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Mortals had a myriad of terrible habits. That’s not to say that immortals didn’t possess their fair share, but the latter lasted longer and, therefore, had a higher chance of being around to suffer the consequences of their actions and inactions. The first, on the other hand, vanished in the blink of an eye without really understanding what they had done.
In order to spare himself trouble, once Mei Nianqing settled in a cabin in Mount Tonglu to look after his former prince, he busied himself covering the mountain from top to bottom with confounding spells so no one could go up. Most followers of the Heavenly Emperor had yet to find out about the reason behind his current circumstances and, even if they learn them, or if they weren’t his followers, the temptation of freeing him to earn a reward might prove to be stronger than common sense.
Noble wisdom is exemplified by the constant preference for the safe path, Mei Nianqing thought once he got everything ready and sat down for another game of cards with his clones.
The only ones with automatic safe passage were his former student and that husband of his. But they were out somewhere on their honeymoon, which meant they wouldn’t want to come by any time soon, which suited Mei Nianqing perfectly.
Meanwhile, bored of doing nothing under the mountain, Jun Wu decided to make an announcement one day.
“I will sleep,” he said, his tone implying that he would wake up when he felt like it. Which meant that his slumber could go from a few decades to a couple of centuries.
Mei Nianqing wasn’t surprised by this development. His prince had always been a man of action. Therefore, his current fate was a punishment in more than one way.
And so was Mei Nianqing’s, even though he had chosen it himself and he would stand by it.
Yet, even then, despite all his precautions, mortals did find their way to his cabin.
The first time it happened, one spring evening, he heard a shy knocking. Thinking that it could be one of Xie Lian’s little friends, and recalling that one time when he had ignored them which led to a cataclysm, he hurried to open the door.
On the other side, he found a mortal child no older than ten years old. Pitiful looking too, with those wide-open eyes on the brim of tears.
“I’m so happy to find someone up here!” the child exclaimed with something too close to a wail. “Uncle, I’ve been lost all day and I’m hungry and I don’t know how to get home!”
Then, he began crying out loud.
Mei Nianqing half-sighed, half-grumped. His time was much too important to waste it babysitting some random child. Furthermore, his barriers and confounding spells were supposed to prevent this very thing! Wasn’t he protecting his old prince from the world as much as he was also protecting the world from the prince?
Yet, this was a child. A frail mortal child. Mei Nianqing could go strengthen his spells after sending the little one home.
Falling back into the stern teacher tone with more ease than he expected, he said, “Yes, someone does live here. Come in. It’s getting late, so you will get some food and spend the night here.”
The boy sniffed and followed him.
“Yes, uncle. Thank you.”
While he led the boy in, Mei Nianqing had a clone set up a cot in a corner and serve them tea and some food. When the child sat down to eat, everything was ready. He wolfed the food down while sending occasional glances at Mei Nianqing and, eventually, as he calmed down, at the room he was in.
Mei Nianqing didn’t own much that would elicit curiosity from someone so young. Other than some rare books and scrolls Xie Lian had promised to exchange for him when he finished reading them, and a very old and very used deck of cards, everything else could be found at any house. Besides, the boy seemed too scared to ask any questions. He finished his meal and went straight to sleep.
Mei Nianqing spent the night crafting a lantern that would lead the child back to the base of the mountain and a familiar road, ensuring his safe return home. Once it completed its task, the lantern would set itself on fire, combusting so fast that it would be impossible to put out, leaving the child asking himself whether this adventure had been but a dream.
Regardless, he would remain ignorant of having been so close to the dreaded White Calamity who had twice laid waste to the heavens. He would be happy to be home, his family would be happy to have him back, and Mei Nianqing would be happy with his barriers keeping undesirables away.
Such a satisfying conclusion.
Except that it hadn’t been a conclusion at all.
The second time a mortal found their way to Mei Nianqing’s cabin, some ten years later after the first, was during a winter afternoon.
With a full grunt and no sighing, Mei Nianqing opened the door to a young man who looked about the same age Xie Lian was when he first ascended, although not at all as beautiful. Not by a long shot. Quite the contrary, really.
It was, by the way, the thought of his old disciple the only reason why the old immortal allowed this one into his cabin. He could see in his mind’s eye the face of the Scrap God scolding him for being a terrible host and letting a mortal out in the cold—even when it would’ve been said mortal’s fault for going where he hadn’t been invited.
“Thank you, uncle,” the young man managed to say between chattering teeth.
A moment later, he sat beside the fire with a hot cup of tea in his hands. He looked around as if trying to find an excuse to make conversation, but his host ignored him. He was busy begrudgingly making another lantern with the same characteristics as the one before. Since he already had practice, this one didn’t take him long to make. Thus, since it wasn’t late, the young man was dispatched home without any further consideration.
