Er Sheng searched for a long time in the Archive Hall but couldn’t find the book containing Chang An’s story. Finally, Shen Zui climbed to the topmost level and after searching for over half an hour, discovered a worn book in a corner of the bookshelf.
The blue cover was covered in dust, and when blown clean, four characters reading “Liu Bo Chronicles” were visible on the cover. Er Sheng carefully placed the book on the table, and the four of them gathered around, staring at it for a while before Ji Ling said, “Let’s open it and take a look.”
Er Sheng touched the pages and said, “This book is so old it seems like it might crumble at a touch.”
Shen Zui laughed heartily and opened the book directly: “It’s a book recording immortal mountain history, full of spiritual energy—how could it be as delicate as ordinary books?” As Shen Zui moved, the cover opened, and everyone felt a whiff of scholarly air brush past their faces, like a scholar’s gentle sigh. The writing in the book appeared as clear as if it had just been written.
Chang Yuan said, “This book indeed has spirit. If it hadn’t been sealed away here all this time, given enough years, it might have become a spirit object.”
But Er Sheng had no interest in whether the book had spirit or not. Knowing the book wouldn’t easily break, she became less gentle, quickly reading backward, and focused on finding information about Chang An. However, this thin book recording hundreds of years of Liu Bo’s history only contained a few brief sentences about this immortal who had caused Liu Bo’s destruction.
“In the first year of Yong Zheng, the Emperor wished to kill Chang An, forcing him to fall into demon cultivation. In the fifth year, through purifying the heart and cultivation, he returned to his immortal position. In the eighth year, Liu Bo suffered natural disasters, Chang An defied heaven’s will and fell again to the demon path. In the thirteenth year, through purifying the heart and cultivation, he returned to his immortal position. In the fifteenth year, he lost control of his cultivation and fell to demon cultivation.”
Er Sheng frowned: “Purifying the heart? How to purify? How to cultivate? This book doesn’t explain anything!”
Shen Zui stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, “I remember there should be some books recording Liu Bo’s unofficial history here as well. Let’s split up and search.”
Er Sheng sighed as she closed the book, and the four of them each took a corner to search through the shelves. Though the top floor of the Archive Hall seemed to have few books, many were mysteriously hidden in nooks and crannies. According to Shen Zui, these books were at least a hundred years old, and most had developed spirit. Perhaps they didn’t want to be read anymore and had hidden themselves away. This made Er Sheng’s search even more difficult.
After a long fruitless search, Er Sheng was getting frustrated. While crawling around feeling for books in floor cracks, she muttered, “Are these books mice? In floor cracks, up in the rafters—why don’t you just drill holes into the walls?”
Not paying attention, Er Sheng bumped her head on the desk. While she was still clutching her head in pain, a blue-covered book suddenly fell before her eyes. Er Sheng looked closely—it was the “Liu Bo Chronicles” they had just read.
She stared at the four characters on the cover for a moment, then indifferently pushed it aside to continue searching for other books.
Just then, a breeze blew from somewhere, rapidly flipping the pages until they stopped at the section recording Chang An’s deeds. Er Sheng glanced at it and saw the characters seemingly coming alive, gradually transforming into small black figures floating before her eyes. She seemed to hear voices from hundreds of years ago, both sad and joyful, clamoring as if performing a grand play right beside her ears.
Er Sheng’s eyes widened as she shook her head, and all the sounds and images disappeared.
She straightened up and looked across the desk to see Chang Yuan and the others still quietly searching for books, completely unaware of anything unusual on her side.
Picking up the “Liu Bo Chronicles” again, Er Sheng began to read carefully. The black characters reflected in her dark pupils as her thoughts gradually sank into the book.
“In the third year of Yong Zheng, the Emperor wished to kill Chang An, forcing him to fall to demon cultivation…” It was as if a desperate, poor scholar was whispering his tragic past in her ear with a hoarse voice. Suddenly, Er Sheng’s mind was filled with images of people she had never seen before, telling their tumultuous life stories within the tale.
Her eyelids grew inexplicably heavy, and Er Sheng, leaning against the desk with the book in her hands, slowly drifted into sleep.
“This book has some records about Chang An. Er Sheng?” Ji Ling said while reading, walking out from between the rows of bookshelves. Not seeing Er Sheng, she looked around the desk and found Er Sheng sleeping with her mouth open, breathing steadily.
Ji Ling blinked at her for a moment, then borrowed Shen Zui’s outer robe to cover her: “Let’s keep looking for others.”
