Chapter 108: Yet with the xiansheng's closed jade coffin (XIX)

Translator's note: We did it! It's done! Well, the main portion of the novel anyway, there's still six extras left. But after just under two years, the main narrative has been fully translated! As I mentioned on the previous chapter's T/N, I'll be going back and editing and compiling everything into a single document, but otherwise, this is a wrap. Thank you to everyone who has read and commented kind words; this could not have been completed without all of you.

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She thought over it for a few days, but it didn't really need to be thought on for that long. But the squirrel had acquired a chestnut the size of its head, and so naturally it cradled it in her chest for a couple days; Zhu Long had acquired a the sweets that she'd plotted for for so long, and so of course she nestled it in her smile to keep for a couple days.

She thought her first intimate experience with Li Shiyi; she'd been struck by the other's towel, folded again and again, been struck by these four, meticulously prepared characters. And now, she was struck by Ling Heng's "not necessary".

So, it wasn't "others need not get involved", but "I didn't need to have fought with you for so long".

Actually, she still had a great many areas she hadn't yet understood; for example, whether Ling Heng had fallen for her while looking all over the heavens and earth for something small to spoil, or if she'd fallen for her the first time she'd seen her at the Taishan seat, or whether she'd fallen for her while they were fighting. But she was willing to extend Ling Heng's feelings a bit longer, and a bit longer still.

And she wondered as well; was it that Ling Heng had taken a fancy to her early on, but had calmed herself and waited two or three hundred years, turning the matter of Zhu Yan into a minute trap, and merely waited for her, impudent and rash, to come rushing to her door?

A Yin had it right; between partners, sometimes guessing at the other's heart also counted as interesting.

They stayed another day, and then set out back; Song Shijiu and Li Shiyi, along with Tu Laoyao and Chun Ping bade their goodbyes to Hejia Village; Sanshu's body had been under stress for a long while, and he was still weak; leaning on a walking stick, he bid them goodbye leaning against the foot of the wall; his wife clutched at her sleeve and wiped at her tears; she'd picked out a good number of glossy vegetables, and had originally caught a chicken as well, but having been starved for a good while, it had withered and become gaunt, and she feared that it would die on the journey, and it was inconvenient to take it along, so she'd only fished out a few eggs, boiling them, and wrapped them in a cloth bag that had been washed clean, and shoved them into Tu Laoyao's bag.

"Guniang." She couldn't manage to speak the words of parting, and only called out this single phrase. She knew that Shijiu wasn't a common person, and also knew that this epidemic's being ended had something to do with her, but she hadn't experienced it herself, and, fearing that it would be impolite to speak of, only grasped her hands, rubbing them.

Song Shijiu raised her head to look at her; the aunt had, lately, been crying heavily, and her eyelids had slackened and piled up a number of layers; looking at her, she felt that her features were indistinct, and for a moment, her mind was worried.

"Shijiu-jiejie," Xiao Douding pressed close to his aunt, the "fireworks", still tied together, still at his waist, and his hand would wind around them intermittently, pulling at them for a moment, and then pulling at them once more. This was his toy, and it was also his only weapon. He felt that he himself was a little hero; no one knew that he'd run from house to house, trailing the fireworks, had run until his spirit was weary and his strength was exhausted, and only then had the plague beast been frightened away.

But being a hero didn't need to be spoken aloud. He'd never, ever say it.

Song Shijiu spoke a couple words to him, and then led Li Shiyi towards the mouth of the village; today, the mist was heavy, and the snow on the mountain had yet to melt, and when walking, a crackling sound would rise; luckily, the sun was shining out from behind the snow-capped mountains, and it dazzled Song Shijiu such that she narrowed her eyes.

With a feeling in her heart, she looked behind her; the black-tiled, white-walled village was still as beautiful as an ink and wash painting, the dusty villagers silently crowding together, their jackets making a rustling sound as they brushed; they weren't very spirited, only sticking out their necks; most of them hadn't had any interactions with Song Shijiu, but all of them together counted as bustling and lively.

There were wives here and there, leading their children as they turned their heads, looking towards where the smoke rose from the chimneys. Xiao Douding ran a few steps, and then stopped; behind him, there was a burst of rattling sounds. Song Shijiu turned her head back, nestling against Li Shiyi's shoulder, her hand leading along Chun Ping's tiny one. All of this was an incredibly customary, regular goodbye; one couldn't pick out any errors in it.

