Two hours later, Mount Ise.
The Jeep door was wide open. Yan Lanyu, wrapped in a large coat with his bandaged head showing through his messy hair, sat exhausted in the back seat, drinking hot water.
Not far away, Yu Jingzhong sat on the ground while Zhou Hui berated him imperiously: “You’re not a kid anymore, but you still don’t use your brain! Why didn’t you drag Wu Bei along with you! Why didn’t you wait for rescue! Taking on the Esoteric School Headmaster alone, you think you’re so great, don’t you? Is your puberty finally here with an overproduction of male hormones? If you do this again, don’t even think about me helping! Don’t dream of being my third son-in-law!”
“…” Yu Jingzhong said weakly, “Shut the f*ck up…”
Mount Ise was brightly lit. A helicopter with a searchlight slowly descended over the forest, the airflow creating a huge roar.
Both the Japanese police and diplomatic personnel from the Chinese embassy had arrived, engaging in heated negotiations across the ravaged Mount Ise.
Wu Bei had finally dealt with the Self-Defense Forces and the Esoteric School disciples. He lay motionless on the ground, pretending to be dead in an attempt to get by, but was dug out of a pile of bodies by the young man from the northeast with the wash-cut-and-blow-dry hairstyle. A group of people surrounded the second group leader, crying and wailing. Just as they were getting into it, Zhou Hui arrived with a flying kick, and Wu Bei instantly shot up, alive.
Wu Bei was dragged by the ear by Zhou Hui to deal with the Japanese police. The second group leader, in his wrinkled Armani black trench coat, held a megaphone in one hand and a single-person rocket launcher on his shoulder with the other. His handsome face, stained with smoke and blood, was unusually grave. “Ahem—ahem! Listen up, everyone up there! National Security Group Six is clearing the area. You have three minutes to escape. You have three minutes to escape—!”
From a distance, Zhou Hui’s temple twitched. For a moment, he couldn’t decide whether Deputy Chief Yu or the second group leader was more deserving of a beating.
However, Wu Bei’s threat was effective. As a soul artist who lamented the passing of spring and autumn, was black-hearted and ruthless, and would sigh, “Why is the wind so strong” before killing someone and destroying the evidence, he was a well-known figure in the northeast region and along the Sino-Japanese border. To give a less bloody example, it was said that half of the pirated discs in Japan went through his distribution channels. There were even more bloody examples, such as joining forces with people from Fujian to chase down and hack at the Yamaguchi-gumi across provinces; or affectionately stroking a cherry blossom tree in front of a certain Japanese senator and saying, “I want the cherry blossoms here to bloom even redder next year…”
Among the six group leaders of National Security, Wu Bei’s fame in Japan was unparalleled, more than enough to beat Zhou Hui.
The members of Group Two were not idle either. The young man with the wash-cut-and-blow-dry hairstyle led his men to roll up their sleeves, pick out the bodies of the Esoteric School disciples, and tie them up in a row, using them as human shields. When the police looked down from the helicopter and saw the ground littered with the bodies of onmyoji in kariginu robes, they were terrified.
The local police department knew they couldn’t handle this kind of conflict between onmyodo practitioners. If they tried to detain them by force, who knew what these half-human, half-ghost beings would do. The police could only temporarily retreat, leaving behind a few words like “We will report to the higher police department and let the victim’s School handle the negotiations,” before the helicopter turned around and quickly flew down the mountain.
Wu Bei threw down the single-person rocket launcher, sat down on the ground, and stared affectionately at the departing helicopter. “Damn it, it would have been better if you had been this obedient from the start.”
·
Zhou Hui cleared his throat and continued to scold Deputy Chief Yu:
“You’re so capable, so good at showing off. Don’t you want to be a normal person? A normal person would have been killed by that Esoteric School Headmaster long ago, you know? An old cow eating young grass, a withered tree blooming anew. Look at your cowardly self. You don’t even have a two-million-yuan annual salary, yet you dare to pursue a relationship. The thirty million single men in China are thirty million yous. Even bricklayers earn more than you these days. If you keep trying to be a hero, one day you’ll get yourself killed…”
Yu Jingzhong nodded in agreement while fumbling for a cigarette. The cigarette pack was soaked in blood, and even the filter was stained.
Not far away, Yan Lanyu wanted to help mediate and struggled to get out of the car, but a voice came from behind him: “How are you?”
Yan Lanyu turned to see it was Chu He, who had just gotten into the back seat of the Jeep from the other side.
He hesitated for a moment, then sat back and smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness Wisdom King. If it weren’t for you…”
Chu He interrupted him: “There’s no need to say such things.”
He leaned over and pushed aside Yan Lanyu’s hair, seeing that the terrible wound on his head had already scabbed over—a result of being washed with the water diluted with phoenix blood. Besides that, his body was covered in bruises and scrapes. One of his hands was severely burned, the skin and flesh stuck together, and several of his ribs were broken. Both of these injuries had only received preliminary emergency treatment from Zhou Hui.
