Chapter Text
Second Part: Jing Yuan
The dark of the night deepens as Jing Yuan walks along the small deserted path, surrounded both sides by stone walls covered in old cracks, overgrown moss and wayward vines. He stops to look back into the far-off distance, at the river of tiny lights in the night sky, numerous like fireflies and faintly flickering like starlight. On the Central Starskiff’s streets, he can imagine the crowds clamouring to celebrate the yearly Ghost Month, the last of a millenia-old tradition yet to die out.
Here on the other side, in this quiet unknown space located in the middle of nowhere, all is silent except for the sound of his own footsteps. And that of another’s.
“We should be reaching soon, General Jing Yuan. Er, is it really fine for me to call you by name?" The talkative foreign ambassador in front of him pauses mid-walk and gazes up at the sky.
"Ah, how beautiful.” His eyes shift down, to the vaguely glistening, flowing waves of the Scalegorge Waterscape, a distance away from where they’re standing on the highest grounds of the abandoned buildings. “Although…”
“I heard that in the past, these lanterns were released on the water here…May I enquire what happened to that tradition?”
Jing Yuan smoothly replies without pause. “After the Scalegorge Waterscape was sealed underwater, along with the Ambrosia Arbor, this place too, became deserted when monsters started appearing. But the tradition of floating lanterns in the water had been stopped even centuries before that. It comes from a time before I was even born.
From what I know, the complaints of water pollution in the rivers got too much for the Realm-keeping Commission to handle, and so the Artisanship Commission got called to work on a solution. This is what they came up with: hovering lanterns following a magnetized path from one end of the Luofu to the other - a manmade river in the sky to guide the deceased.”
“Oooh, how ingenious!”
Jing Yuan smiles and continues. “However…there has been talk that this practice may end too. The setup, clean-up, and maintenance are taking its toll on limited manpower, and fewer people are interested in continuing this tradition each year. In fact, the new generation of artisans have suggested the lighting of virtual candles instead, and to focus on newer trends.”
“Ahhh…that’s a pity, to lose this sight. Even though it is meant for the dead, it is so pretty to look at. But I suppose even the oldest of traditions will die out one day.”
Jing Yuan hums in agreement and continues to follow the ambassador through the twists and turns of the ancient alleyways.
No one has lived here for decades. The terribly rundown state of the housing, bad location, and stories of hauntings had chased away even the most optimistic of landlords and poorest of tenants. Jing Yuan hadn’t even known this tiny corner existed on the Luofu map, for all of his six hundred over years living bound to the ship. How did this foreign ambassador even come across it?
“Oh! We’ve arrived!” The ambassador says, his worries forgotten in an instant at the sight of a small pond ahead of them. They finally stop at the end of a clearing, backed by twisted growths of old trees and tattered grey walls. In the middle of it lies a small pond, its water so clouded, Jing Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if it’s made of ink.
The ambassador pushes up his glasses and coughs awkwardly. “Apologies for bringing you all the way here, General. But I heard from a friend who’s really into the occult that this is the most haunted place in the entirety of Luofu, and I must see it for myself! O-of course, I must thank you for accompanying me here, n-not that I’m afraid of coming here alone or anything!”
He continues rattling on, pointing excitedly to the murky waters of the pond where one can barely see one’s reflection. “Have you heard? According to legend, if you light a single candle at this pond, present an offering, then blow it out in the middle of the night, a ghost will appear in the water! My friend says it may bring great fortune if it likes the offering!”
“Is that so? How interesting.” Jing Yuan remarks, standing a few paces away from the pool.
“And I also heard the other one, that the esteemed high elder Vidyadhara used to bathe in the waters of the Luofu, and in this particular pond as well! It’s so audacious a story that scammers tried to sell off bottles of his bath water from this pond proclaiming it be a mythical cure-all good-fortune bath water! Well, that’s what my friend told me…not that I know if there’s any truth to it. Ugh, this water looks slimy.”
“I have never heard of that one either, but I doubt he would have been interested in bathing outdoors. Unless…” Jing Yuan trails off as he lifts an eyebrow at an unbidden thought.
“Unless what?”
“Nothing.” He smiles at the ambassador’s innocently curious eyes. “I doubt either of them were interested.”
Confused over the General’s odd reply, the ambassador turns his attention to the pond instead.
