In the winter of the fifty-seventh year of Yuanshao, Yu Qingwu’s head fell to the ground.

Wu Qingchuan wielded the blade himself.

The body was thrown to the mass grave site, and he awoke from within the mass grave site.

He had once been someone who feared ghosts, but now that he himself had become a ghost, perhaps it was a case of “when in Rome, do as the Romans do”—having become family with the ghost souls, he felt not the slightest bit of fear toward them.

It was just… holding his own head, he sighed repeatedly, “If I’d known, I should have poisoned myself first. At least then I wouldn’t have to drift about holding my head.”

Yu Qingwu asked a nearby ghost: “May I ask, where is there water?”

The old ghost asked, “By the river—you’re already a ghost, yet you still want to drown yourself?”

Yu Qingwu: “No, I want to see what I look like. And wash myself—look, I have so much blood on me.”

The old ghost: “Whatever you looked like when you died, that’s what you’ll be like forever after. This blood on you can’t be washed away.”

Yu Qingwu sighed again, “Then forget it. I don’t dare look anymore.”

How terrifying. A headless ghost.

He first drifted to the Eastern Palace to find the Grand Imperial Grandson. The Grand Imperial Grandson was also waiting for him. Seeing him arrive, he smiled, “Qingwu, this severed head of yours… the flesh isn’t too neatly cut.”

Yu Qingwu: “Wu Qingchuan never practiced with a blade, so his cut wasn’t clean either.”

The Grand Imperial Grandson sighed, “After I died, I tried to bite Wu Qingchuan a few times—completely useless.”

The ghostly powers in story books were all lies.

The Grand Imperial Grandson had died three days before Yu Qingwu. He had wanted to immediately go to the Yellow Springs Road to find Yuanniang, but he needed to tell Yu Qingwu a few words, so he had never left.

He said: “Qingwu, in your next life, don’t walk this path again.”

A difficult lifetime, and in the end, even losing his head.

The Grand Imperial Grandson turned his face away, his heart aching so much he wanted to cry, only to discover that having no tears when he died meant he had none now either.

He turned his face back and said: “I’m going to the Yellow Springs now. Do you want to come with me?”

Yu Qingwu shook his head, “Not yet. I want to return to Shuzhou once. If I can be a ghost, perhaps my elder brother can too. If he’s a ghost, he’ll surely be taking Yingying back to Shuzhou.”

Then he asked curiously: “After death, there’s actually no official to manage us?”

The Grand Imperial Grandson: “There aren’t many ghosts either. Only those with obsessions remain.”

He was leaving. He said: “Death is good too. Yuanniang must be waiting for me.”

Yu Qingwu fell silent, finally saying, “Your Highness, if back then you had cut ties with me and simply used me as a blade, today wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

The Grand Imperial Grandson laughed, “It wasn’t for you.”

After Yuanniang’s death, living had already lost its joy for him.

If he could take a chance, of course he had to take it.

But after Yuanniang’s death, the old man was certain he hated him, so he had always been suspicious and suppressive of him, making his steps in court extremely difficult.

The Grand Imperial Grandson: “We were one move behind in chess—truly regrettable. But at least the horse administration has changed considerably. Gonglin is himself an imperial clansman and held firm, so things should be good in the future.”

But Yu Qingwu suddenly said: “Your Highness, I saw her.”

The Grand Imperial Grandson startled, “Who?”

Yu Qingwu: “The person you protected before His Majesty.”

The Grand Imperial Grandson had been granted a cup of poisoned wine—just like the Late Crown Prince many years ago.

Before drinking the poisoned wine, the Late Crown Prince had protected Duan Boyan. Before the Grand Imperial Grandson drank his poisoned wine, he wanted to protect Yu Qingwu and Lan Shanjun.

The Emperor agreed to the latter.

Yu Qingwu said, “His Majesty probably didn’t execute her. Before my execution, she was staring at me.”

The Grand Imperial Grandson finally felt at ease. He said: “At least… among all of us, one person should remain alive, right?”

He went again to see the anxious children, sighed once, and said: “Qingwu, I’m leaving.”

Yu Qingwu nodded. After the Grand Imperial Grandson disappeared, he first drifted to bite the old Emperor, but couldn’t. Then he went to bite Wu Qingchuan and Prince Qi—indeed, none of it worked.

He wiped his mouth, felt melancholy for a while, then stacked his head on his neck and drifted unsteadily toward Shuzhou.

Just as he left the city gate, he saw a carriage hurrying urgently toward Shuzhou, with sounds of collision coming from inside the carriage.