The second day, they rested in a nearby village; only at midday the third day did they begin to feel some of the bustle and liveliness of the town, and, bit by bit, there were ox carts returning from the market. Making haste the entire journey was quite exhausting, and the group gazed at a simple, crude tea stand from a distance, and then came forward to rest.

The tea stand barely had anyone, and the proprietor seemed to be a retired rural soldier; atop his forehead was a knife scar as long as a bowl, and he came forward, filling up the tea, and then chatted with the couple of men at the nearby tables. Tu Laoyao picked up a cup of tea, slurping a mouthful, and heard those sitting nearby mention the student movement in Shanghai, and went over to eavesdrop. The lean little rascal at the right was well-informed, and regardless of who spoke, could add a couple phrases. He passed a couple broad beans to Tu Laoyao, and asked, "Where's xiongdi from?"

"Originally, I'm from Beijing, but with the chaos of late, I've stayed all over the place," Tu Laoyao said, biting the beans. "I just came from Hejia Village."

"Hejia Village?" The lean little rascal's complexion changed.

Li Shiyi's right brow twitched, and she tilted her head in that direction. "Ah," Tu Laoyao said, looking at his complexion, and smiled. "Hai, the plague, it's long passed." He thought of bragging a bit, and then, thinking on it a bit more, closed his mouth; athought Li Shiyi hadn't agreed to anything, he naturally compared himself to Wu Qian, by A Luo's side; peoples of personage didn't speak much, and those who spoke much weren't people of personage. So, he shook his head and his thighs, and then single-mindedly peeled the broad beans.

Yet he saw that lean rascal's expression was complex, and he laughed drily. "You really are lucky."

Tu Laoyao raised his face, hearing something wrong. "What do you mean?"

"Do you still not know?" The rascal exchanged a glance with his companions, and rapped his chopsticks against the table, his mouth turning down, pulled as if into a wail. "In the avalance two days ago, they all died." He raised his chin, and his brows, as if trying to incite his lingering fears. "The entire village."

The fat companion before him truly was frightened, and actually frightened so severely that his eyelids and his cheeks trembled, his lips white as wall putty; he dazedly turned his head to gaze at Song Shijiu.

Song Shijiu looked past Tu Laoyao and behind him; her breathing was slow and even, the fingernail of her thumb digging into her chopsticks without much strength, as if scratching at it.

Chun Ping was frightened wordless, and her panicked eyes flickered between Song Shijiu and Li Shiyi; yet Li Shiyi merely pressed her lips together and sighed, and asked Song Shijiu, "Peanuts, will you eat them?"

Song Shijiu returned from her daze, her throat bobbing a few times, the fine down behind her ears standing up in a scorching heat; she made a great effort to calm her frame of mind, and felt that her chest ached so much it was swollen, yet her features couldn't withstand it, and there were some tiny, unclear tears. She extended her chopsticks; they trembled slightly, and she set them down once more, and then raised her head, looking at Li Shiyi.

Li Shiyi sat by her side, looking at her with the gaze of looking at another adult. Song Shijiu lowered her head, thinking for a moment, and then asked her, "You knew from early on, didn't you?"

"Yes." Li Shiyi nodded.

Lives were counted like this; if it wasn't a plague, it would be something else.

"When did you realise?"

"From the time that I knew that A Luo loved A Yin dearly, yet hadn't interfered in her fate," Li Shiyi said calmly. She sighed, and added, "I've already told you."

Life and death has order; do not throw time into disorder.

"But," Song Shijiu said, her watery eyes flashing towards her, "you still let me have my insistence, and helped me get rid of the plague, narrowly losing your life." She couldn't say clearly what the echo of the vibration in her heart was; in the end, it was both aching and sharp, yet also enlightening, and docile.

She felt Li Shiyi stroke her cheek with her gaze, and said to her, "Many matters, we don't necessarily understand at the start. And there are many matters which, at the start, we know are helpless." She paused, and then said softly, "I was willing to help you do a useless thing."

Just as long as you understood in the end, realised in the end, then it wouldn't be without gain.

Li Shiyi's gaze finally fell onto Chun Ping; her eyelashes fluttered lightly, and then she lowered her eyes.

They rested the night in a nearby town; the town was incredibly small, and the guest house was dilapidated; within the wooden building, it was impossible to cover up the scent of mildew, yet the proprietor liked to light incense, the clash of the scents even stranger. Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu had finished bathing early on, and they sat by the table, reading; when the book was opened, a few pages of fine xuan paper from when Chun Ping had been practicing writing were in between; Li Shiyi took them out, thinking for a moment, and then suddenly said, "Do you want to keep her forever?"