Chu He maintained this leaning posture, staring at him motionlessly.
They looked at each other at close range in the dim car. Yan Lanyu could clearly see his own reflection in Chu He’s eyes and couldn’t help but lean back slightly. “This… Your Highness Wisdom King…”
“Don’t move.”
“…”
Yan Lanyu’s mind was full of questions. After a long moment, he saw Chu He blink, his eyelashes slightly damp.
A full thirty seconds passed, and Chu He blinked again, his eyes now dry.
The corner of Yan Lanyu’s mouth twitched slightly. “Your… Your Highness…”
“It’s no use,” Chu He let go of him in resignation and plopped down on the seat. “I just can’t cry.”
Yan Lanyu: “…”
Chu He was very regretful. He had no choice but to bite his ring finger again, take a drop of his heart’s blood, and drip it into Yan Lanyu’s water cup for him to drink.
The water instantly boiled, emitting a strong smell of iron. Yan Lanyu had to pinch his nose and swallow it in small sips. Soon, as the liquid entered his stomach, the excruciating pain in his ribs and arm, which had been almost numb, gradually eased. His internal organs felt as if they had been ironed by a warm current, and he let out a long, involuntary sigh of relief.
After drinking half a cup of water, he looked down at his hand. The burned skin was drying and scabbing over at a visible rate.
Although the scarred arm was very ugly, it was much better than when it was bleeding uncontrollably.
“It’s… it’s amazing…”
Chu He said, “It works faster on people with no magical power because there’s no interference from their own antibodies.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the car fell into a sudden silence.
Yan Lanyu’s long eyelashes drooped, his gaze fixed on the water cup.
In the swirling white mist, his figure was thin and tired, his eyes hazy, as if even the handsome lines of his cheeks had melted into the dimness.
“I tried to save your pentagram, but it went out when we came back from hell. But I think it must have protected your soul. Otherwise, a soul as weak as yours would most likely have scattered upon entering hell.”
Chu He reached into his pocket, took out a red string, and handed it to Yan Lanyu. “But the Mirror Heart is still here. I don’t know if it’s still useful, but I helped you get it back anyway.”
Yan Lanyu’s gaze was a bit scattered. After a long moment, he moved, slowly raising his hand to take the fragment of the Yata Mirror.
“…I noticed it just now…” he said softly. “I just couldn’t be sure for a moment. It was too sudden…”
Chu He looked at him, a slight pity appearing in his eyes.
Yan Lanyu played with the fragment, his fair fingertips gently rubbing the sharp corner. Chu He had seen this mirror fragment pass through the hands of Zhou Hui, Zhang Shun, Yu Jingzhong, and others, but it had never seemed so perfectly matched with the hand that touched it as it did now.
The Esoteric School had gone to great lengths to choose Yan Lanyu and refine him into a yin-yang dual soul. There must have been a reason why they had to choose him.
“I was originally an ordinary person. I learned these things just for self-protection. I didn’t expect that now that it’s suddenly gone, I’m not used to it.” Yan Lanyu paused, a brief smile appearing on his pale cheeks. “But it’s okay… Anyway, the Esoteric School is gone, so whether I need to protect myself or not… it doesn’t matter anymore.”
He lowered his head and put on the red string. His fingers, due to the burns, looked a bit clumsy.
“…You won’t be used to it at first.”
Chu He was silent for a moment, then said, “But as time goes by, you will slowly get used to a normal person’s life. You will be more peaceful, more grounded, more free… The shackles that have bound you for two lifetimes are gone. From now on, you can have a life that is completely your own, go to school, work, fall in love, and enjoy a family like a normal person…”
Yan Lanyu was stunned for a moment. “But… a person has to be useful, right? Otherwise, wouldn’t I become a burden…”
Not far away, Zhou Hui had finally temporarily ceased hostilities. Yu Jingzhong casually flicked his cigarette ash onto Zhou Hui’s pants and, amidst Zhou Hui’s angry curses, leisurely stood up and walked over.
“There will always be someone who wants you by their side not because you are useful.” Chu He smiled at him and blinked. “I also once felt that I was a burden to others and was very worried about being abandoned because of it. But that kind of thinking is actually a kind of blasphemy to those who accompany you without asking for anything in return—your values have been distorted for too long. Someone will help you slowly correct them.”
Yan Lanyu looked back at him with a puzzled expression. Chu He looked up at the night sky, his gaze distant.
“Although it will take a long time, there will be a day…”
“Just don’t be like me and make others wait too long.”
Yu Jingzhong walked to the side of the car, nodded to Chu He in acknowledgment, and then turned to Yan Lanyu. “How are you?”
