Duan Xu seemed to have regained his energy, his tired face showing signs of vitality. He patted the space beside the bed and said to He Jia Feng Yi: “Your Eminence, why not sit down and chat?”

He Jia Feng Yi looked warily at Duan Xu, reluctantly sitting down at his bedside.

For more than a year, He Simu had always remained by Duan Xu’s side. Although she didn’t sleep at night, she wouldn’t leave either. Recently, with the war situation stabilized, Duan Xu was curious about what He Simu did while he slept. After pretending to sleep for a few days, he discovered that after he fell asleep, He Simu would begin writing in her diary.

What she used was exactly what He Jia Feng Yi had mentioned to him—the journal that had stopped three hundred years ago. At some point, she had resumed recording the mundane aspects of daily life, those small ordinary details that carefully depicted every aspect of the person named “Duan Xu” between the lines.

“She wants to remember me,” Duan Xu told He Jia Feng Yi about this. He frowned slightly and said very honestly: “I also know my body is in poor condition. I can’t go anywhere and will probably have to lie in bed and rest every day from now on. If that’s the case, what can she record each day? I hope that the journal can contain more beautiful memories. This world is a gift to me, and I want to pass this gift to her.”

He Jia Feng Yi silently looked at Duan Xu, thinking that he truly was a restless soul who would cause trouble until his dying moment.

If not for such a person, how could he have stirred up the stagnant waters of the ancestor’s life so completely?

“You already have little time left. If you truly transfer all five senses to Simu at once, it would only be for an hour. After the transfer, it’s hard to say whether you could even survive a day.”

Duan Xu nodded as if he had expected this: “I know.”

“This can be done, but only with the ancestor’s consent. General Duan, you may die without regrets, but I still need to live,” He Jia Feng Yi said bluntly, spreading his hands.

Duan Xu smiled, his eyes curved with a hint of craftiness: “Good, I’ll persuade Simu. She has become increasingly indulgent toward me lately. She will agree.”

He Jia Feng Yi narrowed his eyes as he looked at Duan Xu. Back in the Southern Capital, Duan Xu had been the one longing unrequitedly, but now he had the ancestor completely wrapped around his finger.

“Duan Xun Xi, you’re about to die, about to leave the ancestor. Aren’t you sad?”

Duan Xu’s eyes flickered, his smile fading as he said: “In this life, from the moment I felt love until my death, I’ve loved only this one girl. I consider myself very fortunate. At this point, I don’t want my final days to be filled with sadness.”

“However, perhaps when I finally die, I’ll clutch her and cry.”

The sound of rain continued steadily. Duan Xu was like a flower about to be blown away by wind and rain. Yet even at such a moment, he remained that light-hearted, smiling youth who spoke of everything casually.

He Jia Feng Yi closed the door and looked at Zi Ji, who was standing guard outside. Zi Ji stood quietly holding an umbrella. Seeing him emerge, she raised her deep black eyes, silently walked toward him, and opened the umbrella.

He Jia Feng Yi turned and walked down the steps into the courtyard drizzling with spring rain, with Zi Ji’s umbrella steadily sheltering him.

His cane made crisp tapping sounds on the ground, like leisurely heartbeats. Feng Yi suddenly turned his head to look at Zi Ji beside him.

“When I die, will you be sad? Will you clutch me and cry too?”

Zi Ji was startled. She bit her lip lightly, seeming unwilling to answer.

He Jia Feng Yi couldn’t help but sneer. After so many years, she still avoided discussing his death—truly absurd.

“What are you avoiding? Aren’t you, the planners of the destiny of the Mars Star clan’s short lifespan, the very ones responsible?”

After a pause, he added: “Divine One.”

Zi Ji’s steps faltered.

The Mars Disaster Star lineage was born rebellious yet naturally talented, and He Jia Feng Yi had been particularly defiant in his youth. Suffering from illness since childhood and haunted by prophecies of early death, at fifteen he used the Mars bloodline and ancestral methods to open the gates of heaven and confront the divine.

He pointed at those deities who established the various orders of the world and berated them, saying they had no right to control the human realm if they never came to earth and knew nothing of human suffering. He had gone with a mindset prepared for death, but unexpectedly, after his tirade, amid that dazzling white light, a voice truly said it would descend with him to observe human emotions.

Now He Jia Feng Yi looked at the beautiful woman before him, taciturn with eyes like the deep night sky, as if seeing the day she had stepped out from that light.

