Chapter 1. Seven Ephemeral Lives
In our first life, we would become burial mounds made of rocks, our love inseparable.
In our second life, we would destroy the rocks, connecting our destiny, walking side by side.
In our third life, we would burn the jades, promising that we would belong to each other whether in life or in death.
The equinox flowers blooming along the path were as crimson as blood. The water of the River of Forgetfulness flowed calmly, three thousand years to the east, then three thousand years to the west. Wandering spirits came and went; they walked on the road to the Underworld, crossing the Bridge of Helplessness. After drinking the Mengpo tea, they would forget everything in their previous life. People crossed the Stone of Three Lives every day but none ever spared it a glance, showing that the cycle of life and death was a mere phase of muddiness to the mind1.
There was someone sitting beside the Stone.
It was a man who only looked like he was in his late twenties when one looked closer. He was dressed in a long blue2 robes with large sleeves, a roughly carved flute carried by his hip. His hair was as white as snow, left untied and loosened around his figure.
The man had his back to the souls on their way to Hell, facing the cold hard stone. He merely sat there with his eyes closed, unknown whether he was asleep or awake, seemingly unaware of the fact that someone had been watching him for a very long time.
Hu Jia was a newly appointed Ghost Official and had only been around for approximately forty years. Ever since he took notice of the white-haired man, he had never seen him move an inch. After reporting his work, he would stand over here and stare at the other man for a while.
The Underworld was the realm of the ghosts, but that was not to say that ghosts would not exist in the world above in broad daylight either. Sometimes when his mood was down, he would stare at the man and found himself at ease shortly after, his mind strangely as calm and quiet as the sitting figure.
Suddenly, an uncannily pale hand rested on Hu Jia’s shoulder. Despite being a Ghost Official, he could not help but feel a chilling sensation emanating from that hand, snapping him out of the trance he was in. Turning his head, he saw Bai Wuchang’s3 pasty face. He patted his chest, turning to the man and gave a formal salutation, “Sir Soul Reaper.”
Bai Wuchang gave him a faint nod of the head, lips unmoving but the words he said could be heard very clearly. “Go tell him, that the time has come for him to move on.”
“Me?” Hu Jia startled, looking at the white-haired statue-like figure, then back at Bai Wuchang again, “This is… I…”
“It’s fine,” Bai Wuchang spoke calmly, “Back then I had reaped the wrong soul, dooming him to a fate of separation and desperately seeking after his love for so many lifetimes. He has not been able to be at peace for hundreds of years now, I’m sure he has no intention of speaking to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” if the Reaper had said so, then he had no reason to disobey. After some hesitation, he asked, “How… How should I address him?”
Bai Wuchang looked surprised for a moment before replying in a low voice. “Just call him Lord Seventh like everyone else do, he’ll surely respond to that.”
No longer stalling, Hu Jia approached the man.
Back when he was still a living being, he heard a tale told by a private school scholar during his childhood: In ancient times, there was a legendary painter. One day, he scrawled a dragon on the wall for no reason, and this dragon had no eyes. Passersby asked him about it in confusion, and he answered that if he drew the eyes, the dragon would become real and flew away. No one believed him, and the artist had no choice but to add a few strokes. After being given the eyes, the dragon truly came alive, letting out a roar and flying to the clouds above; that was the “adding dragon eyes” legend.
At this moment, for some reason Hu Jia was reminded of it. The man with white hair was like a dragon painting without eyes, if he was ever awaken then this land would no longer be able to hold him back.
He came near, but the man seemingly had no clue; his eyes still shut, face angled toward the Stone.
Hu Jia cleared his throat and ignored his nerves to move the man’s shoulder slightly. “Lord Seventh, Sir Soul Reaper wants to tell you that the time has come, you have to go now.”
The man stayed still, as if he had not heard anything.
Hu Jia swallowed, raising the volume of his voice and inched closer to the man’s ear, “Lord Seventh, Sir Reaper…”
“I can hear you, I’m not deaf.”
Hu Jia stood there in a stupor, only reacting after a good while. He had no idea this man could talk, and he talked to him, no less.