Yan Lanyu stared at him blankly, his gaze sliding from his messy, blood-stained eyebrows, across his smoke-stained cheeks, to the battered and messy camouflage uniform due to blood and mud. Although it was freezing cold, at such a close distance, even the heat and sweat from his body seemed to pass through the fabric, giving a strange and deep sense of security.
“What?” Yu Jingzhong asked, raising an eyebrow.
“…My… my magical power is gone,” Yan Lanyu said hoarsely. “The yin-yang power protected my soul, and it burned out before my soul returned to my body…”
Yu Jingzhong was stunned for a moment, probably not expecting this at all, but then he subconsciously asked, “So?”
“…”
“You’re so injured, of course your yin-yang power would be gone. Do you still want to go to the front line?”
“…” Yan Lanyu blinked. Yu Jingzhong looked at him with a puzzled expression for a long time, then reached out and fiercely hugged him out of the car. “Don’t overthink it! Let’s go, the embassy sent a helicopter to pick us up. Let’s hurry back to Beijing to receive our punishment.”
Yan Lanyu, being carried in large strides, suddenly struggled. “No… wait! Wait a minute!”
He managed to slide down. Because of his sprained ankle, he staggered a few steps and luckily bumped into Zhou Hui, who was walking toward the Jeep and helped him. Yan Lanyu asked in a low, urgent voice, “Are we leaving now? Can you wait for me for a moment?”
“What are you doing, third daughter?”
“I want to go to a place. There’s an open space at the foot of Mount Ise…” Yan Lanyu looked at Yu Jingzhong. For some reason, his eyes were a little red in the night. “I’ll be back very soon, very soon.”
·
Half an hour later, at the foot of Mount Ise.
He said he would be quick, but it actually took a lot of effort to get there. The mountain had collapsed, and the pitted mountain road was very dark. Yu Jingzhong turned on his high-powered flashlight and saw that the road was covered with crisscrossing dead branches and trees.
The mountain path went all the way down. At the very bottom was an open space enclosed by a wooden fence. Vaguely, stone tablets could be seen standing there, but most of them had been smashed in the tremors.
Zhou Hui said softly, “…Tsk.”
His voice was very low, and only Chu He heard it. He turned back and secretly made a “shh” gesture to him.
Yu Jingzhong carried Yan Lanyu on his back all the way, with Zhou Hui and Chu He following closely behind. The wooden fence around the open space had completely rotted away, and it crumbled with a push. Yu Jingzhong kicked it down and walked closer to see that it was a cemetery!
The standing stone tablets were all tombstones, with names and death dates hastily carved in Japanese. Some coffins had been dislodged by the tremors, revealing rotting, blackened wood.
“It’s still inside,” Yan Lanyu said in a small voice.
Yu Jingzhong vaguely understood something, but didn’t say it. He just patted his hand and walked deeper into the cemetery.
The open space was not large. After crossing a few old graves, a relatively less dilapidated tombstone appeared ahead. A thin-planked coffin had been half-dislodged from the ground by the tremors, its edges cracked and rotted. The white stone stele had been cracked by the tremors, but the carved inscription was still very clear in the flashlight beam.
The owner of the grave was named Yan Jing.
Yan Lanyu struggled to get down, staggered forward, and stared blankly at the tombstone.
The night was like a long, endless river. The wind blew through the rotting coffins in the cemetery, carrying ancient resentment and sorrow, and rushed toward the vast snowfield under the moonlight in the distance.
Yan Lanyu knelt down and scooped up some earth to sprinkle on the coffin. He probably wanted to rebury the coffin, but the dislodged area was too large, and the frozen ground was very hard, making it impossible to cover the cold, thin coffin.
Yu Jingzhong slowly knelt down and held his trembling hands.
“Don’t…” he choked out. “Don’t do this…”
Yan Lanyu stared at him blankly, a deep, bone-deep confusion in his eyes, as if he were in a land of ice and snow, surrounded by cold winds and heavy snow, completely lost.
“When I get back to Beijing…” Yu Jingzhong’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently, his voice sounding as if there was a sour, hard lump stuck in his throat. “When I get back to Beijing, I’ll send someone to ship this coffin back to the country… back to the country for burial…”
“We can bury him in his hometown, in the place where he was born and never got to return to…”
Tears welled up in Yan Lanyu’s eyes and dripped onto the ground from his paper-white, cold cheeks.
Yu Jingzhong helped him up forcefully, looked at the pale, broken stone tablet under the moonlight, and bowed deeply. When he stood up again, he tilted his head back and felt a hot liquid flow from his eye sockets into his nasal cavity. It was a taste of extreme bitterness and spiciness that he had never felt before in his life.
“Thank you…” Yan Lanyu said softly.
Yu Jingzhong held him tightly, as if he would never let go, so tight that even their heartbeats were rising and falling together through their chests.