He said: “Do you think you were wrong?”

Zi Ji stepped over the threshold, supporting Feng Yi’s hand. She raised her eyes to look at him: “The divine is never wrong. Even the concept of ‘right and wrong’ in the human world was established by the divine.”

Feng Yi also crossed the threshold. He chuckled softly and said: “Yes, how marvelous indeed. Then what was the original intention behind creating this system?”

“For the world to operate smoothly, for the happiness of the majority.”

“So you exploit our kindness? Zi Ji, we maintained the happiness of the majority, yet had no choice but to be unhappy because of it. Don’t you find it too arrogant to torment us under such noble pretexts?”

Zi Ji looked at him earnestly and calmly said: “That is the reason I am here.”

He Jia Feng Yi gazed at her for a moment, then smiled noncommittally: “If you never felt you were wrong, why didn’t you return? To be honest, Zi Ji, I’m tired of this game.”

He suddenly walked out from under the umbrella into the drizzling rain. His hair and clothes quickly became soaked, clinging to his chronically ill, emaciated body, making him look even more gaunt.

Zi Ji’s calm expression turned to panic. She said: “You… you’ll fall ill like this!”

She took a few steps forward, but He Jia Feng Yi raised his hand to stop her. Smiling, he retreated step by step, and behind him at the end of the stone steps was a cliff.

“Zi Ji, you arranged for me to die early, arranged for my life to be plagued by illness, inescapable. So today I want to die—falling from this cliff shouldn’t be too painful.”

He Jia Feng Yi was already standing at the edge of the cliff. The ground was slippery with moss, and he staggered. Zi Ji immediately threw down the umbrella and rushed toward him.

“Zi Ji!” He Jia Feng Yi shouted to stop her, his gaze intense as he pointed at her and said: “You are divine, you are the divine monitor of this millennium. Human strategies come from you and are monitored by you. Think carefully—if you interfere in human affairs, there’s no going back. If you save me now, you’re admitting you were wrong.”

Zi Ji halted her steps, standing in place, saying angrily: “He Jia Feng Yi, stop this nonsense!”

He Jia Feng Yi looked at Zi Ji’s expression and suddenly burst into laughter: “Divine Monitor, so you can get angry too? I thought after you ascended to divinity, you no longer had a human heart.”

“But I am human, Divine Monitor. I am not your order. I breathe, have a heartbeat, and can be joyful and sad. I am human, look at me, I am alive.”

He Jia Feng Yi retreated another half step, almost suspended at the cliff’s edge. The hand that had been pointing at Zi Ji slowly relaxed, palm upward, as if reaching out for her to grab him.

“After ten years together, it has come to this day. Divine Monitor, will you save me?”

Zi Ji stood in place, clenching her fists. The rain had soaked her beautiful features and clothes. In the misty dampness, she said softly: “Stop this nonsense.”

It was almost a plea.

He Jia Feng Yi began to laugh: “Would you also be reluctant to lose an insignificant nail in your perfect order, Zi Ji?”

He saw Zi Ji’s pupils contract when he called her “Zi Ji.” He Jia Feng Yi smiled and closed his eyes, leaning backward. In the rain falling on his upturned face, he felt his body slipping beyond his control, about to fall.

The freedom of finally being liberated from a life trapped in the cage of torturous illness and prophecies of early death.

Then his hand was grabbed.

The hand that grabbed him was trembling, very forceful. In an instant, his body was pulled back, colliding with a jasmine-scented embrace. That person held the back of his head, only saying angrily: “He Jia Feng Yi! You… don’t force me.”

He Jia Feng Yi looked up. Rain had entered his eyes, but he stared at Zi Ji without blinking: “But you’ve already grabbed me.”

Zi Ji’s lips trembled. Perhaps she had gone too long without such tumultuous emotions, making it difficult to express them. She said: “The one who grabbed you was… was Zi Ji.”

It was the humanity she had gradually reclaimed from before her ascension.

He Jia Feng Yi stroked her cheek, composed: “Isn’t Zi Ji the Divine Monitor?”

Zi Ji blinked, and rainwater flowed down her cheeks.

She finally lowered her head and admitted: “First, I am Zi Ji, and then, I am divine.”

Regarding the matter of transferring the five senses, Duan Xu and He Simu had a big argument. Judging from his disciples’ discussions, He Jia Feng Yi could guess the intensity. But seven days later, He Simu still agreed.