The voice of this “Lord Seventh” was low and soft, almost like a gentle breeze gliding over your soul. Then he started to move, body sluggish probably due to the long period of sleep. His shoulders shifted a tiny fraction, and then he opened his eyes slowly to look at Hu Jia.
His eyes were incredibly clear and bright, eye corners wide and eyeline clear. His brows were raised a little, carrying a hint of mirth and rays of bright light, but only for a short moment before being restrained.
Hu Jia was amazed. This Lord Seventh is really easy on the eye, he thought.
The white-haired man examined him, then said somewhat wistfully, “I don’t think I have seen you before…”
“I am Hu Jia, I’ve only been a Ghost Official for about forty years.”
The man startled, calculating with his hands. He shook his head and smiled. “Have I really been sleeping for that long?”
Using the Stone as support, he leisurely stood up, dusting off the nonexistent dirt on his clothes, sleeves sweeping around. The equinox flowers seemingly swayed with his every movement. He turned and saw Bai Wuchang unsurprisingly standing not far away. Fixing his sleeves, he greeted him with a brief salutation. “Sir Reaper. We haven’t met for sixty years now, have we?”
Bai Wuchang stilled. He looked as formal and stiff as usual, but his voice betrayed him with a hint of surprise. “My lord, there hasn’t been a single day where I didn’t see you for the past sixty-three years every time I crossed this bridge. It was you who never paid attention.”
The man blinked, then laughed. “Sir Reaper, how come I’m hearing scorn in your voice?”
Bai Wuchang lowered his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”
This startled the man again. “The way you worded things makes it seem like I have caused you great offence.”
“Not at all,” Bai Wuchang’s voice was still as stiff as a board, “The time has come. Please come with me, my lord.”
“Hm, what time?” the man blinked, “come to where?”
“You need to come with me to enter your next reincarnation, it will be bad if we miss the timing. This is your seventh time already.” Bai Wuchang continued after pausing, “Once you are done with this lifetime, your destiny with He Lianyi will finally end. Ashes will remain ashes, and you will no longer be entangled with each other.”
The moment the name “He Lianyi” was uttered, Hu Jia was rendered astonished. He had heard of that name before back when he was human. When he was little, he learned about history through his old teacher, and the man specifically mentioned the Zhong Xing4 Emperor of the previous dynasty with barely concealed admiration. The man was born in a time of aggression and turmoil both internal and external, and he had single-handedly saved a court so close to crumbling with his all-encompassing intelligence. As devoted and diligent as he was, he deserved to be called the most brilliant ruler in history.
He looked back at Lord Seventh. The man’s beautiful eyes were staring at the River of Forgetfulness, and he remained silent. Hu Jia stood beside him, seeing the layer of fog in his gaze, one that could surely confuse onlookers and reveal a sentiment of despaired haze. Over there, Bai Wuchang’s face showed no emotion either, but for some unknown reasons, Hu jia felt like there was sorrow enveloping the Soul Reaper.
Back then I had reaped the wrong soul, dooming him to a fate of separation and desperately seeking after his love for so many lifetimes. He has not been able to be at peace for hundreds of years now, I’m sure he has no intention of speaking to me.
Suddenly he saw that the white-haired man has returned to normal, eyelashes flickering. He turned to Bai Wuchang, perplexity evident in his question, “Who is He Lianyi again?”
Bai Wuchang choked on his words. “He is-”
After intensely concentrating, the man slapped the back of his head, cutting off the other’s answer with his revelation, “Oh, you mean him… Now I’m remembering somewhat. Gods above, why are these memories still here?”
Hu Jia’s expressions seemed to crack—this was the unrequited lovesick man he was told about? Lovesick? For such a man, his memories seemed rather awful.
The man glanced at Hu Jia, seemingly reading his mind. He stretched and spoke slowly. “Six cycles of reincarnation must have lasted for several hundreds of years. Who knows who or what he has been reborn into, and how can I remember that many times? Not to mention, I haven’t had a chance to be human for so long now…”
He lowered his volume at the end, the words finally turning into an insipid quirk of lips. He gathered the long sleeves, looking at Bai Wuchang. “I would have forgotten if you hadn’t mentioned it. I had had everything planned out back then, but because you had mistakenly reaped the soul of Qingluan and caused her to die prematurely, you had turned me and He Lianyi into enemies. No wonder you didn’t dare speak to me just now.”
