Spring had not yet arrived. It was still the tail end of winter, and in the north the cold was unrelenting — the wind cut across the face like a knife.

Before the grave, a bouquet of white flowers swayed in the wind, petals falling one by one. The names of two old people were carved into the headstone. Three years had already passed. Ye Fan was powerless to defy heaven itself.

He knelt in silence, his lips trembling. Words broke apart in the north wind — inaudible, indistinct — and tears could no longer come. There was only the quiet murmuring.

Xu Qiong moved to one side, leaving him time alone, and went to ask the groundskeeper whether anyone had been seen placing the white flowers.

There was no answer to be found. Many people passed through here each day — no one had thought to take particular notice.

Ye Fan knelt before the headstone, wanting to stay here forever and never rise again. The purpose of his life was gone. His heart was hollow. His world had gone the color of lead.

“Papa, this is a sacred vintage I brought back from the Big Dipper. Even the leaders of the greatest sects rarely have the chance to taste it — this is the refined essence drawn from a thousand-year-old cellar.”

Ye Fan opened a mutton-fat jade gourd and poured the wine out. An intoxicating fragrance drifted through the entire cemetery.

Xu Qiong was startled. She turned back and saw what was happening — the richness of the wine’s aroma was staggering. Even she, someone who never touched spirits, was moved simply by the scent.

A groundskeeper noticed and came hurrying over to tell him he was violating the rules — he needed to put the bottle away, and would also face a fine.

Xu Qiong stepped forward and pressed a stack of bills into the groundskeeper’s hands, keeping the man from coming closer — she knew well enough that Ye Fan could no longer be measured by any ordinary standard, and the last thing they needed was any sort of trouble.

“Mama, these are some small ornaments I brought back from the Big Dipper for you.” Ye Fan held out a collection of extraordinary objects — strands of undimmed, long-shining pearls worn down to their pure essence; amulets carved from the relics of great heavenly demons… all of them things that could extend a person’s life.

Each piece glistened as though it might drip light, radiant and dazzling, emanating faint threads of life essence. Even an ordinary person could see at a glance that these were no common things — simply being near them made every pore open with ease, as though bathed in warm spring air.

Whoosh.

Flames surged up from Ye Fan’s hands, igniting the objects along with the thousand-year sacred wine. They blazed into a sheet of brilliant light and dissolved into sacred ash, drifting down before the grave.

The groundskeeper grew alarmed — burning offerings was a serious violation, and fires were strictly forbidden here. When he saw flame leaping from Ye Fan’s palm, his eyes went a little fixed.

“Say — what are you burning? It’s brighter than a divine lantern, throwing off beams of light in all directions, like something out of a treasure vault. And that wine — the aroma is almost obscene. I can’t help wanting a sip just from the smell. I think the scent alone might make me drunk—”

Before he could even get close, he toppled over with a thud, drunk and unconscious. Xu Qiong stepped back in alarm, afraid of being overcome by the wine’s potency herself. She had seen enough of the world to have already realized that the things in Ye Fan’s hands were not ordinary — they could not be judged by any common measure.

Never mind those radiant, luminous pearls — even the wine gourd alone was a piece of flawless mutton-fat jade. If it ever went to auction, it would certainly cause a sensation, and fetch an extraordinary price.

When the groundskeeper came back to his senses, he found himself surrounded by darkness and a huge pile of ash, and immediately leapt to his feet in agitation.

“What is the matter with you? Did you just burn an entire truckload of things? Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be to clear!”

His eyes nearly bulged from his head. A pile this size — never mind burning it, just transporting it here would have been a serious undertaking.

Xu Qiong quickly stepped forward and pressed another thick stack of bills into his hands. Whatever the circumstances, some things never changed — enough money, and one could make the very earth spin in reverse.

“There is so much in life that we cannot control or resist,” Xu Qiong said gently. “And yet Uncle and Auntie would never blame you. As long as you came home safely, that was all the comfort they could have asked for — because in their final moments, the only thing on their minds was whether you were safe.”