It wasn't a command, nor was it compelling; it was as if she were only asking idly, and if Song Shijiu said yes, she would let out an "en", and then ask her no further, following by her side.

But Song Shijiu hesitated; she gazed at the disorderly writing, gradually becoming a muddled pile before her. She asked, "If she goes back, will she still remember us?"

"She won't remember," Li Shiyi replied. And, moreover, all marks she'd left behind would disappear.

Song Shijiu fished out the photo she'd taken with Chun Ping, laying it out on the table, and looked at it dazed.

The door was knocked on quietly a few times; Li Shiyi tilted her head, calling out in affirmation; it was, unexpectedly, Chun Ping. She wore a slightly too long coat, its cuffs covering up her nails, and it caused Li Shiyi to think of Song Shijiu, who, in childhood, had always worn clothes too large for her. "What is it?" Li Shiyi asked, her tone gentle.

"I couldn't sleep; let's talk." Chun Ping came in, obediently closing the door, and, holding Song Shijiu's hand, sat down by the table.

Song Shijiu had a matter on her mind; even her smiling expression was forced. Chun Ping, seeing this expression of hers, blinked, and suddenly smiled. "Shijiu-jiejie, tell me, do you think I'm smart?" She rarely took initiative to speak like this, and had never before sought praise; for a moment, Song Shijiu was somewhat dazed. Chun Ping said, paying mind only to herself, "I think I'm smart. That day, when you and Shiyi-jiejie went out, I originally wanted to say to you, that I'd met Tu Lao-shu, yet didn't get a fever. The next day, I understood; Tu Lao-shu isn't a mortal.

"You and Shiyi-jiejie saved Hejia Village, and you were so injured you didn't wake for a good number of days; and when we left, we heard that Hejia Village was lost in an avalanche. And then I understood as well; my mother often said, if King Yama ordered you to die at the third watch, then you absolutely couldn't remain until the fifth watch. Each person has their own fate, and you can avoid the first, but it will eventually catch up to you. I…" don't want to stay in a place that doesn't count as mine, nor do I want to cause anyone to take on responsibilities and risks for me.

Chun Ping raised her head, and said with a smile, "Shiyi-jiejie, go on and send me back."

From when she spoke the first character, Song Shijiu had had suspicions, yet hearing these words, her head still jolted; she gazed at her with a choked throat, her wet breaths causing her eyes to rapidly go hazy, but she grit her teeth, firmly reminding herself the urging Li Shiyi had gave her after surviving a calamity: "Don't cry".

"These past few days, I've eaten my fill and drunk warmth, but all day long, I've been thinking of that," Chun Ping said, staring fixedly at her embroidered shoes. "That, and more than that, countless people enduring lives of suffering; if…if because of me, it would cause them to be tortured another day, another shichen, another second." She bit her lip, her eyes filling with hot tears.

Li Shiyi came forward, clasping her shoulder. Chun Ping sniffled harshly, and then raised her head, still striving to smile, yet couldn't pay attention to whether the smile was ugly; she'd wracked her mind, thinking of some words to comfort her. "My fortune is great and my luck is great; even Nanjing, I escaped. Shijiu-jiejie and Shiyi-jiejie aren't ordinary people; when that year comes, if you still remember me, come to Chongqing to look for me, right at the temple at the foot of Mount Jinyun; I don't know when I came there, but you possess great powers, and if you ask about, you'll learn. If I'm not there anymore, if I'm dead…"^[1]

She could finally no longer help the tears from falling with a patter, and she hurriedly wiped at them, and said, "If I'm dead, regardless of what sort of soil you put up a marker in, write the two characters of 'Chun Ping'; that year, many people didn't have a tomb, and if I had one, then that would be good. Writing 'Chun Ping' would be good," she continued, tears hung in her eyes as she mumbled, "and…writing 'strangers coming together by chance' is also good."

Song Shijiu held her hand, and finally, biting her lip, tears began to fall. Chun Ping was startled, and clumsily reached out a hand to stroke her hair, like Li Shiyi of before; she thought a moment, and then said, "Once I go back, and enter the wheel of reincarnation and am born again, then I'll definitely pass a good life; I won't endure canons or beatings; I'll have food to eat, and books to study, and everyone who sees me will only smile. My mother said," she paused, and then continued, "we will be victorious."

