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There were various types of looks the young child received as he walked shakily, dragging the rotting corpse behind him. Some were repulsive and contemptuous. Others were sympathetic and surprised.
The child didn’t have the scent of a living person on him. The body behind him had gone soft and was easier to drag. Dirt and mud coated every inch of exposed skin and maggots were leeching onto the flesh. Several times, the child would stop on the side of a desolate street to flick them away. He tried to fix the corpse’s plain robe but it was close to crumbling into nothing after years of being exposed to the harsh weather.
The child was none other than five-year-old Mo Ran. He hurriedly wiped away the dirt on his mother’s arms and legs, holding her hand that had long since lost its warmth.
Mo Ran didn’t cry. No one helped him, whether he cried or not. No matter what trial his mother faced, she never once wept in front of him and Mo Ran would follow in that path. He refused to cry, biting down on his lower lip to keep the tears from falling.
The sun was setting, painting the sky with streaks of purple and dark blue. They looked awfully similar to the bruises he had on his arms and legs after carrying his mother’s body for the past fourteen days. He trembled as the air turned chilly, curling up next to Duan Yihan’s body and praying to whoever would listen that he doesn’t die tonight. He couldn’t die yet, not when his mother wasn’t buried. That was the only reason why he could ignore the wails of his stomach and the dried blood that coated his heels. That was the only reason why he could get past all those looks and could accept that no one would reach out a hand to help.
It was a good thing this street was barren. Less people meant less chance of getting kicked out or getting stones thrown at. Mo Ran couldn’t understand why people would go out of their way to push him away. It’s not like he wanted to be in this situation either. If they weren’t going to help, the least they could do was ignore him.
His stomach growled and he closed his eyes, wishing there was a way to shut it up. It’s been a few days since he’s eaten anything and a few hours since he went without water. But it wouldn’t matter anyway. The mass graveyard was just another hour's walk. He’ll rest here for a few minutes and then walk for one more hour. One more hour and his mother can be laid to rest.
Fatigue had caught up to him, however, and as much as he tried to fight it, Mo Ran’s eyes grew heavier and without realizing, he fell asleep.
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“...dead? No, he’s moving?”
“Quick, someone go call daozhang.”
“What’s that awful smell?”
“You don’t think-?”
“Daozhang!”
So many voices. Mo Ran scrunched up his nose, opening his bleary eyes. There was a person, a person in front of him. And many more were behind that person.
Suddenly, he leapt up. People. There were people. That wasn’t a good sign. How long had he been sleeping anyway for this desolate street to become filled with people? He looked up at the sky and the glaring sun waved at him back, signaling to him how much time had passed.
As he quickly scanned his areas, Mo Ran realized that most of the onlookers were farmers with bamboo hats and humble robes. The person in front of him donned a clean, white cultivator robe and white bandages covered his eyes. He turned around to the crowd of farmers and said in a gentle voice, “I’ll see to this child. Thank you for alerting me and you all may leave now.”
The cultivator didn’t look at Mo Ran until everyone had left. Then he extended a hand while saying, “Are you alright?”
Mo Ran didn’t speak. The cultivator was blind and if he didn’t make a sound, it would be easy to escape. He dodged the cultivator’s hand and started to drag his mother’s body in the opposite direction.
However, the next words of that cultivator made his blood run cold. “You can’t carry that weight by yourself now, can you?”
Turning his head around, Mo Ran saw the blind cultivator staring at him, a frozen smile on his face. He stood up, dusting off his robes. Mo Ran’s eyes had grown wide and he instinctively backed away.
The blind cultivator merely shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just would like to know what you’re doing with that corpse.”
“It’s-” Mo Ran’s voice died in his throat. He lowered his gaze, staring at his calloused feet while mentally determining whether or not it was safe to trust this blind cultivator. He surely didn’t look like he had any ulterior motives.
“It’s a female corpse,” the blind cultivator supplied. “Your mother? Sister perhaps?”
Seeing that he could even guess this, Mo Ran was dumbfounded. He scrutinized the bandages to make sure the cultivator really was blind before stammering out, “M-mother. She’s my mother.”
“I bet you’re wondering how I can tell all of this when I’m supposed to be blind, right?” The cultivator’s smile relaxed.
“Are you a mind reader?”
“Oh dear, no,” he replied, waving his hands. “I wish but no. I really am blind but it’s not like I can’t see anything. I can see, hmm, how do I word this? Silhouettes? Shadows of people and objects. And I can sense some stuff too.”
Mo Ran tipped his head to the side, blinking his eyes in confusion. Noticing this, the cultivator shook his head while muttering something along the lines of “never mind, I can’t explain it.”
He crouched down until he was at eye-level with Mo Ran and asked, “Anyway, are you going to go bury your mother?”
Mo Ran nodded.