“I know. I want to be alone for a while. Please go back.” Ye Fan turned his back to her and sat down, speaking those words without turning around.

The red sun slipped below the horizon. An entire day passed in the blink of an eye, and at last the stars came out. He sat there in silence, motionless. The groundskeeper was unnerved, but didn’t dare say anything — Xu Qiong had left him well compensated before she went.

Morning came. Sunlight poured down. The sun was high in the sky, and Ye Fan still hadn’t moved.

He had sat motionless through a full day and night, lost in memory — from his earliest childhood to when he had grown, moment by moment, scene by scene, everything related to his parents rising to the surface, impossible to let go of. He wanted to sink down here and sleep forever.

By midday, he exhaled a quiet breath and rose to go, his silhouette desolate as he walked out of the cemetery.

Though he had been gone a full day and night, Xu Qiong was not worried for him. She had seen with her own eyes that he could soar into the heavens — she was certain nothing in this world could harm him. Perhaps only he himself could.

Ye Fan returned and sat on the sofa listening quietly as Xu Qiong told him everything — every detail of the two old people’s final years. Each one was painful to hear, but from beginning to end he said nothing. He only listened.

Where there is light there is shadow. Everyone has their joys and their sorrows — their treasured memories, and the parts of life that don’t go as they wish. Xu Qiong had waited two years for him, and then she had married. As she herself had said — a person has to live.

And life is many-colored, with its share of wind and rain. Ten years ago her life had plummeted to its lowest point — a marriage of many years reached its end, and she lost everything.

It was when Xu Qiong went to the outskirts to clear her mind that she had stumbled upon his parents. She had barely believed it was really the same two old people she had known — and from that moment she had brought them to stay with her.

“Uncle and Auntie were such good people. They donated the money you had left them to an orphanage, while living so simply themselves. They missed you, and they loved children… I believe those flowers were from the orphanage.”

The doorbell rang. Xu Ye came bounding out and ran to answer it, calling that her father was home.

“My husband is home. He doesn’t have much money — the villa I earned and bought myself in recent years — but he’s a genuinely good man. Xu Ye isn’t his biological child, but he treats her beautifully.”

As she said her daughter’s name, Xu Qiong’s voice trembled slightly. Ye — the same sound as Ye in Ye Fan’s name. Ye Fan felt a pang in his heart. The Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin had changed so very many things.

After her first marriage, Xu Qiong’s second choice had been made with the utmost care. This was a university professor — an archaeologist by specialty — and genuinely a fine man.

Yang Xiao. One look was enough to tell he was not the worldly or calculating sort — a little reserved, perhaps. He saw that there was a guest in the house, smiled warmly at Ye Fan, and then, at Xu Qiong’s introduction, extended his greetings.

“Papa, why did you take so long? You don’t know — I saw a meteor nearly crash into our house last night. It was unbelievable!” Xu Ye chattered happily like a little magpie.

“I was held up in Jiangling for many days. A major tomb turned up there, and everyone who went inside died — archaeology has been suspended. Otherwise I would have been back even later.”

“What? Really? That’s so dangerous, Papa — please don’t go anymore.” Xu Ye, tall and graceful, poured him a cup of tea and said anxiously.

“What happened — that dangerous? Be careful, please.” Xu Qiong frowned with concern as well.

“It’s all right — they don’t send scholars like us in to take risks. We only go after the site has been fully excavated and cleared.” Yang Xiao reassured them kindly.

“Hubei, Jiangling County — the Eight Ridge Mountain?” Ye Fan asked.

It was a well-known place — one of considerable significance in ancient times, full of distinctive features. The mountain was densely packed with ancient tombs, mostly of the Chu state, with the Han dynasty second.

The terrain there was extraordinary — formed by eight ranges of hills stretching and intersecting, as though a thousand galloping steeds were charging forward, or dragons surging through the earth. Magnificent and imposing — known in ancient times as Dragon Mountain.