He walks closer to its edge, till he’s barely one step from dropping in. “Hmm, I wonder what kind of ghost it is. It must be a water spirit. Where there’s water, there’s bound to be ghosts. I can sense it…The Yin energy is strong here. Hah, with the General’s extreme Yang energy protecting me, this shall proceed amazingly well!” He finishes, cackling to himself, seeming to have said the last part of his thoughts out loud.
“What kind of offering do you think it will like? Paper cranes? Tri-colour dumplings? Hmm, somehow that feels a bit off…but my friend did suggest these…”
Jing Yuan decides to humor him. “Why don’t you try lighting the candle first? If there truly is a ghost, you can simply try asking it what it desires.”
“Ah yes! I shall try that!”
“Though…I have heard that in most of these cases, what a ghost would desire most is a living soul. Or is it a living body to inhabit?” He lifts a hand to his chin in thought, ignoring the increasingly flustered complexion of the man beside him.
“Er-w-w-what?”
“Lady Fu Xuan did say that when they call upon the spirits from the Hall of Karma, they require a body to temporarily store the spirit in order to convene with it.”
“A-ah, so it was that! Xianzhou is truly filled with unimaginable marvels…” The ambassador sighs as he squats down at the pond. “I wish I could talk to my deceased mother that easily…”
“The Hall of Karma is meant to be a place to keep the records of the dead, and to serve as a dignified place of rest for those who become mara-struck. Most people never get to meet the souls of the dead from the Hall of Karma. It is why we hold the tradition of the Ghost Month, so the living can be appeased in another way.”
“The way you put it, the entire tradition sounds like it is for the living instead of the dead. Pardon me for asking, but with your station, surely you are able to talk to anyone in the past from the Hall of Karma…has the General ever done so?”
Jing Yuan laughs softly. “No, I have never.”
“Really? Apologies for being rude, I simply thought that given your age, well...you would have seen your fair share of departures with friends, family, lovers…” The ambassador trails off, looking curiously to Jing Yuan.
Jing Yuan stares down at the darkened pool, void of any reflected light sources shining overhead. “The people I wish to meet…are not in the Hall of Karma.”
“Then…they are still alive? How come…?”
“Sometimes, it is harder to meet the living than the dead.”
“Ah…My deepest apologies if I made you think of a bad memory or something” The ambassador scurries to say, guilt all over his face.
“It matters not to me. When you have reached my age, memories are something you grow used to carrying, be they good or bad. Over time, you learn to focus on the better ones, and let go of the ones you don’t want.” He pauses with an ironic smile as recollections of recent events surface in the back of his mind. In the dark silence of the small clearing, if he closes his eyes, he swears he will see that familiar haunting green and the words that follow. He fixes his gaze on the black waters instead.
“But perhaps I have had too many bad memories as of late. Maybe all of it is weighing down so much, that is the true reason why my back has been hurting more often these days.”
“Did you say your back hurts?” The ambassador’s eyes light up as if possessed by a strange thought. “That it hurts even more lately? My friend says that during the month of ghosts, some of the evil ones will bear grudges and come to haunt the living. There was this young man who kept complaining of backache, and when they hired a shaman for him, the shaman went insane screaming there’s a demon on his back. As it turned out, the young man’s fiancée had died just weeks ago and he had been seeing shadows in the corners of his eyes, hearing voices late at night, finding long hairs on his bed, and once he swore he saw her dressed in white in a dream!”
Eyes wide with apprehension, the ambassador stares at Jing Yuan’s shoulders hard enough to drill a hole through him. “General, I-I am just saying…b-but what if there’s a g-ghost hanging onto your b-back right now!”
Jing Yuan stares at the man, at a loss for words, amused at how he had jumped to this conclusion.
“General Jing Yuan. Have you wronged anyone in your life? Done something to incur their wrath? Sinned against someone before?”
Jing Yuan starts to chuckle, but a cold breeze brushes past his cheek and cuts his breath short. Cold fingers trail over his skin, sending shivers down his nape. It whispers into his ear, hoarse and mocking as it speaks. Drips ice down the marrow of his bones.
A haunting scene rises out of the fog in his dark surroundings, painting it in deeper tones of red. He’s no longer in the clearing, but standing before a dark figure, unrecognizable with the blackened waves of mara wafting off it, spiraling like laughing smoke one second; flickering into blood-red ribbons the next, chaining the ghostly figure to the ground even as the smoky tendrils dance and curl toward him, beckoning him, daring him to come closer and take a look at its face.
Of five people, three must pay a price.