“What’s your name, little one?”
Mo Ran hesitated.
“I can tell you mine first,” said the blind cultivator. “I’m Xiao Xingchen.”
“Ran’er.”
“No last name?”
Mo Ran shook his head.
“It must be hard to carry that corpse alone.” Xiao Xingchen outstretched his hand again, smiling kindly. “Would you like me to help?”
There was a halo behind him. A halo created by the sun, illuminating the cultivator’s pale skin, and one that only Mo Ran could see. Xiao Xingchen’s hand was closer and he could feel the gentle warmth radiating from it. Without thinking, he accepted it with his own, dirt-covered one.
Xiao Xingchen pulled away almost immediately and Mo Ran’s brief, dream-like stance shattered. He thought he had angered the blind cultivator somehow with his dirty appearance and closed his eyes shut, preparing for a vicious assault that would always follow.
But it never came.
Instead, Mo Ran felt his hair being ruffled. Xiao Xingchen patted his head, smoothing out some locks of hair. Mo Ran looked up cautiously, biting down on his lips to stop the tears from flowing. It had been so long since anyone would pat him fondly like this and he involuntarily leaned into the warmth that was as gentle as spring water.
Xiao Xingchen turned towards Duan Yihan’s rotting corpse while Mo Ran clung onto his sleeves. “Before you bury her, I’ll patch her up.”
“Patch her up?” Mo Ran questioned.
“Ran’er,” Xiao Xingchen glanced at Mo Ran. “Will you trust me on this?”
He wouldn’t do anything to harm mother, Mo Ran kept telling himself. Nevertheless, he tightened his grip on Xiao Xingchen’s sleeve so he could attack in case his instinct was proven wrong. Then he nodded albeit reluctantly.
Xiao Xingchen lifted up two fingers and a bright blue orb glowed on top of it. He pointed it towards Duan Yihan’s neck and instantaneously, the blue glow wrapped around her body. The skin that was previously peeling off was put back in place, decaying flesh was healed, and the remaining maggots were scrambling to crawl away. Mo Ran stood behind Xiao Xingchen, stupefied.
Cultivation magic was something he heard other people talk plenty about. But what good would people who use magic to ward off evil beasts and demons do for him? Thus, he never thought about it nor did he have a wish to see it in person.
But cultivation magic had restored his mother’s body. Mo Ran turned to Xiao Xingchen, almost breathless as he asked, “Xingchen ge, how did you do that? Can I do that too?”
“It’s an advanced healing spell,” said Xiao Xingchen apologetically. “Children can’t do it, especially if they haven't formed their spiritual core yet. But you can always join a sect later on and learn how to do it.”
He stood up, swaying a bit and Mo Ran rushed over to help him. “I’m alright, Ran’er. This just takes up a bit of energy. Right. Now, as for carrying, there’s two options and I’ll let Ran’er decide on which one he’d like.”
Fumbling through his pocket sleeves, Xiao Xingchen produced a qiankun bag. He showed it to Mo Ran who was eyeing it warily. “You can either put your mother’s body in this little bag or I can carry her with a spell.”
“That’s such a small bag,” said Mo Ran, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “How will it fit her?”
On Xiao Xingchen’s back, there was a large sword covered in white cloth. He unsheathed it, reciting something under his breath, and the sword started to glow a bright blue before it disappeared. The qiankun bag rattled.
“It may be little but it can hold a lot of things that are tens of times bigger than its size,” explained Xiao Xingchen. He held out his hand and blue light condensed. Once the light disappeared, the sword was there. “It works with cultivation magic.”
Mo Ran frowned, weighing his options. It would be better to not get more mud or dirt on his mother, especially now that she’s been healed to look as if she was merely sleeping.
“If Ran’er wants to carry her, that’s fine too,” said Xiao Xingchen.
Mo Ran shook his head. “I don’t want to make her dirty again. But can I-” Mo Ran gulped, averting his eyes away from the cultivator. “Can I hold the bag?”
“Of course.” Xiao Xingchen gave him the bag. He hovered his hand which was glowing a bright blue over Duan Yihan’s face and soon, the entire body glowed a bright blue and disappeared. Mo Ran felt the bag weighing down and he clutched it as gently as he could, holding it close to his chest.
Xiao Xingchen got up and extended a hand. “Let’s go.”
Mo Ran looked at his own, dirt-coated hand, remembering how quickly Xiao Xingchen had pulled away. “My hand’s dirty,” he said quietly.
“I don’t mind.”
Mo Ran wondered if that time had been an illusion. Feeling somewhat reassured, he reluctantly took Xiao Xingchen’s hand. It felt soft, like a butterfly’s wings. The fingers were long and slender and they wrapped protectively around Mo Ran’s tiny, scrawny ones.