Yang Xiao nodded, confirming it was that very place. This time they had uncovered a major tomb from the Warring States period — mysterious to the point of seeming supernatural. Every piece of equipment sent inside was rendered useless; many people had died. At the tomb entrance only half of a shattered stele had been unearthed, inscribed with great seal script in forms resembling birds, fish, insects, and beasts.

Ye Fan lapsed back into silence. His heart was ash and cinders now — none of this could stir the slightest interest in him. His spirit was hollow, and he had no energy to spare for anything else.

“The archaeology has been suspended for now, but it may well resume after a while,” Yang Xiao said.

“Papa, please don’t go again — it’s too dangerous.” Xu Ye wrapped both arms around one of his.

“Never mind your own safety — think of Xiao Ye. Stop running off everywhere and stay in the department where you belong.” Xu Qiong also urged him.

“All right, I won’t go next time. I’ll stay right here in City B.” Yang Xiao smiled simply and honestly.

It was plain this was a harmonious household, and that Xu Qiong had found a good place to land. Ye Fan asked everything he had wanted to know about his parents, committed every detail to memory, and prepared to say his farewells.

“Where will you go? Stay here with us.” Xu Qiong gazed at him, clearly reluctant to let him leave.

“No need — I want to travel around for a while. We’ll have dinner together, all of you, sometime soon.” Before leaving, Ye Fan produced a few small ornaments and presented them to her — each one crystalline and luminous.

“Wow, those are beautiful — what are these made of? They look like crystal but aren’t quite — how are they even lovelier than diamonds?” Xu Ye, vivid and restless, accepted them on her mother’s behalf and held them up to the sunlight, examining them without end.

Yang Xiao was visibly stunned. He rose from his seat, moved closer, pushed his glasses up, and said, “These… have to be at least two thousand years old.”

Ye Fan thought for a moment, then produced a few more small items — a string of wooden beads and an amulet, which he gave to Yang Xiao, telling him to wear them when he went out on archaeological digs. Like the other glittering ornaments, even in the Big Dipper these would be counted as rare treasures — capable of extending a mortal’s lifespan, inscribed with protective formations that would safeguard the wearer.

Xu Ye threw her arms around one of Ye Fan’s and called him wonderful over and over. Yang Xiao protested that the gifts were far too valuable — that they might be national treasures.

Only Xu Qiong understood the true worth of these things. She had seen with her own eyes that Ye Fan could soar into the stars — she knew beyond any doubt these were not ordinary objects, that by mortal standards they were something out of the realm of myth.

Ye Fan thought again, then produced two jade vials and placed them in her hands. With divine sense he communicated to her privately: if she ever suffered a serious illness, she could take the medicine inside — but one pellet at a time was more than enough, and she must on no account take more.

Ye Fan departed. He was nearly out of sight when he turned back for one last look. Xu Qiong still stood there, eyes glistening with tears, murmuring to herself: “Time… we missed each other for an entire lifetime.”

“Mama, he’s gone — why are you still standing out here?” Xu Ye called.

Yang Xiao came out carrying a coat, walked to her side, and draped it gently over her shoulders. “Come inside — it’s cold.”

“Yes.” Xu Qiong nodded. And truly — what more could she want? Her life now was as she could have wished it. As long as she didn’t look back, she was, without question, a happy woman.

Ye Fan walked alone down the street, drifting forward, hollow inside. His parents were gone. The blow to him was devastating. He felt that life had lost its meaning — he didn’t know where to go. He only walked without direction, not wanting to stop, wanting to simply walk on forever.

He didn’t know how long passed — perhaps four days, perhaps five. He stopped before a park bench and sat down, thinking seriously about where he should go from here.

In his right palm appeared a great sarira — left behind by the ancient Buddha who had dissolved into the Dao in the Western Desert. He had kept his promise and carried it back to this side of the star fields.

In his left palm appeared a stone coffin no longer than a hand’s width — entrusted to him by Qi Luo to be cast into the void of outer space. It was a forbidden relic from the age of myth — very possibly a divine coffin that had been buried in the nine heavens above.

Then, suddenly, points of flowing light began to rise from his hands, forming into a rain of radiance that spread outward in every direction.

This is…