The dark of night brought everything to an end, like Hei Wuchang, who guarded order. The world always had order, like the sun rose in the east and set in the west, like the turn of duty of night and day. But there was always those things outside of order, deciding whether the day was overcast and rainy or bright and sunny, deciding whether or not there were stars in the sky.

Once they finished speaking, Song Shijiu accompanied Chun Ping back to her room to sleep; Li Shiyi stood before the desk, spreading out the book from just then. Outside, there was a burst of cool breeze, a splendor like falling stars; this brilliance couldn't be seen by the average person, only falling into Li Shiyi's eyes.

She extended her right hand, and brushed the pile of fine xuan paper to the side, the four crooked, wavering characters of "strangers coming together by chance" gradually becoming pale, as if someone had rubbed them away carefully with an eraser, not leaving behind a single trace. In the picture by the side, there was a young girl, ill at ease yet jubilant, wearing a brilliant red coat, sitting close to Song Shijiu. Her figure gradually became hazy, and finally, disappeared, only a lone empty space remaining.

Li Shiyi pressed the photo and the paper sheets into the book, and closed it, setting it to the side, and raised her head, gazing at the fragmented, flickering rays of light outside the window. After who knew how long, the door was pushed open, and Song Shijiu came in without a word, her eyes bright, fingers wound with fragrance, her long hair hanging down to the ground. Each time she used time magic, her hair grew a cun.

Li Shiyi on the bed, waiting for her; Song Shijiu soundlessly walked over, and nestled against her thigh, her cheek pillowed on the back of her hand, giving the frail rise and fall of the back her back to her. She didn't cry, nor did she grow loud, but this obedient leaning posture seemed to be asking Li Shiyi to stroke her back.

Li Shiyi picked up the comb by the side, and combed out her long, long hair. Stroke by stroke, it made Song Shijiu think of the auspicious words of ancient peoples getting married—

The first stroke, from the start; the second stroke, to the end; the third stroke, may you have a marriage of mutual respect until old age.

She rubbed her head against Li Shiyi's calf, and said in a low voice, "I know that she can't survive. At that time, on Mount Jinyun, when we met Qin Liangyu, you said to me, Qin-jiangjun died of old age, and entered the wheel of reincarnation to be reborn; you told me, you'd consulted the registry in the archive. If Chun Ping were to live a good life after returning, you would have told me. I would have happily sent her back. You didn't want to deceive me, and yet couldn't bear to tell me."

Li Shiyi was still attentively combing her hair; only once she'd finished speaking did she slowly yet gently speak. "Gods are passive,^[2] not because we do not act, but because impartiality is the greatest deed."

Gods had a single duty, and that was guarding the greatest impartiality and karma of the world.

"When starting a war, and inciting people to invade, a price must be paid. A spirited resistance will find abundant support in upholding a just cause, and finally it will usher in brightness. Experiencing gunsmoke, one can understand the preciousness of peace; only passing through death can one have reverence for life."

The sun would set, but the next day, it would rise once more.

People grew and multiplied without end, and in their courage, never lacked in bearing the darkness, and never abandoned the hope of welcoming the rising sun.

But the justice and victory of humanity themselves, it had never relied on immortals or Buddhas.

Regardless of what Li Shiyi said, it was always with reason. Song Shijiu liked listening to Li Shiyi speak reason. "Is there more? I want to keep listening," Song Shijiu asked quietly.

"There is."

In the world, there were many encounters, meant to cause people to remain together and watch over each other, but even more meetings were only so that, when parting, one would earnestly say "please take good care of yourself". This phrase, Li Shiyi had never spoken, but she knew Song Shijiu understood. So, she had even more important words to say.

"Do you know why I picked you up then?"

Song Shijiu raised her head, her eyes still bright red. "Why?"

Li Shiyi smiled mildly. "Because you were nice and warm."

Time moved forward moment by moment because of these words; from when Song Shijiu, embracing the filthy Chun Ping, had thrown down the umbrella, to when Song Shijiu became fully aware that she'd guarded against, yet had still walked back into the courtyard; from when her joy, stolen away, had returned, and she was filled with Li Shiyi, to when she had, because of the group being trapped in the E Shou's cave, let out the first sound of a snarl; from when she wasn't willing to let Qin-jiangjun's dream of the Ming dynasty go and had created a dream for her, to her red nose for A Chun, a complete stranger.

Finally, it was a young lady dressed in men's attire, utterly fearless as she charged into the Taishan seat, wanting to demand an explanation for her dear friend.

Perhaps she hadn't been counted as mature, and had never been reasonable, but she was utterly devoted and gentle; in her great body, there was a tiny, warm heart.