He Jia Feng Yi thought, truly this young general had never lost a battle in his life.

On the day they exchanged the five senses, at Duan Xu’s request, He Simu took him to the Southern Capital. They sat together on the roof of the Jade Algae Tower. He Simu had dressed Duan Xu in a thick cloak, and Duan Xu held her hand, their fingers intertwined.

The sun rose from the horizon, and in that instant, the entire world came alive in He Simu’s eyes.

She saw the color of the sun, that color called orange-red, like a fire that wouldn’t burn, warm and bright. Everything bathed in its light seemed to gently grow golden down, and even the pavilions and towers seemed to breathe.

The person beside her was very warm. The fur of the cloak brushed against her face, creating a slightly hot itchiness. The tiles beneath her were hard and cold, gradually warming from her rising body temperature.

From inside the Jade Algae Tower came the sounds of noisy guests—crisp sounds like falling pearls and melodious sounds like mellow wine, clamoring together.

“What’s that sound?” He Simu asked.

“In the morning, it’s usually pipa, guzheng, and flute. Wait a bit, Qiu Chi will come out to sing,” Duan Xu said, smiling as he leaned on her shoulder.

Sure enough, a gentle, beautiful female voice came from downstairs, singing a lilting tune with indistinct lyrics, so tender and lingering it seemed to melt one’s internal organs.

The aroma of food wafted up, and He Simu slowly distinguished which belonged to Dongpo pork, which to lamb soup, which to beggar’s chicken. Countless wonderful scents intertwined in the air—perhaps one could be satiated just by smelling them.

“Want a drink?” Duan Xu took out a flask of wine from his bosom. His fingers were pale and slender, with dark wounds, all gilded by the sunlight.

He Simu took the wine from his hand and drank a sip, the spicy and fragrant taste filling her lungs.

This was the world of the living.

How wonderful and unique each of their days must be. Such days would be blissful even if lived for a hundred years.

He Simu’s eyes trembled as she slowly turned to look at Duan Xu.

Her young General Duan, her Duan Fox, had the most beautiful skull in the world, with features like a painting, especially those eyes—clean and clear like a piece of jade, always filled with mirth.

Sunlight fell on the side of his face, dividing light and shadow along the bridge of his nose. He slowly kissed her, a gentle, warm kiss. She tasted the bitterness in his mouth but didn’t find it unpleasant.

The sensations gained from him were precious, even if bitter.

“Simu, what do you think of this world?” he asked.

He Simu nuzzled his forehead and said: “It’s wonderful, like home.”

Even in her youth, she had considered the whole world her home, not to mention after entering the ghost realm. But at this moment, when this splendid, magnificent world appeared before her, she suddenly felt like someone who had been away from home for many years and suddenly caught sight of it.

“Duan Xu, Duan Xun Xi, please… don’t go.”

She finally said it.

Such ridiculous and illogical words—the Ghost King who had lived for four hundred years and witnessed countless cycles of life and death uttered them.

But Duan Xu didn’t answer. He leaned against her shoulder and fell into a deep sleep, uncertain if he would ever wake again.

She held his shoulders, buried her head in the crook of his neck, and trembled finely.

“Duan Xu… Duan Xu… Duan Xun Xi… Duan Xun Xi… Duan Xun Xi!” He Simu supported his shoulders, calling his name, from tentative to anxious, to angry and sorrowful.

In her life, she had never cried loudly, never called someone’s name until her voice was hoarse. She didn’t know how to hold on, didn’t know what she could keep—she had never managed to keep anything.

“…He Simu.”

Duan Xu’s voice sounded in her ear. He Simu froze, lifted her head, and met a pair of bright eyes.

As if it were her illusion, he didn’t seem so pale anymore, some color had returned to his face, like before.

Duan Xu opened his eyes wide, reached out his hand, and brushed the back of his finger across her face, murmuring: “He Simu, you’re… you’re crying.”

Only then did He Simu realize that her face was wet with tears. She was crying.

Evil spirits never had tears, how could she be crying?

“You are… warm, I can feel it…” Duan Xu stroked her face, saying in a daze.

A jasmine fragrance drifted over, and a purple figure appeared beside them. He Simu turned to look and was surprised to see the consistently silent and mysterious Zi Ji.