It was really warm. A nice kind of warm where Mo Ran wanted to curl up and bask in it. It was as warm as spring and as gentle as water. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Xiao Xingchen had captured all of the sun’s warmth just to give it to him.
Mo Ran didn’t dare to lean into it, afraid that if he became greedy, it would disappear in the blink of an eye.
Overhead, the sky darkened and the moon appeared. The cultivator and orphan walked hand in hand, making no effort to break the peaceful silence. Occasionally, Mo Ran would look at the qiankun bag in his hands, caressing it softly with his thumb, as if his mother could feel him.
Where would her spirit be now? Is she happy? Is she sad that her son is in the mortal realm all by himself? Mo Ran looked at the blind cultivator who appeared out of nowhere, who was leading him towards the graveyard like a silent savior.
Perhaps, from somewhere in the Underworld, his mother had sent the blind cultivator with a pretty smile and a magical bag and butterfly-soft hands. Mo Ran smiled in spite of himself and he gripped Xiao Xingchen’s hand just a little bit tighter.
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It didn’t take long to reach the mass graveyard.
Stone tablets were littered everywhere and some were left unwritten. Mo Ran let go of Xiao Xingchen’s hand and walked around solemnly, looking for a place to bury his mother. Xiao Xingchen didn’t follow him. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he silently watched the child wander around the graveyard with a bag containing the corpse of his mother.
His hand curled into a fist underneath his sleeves.
Mo Ran found an empty spot near a dead tree. He placed the bag against the trunk of the tree and began to dig with his bare hands. But he was a child after all; his hands were small and weak and he hadn’t dug very far when his fingers started to bleed.
After enduring for nearly two weeks, Mo Ran finally started to cry. Fat tears trailed down his cheek and splattered onto his dirt and blood covered hands, blurring his vision. Even so, he continued to dig.
“Ran’er.” Xiao Xingchen walked over to his side. Mo Ran didn’t spare a glance at him and Xiao Xingchen felt a tug on his heartstrings.
Mo Ran was a child. A child. He shouldn’t have to be hunched over and desperately digging a grave in a nameless graveyard. Hell, he shouldn’t even have to be in a nameless graveyard in the first place.
Xiao Xingchen gripped his sword with more force than was necessary and unsheathed it from the white cloth which fell to the ground. Twirling it around so it faced the ground, he hacked away at the soil, taking care to never hit too close to Mo Ran or to let any dirt hit him.
The moon was high up in the air by the time Xiao Xingchen gestured for Mo Ran to stop digging. “Ran’er, it’s deep enough.”
Mo Ran pushed away a mound of dirt before nodding in acknowledgement. He dusted his hands on his pants and picked up the qiankun bag. Lips trembling, he said, “Xingchen ge, my mother…”
His voice was on the edge of cracking but his tone was firm. Xiao Xingchen picked up the fallen white cloth, wrapping his sword with it, and strapped it on his back. He took the qiankun bag, giving Mo Ran a sad smile as he ruffled his hair. “I know.”
Muttering an incantation under his breath, Xiao Xingchen opened the qiankun bag. Immediately, blue lights appeared, dancing wildly in all directions. They started to gather in the freshly dug hole, condensing and disappearing to form the sleeping body of Duan Yihan.
Corpse, Mo Ran thought to himself. And he couldn’t bother to hide his sobs.
Hunger, thirst, fatigue, everything wore him down. Without thinking, he sat next to her in a daze, curling up into a ball and cried bitterly. He kept repeating “mother” over and over again, as if it was the only word he knew, and took her hands and put them on his head.
“Mother, please,” Mo Ran choked out. “Pay attention to me. Pay attention to me, please.”
The dam that Mo Ran had been carefully building up finally burst. He cried silently at times and wailed at times. He begged his mother to pat him on the head once more or to scold him once more. He begged his mother to do something, anything, anything that could tell him she was alive and well.
Though her heart stopped beating long ago.
Xiao Xingchen looked away. He had lost his eyes and couldn’t cry tears. “Ran’er,” he said quietly, struggling to keep his voice steady. But he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Xingchen ge,” Mo Ran’s gaze never once left his mother’s face. It had a terrifying hollowness, despite it being red. With another sniffle, he continued, “Xingchen ge, bury me too.”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go anywhere else.
I want to sleep.
Bury me too, Xingchen ge, I’ll stay with my mother forever.
Mo Ran never got a chance to say these words when he felt a pair of arms pulling him out of the grave. In his muddled state, he didn’t fully register what was going on, only that someone was trying to separate him and his mother again. He struggled and struggled, screaming for his mother but Xiao Xingchen was stronger.
“Ran’er,” he said softly as soon as Mo Ran stopped struggling. He patted Mo Ran’s hair, the way Duan Yihan used to so many times when Mo Ran was upset. “Ran’er, let’s go back.”
