears and left. Struggling, he rested his face against the edge of the coffin, as if this could bring him closer to her.

"Wanwan, I remember everything I said to you before. I promised you that in this lifetime, I would never part from you again, and I meant it. But you’ll have to wait for me a little longer. I’ll die soon, but I’m afraid they won’t give you a proper funeral." He choked back tears, "I’ve ordered them to build the tomb, and I’ll personally oversee it. While your spirit rests here, I’ll make offerings to you. We’ve spent so little time together as husband and wife, but from today onward, we truly will never part again."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, a chill piercing straight to his heart. In the past, she would have shyly smiled, but now she no longer could. Her expression was forever frozen, devoid of joy or sorrow. His heart-wrenching pain was his just deserts, and from now on, she would suffer no more harm. Perhaps that was for the best.

He waited all night, until the wind ceased and the rain stopped, but she did not return. The yin-yang master said that some souls linger nearby because they still have attachments in their hearts. Others never look back because they have no regrets left behind. The ash spread on the ground before the door was smooth, laid out in anticipation of her footprints, but it was all in vain. It seemed she had truly gone far away.

The time for sealing the coffin had long been decided, and he was powerless to stop it. The seven-inch nails, driven by the eunuch’s swinging hammer, sank inch by inch. All he could do was murmur beside her, "Wanwan, dodge the nails, dodge the nails..."

All his love and longing vanished into endless darkness with a few dull thuds. Through the thick coffin and intricate embroidery, he could no longer see Wanwan’s face, but her every smile and frown were etched into his mind, never to be erased.

The Imperial Concubine’s intention was to place the coffin in the Ancestral Hall east of the ancestral shrine until the tomb was completed, as had been done for generations of princes and their consorts. He stared blankly at her, "She is the Princess Royal, and this is her residence. Why must she be sent to such a gloomy place? She would be afraid."

His mind was no longer sound. The Imperial Concubine wept bitterly, "You must remember the burden on your shoulders. How can you afford to act recklessly now? A war is raging ahead. Your son, your brothers, are all fighting desperately for your great cause. Do you have the leisure to go mad here?"

The Imperial Concubine tried to stir his ambition, but he remained unmoved: "To hell with the great cause! It has torn my family apart. Whoever wants it can take it! I just want to stay with Wanwan, serve her food and drink every day, and never let her go hungry..."

He had traveled thousands of miles, stained with blood and mud, filthy and disheveled. Once a spirited Feudal Prince, he had always shone as brightly as the moon. But now? Filthy and wretched, he was barely recognizable.

Madam Tala stepped forward and performed a Squatting Salute, cautiously saying, "Your Highness, this servant has prepared hot water for you. Please wash up and eat something. The dead are gone, but the living must still go on. How heartbreaking it would be for Her Highness to see you in this state."

He paid no heed. Instead, he walked to the altar, lit incense, bowed deeply, and placed it into the Incense Burner.Everyone was at a loss with him, so the Imperial Concubine had no choice but to order the tomb construction to be expedited. His soul seemed to have been taken away, and it was believed he would slowly recover after the Princess Royal was laid to rest. But until then, no one could separate him from that coffin. He settled in the side hall, spending his days offering incense and the remaining time in companionship. Unconcerned with decay or odor after death, in his heart, Wanwan remained just as she was when alive.

He was enveloped in endless longing, missing her more and more, yet she seemed determined to sever all ties, refusing even to appear in his dreams. He pleaded before her spirit: "Let me see you tonight, just for a few words, please?"

Each time he hoped, each time he was disappointed. She had once been so tender-hearted, but now she must despise him utterly. He lowered his head and murmured, "If you won’t see me, I’ll have to go to you."

Half a month after her passing, he finally thought to visit her former bedchamber. Standing in the courtyard, he looked around—the carved beams and painted rafters were just as he remembered. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw her sitting by the railing, smiling brightly. He wanted to rush to her, but in the blink of an eye, she vanished, leaving behind only overwhelming loss and sorrow.

He sat at her writing desk, tracing each of the writing tools she had used. The brush and inkstone felt warm, as if still carrying her scent. After lingering awhile, he moved to the eastern side hall. The furnishings remained unchanged: the curtain colors she had chosen with him, the patterns on the folding screen—whether peonies or butterflies—she had deliberated over for so long.

His health had deteriorated greatly. The dull ache in his chest had grown more intense since her departure, sometimes striking suddenly and leaving him breathless. Moreover, even a few steps exhausted him, as his daily meals were barely enough to sustain him—he couldn’t swallow even a single extra bite.

Sitting on the couch to catch his breath, he rested until he regained enough strength to approach her dressing table. The mirror reflected a stranger—his former grace gone, now gaunt and emaciated. He pondered for a long moment, wondering who this person was. When he finally recognized himself, he sighed, "So ugly, no wonder you won’t come to me..." He smiled faintly, picking up her comb and cradling it reverently in his palm. "Wanwan, where have you gone now? Wait for me before crossing the Naihe Bridge, don’t forget me."

What he feared most was falling behind, but the tomb was not yet finished, and he couldn’t rest easy. In this world, who else could he trust? Before leaving for battle, he had thought she wouldn’t be lonely, but in the end, he realized she had ever relied on him alone. If he were gone, she might once again be left with no one to care for her.

The boundless loneliness she had endured, he now tasted as well. The fickleness of human affection—he had claimed to love her, yet in truth, he had done little for her. It was a pity he realized this too late. No matter how much he regretted, there was no longer a Murong Jun in this world. She had let go of everything; she no longer cared for him.

He sighed, hiding the comb in his sleeve, and turned to leave. As he passed the curio shelf, his sleeve caught on something. With a clatter, a rosewood box fell to the floor. Looking down, he saw scattered pouches and sachets, all in men’s styles.

His mind buzzed. After staring for a long while, he finally covered his face and collapsed to the floor.

In the warmth of May, how could it feel so bone-chillingly cold...