You…are not one of them…Jing Yuan.
Why is he thinking of this now?
His heart beats startled, uncomfortable wings in its cage. “I…have not.”
Are you sure – A faraway voice rings in the white oblivion of his mind, reduced to a blank in its state of confusion and shock. He’s uncertain if he’s the one being asked, or questioning himself.
You…always understood the price better than any of us. And yet, you never spoke up. You did nothing!
No…No…He says to himself. It simply was not possible to change anything. It was not possible. Not the right time, and never the right people. He could not have done anything to stop it.
But could he have tried harder? Warned them against it and of the dangers?
The still black waters in the pool ripple faintly. Something shines on its surface, a reflection. A thin crescent of light. Is it the white of the moon, or the red of blood split in a mad grin? Is it someone’s face? His…or?
He leans in closer, breath catching in his throat. Just as he’s about to tip forward a bit more, frantic hands pull him back from the ledge.
“G-g-general! Are you alright! You…you looked like you were about to fall into the pond! Aeons – this place really is haunted!”
Jing Yuan blinks, realizing he’s staring into the frantic eyes of the ambassador, the bloodied, mara-stained surroundings nowhere to be seen.
“I…am alright,” he slowly says. “I simply…remembered something from the past.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, the ambassador frantically goes to light the candle with trembling hands. “You scared me! I thought you had been possessed by a ghost! Let me quickly light this up and appease it, please work!”
The candle light flickers once, then steadies in the dark, shining its small but vibrant light over the two meagre, poorly shaped rice dumplings before it. Strangely, it brings a sense of comfort to the eerie ambience. Perhaps it is because he can finally see his own reflection in the pond under the wavering light – oddly clear with the lack of ripples on the water’s surface.
“Ahhh, I feel better already.” The ambassador says, squatting next to the candle like it’s a campfire. He shoots Jing Yuan another anxious glance. “Are you…sure you’re alright, General? You looked a bit out of it just now. Did you…perhaps see a ghost?”
“No, there is no ghost. I just…thought of someone I once knew.”
“A bad memory then? Something you feel bad about? Maybe regret? My friend says yin energy afflictions are like being attacked by mara. It does not exactly stem from memories, but from the strong feelings caused by them, and humans tend to remember the worst things in life. Oh – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that the General is susceptible to mara! I know for one that you have lived seven hundred years to be free of such symptoms, a miracle indeed!”
“It is as you say, a miracle indeed.” Jing Yuan replies with a smile. “No offense taken.”
“I knew someone like the General would be of a different caliber! Your yang energy is strong too, exactly as what my friend said. What is your secret to a sane and stable, long life then? During my time here, I’ve heard of many who have fallen to mara. No matter how exceptional they were, in less than a century no less, compared to your years.”
The quintet? They were exceptional in their time, but fell apart in no less than a century…A pity. But what use is it to reminisce, when of the five, one is dead, one a taboo, one a sinner, and one-
Shhh! General Jing Yuan is here!
“There is no secret...I simply…chose not to dwell on things that are fact and cannot be changed.”
“An optimistic, wise outlook! So the General is saying there is no reason for regret then? And to accept things as they come?”
The burning of the candlelight reminds him of another scene, one engulfed in fire and the silver of someone’s sword, lightning-fast and merciless.
If I too become stricken in times hereafter, you must not hold back.
He had never been particularly close to her. But in that moment, he had felt their bond tighten like a constricting wedge in his throat, as she entrusted him with an impossible task.
“Yes…” He says softly.
Green eyes return his smile in gratitude. He reads the unspoken thank you in them for watching his back mid-battle. Those eyes then fix upon someone in the distance. He sees them soften, the hardened warrior’s edge finally wearing off when it notes the person’s safety.
The scene shifts, and the two people he once fought back-to-back and reminisced their fights with, now stare at each other like ice cold strangers. With him looking on. Always him…looking on.
“Without…”
Red eyes, once the deepest of rubies, now glow inhumanly back at him. His hair - once dark as indigo ink, then silver-white with time, is now tainted in blood-red ends.
‘Do you remember me?’ He asks, to the man sneering at him.
‘I remember you.’
He stares at the person before him, feeling the same déjà vu when he had laid eyes on her – those similar burning red eyes, void of familiarity.
No…You barely remember yourself.
‘You knew everything, but you did nothing. General…You have no right to advise me, since unlike me, you have no-’
“Regrets…”
The candlelight flickers, jolting him back to the present. “Excuse me, General, what were you saying? I didn’t quite catch the last part.”