Not far away, Zhou Hui rubbed his nose, pretending to look around carelessly, and suddenly asked, “Will you cry when you bury me?”
Chu He said coldly, “No.”
“…Hey!”
“When you’re about to die, dig your own grave, and dig one for me too. Then call Maha to fill it in and Jia Louluo to chant sutras and dance. That should be enough. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Zhou Hui blinked at Chu He, but the latter stared straight ahead, his handsome profile expressionless in the moonlight.
“…” After a long moment, Zhou Hui finally asked, “Are you really going to do this?”
“Yes.”
“No, you can’t. Although I’m touched that you said that, the problem is…”
“That’s not for you to decide,” Chu He interrupted him. “It’s not even something I ‘decided’ to do, but a thought I’ve always had naturally… Do you know what the world is like after death?”
Zhou Hui frowned slightly.
“We have always lived in hell, but hell is not the end of the journey. A more distant country is in a place that even gods cannot see, hear, or perceive. There, it is a land of eternal tranquility. In the eternal darkness, there is no light or sound. Lonely souls turn into eternal dust and drift into the distance…”
“That is the kingdom of death.”
Chu He turned his face, his clear eyes looking at Zhou Hui.
“When I was very young, I wanted to live forever with someone I thought I loved, for all eternity, without end. But later I realized how naive and foolish I was. Spiritual nirvana is ten thousand times more painful than physical nirvana.”
“At my most painful moments, I thought, ‘Someone come and take me away, anyone will do.’ Sometimes I even had the thought of compromising, but then I thought that there might be someone who truly belongs to me in the distance, and he is rushing toward me. I can’t leave before he arrives…”
“Then when I saw you, I thought, ‘This person has finally arrived. Thank goodness I didn’t betray him.'”
“…Phoenix…” Zhou Hui murmured.
“At first, I thought I was unlucky and was afraid you would find out and then turn around and leave. Actually, if you had left then, I wouldn’t have chased after you, because I was really too scared.” Chu He paused and said with a slight self-deprecating smile, “But later, when I thought you might like the Snow Mountain Goddess, that anger suddenly overcame the fear. I don’t even remember what mood I was in when I went to war with Trailokyavijaya and the Snow Mountain Goddess. I just felt无比of anger. It wasn’t until you brought me back to Mount Buzhou that I realized, ‘Ah, so I actually lost my temper. So when a person is truly full of love, they will do hysterical, irrational, and over-the-top things.'”
“That wasn’t over-the-top…” Zhou Hui denied hoarsely.
“I thought so at the time,” Chu He laughed. “My perception was distorted for a long time. I was insecure, walking on thin ice, self-repressed and disgusted. I avoided admitting my love because it was really… too fragile. It was like personally handing you the knife that could kill me, like a fish on a chopping block, from then on, waiting to be slaughtered.”
“I have never experienced that terrible feeling. My blind infatuation and dependence on Sakyamuni back then, although so dangerous and even life-threatening at any time, never gave me this feeling of discovering my own deadly weakness, helplessness, and yet sweet and unwilling to extricate myself from despair.”
Zhou Hui looked at Chu He for a long time and finally asked, “…When did it start?”
“I don’t remember,” Chu He thought for a moment and said, “It should have been the first time I was invaded by Sakyamuni’s six senses and almost killed you. When I woke up, you were covered in blood and said to me, ‘It’s okay.'”
He raised his hand and gently pressed Zhou Hui’s abdomen, rubbing it carefully for a moment.
That was where Zhou Hui had been seriously injured by the phoenix’s attack, but it had healed many years ago, leaving not even a scar.
“That sentence is true,” he said with a slight smile. “Falling in love with someone is like your whole body becoming a weak spot, one touch and you’re dead; and it’s also like suddenly putting on armor, from then on, invincible.”
Zhou Hui held his hand, their palms pressed tightly together.
“But you are a phoenix. You can actually live forever without getting old or dying…”
But Chu He shook his head.
“It’s dark and cold there,” he said. “I want to go to that world with you. For you, I can be forever invincible.”
A bright moon gradually set in the west.
In the distance, on the vast snowfield, the cold wind howled. On the majestic temple at the top of the glacier, the lonely little phoenix finally raised his tear-stained face and smiled as he faded away from the void.
Further away, the Iron Wheel Mountains of hell stretched for thousands of miles. The Peacock King stood on a cliff by the Sea of Blood and looked up. The great Roc was spreading its magnificent golden wings and soaring down from the sky.
On Mount Buzhou in hell, the faint red mist emitted by the demonic eye filled the mountains and fields.
On the mountaintop was a small wooden cabin, with a courtyard, a grassy path, and a crooked fence.
The cluster of Asura flowers planted by the Phoenix Wisdom King himself by the steps finally swayed and bloomed in the unchanging wind of hell.