Curious, he drifted over. Just as he was about to peer in, unexpectedly his head wasn’t stable and rolled into the carriage, facing directly toward someone he had seen just three days ago.

Song Zhiwei’s wife, Lan Shanjun.

He hurriedly picked up his head. Even though she couldn’t see him, he still feared frightening her.

But when he clearly saw her bound hands and feet and bloody forehead, his heart went cold to the extreme.

She still hadn’t been spared.

These beasts.

Sadness tinged his eyes.

This was the last of the old acquaintances from those years.

He sat in the carriage, silently watching her continue to bash her head everywhere, silently watching her finally lose strength, on the verge of death, developing a high fever yet still surviving.

She no longer had the strength to bash. That she could survive at all was remarkable.

It took a full month and a half to finally reach Shuzhou.

Finally arriving… at his ancestral home.

Yu Qingwu painfully closed his eyes.

How could this be?

How could they use his ancestral home to imprison her, to imprison Duan Boyan’s descendant?

This was truly… extremely ironic and infinitely sorrowful.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw there was now an old monk in the house. He crouched before Lan Shanjun, reaching out his hand to touch her face, but all in vain.

During the last period of Yu Qingwu’s life, he had heard the Grand Imperial Grandson speak of Lan Shanjun’s origins. Seeing this, he immediately guessed the old monk’s identity. Holding his head, he stepped forward and bowed, “General Duan.”

The old monk turned to look at him once, not even moving his eyelids, then turned back and touched Lan Shanjun’s face again and again. Though he couldn’t make contact, he persisted and refused to give up.

Yu Qingwu tentatively made conversation, “They’ve locked her here like this, but who knows what they’re planning to do.”

The old monk’s outstretched hand trembled, then he murmured: “Breaking Point Illumination.”

Yu Qingwu had never heard these three words. But he witnessed it.

As day after day of torture passed, he and the old monk watched Lan Shanjun struggle bitterly.

Struggling to the very end, when she placed that ring-pommel knife in her hand, a ray of light arrived at just the right moment.

Yu Qingwu’s heart sank bit by bit.

So this was Breaking Point Illumination?

He murmured: “If there ever comes a day when things can start over, I will definitely dismember them into ten thousand pieces.”

The old monk’s eyes filled with grief, still murmuring to himself, “Little Shanjun… if I had known it would come to this, I would have taught you other skills.”

Never imagining she would go to Luoyang. Never imagining she would suffer such hardship.

After several more days, Yu Qingwu discovered that Lan Shanjun had found the notes he had once written. She read them character by character, reading carefully, reading with emotion. So he also read along with her.

He said with regret: “If I’d known Wu Qingchuan was this kind of person, I would never have taken him as my master even if beaten to death.”

Hearing this, the old monk looked at the notes again and finally regarded him properly.

He asked, “You are Wu Qingchuan’s disciple?”

Yu Qingwu nodded, “Yes.”

He roughly explained his circumstances, “General Duan, when the Grand Imperial Grandson left, he still missed you quite a bit.”

The old monk fell silent.

He said: “These years, I’ve been unable to leave the Shu region.”

Perhaps because he had killed too many people here, there was ultimately karmic retribution. Perhaps his obsession was too deep, so deep he couldn’t leave Shuzhou.

Yu Qingwu reflected thoughtfully, “You came to Shuzhou for… those elderly, weak, sick, and disabled who were forcibly conscripted back then?”

The old monk nodded, “Yes.”

So his obsession was too deep, and he had been guarding these wronged souls here all along.

He sat on the ground, regretting: “But I couldn’t protect her.”

Yu Qingwu sighed endlessly. Holding his head, he sat beside Lan Shanjun reading the notes.

He saw in the notes childhood anecdotes with his elder brother, and couldn’t help muttering, “I’ve been back for so long, but I haven’t found Elder Brother and Yingying. They’ve probably been reincarnated.”

This was a good thing.

After a long time, he understood. Having obsessions after death and refusing to leave wasn’t good.

He said: “If… if Shanjun refuses to leave, what should we do?”

Such torture—even if one could endure for a year, it would be hard to endure for two. If no one came to rescue her, sooner or later she would die.

The old monk’s eyes filled with even greater pain, standing quietly beside her to keep her company.

One day, Yu Qingwu was holding his head and following by her side when he suddenly heard her call out, “Yu Qingwu.”

Yu Qingwu trembled, and his head fell to the ground.

He asked in surprise, “You can see me now?”