“…Nothing.” Jing Yuan replies, with the same practiced smile. “It is nothing of concern.”
No longer listening to him, the ambassador nods absently, his attention already turned to the stars overhead.
“Hmm, it must not be much further till midnight The stars are all out now, look at them, I’ve never seen ones so bright. It must be because we are away from the city and high up.”
Tired of standing, and having sat down on the grass next to the ambassador, Jing Yuan tilts his head up towards the dark sky. True enough, the expanse of tiny silvered starlight twinkles in and out of existence high above him, shining brightly as they wait for the moon to reemerge from the clouds.
The ambassador sighs, then begins talking slowly. “When I was young, I thought that souls were made of starlight, and when we die, we become a star in the sky, joining the galaxy of others. Of course, that is the nonsensical thinking of a young child having read too many bedtime stories. Perhaps I simply liked the idea of not being alone in death. Or wished I could find my mother in the stars and reunite with her in the afterlife…
Till now, I do wonder…what are souls made of? Does the concept of souls and spirits exist? Or are we simply the existence of our memories, like those kept in the Hall of Karma? Bound to the call of the living, and ceasing to exist once they are no longer remembered?
If say, a soul ceases to exist the moment they lose their memories. I wonder…if I were to die and become a spirit in the Hall of Karma, bound by the last connection to my past, yet it is the only thing that implies I still exist…
Would I choose to cut off that last tie, and move on from my death, even if that means no longer being there if someone who knows me, one day looks for me. Or would I rather live on hoping that someone will come looking for me, staying in the final place acknowledging my existence…
But what if one day, the person I hoped to see never comes and I am still alone in that Hall? Wouldn’t I be waiting forever? If I stay, it will be a miserable existence. Yet if I choose to leave, I will be considered truly dead in every sense of the word.
A conundrum, isn’t it? From a non-native’s point of view, these are my honest thoughts. Er, are you alright, General? You don’t look too well – oh! I’m terribly sorry if I caused offense to Xianzhou customs!”
“No…You did not…You made some good points.” Jing Yuan stops to draw a cold breath into his lungs, feeling an uncomfortable tightness around his chest.
“I am just rambling my own thoughts, please ignore me if I say anything ridiculous. It is just that…I came to Luofu to hear about my mother, who was a renowned singer here, only to find no one to share the memories with. The people only knew of my mother, the star-studded singer, whereas I was looking for the woman who made me ugly rice dumplings and sang me funny lullabies to sleep. I kept looking for her shadow in the memories of others, but found nothing of what I truly sought after.
I wanted to speak with her in the Hall of Karma so badly. I tortured myself over whether I wished her to be there or not throughout my entire journey to the Luofu. I did not want her to be there, for the thought of her eternally trapped in the Hall of Karma pains me. And yet, the ugly part of me wishes she is there, for I fear that if she isn’t, then she is truly dead.
And now…it finally hits me. The person I wanted so badly to meet is no longer in this universe. I still have things to talk to her about, to ask her. Who do I get my answers from now? Do I feel sad or relieved? Do I feel angry? Like I wasted my trip? Like she left me behind without a goodbye? How ironic…the duality of human emotions.”
“Yes…how ironic are human emotions…” Jing Yuan repeats, vacantly staring up at the night sky.
“How does one accept something such as death? We all die, but when it comes, it always feels so sudden. If only I could change fate, like those protagonists in Xianzhou novels…Like this-” The ambassador reaches out his hand before him. “It almost feels like I can pluck a star from the sky and bring back my mother’s soul. I wish I could turn back time and talk to my mother again. I wish it were easier to accept…I wish I were strong like you, General… How do you do it?”
Jing Yuan huffs a small laugh at the question as he looks up at the untouchable lights in the sky. Always so near yet so far.
How does he do it?
The answer is simple: When every single thread at the end of a rope has been cut, all that’s left is acceptance.
He doesn’t need to hold out his hand towards the sky to know that it will simply be shrouded in darkness.
“The sun rises in the day and the moon and stars come out at night. Some things can only be looked at from a distance and you will never cross paths with it in the way you want.”
“Is that a quote from a Xianzhou poet or philosopher?”
“No, it is merely something I’ve been mulling over for many years.”
“That long? Surely it can’t be more than half your age then.”
Seven hundred years.