"That day, in the residence in Chongqing, when I was waiting for you to return, there was something I never said." Li Shiyi stopped her hand's motion of combing, and set it against the docile hollow of her throat. "You…" she paused, and then continued, "you're far better than any of the women I've met before. No, not just the women. Men, women, immortals, ghosts, birds, and beasts. As far as I can see, and where I cannot; you're the best. Not satisfactory; the best. I ought to have told you early on; that's my error."

Song Shijiu bit her lower lips, and smiled faintly and tearfully; as she smiled, there was also a bit of sadness; she felt that the more she was like a person, she'd heard that that only people were like this; smiling and smiling, and wanting to cry. She thought of A Yao saying Li Shiyi had reincarnated, and suddenly had a sort of panicked thought; perhaps after Ling Heng had provoked Zhu Long, and reported to the registry in the archive, the registry had said that Zhu Long was stubborn and mischievous, and had committed many wrongs, and as such, had decided Ling Heng and she would enter the wheel of reincarnation together, to make up for the deficiency of her errors, and once her karma had been settled, to nurture her, and exhort her to live a virtuous life. Otherwise, how would the unequaled Ling Heng-daren so easily be pushed into the wheel of reincarnation by her?

Perhaps it was decreed by fate, like Tripitaka putting the Band-tightening Spell on Sun Wukong, Ling Heng had placed the Heart-sealing Spell on Zhu Long. Listening to it, it was somewhat bold and imaginative, but she still had a long, long time to ask the person by her side.

Today the sunlight was lovely; it was the eighteenth of February. Winter had yet to pass, and the start of spring was about to arrive. It was still some distance from March, when all things would return to life, and it had yet to come to April, when in the mortal realm, the grass would grow and the orioles would fly. But, when happy occasions had yet to arrive was the most hopeful time, and times that weren't too good would be the best.

Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu packed up their luggage, and were going to head to Shanghai. She'd thought it through; returning to the residence and explaining things to Tu Saozi in a couple phrases, take a look at Sishun, and then wait for A Luo and A Yin, and if they didn't come, then leave a letter, and then return to the Taishan seat to have a look.

After being parted for years, they ought to return.

Perhaps there were many, many questions. For example—

Was Wu-laoye was still living?

How many years had Lian Ma waited?

When would the mermaid candle burn to its end?

How many more lies had the E Shou eaten?

Had Mulan grown to twenty-six years old?

Had another abrupt, great rainstorm drenched A Bai again?

Could Yun Niang's jealous heart recognise love?

How many hundreds of jin of joy had the Xu Hao stolen away?

Would the Ming dynasty of Qin Liangyu's gradually rise once more?

Would the lost A Ping finally find a new path home?

Had Zhu Yan lived a happy life as a pig?

Could Xiao Douding recite an entire section of the Sanzijing?

A Yin became better; Tu Saozi chased after Tu Sishun down the entire street; Yan Futi grew to love feeding pigs; Tu Laoyao, in the Shentu token, studied method of making five-spiced melon seeds. It was said that Wu Qian often went to a Buddhist nunnery to sit, and the rose myrtle under the Naihe bridge sprouted new stamens. In the winter of 1937, there would be a confused girl who, in a mountain god temple, would finish a nonsensical, lovely dream. As for Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu, there would always be a day when they'd slept their fill, and would awaken from the sunshine of the winter's day, and with the art of knocking on a coffin, would knock on the door of a heart.

Knock on the heart's door; knock thrice; first to ask from whence it came, the second to ask where it was bound, and the third time, to ask, in the colours of this mortal life, who will return to the hills and valleys with me?

Li Shiyi heard a long, long reply.

She said—

I've walked ten thousand li of rivers and mountains, walked through great, billowing waves, and know best that you aren't the same.

The summer willow branches trail, the spring breeze rising from each bank; the winter's snow shines like fresh wine, the skies brightening in a lovely autumn.

This mortal life is this bright and colourful, but there are only three good colours; your clear eyes are once, the creases of your smile another, and the love in your heart is the last.

I'm but the background colour that contrasts you, and I'm this lucky to be your background colour.

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Translator's notes:

[1]: The line 不在了 (bu zaile) is repeated twice, and while it does mean "to have passed away" or "to have died", repeating the same thing so closely together sounds awkward in English, so I've opted for the more literal meaning in the first portion.

[2]: Specifically, 无为 (wuwei), the Daoist doctrine of inaction.