But he saw her eyes were empty of light, not looking at him at all. She had just suddenly called out, “Yu Qingwu, when you died, you must return to your homeland, right? This is your house. Have you come back?”

“If you’ve come back, can you help me escape? After I get out, I’ll definitely collect your remains. Even if you’re just bones in the mass grave site, I can find them and give you a proper burial with a monument.”

“Yu Qingwu, I know you were wrongly accused. As long as you save me and get me out, I will definitely clear your name.”

Yu Qingwu’s heart grew bitter. He felt deeply apologetic, “But I can’t save you.”

The ghosts and spirits in books had supernatural powers—they could summon wind and kill people. As a ghost himself, he was completely useless.

He sighed and walked over to pick up his head. Just as he stood up, he saw her hugging the notes and shrinking into a corner without saying a word.

Oh, she was afraid.

Like him, she was also someone who feared ghosts.

So he pressed his head onto his neck, trying to look as human as possible while drifting about the house.

In autumn, Lan Shanjun’s spirit deteriorated further. In winter, she could barely eat.

But Yu Qingwu watched, accompanying her day after day, and discovered she truly hadn’t shed a single tear.

His gaze toward her grew increasingly tender, and he said softly: “How can she be so… resilient?”

So stubborn, refusing to admit defeat.

This was the first time he had encountered such a person.

He sat beside her, gently stroking her head with his hand, sighing: “Shanjun…”

The old monk glanced at him but said nothing in the end.

Then his eyes sharpened as he saw the knife Lan Shanjun had placed on her wrist.

Yu Qingwu saw it too.

He and the old monk exchanged a glance, both falling silent again.

Whether it was better for her to cut or not to cut, neither of them knew the answer.

But Lan Shanjun herself knew the answer.

She never unsheathed the blade.

She gritted her teeth and held on, held on, until finally one day, when heavy snow fell outside, she couldn’t hold on anymore.

She didn’t make it to spring.

She didn’t use the knife to cut her wrist, but her body had reached its limit.

She closed her eyes, murmuring grievously for her master.

Yu Qingwu felt that the greatest regret of this life was that when he was beheaded, he should have cried.

Then at least now he could cry for her.

He said in a daze: “I should cry for you, Shanjun.”

If I had tears, I would surely shed them for you.

——

In the house, the old monk disappeared, and Shanjun passed away.

The people outside didn’t come in to collect the body, but instead sealed up the courtyard.

The courtyard became even more silent.

Yu Qingwu’s heart grew increasingly desolate.

He quietly guarded her corpse, not knowing what he should do.

The days became tasteless, and obsession turned into suffering.

So he just sat like this, sat and sat, not knowing how long he sat. A ray of light shone in, and he opened his eyes to discover the light growing stronger and stronger. Under this brilliant light, when he came to his senses again, he found himself walking through vast snowy fields toward a postal station ahead.

He had returned to his previous life.

He even saw Lan Shanjun at the postal station.

Lan Shanjun with bright, shining eyes. Innocent of worldly affairs, her eyes didn’t have the emptiness of that small room, but were filled with the word “hope.”

Yu Qingwu suddenly smiled.

Was this when they were just about to enter Luoyang in the previous life?

She looked over curiously, and he nodded to her.

Bold as ever, she walked over and asked, “You know me?”

Yu Qingwu smiled, “Yes, I do.”

He said: “You are Shanjun.”

Her eyes widened more and more, very cautious, “How do you know me?”

Yu Qingwu: “I have an elder brother named Su Xingzhou.”

He said: “When your master died, he and my younger sister Yingying bought a coffin for your master together.”

Her face broke into a smile.

She said somewhat embarrassedly: “At that time I was completely dazed, I only remember this incident, but it seemed like a nightmare—I didn’t remember their names.”

She then spoke of the thank-you gift.

She really was a lively young woman.

This version of her was truly wonderful.

He said: “Miss Shanjun.”

She looked over, “Hm?”

Yu Qingwu smiled, “Meeting a fellow townsperson away from home is truly fortunate. My elder brother and I live in Luoyang. If you have any troubles, we can help each other.”

She nodded, “Alright!”

The heavy snow stopped, and she was going to follow Lan San to Duke Zhenguo’s mansion. He stood under the eaves of the postal station to see her off. Seeing her turn back frequently, across the vast snowy field, he waved his hand clearly and visibly to her.

He had witnessed her suffering for a year, had witnessed her resilience in holding on to the very end without taking her own life. He was certain that a woman like her, with just a little help from him, could ascend to the clouds.

Meeting today, returning to Luoyang, gazing at your wellbeing from afar.