“Still, it is admirable to be able to let go. There’s fewer to no regrets in life that way.”
“…Yes.” He looks down at the dark edges of the water where the candle’s glow does not reach, its surface a stiff blackened mirror. If he stares hard enough and long enough into the distance, it reflects nothing overhead.
Humans are like water. Made to adapt in the flow of time.
Memories are like water. Made to pour into the form of a soul.
Yet at the end of this life, no one has ever told him he will still feel the weight of water even after wringing his memories dry.
Even the happiest memories can be more bitter than sweet. So, he swallows it like a pill and washes it down. Till no taste remains on the back of his tongue.
The cold breeze returns, reeling him in from dark, glinting waters back to the present.
“Ah, it is midnight already!” Clapping his hands together and sitting up straight, the ambassador shuffles over to the candle.
“Oh mighty water spirit, please take these humble offerings and heed my request. May I get chosen for the promotion, get a girlfriend, and live to a happy and old age, so I can show my mother that I am living well. Please pass on the message to her that I am doing fine currently, and I hope she is too, wherever she may be.” He turns to Jing Yuan from his kneeling position on the floor. “Anything you want to add, General?”
Jing Yuan shakes his head. “I have nothing to add. You may speak on my behalf.”
The ambassador returns to finish his chant. “The General sends his regards to those in the afterlife. We thank you for your presence and wish you well on your journey. May you find eternal peace where you seek.”
He moves to blow out the candle. They both watch in silence as the small flame flickers its pale glow once before plunging their surroundings into black night.
“Now that’s the end of it, let us-”
A small wind blows, sending the unfurled smoke into a spiral, a tiniest spark – it instantly flares back to life, soundless but bright.
“…I must not have done it properly, here we go-”
The candle flickers again, off and on. A lone play of shadow and light in the silent clearing.
“U-um…m-maybe you try it, General.”
Jing yuan walks up to the candle and lowers himself to the burning flame.
Up close, he feels the heat of it, a slight warmth, radiating from its small yet hypnotic light.
He blows it out in one exhale. But perhaps his motion is too fast, for the tiny flame vanishes for a split second, before coming back to life with a small crackle, as if angry at being snuffed out.
"U-um, m-maybe you should say something first? S-send it off p-properly?"
Jing yuan stares into the flame and readies a generic line or two. Maybe it's the gust of cold wind on his back, contrasting with the steady, warm burning orange fire, but his breath halts as his memory lapses into an old illusion of him standing before a forge, door half-opened and about to call out to someone inside.
He had called someone's name a few times in the past, only to be ignored or unheard. Meanwhile, the embers continued to smoulder in the furnace.
The warmth sends a shiver down the bent over nape of his neck. Why is he remembering this memory now?
...Jing Yuan?
Something white shifts in the corner of his vision. Pale like starlight.
No...more like the bone-white skin of a ghost.
"General Jing Yuan?"
Regaining his senses, Jing Yuan locks startled eyes on the unchanging flame. His surroundings are dark shadows. With no sign of existing white.
"I...My apologies, I..." Thought I saw someone. "- was concentrating too hard and lost myself for a moment."
He breathes in deeply to compose himself. "Let me try again. A send off...was it?"
His lips form the words and his voice follows. Low, calm and steady in the fathomless dark of the night, resounding in the small clearing. It sounds as if he is the only person standing there, accompanied by the small, continuously flickering flame.
"May you find...rest at the end of your life."
He has barely finished his words, when the wind picks up, cutting the flame in an instant.
He's left standing blind in darkness, until his eyes slowly refocus. He tilts his head up at the sky overhead, and feels as if he's gazing from adrift a boat in the longest river. The twinkling lights remain no matter if he's looking up at the sky, or down at its reflection. Forever there. And forever out of reach.
Jing Yuan quietly gets up, heaves a soundless sigh, and turns his back on the clearing.
"Whew! I'm so glad that worked! If it hadn't, I wouldn't know what to do. Let us make our way back, General.
Oh. I wasn't expecting it to be this dark. I can barely see a hand's length in front of me."
"Yes...it is past midnight." He gazes out at the faraway sky.
The ghosts have left. The river of lights gone. All that remains is the silence of stars above their heads, fading in and out of existence.
It doesn't take long for him to fall into a dreamless sleep. Yet when he wakes up, he must have been dreaming. For before him, standing at the foot of his bed, is a familiar figure, shrouded in darkness except for its head turned away from him, white as bone ashes.