Bai Wuchang avoided his gaze and lowered his head. The white-haired man shook his head, walking forward and patting Bai Wuchang’s shoulder. “Why do you insist on remembering those things, no wonder it’s said that the pretty ones are the small-minded ones.”
Hu Jia almost tripped and fell into the River at the words.
The man burst out laughing.
His laughter seemed to ring out across the entire Underworld with its thousands of spirits. His tall figure carried an unspeakable aura of someone completely unrestrained, as if even the Ten Kings of Hell was not worth paying attention.
Hu Jia heard Bai Wuchang replying softly. “Those two were supposed to possess a love destiny that lasted for seven lives, but as a result of my intervention, their fates were changed from eternal lovers to enemies.”
Hu Jia jolted. “A love destiny? He was…”
“Have you ever heard about Prince6 Nan Ning?”
Hu Jia could not help but exclaimed out loud. “Ah, he was… he was…” The former Prince Nan Ning. No wonder the Reaper put the man above himself7.
Bai Wuchang shook his head. “He was only thirty-two in his first lifetime. As he was overburdened with worries, his hair turned all white when he left the mortal realm. He was obsessed and stubborn even after death, refusing to drink the water from the River and insisting on suffering by the bridgeside, just to wait for the other to enter the next reincarnation at the same time…”
Hu Jia asked, “But wouldn’t he be unable to become human in the next life, since he refused to drink the tea?”
Bai Wuchang nodded. “That was why in his second life, he reincarnated into a flying insect. He flew under the other’s night lamp, but the mortal was unable to discern anything in the daze and crushed him in his palm.”
Hu Jia did not know how to respond to this.
“He waited for the other man for the third life too,” Bai Wuchang walked side-by-side with Hu Jia, the nobleman following with a definite distance behind them. The Reaper’s voice was so incredibly tiny and low, as if stuck in his throat, but every word was enunciated with clarity. “He was a black dog in his third life, raised by the one he loved since he was just a pup. But when the other’s family fell into poverty, they had to butcher him for food. In his fourth life, he was a jasmine plant given to his love by a maiden who was infatuated with him, and was taken care of nicely. But then the young lady was married to another person, so he was abandoned out of grief and withered as the other moved his residence. In his fifth life, he was a white fox, raised by the other for entertainment. The concubine of the man loved his fur, so he had to be skinned…”
“That was all too much!” Hu Jia’s eyes widened, “Surely karma exists, and he has not done any bad deeds, so why…”
Bai Wuchang glanced at him, head shaking, “Karma is not something we can understand.”
“Then after that…”
“After that, he returned to this river and drank three cups of the Mengpo tea.” Bai Wuchang gave a bitter laugh, “But somehow the tea didn’t work on him. He remembered things he desperately tried to forget, and he forgot things that he was supposed to remember. He often mocked himself that throughout these hundreds of years, sometimes even his own name wouldn’t come to his mind. After having to remember time after time after seven lives, he called himself Jing Qi8. During the sixty-three years of He Lianyi’s sixth lifetime, his lordship refused to return to the mortal world, choosing to sit by the Stone instead. Now is their seventh lifetime, their last one.”
Hu Jia was pulled out of the story. “No wonder.” He raised his head to look at the approaching man. He did not see the lovesick, unconstrained man in Bai Wuchang’s descriptions; his unruly snow white hair was the most sorrowful shade of color he had ever seen.
Jing Qi stood beside the Reincarnation Pond to wait for them. Once Bai Wuchang and Hu Jia was near, he asked playfully, “Am I going to be human this time or not?”
Bai Wuchang replied, “You will be a human of great status.”
Jing Qi examined him for a good while, lips pursed, “There’s no need for that, I only want a life where I don’t have to worry about what to wear or eat and can live peacefully until death.”
Bai Wuchang did not say anything to that, only extending his arm, “Please.”
Jing Qi carelessly bid them farewell with a smile before stepping into the pond.
