“When you told Father this, I was actually behind the screen. After you left, Father asked my thoughts.”

Her face showed a hint of mischief. “I said not to give sufficient silver or sufficient manpower, and I’d agree to build it.”

Lu Shi struck the bed board hard, somewhat humiliated and angry.

“There was someone who swindled two hundred taels from Senior Brother Chu, three hundred taels from Senior Brother Tang, then threw in all the silver he’d saved for several years. Mm, about thirty-some taels I think.”

Water light rippled in her eyes.

“He also enlisted San Pang’s help. The blacksmith’s shopkeeper was also invited into the residence. Seven scholars from the rear courtyard were forced by him to contribute labor.

For three months, besides studying and feeding the horse, he was working. He spoke least but worked most. After reading at night, he’d still stroll over there for a look.

The day the theater pavilion was completed, everyone else came, but he alone didn’t—said he wasn’t feeling well.

That day after watching opera, I walked to his courtyard gate. After thinking for ages, I still didn’t go in. Just at the gate, I cursed ‘fool.’ I don’t know if he heard.”

Lu Shi hadn’t heard.

He’d been collapsed on his bed sound asleep.

Three months had exhausted him thoroughly.

“Do you know what Father said to me after seeing that theater pavilion?”

She once again removed the towel from his forehead and walked to the basin to dampen it with cold water.

Lu Shi watched her back, feeling completely drained of strength.

A very powerless feeling.

“He said Shanshi was worthy of great responsibility. So I boldly asked.”

She turned around and leaned against the window, quietly looking at him. “Father, do you approve of him?”

Like a dagger suddenly plunged into Lu Shi’s heart—this was his softest, most defenseless place.

He felt pain, yet also felt it wasn’t so painful.

“Guess what Father replied?”

Lu Shi didn’t even dare breathe, just held it, fearing even his lightest breath might displease her and she wouldn’t tell him the master’s reply.

She stepped forward, for the third time covering the towel over his forehead, then her lips slowly curved into an extremely gentle arc.

“Father said: If my daughter approves, then I approve.”

Lu Shi didn’t move, like his courtesy name—Mountain Stone.

Mountain stone was still, was silent, was cold. Yet at this moment his heart was hot, and beating very fast—almost leaping from his chest.

This must be a dream.

He thought.

Why did it sound so unreal, so ethereal and intangible?

After a long while, he parted his cracked lips, about to speak, when the young woman’s scallion-like fingers covered them.

“Lu Shi, I actually…”

Her eyes burned like fire. “…have never suffered hardship. Without Lin Bi, I can’t even comb my own hair.

Senior Brother Tang didn’t exaggerate—this journey nearly shook our bones apart. Yet I kept telling the driver to go faster, even faster. I… I feared arriving too late and leaving you alone in your sorrow.

You’ve had so many sorrowful things. I can’t help with much—I thought keeping you company would at least be good. When Mother just passed, I nearly couldn’t go on living. Father and Lin Bi stayed with me constantly.

Mother’s last words were to Father. She said: In this world, nothing escapes the word ‘forget.’ Good things and bad things must all be forgotten before one can move forward.”

Lu Shi stared at her unblinkingly, until his eyes grew sore and tears fell.

Twenty-six years—he’d lived twenty-six years. Only today did he suddenly realize that woman in his life had actually played the role of companion.

Even if she hadn’t played that role very competently, he still had someone to think about. So when she was gone, he felt heaven and earth were vast but only he remained alone.

But now, Tang Zhiwei had come.

She’d rushed here from a thousand li away and sat right before him.

Lu Shi extended his hand and grasped the half of her finger resting on his lips. “How long… can you stay with me?”

She said softly, “A very, very long time.”

“Aren’t you afraid…”

“Not afraid.”

She smiled gracefully, her smile full of bewitching charm.

“I’m not Cui Yingying. I’m Tang Zhiwei, raised by my mother’s own hand. I won’t misjudge people. Do you believe me, Lu Shi?”

I believe you, Tang Zhiwei.

Lu Shi suddenly recalled six years ago at Jing’an Temple. In the night, he’d crept to the West Garden gate and heard her speaking with Lin Bi. In his heart, he’d questioned heaven:

How could such people exist in this world—not only cherished by father but also loved by mother? Why did some live in heaven while others lived in the underworld?

Heaven, I was wrong.

I’ve also been living in heaven all along.

…

Time passed—a very, very long time.

On stage, the scholar finally placed high in the examinations;

The incense had also burned down to just a little remaining.

Yan Sanhe called softly, “Buyan.”

“Yes!”

Li Buyan stood up.

Zhu Qing and Huangqi also followed her out together.

Just then, that ball of white smoke suddenly stirred restlessly. Moments later, the white smoke drifted toward Yan Sanhe, wrapping around her arm.

Yan Sanhe raised her other hand and very, very gently patted that ball of smoke, smiling as she said:

“Don’t worry. Just go in peace. He’ll come running to see you.”

Young Master Pei stared stupidly at all this, then stupidly asked:

“Why running?”

“Because.”

Xie Zhifei answered, “The person your heart yearns for—you can’t wait even a moment. Even running to see them, you’d hate that you’re not running fast enough.”

Yan Sanhe: “…” Why did he say what I was going to say?

Young Master Pei: “…” This fellow has probably developed spring feelings for someone, otherwise he couldn’t say such words.

Just then, a fierce wind suddenly whipped through the box.

Xie Zhifei and Young Master Pei felt their eyes sting and hastily closed them.

The wind blew up Yan Sanhe’s black hair, blew down the last section of incense ash.

As the ash silently fell to the floor, Yan Sanhe heard a “click” in her mind.

Immediately after, a gentle voice spoke softly by her ear.

“Thank you. I’m going now.”

Go then, Tang Zhiwei.

Humans and ghosts walk different paths. This isn’t where you should stay.

Yan Sanhe took a deep breath and said softly, “Her coffin has closed.”

Young Master Pei: “That fast?”

Xie Zhifei: “So you’re about to faint?”

Yan Sanhe nodded, her gaze glancing at the scholar on stage, then lowering her eyes as she quietly awaited the coming unconsciousness.

One breath;

Two breaths;

Three breaths…

On stage, the final drumbeat fell. Yan Sanhe discovered she remained perfectly conscious.

How strange.

She raised her head to find Xie Zhifei and Young Master Pei staring at her with worried expressions.

Yan Sanhe mimicked Li Buyan’s manner, shrugging her shoulders to indicate she also didn’t know why, while simultaneously glancing quickly toward the stage.

With this glance, her expression changed dramatically.

“He’s gone.”

Xie Zhifei quickly reacted. “We should leave too.”

Yan Sanhe swiftly grabbed the two sprigs of osmanthus from the table and yanked hard at Young Master Pei, who was still standing dazed:

“Hurry—”