Er Sheng, now deep in her dream, was completely unaware of what was happening outside. She felt herself floating like a wandering soul in the vast heavens, not knowing where to go. But some mysterious force pulled her along, flying over thousands of mountains and leaping across countless waters. Finally, she stopped at a simple pavilion.
Under the plaque reading “Ten Li Pavilion,” Er Sheng saw the person she most wanted to find—Chang An.
Unlike his usual self full of killing intent and cold detachment, this Chang An wore loose robes with flowing sleeves, his countenance peaceful and eyes filled with compassion, like an accomplished immortal.
Er Sheng was instinctively afraid upon seeing him but gathered her courage to step forward and ask about removing demonic energy. However, she found herself unable to take even one step, as if bound tightly by ropes. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t move forward an inch. After struggling for a long while, Er Sheng finally gave up and helplessly watched Chang An below, who held a folding fan in his hand, eyes downcast in thought.
From noon until sunset and stars filled the sky, Chang An hadn’t changed his position once. It was as if there was an entire world within that folding fan that he could never finish examining.
As the moon reached its zenith, suddenly a black shadow flashed beside the Ten Li Pavilion, darting straight toward Chang An’s back.
His ears twitched, and his head tilted slightly backward, his cheek coincidentally meeting with soft, warm lips: “Chang An, Chang An, did you miss me today?”
Chang An turned sideways, stepped back, and pushed away the woman who had pounced on him: “Don’t be improper.”
“You weren’t so rigid when you were a demon,” the woman disappointedly waved her sleeve, her every movement full of allure. “When will you become a demon again? I miss how domineering you were then.”
The scent of perfume filled the pavilion, and Er Sheng seemed to smell the waves of sandalwood fragrance as well.
“I have fallen to demon cultivation twice, and this is the third time I’ve attained immortal status. I won’t fall again. You should give up your obsession early and leave…”
The woman rudely interrupted his words: “Where there’s one and two, there must be three. Never mind whether you’ll fall to demon cultivation again…” Her slender finger traced provocative circles on his chest. “What you must understand is that you married me before, I am your wife, we have been husband and wife in every sense.”
Chang An suddenly closed his eyes and turned his head away. The woman giggled coquettishly: “Chang An, don’t be shy, you weren’t shy at all back then.”
Er Sheng listened in astonishment. Chang An’s wife… wasn’t Chang An’s wife the female ghost in the Infinite Desolate City? But wasn’t the female ghost supposed to be in the Infinite Desolate City? How did she come here, why was she acting like this, and how could she and Chang An have such interactions…
Er Sheng carefully pondered their words and suddenly understood—what she was seeing now was a scene from hundreds of years ago, before Chang An’s last fall to demon cultivation.
But how could she see such scenes?
Chang Yuan had said the “Liu Bo Chronicles” was a book with spirit—could the book be showing her these visions? But why her…
While she was thinking, below, Chang An, as if unable to endure anymore, pushed away the female ghost and then handed her his folding fan: “Take it, it’s your true form. Don’t come to Liu Bo anymore. This is not a place for demons.”
The female ghost stared at Chang An for a long time and said: “I don’t want it. I gave you my true form, do with it as you please—burn it, roast it, steam it, boil it, but don’t give it back to me, I don’t want it.”
“You—!”
“If you truly don’t like me anymore, then treat me like an ordinary demon and dispose of me. After all, Liu Bo exists to eliminate demons.”
Chang An frowned, but holding the fan, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.
Seeing this, the female ghost curved her eyes in a smile of pure joy: “Chang An, ah, I am your wife, I love you. You love me too, otherwise you wouldn’t wait here every day to return the fan to me.”
Chang An seemed to sulk as he turned and walked away.
The female ghost followed closely behind: “Chang An, your name is chosen well. Saying it feels like making a wish for good fortune as if calling your name a few more times could make me luckier.”
“My original name wasn’t good, but the name you gave me later was also excellent. Do you remember? When we first met, you said the character ‘Wu’ was too harsh-sounding. You said I looked like moss at the bottom of the water, very soft, and you said to add a grass radical above the ‘Wu’ character, calling me A Wu. Though it sounds the same, I found it much more pleasing to the ear. Chang An, do you remember all this I’m saying?”
Er Sheng thought Chang An must remember, after all, that falling to demon cultivation wouldn’t make one forget the past, and there was no reason to forget after returning to immortal status either.