Once he saw that the man was about to submerge completely in the pond, Bai Wuchang suddenly bit his finger and crooked his hand to perform a spell. Droplets of crimson fell from ghostly pale hand into the pond, turning the entire body of water red. Hu Jia was horrified and cried out, “What are you doing, Sir?”
Bai Wuchang paid him no mind while whispering something. Then he abruptly extended his bloody finger to make a dot on Jing Qi’s forehead, right between his eyebrows. Since he was still in the pond, Jing Qi was unable to dodge and could only look up in astonishment. The Reaper’s face remained expressionless, glassy eyes staring back at him. Jing Qi felt like someone was pulling at him and his body quickly went underwater. He could hear a low voice by his ears, “It was my fault that your fate became incomplete and full of suffering. There is nothing I can do to make up to you but this; giving up all of my cultivation to trade for one lifetime where you can have black hair again…”
Hu Jia watched in a daze as Jing Qi’s body sank in blink of an eye. At that moment, the Pond turned a brilliant shade of red, but then returned to its crystal-clear state before he could even exclaim. The water was calm again, like nothing had happened.
Hu Jia looked back, but Bai Wuchang was nowhere to be seen. There was only a slip of paper in the shape of a human left where he once stood, currently falling slowly to the ground.
There was an explosive noise before a dark shadow emerged. The figure picked up the slip of paper while Hu Jia startled and performed a salutation, “Magistrate…”
The man in black waved his hand. “Spare me.” The paper in his hand suddenly burst into flame and quickly turned into ashes. The Magistrate opened his palm to reveal a seemingly sentient blue wisp of smoke, which also flew into the pond. Seeing Hu Jia’s dumbstruck expressions, he said, “The Bai Wuchang you met is not someone who belongs to the Underworld, he was only borrowing the Wuchang’s body to wait for the person who was destined for him. Now that it’s time, it’s natural that he should leave.”
Hu Jia’s lips twitched, and he looked like he understood everything and nothing at the same time.
The Magistrate sighed, vanishing into the darkness again.
Index | Next
Footnotes.
1 There are a lot of death-related Chinese mythology concepts mentioned in this passage, most stemmed from ideas from Taoism, Buddhism and folk religion.
Equinox flowers: or spider lily flowers, a type of plant typically grown near cemeteries around the autumnal equinox. In Chinese culture they are regarded as the type of flowers blooming in the Underworld to guide the dead into their next reincarnation. The River of Forgetfulness, Mengpo and the Bridge of Helplessness: The River of Forgetfulness stands between the path to the Underworld and the Dark Mansion (another name for the Underworld). The water of the River can cause people to forget the past life, and Mengpo, the Lady of Forgetfulness, sits beside the bridge that crosses the river. It’s her job to ensure that the dead won’t remember anything once they are reincarnated, and only when they drink the tea she made are they allowed to cross the Bridge of Helplessness. The Stone of Three Lives: born from the Buddhist concept of reincarnation, the stone dictates people’s love destiny; the three lives are one’s previous, present and future lives.2 青 (qīng) as a color can be either blue or green.
3 One of the Heibai Wuchang/Black and White Impermanence duo. They are deities in charge of escorting the dead to the Underworld.
4 中兴 (zhōngxīng), meaning “country’s revival”.
5 小白脸 is a slang for attractive young men, often used as a derogation.
6 Depending on historical context, 王 (wáng) can also be used as a title for princes who don’t inherit the throne.
7 Throughout their conversation, Bai Wuchang referred to himself as 小人 – meaning “smaller man” – an old honorific used to humble oneself in the presence of someone with a higher nobility rank.
8 七 (qī) means “seven”.
Translator’s Notes. I am so sorry for the long hiatus! Finals are pretty stressful for this semester, but I’m almost done with them so I promise I’ll resume the schedule as soon as possible! Here is a little something to tide you over until the next FW chapter, I’m sure you can spot a familiar name already
During this break, I have also finished reading Lord Seventh and decided that I will commit to translating the LS-FW duology before moving on to other novels, so if anyone wants to pick up Han Shan or Actor Extrordinaire, you can just do it without asking me, I don’t really mind!