Unable to do anything else, Mo Ran wept and wept until he fell asleep in the blind cultivator’s arms in the middle of a mass graveyard.
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When Mo Ran woke up the next morning, the first thing he saw was a stone table with some words scrambled on it. It was right in front of the place where he had buried his mother.
He didn’t know how to read and the messy scrawls of lines didn’t have any importance to him. Thus, he didn’t realize the writings actually said “Here lies the mother of Ran’er.”
Xiao Xingchen was leaning against the dead tree, fast asleep until he felt Mo Ran shuffling. “Ran’er is awake?”
A low growl from his stomach answered instead of his voice.
Xiao Xingchen’s smile became slightly mischievous. “And hungry.”
He reached over to push away Mo Ran’s hair from his face. That’s when Mo Ran noticed specks of dirt covering his slender snow white hands and he looked back at the grave. He didn’t remember fully burying his mother.
“After you fell asleep,” started Xiao Xingchen, alerting him. “I finished up with the burial. I hope Ran’er doesn’t mind too much.”
Mo Ran shook his head, too exhausted to use his voice. Dull aches shot up all over his body and he leaned against Xiao Xingchen’s chest, wanting nothing more than to go back to that dreamless slumber where nothing existed.
But Xiao Xingchen gently pulled him up and the two of them walked back to the nearest town, hand-in-hand, in silence.
Xiao Xingchen stopped at a noodle stall and he ordered something. Mo Ran didn’t hear anything. His mind had been buzzing ever since he woke up and if he didn’t blink occasionally, he wouldn’t be any different from a corpse.
They sat at an empty table, right next to each other. Mo Ran stared at the table, still in a daze. Xiao Xingchen was counting something in another, more normal-looking bag.
It took almost no time for two bowls of steaming hot noodles to appear. Mo Ran took a double take when a bowl had been placed for him. Then he glanced at Xiao Xingchen who had already dug in.
When he caught Mo Ran’s surprised gaze, he simply said, “It’s not fun to be hungry. Eat up before it gets cold.”
Mo Ran looked at the noodles as if it was his first time looking at so much food. He picked up the chopsticks and poked at it, testing to see if it was real or a hallucination.
“Ran’er,” Xiao Xingchen’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “I have to leave soon.”
Mo Ran didn’t look up from his bowl of noodles.
“Though I would love to bring you along with me, I’m afraid it’d harm your safety. There’s some people after Xingchen ge.”
This caused Mo Ran to look up in confusion. “Xingchen ge did something bad?”
“Well,” Xiao Xingchen smiled wistfully. “It’s complicated. I don’t want Ran’er to get caught in it.”
“S’okay.”
“What are you planning to do after this?”
“Go back to Xiangtan and find Xun-jie.”
“Xun-jie?”
“My mother’s friend.” Mo Ran took a bite. It was too hot and he almost burned his tongue. Swallowing through the pain, he said, “My mother said she’ll take care of me. Xingchen ge, I can go by myself.”
“I know you can.” Xiao Xingchen handed him another pouch and Mo Ran heard its jangle. His eyes immediately widened and he almost dropped his chopsticks. Xiao Xingchen had an almost bashful expression as he handed Mo Ran the last of his money. “Take this. I’m afraid it’s not much, just a few copper coins, but it should help you for a few days.”
“Ran’er can’t-” Mo Ran looked up and tears were already forming at the corner of his eyes. At the back of his head, he heard his mother’s voice saying to not refuse any gifts. “Ran’er can’t take this. Xingchen ge needs it.”
“You need it more than I do. Xiangtan is far and it’s going to take a good few days to reach there so these should help you a bit. Don’t go hungry and eat at least something every day, okay?”
Mo Ran sniffled, nodding as he took the pouch. Xiao Xingchen smiled. He suddenly turned his head, as if sensing something was coming and clicked his tongue. “Ah, it seems my pursuers have found me.”
Mo Ran looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “There’s no one there.”
“They’re exceptionally good at disguises.” Xiao Xingchen stood up and Mo Ran followed, immediately running over to his side. Xiao Xingchen smiled which was becoming sadder and patted him on the head. “Ran’er, this is where we must part ways. Reach Xiangtan safely, okay?”
“Xingchen ge.”
Xiao Xingchen crouched down and cupped his cheeks. “If destiny permits, we’ll meet each other again, okay? Don’t be sad, don’t be sad…”
Mo Ran shook his head, swallowing all of his bitter tears. “Ran’er is not sad.”
“Good,” Xiao Xingchen stood up once more. “Finish up your noodles, I already paid for it so you don’t have to worry about it. Then leave for Xiangtan.”
Mo Ran wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and replied in a hoarse voice, “Mn, I will.”
“Farewell.”
And before he could blink, the blind cultivator who was as warm as spring and as gentle as water had disappeared.