Zi Ji beckoned to He Simu, and the Ghost King Lantern from her waist flew into Zi Ji’s hand. As the blue ghost fire flickered, He Simu’s soul fragment was separated from the lantern and returned to her body.

This was something that no evil spirit, including He Simu, could easily accomplish, yet Zi Ji did it effortlessly.

“From now on, you are no longer the Ghost King, but a mortal,” Zi Ji said to He Simu, then turned to Duan Xu and calmly said: “And your time of death is not today.”

She tucked away the Ghost King Lantern, then lowered her eyes to look at them, slowly saying: “In the name of the divine, I bestow upon you a new destiny. May you cherish it.”

He Simu hesitated. Her gaze passed over Zi Ji and fell on the distant figure behind her. That man wore blue palace robes embroidered with exquisite patterns of the Twenty-Eight Constellations, and he waved to her with a brilliant smile.

Just like when he was little and she went to the Star Palace to pick him up—back then, he often asked her: Ancestor, why do you choose to die so lonely? Ancestor, can we have a new destiny?

After Zi Ji grabbed He Jia Feng Yi in the rain that day, they had a long conversation.

“Zi Ji, you see how things in this world come in pairs, everything neat and orderly. When the city gates on either side were built at different heights, didn’t they take bricks from the east wall to fix the west wall?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Let He Simu become human. Cut her long life short and extend it to Duan Xu’s, let them live together as mortals. Shouldn’t the divine order show mercy to those who sacrifice themselves to save the world?”

In the end, He Simu remained in the world.

Duan Xu became the first person she managed to keep in her life.

Two years later.

“Duan Xun Xi! Duan Xu!”

Calls echoed through the summer forest, but looking around, one could only see green trees—hearing the voice without seeing the person—because the person had fallen into a pit.

He Simu stood at the bottom of the pit looking up at the high opening. She tried jumping twice but failed, so she frowned and folded her arms.

Although in the past two years she had become very accustomed to mortal life, at times like this she still missed her magical powers. If she still had them, getting out of this pit would be effortless—she wouldn’t have fallen in at all.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Duan Xu’s figure appeared at the pit opening as he crouched down to assess He Simu’s condition. He had now regained his agility and health, wearing a blue robe with tight sleeves and a round collar, looking just like the young general she had first met in Liang Prefecture.

He Simu reached out her hand: “Quickly pull me up.”

Seeing that the pit wasn’t too deep and the bottom was lined with straw, Duan Xu knew He Simu probably wasn’t injured.

When she was an evil spirit possessing humans, she was quite familiar with human affairs, except for injuries. She thought she was invincible, resulting in numerous wounds, sometimes too proud to mention them.

Seeing she was unhurt, Duan Xu smiled leisurely, crouching at the pit opening: “If you want me to pull you up, first call me ‘husband’ and let me hear it.”

He Simu raised an eyebrow, withdrew her hand, and smiled: “What did you say?”

Duan Xu rested his arm on his knee and sighed: “We agreed that I would be a live-in son-in-law for your He family, but now I see no betrothal gifts, no matchmakers, no grand procession, no dowry. We’re approaching our tenth year together, surely we can’t continue without proper recognition?”

As he spoke, he seemed quite aggrieved.

He Simu smiled leisurely: “You want quite a lot, but unfortunately, I’m no longer the Ghost King and don’t have such resources anymore.”

“But the ghost realm is still your maiden home, the acting Ghost King is your aunt, and the heir apparent is your godbrother. How can you say you have no resources?” Duan Xu smiled: “Besides, one of Simu’s paintings is worth a thousand gold pieces, enough to welcome me. Or are you planning to welcome someone else?”

“Does the renowned Jade-faced Yama, the former General Duan, come so cheaply?”

“That depends on the person. For others, my price would be astronomical. But for Simu, I can offer a discount.” Duan Xu smiled slightly, extending his hand to her.

“Timing is everything. Grab my hand and consider it a deal.”

He Simu looked up at him for a while. Sunlight poured from behind him, vigorous and passionate. She laughed softly, reached out to hold his hand, and called: “Deal, husband.”

“Very well, wife.”

As she was pulled out of the pit by that warm, strong hand, with the sunlight greeting her face, she remembered many, many years ago when she had lifted him from the ground on a New Year’s Eve.

Now she could finally tell him, I love you.

I will love you forever, I will love you with my entire life, and never forget you.