Chapter 1. Seven Ephemeral Lives
In our first life, we would become burial mounds made of rocks, our love inseparable.
In our second life, we would destroy the rocks, connecting our destiny, walking side by side.
In our third life, we would burn the jades, promising that we would belong to each other whether in life or in death.
The equinox flowers blooming along the path were as crimson as blood. The water of the River of Forgetfulness flowed calmly, three thousand years to the east, then three thousand years to the west. Wandering spirits came and went; they walked on the road to the Underworld, crossing the Bridge of Helplessness. After drinking the Mengpo tea, they would forget everything in their previous life. People crossed the Stone of Three Lives every day but none ever spared it a glance, showing that the cycle of life and death was a mere phase of muddiness to the mind1.
There was someone sitting beside the Stone.
It was a man who only looked like he was in his late twenties when one looked closer. He was dressed in a long blue2 robes with large sleeves, a roughly carved flute carried by his hip. His hair was as white as snow, left untied and loosened around his figure.
The man had his back to the souls on their way to Hell, facing the cold hard stone. He merely sat there with his eyes closed, unknown whether he was asleep or awake, seemingly unaware of the fact that someone had been watching him for a very long time.
Hu Jia was a newly appointed Ghost Official and had only been around for approximately forty years. Ever since he took notice of the white-haired man, he had never seen him move an inch. After reporting his work, he would stand over here and stare at the other man for a while.
The Underworld was the realm of the ghosts, but that was not to say that ghosts would not exist in the world above in broad daylight either. Sometimes when his mood was down, he would stare at the man and found himself at ease shortly after, his mind strangely as calm and quiet as the sitting figure.
Suddenly, an uncannily pale hand rested on Hu Jia’s shoulder. Despite being a Ghost Official, he could not help but feel a chilling sensation emanating from that hand, snapping him out of the trance he was in. Turning his head, he saw Bai Wuchang’s3 pasty face. He patted his chest, turning to the man and gave a formal salutation, “Sir Soul Reaper.”
Bai Wuchang gave him a faint nod of the head, lips unmoving but the words he said could be heard very clearly. “Go tell him, that the time has come for him to move on.”
“Me?” Hu Jia startled, looking at the white-haired statue-like figure, then back at Bai Wuchang again, “This is… I…”
“It’s fine,” Bai Wuchang spoke calmly, “Back then I had reaped the wrong soul, dooming him to a fate of separation and desperately seeking after his love for so many lifetimes. He has not been able to be at peace for hundreds of years now, I’m sure he has no intention of speaking to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” if the Reaper had said so, then he had no reason to disobey. After some hesitation, he asked, “How… How should I address him?”
Bai Wuchang looked surprised for a moment before replying in a low voice. “Just call him Lord Seventh like everyone else do, he’ll surely respond to that.”
No longer stalling, Hu Jia approached the man.
Back when he was still a living being, he heard a tale told by a private school scholar during his childhood: In ancient times, there was a legendary painter. One day, he scrawled a dragon on the wall for no reason, and this dragon had no eyes. Passersby asked him about it in confusion, and he answered that if he drew the eyes, the dragon would become real and flew away. No one believed him, and the artist had no choice but to add a few strokes. After being given the eyes, the dragon truly came alive, letting out a roar and flying to the clouds above; that was the “adding dragon eyes” legend.
At this moment, for some reason Hu Jia was reminded of it. The man with white hair was like a dragon painting without eyes, if he was ever awaken then this land would no longer be able to hold him back.
He came near, but the man seemingly had no clue; his eyes still shut, face angled toward the Stone.
Hu Jia cleared his throat and ignored his nerves to move the man’s shoulder slightly. “Lord Seventh, Sir Soul Reaper wants to tell you that the time has come, you have to go now.”
The man stayed still, as if he had not heard anything.
Hu Jia swallowed, raising the volume of his voice and inched closer to the man’s ear, “Lord Seventh, Sir Reaper…”
“I can hear you, I’m not deaf.”
Hu Jia stood there in a stupor, only reacting after a good while. He had no idea this man could talk, and he talked to him, no less.
The voice of this “Lord Seventh” was low and soft, almost like a gentle breeze gliding over your soul. Then he started to move, body sluggish probably due to the long period of sleep. His shoulders shifted a tiny fraction, and then he opened his eyes slowly to look at Hu Jia.
His eyes were incredibly clear and bright, eye corners wide and eyeline clear. His brows were raised a little, carrying a hint of mirth and rays of bright light, but only for a short moment before being restrained.
Hu Jia was amazed. This Lord Seventh is really easy on the eye, he thought.
The white-haired man examined him, then said somewhat wistfully, “I don’t think I have seen you before…”
“I am Hu Jia, I’ve only been a Ghost Official for about forty years.”
The man startled, calculating with his hands. He shook his head and smiled. “Have I really been sleeping for that long?”
Using the Stone as support, he leisurely stood up, dusting off the nonexistent dirt on his clothes, sleeves sweeping around. The equinox flowers seemingly swayed with his every movement. He turned and saw Bai Wuchang unsurprisingly standing not far away. Fixing his sleeves, he greeted him with a brief salutation. “Sir Reaper. We haven’t met for sixty years now, have we?”
Bai Wuchang stilled. He looked as formal and stiff as usual, but his voice betrayed him with a hint of surprise. “My lord, there hasn’t been a single day where I didn’t see you for the past sixty-three years every time I crossed this bridge. It was you who never paid attention.”
The man blinked, then laughed. “Sir Reaper, how come I’m hearing scorn in your voice?”
Bai Wuchang lowered his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”
This startled the man again. “The way you worded things makes it seem like I have caused you great offence.”
“Not at all,” Bai Wuchang’s voice was still as stiff as a board, “The time has come. Please come with me, my lord.”
“Hm, what time?” the man blinked, “come to where?”
“You need to come with me to enter your next reincarnation, it will be bad if we miss the timing. This is your seventh time already.” Bai Wuchang continued after pausing, “Once you are done with this lifetime, your destiny with He Lianyi will finally end. Ashes will remain ashes, and you will no longer be entangled with each other.”
The moment the name “He Lianyi” was uttered, Hu Jia was rendered astonished. He had heard of that name before back when he was human. When he was little, he learned about history through his old teacher, and the man specifically mentioned the Zhong Xing4 Emperor of the previous dynasty with barely concealed admiration. The man was born in a time of aggression and turmoil both internal and external, and he had single-handedly saved a court so close to crumbling with his all-encompassing intelligence. As devoted and diligent as he was, he deserved to be called the most brilliant ruler in history.
He looked back at Lord Seventh. The man’s beautiful eyes were staring at the River of Forgetfulness, and he remained silent. Hu Jia stood beside him, seeing the layer of fog in his gaze, one that could surely confuse onlookers and reveal a sentiment of despaired haze. Over there, Bai Wuchang’s face showed no emotion either, but for some unknown reasons, Hu jia felt like there was sorrow enveloping the Soul Reaper.
Back then I had reaped the wrong soul, dooming him to a fate of separation and desperately seeking after his love for so many lifetimes. He has not been able to be at peace for hundreds of years now, I’m sure he has no intention of speaking to me.
Suddenly he saw that the white-haired man has returned to normal, eyelashes flickering. He turned to Bai Wuchang, perplexity evident in his question, “Who is He Lianyi again?”
Bai Wuchang choked on his words. “He is-”
After intensely concentrating, the man slapped the back of his head, cutting off the other’s answer with his revelation, “Oh, you mean him… Now I’m remembering somewhat. Gods above, why are these memories still here?”
Hu Jia’s expressions seemed to crack—this was the unrequited lovesick man he was told about? Lovesick? For such a man, his memories seemed rather awful.
The man glanced at Hu Jia, seemingly reading his mind. He stretched and spoke slowly. “Six cycles of reincarnation must have lasted for several hundreds of years. Who knows who or what he has been reborn into, and how can I remember that many times? Not to mention, I haven’t had a chance to be human for so long now…”
He lowered his volume at the end, the words finally turning into an insipid quirk of lips. He gathered the long sleeves, looking at Bai Wuchang. “I would have forgotten if you hadn’t mentioned it. I had had everything planned out back then, but because you had mistakenly reaped the soul of Qingluan and caused her to die prematurely, you had turned me and He Lianyi into enemies. No wonder you didn’t dare speak to me just now.”
Bai Wuchang avoided his gaze and lowered his head. The white-haired man shook his head, walking forward and patting Bai Wuchang’s shoulder. “Why do you insist on remembering those things, no wonder it’s said that the pretty ones are the small-minded ones.”
Hu Jia almost tripped and fell into the River at the words.
The man burst out laughing.
His laughter seemed to ring out across the entire Underworld with its thousands of spirits. His tall figure carried an unspeakable aura of someone completely unrestrained, as if even the Ten Kings of Hell was not worth paying attention.
Hu Jia heard Bai Wuchang replying softly. “Those two were supposed to possess a love destiny that lasted for seven lives, but as a result of my intervention, their fates were changed from eternal lovers to enemies.”
Hu Jia jolted. “A love destiny? He was…”
“Have you ever heard about Prince6 Nan Ning?”
Hu Jia could not help but exclaimed out loud. “Ah, he was… he was…” The former Prince Nan Ning. No wonder the Reaper put the man above himself7.
Bai Wuchang shook his head. “He was only thirty-two in his first lifetime. As he was overburdened with worries, his hair turned all white when he left the mortal realm. He was obsessed and stubborn even after death, refusing to drink the water from the River and insisting on suffering by the bridgeside, just to wait for the other to enter the next reincarnation at the same time…”
Hu Jia asked, “But wouldn’t he be unable to become human in the next life, since he refused to drink the tea?”
Bai Wuchang nodded. “That was why in his second life, he reincarnated into a flying insect. He flew under the other’s night lamp, but the mortal was unable to discern anything in the daze and crushed him in his palm.”
Hu Jia did not know how to respond to this.
“He waited for the other man for the third life too,” Bai Wuchang walked side-by-side with Hu Jia, the nobleman following with a definite distance behind them. The Reaper’s voice was so incredibly tiny and low, as if stuck in his throat, but every word was enunciated with clarity. “He was a black dog in his third life, raised by the one he loved since he was just a pup. But when the other’s family fell into poverty, they had to butcher him for food. In his fourth life, he was a jasmine plant given to his love by a maiden who was infatuated with him, and was taken care of nicely. But then the young lady was married to another person, so he was abandoned out of grief and withered as the other moved his residence. In his fifth life, he was a white fox, raised by the other for entertainment. The concubine of the man loved his fur, so he had to be skinned…”
“That was all too much!” Hu Jia’s eyes widened, “Surely karma exists, and he has not done any bad deeds, so why…”
Bai Wuchang glanced at him, head shaking, “Karma is not something we can understand.”
“Then after that…”
“After that, he returned to this river and drank three cups of the Mengpo tea.” Bai Wuchang gave a bitter laugh, “But somehow the tea didn’t work on him. He remembered things he desperately tried to forget, and he forgot things that he was supposed to remember. He often mocked himself that throughout these hundreds of years, sometimes even his own name wouldn’t come to his mind. After having to remember time after time after seven lives, he called himself Jing Qi8. During the sixty-three years of He Lianyi’s sixth lifetime, his lordship refused to return to the mortal world, choosing to sit by the Stone instead. Now is their seventh lifetime, their last one.”
Hu Jia was pulled out of the story. “No wonder.” He raised his head to look at the approaching man. He did not see the lovesick, unconstrained man in Bai Wuchang’s descriptions; his unruly snow white hair was the most sorrowful shade of color he had ever seen.
Jing Qi stood beside the Reincarnation Pond to wait for them. Once Bai Wuchang and Hu Jia was near, he asked playfully, “Am I going to be human this time or not?”
Bai Wuchang replied, “You will be a human of great status.”
Jing Qi examined him for a good while, lips pursed, “There’s no need for that, I only want a life where I don’t have to worry about what to wear or eat and can live peacefully until death.”
Bai Wuchang did not say anything to that, only extending his arm, “Please.”
Jing Qi carelessly bid them farewell with a smile before stepping into the pond.
Once he saw that the man was about to submerge completely in the pond, Bai Wuchang suddenly bit his finger and crooked his hand to perform a spell. Droplets of crimson fell from ghostly pale hand into the pond, turning the entire body of water red. Hu Jia was horrified and cried out, “What are you doing, Sir?”
Bai Wuchang paid him no mind while whispering something. Then he abruptly extended his bloody finger to make a dot on Jing Qi’s forehead, right between his eyebrows. Since he was still in the pond, Jing Qi was unable to dodge and could only look up in astonishment. The Reaper’s face remained expressionless, glassy eyes staring back at him. Jing Qi felt like someone was pulling at him and his body quickly went underwater. He could hear a low voice by his ears, “It was my fault that your fate became incomplete and full of suffering. There is nothing I can do to make up to you but this; giving up all of my cultivation to trade for one lifetime where you can have black hair again…”
Hu Jia watched in a daze as Jing Qi’s body sank in blink of an eye. At that moment, the Pond turned a brilliant shade of red, but then returned to its crystal-clear state before he could even exclaim. The water was calm again, like nothing had happened.
Hu Jia looked back, but Bai Wuchang was nowhere to be seen. There was only a slip of paper in the shape of a human left where he once stood, currently falling slowly to the ground.
There was an explosive noise before a dark shadow emerged. The figure picked up the slip of paper while Hu Jia startled and performed a salutation, “Magistrate…”
The man in black waved his hand. “Spare me.” The paper in his hand suddenly burst into flame and quickly turned into ashes. The Magistrate opened his palm to reveal a seemingly sentient blue wisp of smoke, which also flew into the pond. Seeing Hu Jia’s dumbstruck expressions, he said, “The Bai Wuchang you met is not someone who belongs to the Underworld, he was only borrowing the Wuchang’s body to wait for the person who was destined for him. Now that it’s time, it’s natural that he should leave.”
Hu Jia’s lips twitched, and he looked like he understood everything and nothing at the same time.
The Magistrate sighed, vanishing into the darkness again.
Index | Next
Footnotes.
1 There are a lot of death-related Chinese mythology concepts mentioned in this passage, most stemmed from ideas from Taoism, Buddhism and folk religion.
Equinox flowers: or spider lily flowers, a type of plant typically grown near cemeteries around the autumnal equinox. In Chinese culture they are regarded as the type of flowers blooming in the Underworld to guide the dead into their next reincarnation. The River of Forgetfulness, Mengpo and the Bridge of Helplessness: The River of Forgetfulness stands between the path to the Underworld and the Dark Mansion (another name for the Underworld). The water of the River can cause people to forget the past life, and Mengpo, the Lady of Forgetfulness, sits beside the bridge that crosses the river. It’s her job to ensure that the dead won’t remember anything once they are reincarnated, and only when they drink the tea she made are they allowed to cross the Bridge of Helplessness. The Stone of Three Lives: born from the Buddhist concept of reincarnation, the stone dictates people’s love destiny; the three lives are one’s previous, present and future lives.2 青 (qīng) as a color can be either blue or green.
3 One of the Heibai Wuchang/Black and White Impermanence duo. They are deities in charge of escorting the dead to the Underworld.
4 中兴 (zhōngxīng), meaning “country’s revival”.
5 小白脸 is a slang for attractive young men, often used as a derogation.
6 Depending on historical context, 王 (wáng) can also be used as a title for princes who don’t inherit the throne.
7 Throughout their conversation, Bai Wuchang referred to himself as 小人 – meaning “smaller man” – an old honorific used to humble oneself in the presence of someone with a higher nobility rank.
8 七 (qī) means “seven”.
Translator’s Notes. I am so sorry for the long hiatus! Finals are pretty stressful for this semester, but I’m almost done with them so I promise I’ll resume the schedule as soon as possible! Here is a little something to tide you over until the next FW chapter, I’m sure you can spot a familiar name already
During this break, I have also finished reading Lord Seventh and decided that I will commit to translating the LS-FW duology before moving on to other novels, so if anyone wants to pick up Han Shan or Actor Extrordinaire, you can just do it without asking me, I don’t really mind!