That done, Mei Nianqing once more went to rework his spells. Whatever he did wrong would be fixed this time around.
The third time, fifteen years after the second, the insistent knocking on the door interrupted a card game. Mei Nianqing thought of ignoring it and just keep going. Whoever that was would eventually get the hint and—
But what if this time it is another child? said the Xie Lian in Mei Nianqing’s head. Or one of your friends, answered Mei Nianqing in the middle of a flashback.
Grunting and muttering under his breath, he left his cards aside and went to open the door.
The mortal on the other side was a man in his thirties, as wide-eyed as the others, shorter than him, although with a broader back.
So he had worried for nothing…
However, on the other hand, now Mei Nianqing wouldn’t feel bad about closing the door in the stranger’s face.
“I’m sorry, uncle,” the man began, a bit hesitant, as if ashamed—as he very well should be. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”
Without breaking eye contact, Mei Nianqing stared right into the man’s soul in a way that made even the willful former crown prince of Xianle nervous and reached to the side of the door for a lantern. One of the last times Xie Lian was here, he suggested making more, just in case, and he even offered to help. Thus, now Mei Nianqing had a handful of them ready to be used.
“Then don’t,” he said, shoving it into the man’s hand. “This will take you back home.”
Now, with his conscience put at ease, he closed the door on the man’s face and proceeded to ignore the knocking that followed. Difficult, since it sounded like the man was pounding at the door with his closed fist. However, instead of going out and yelling at him, Mei Nianqing took the high road, prepared more tea, and resumed his card game.
After enough time, the man did get the hint and left, and, finally, Mei Nianqing was left at peace.
Although, not really.
It pained him to admit it, but he should really reconsider Xie Lian’s offer of having his husband take care of the barrier around the mountain. A Ghost King’s spells had to be stronger than those of an immortal who hadn’t even made it to godhood and didn’t have any followers.
That would certainly resolve the situation.
Twenty-odd years later, it happened a fourth time. Upon hearing the knocking, Mei Nianqing almost pulled his hair out in confusion. He didn’t get it. This time, the barriers were stronger, and several ghosts and ghouls, wanting to please the Supreme Ghost King Crimson Rain Sought Flower, wandered on the road, chasing away anyone who dared to even think to go up Mount Tonglu.
All Mei Nianqing wanted was to be left alone with his currently sleeping prince so both could atone for their sins.
How could this keep happening?
Deciding to skip all the niceties this once, Mei Nianqing grabbed a lamp first and opened the door second.
The man he saw should be closer to fifty than not.
“This,” he said, offering the lantern, “will grant you protection from the ghosts and take you back down the mountain.”
But the man didn’t grab it. Instead, he pouted.
“No, thank you!”
“Excuse me?”
The man paused for a moment before he laughed, throwing his head backward, making Mei Nianqing feel like a wet cat under the rain.
“When I was a child,” the man said, “I got lost on this mountain. Then, it happened again when I was a youngster. And then, when I grew into a man. Each time, you gave me a lantern like this one, and I was indeed able to go back home. However, when I told everyone that there was an immortal living up here, they never believed me, no matter how much I insisted. Uncle, help me save face and give me something that won’t destroy itself so I can show them I’ve always been telling the truth!”
Beyond indignation, Mei Nianqing straightened his back further and glared at the man.
“I am not your uncle and your face is not my problem.” He tossed the lantern to force the man to grab it. “Neither is your lack of sense of direction. Go home to your family and never set foot out of your village again.”
With that, he closed the door just as the man was saying, “The only time I got lost by accident was the first!”
Mei Nianqing decided it would be for the best to ignore him. Let him outside until he left.
“I’m not leaving until you give me proof I can take back to my village!”
Despite being alone and because his dignity was all he had left, Mei Nianqing stopped himself before twisting his mouth.
Unfortunately for this man, the immortal had plenty of experience dealing with stubborn royalty and stubborn gods—and stubborn gods who were royalty. A simple, commoner mortal wasn’t a challenge. Worst case scenario, the man would stay there a couple of days and leave when he got hungry. Thus, Mei Nianqing went back to the table to start another card game.
True to his threat, the man stayed outside the cabin.
True to his own threat, Mei Nianqing remained inside, unmoved by any attempt to start a conversation.
The man had brought enough food to last him a couple of days. However, not even when it ran out Mei Nianqing was allowed to breathe in relief. The man just wouldn’t give up. He began living from the land, getting whatever he could from animals he caught, fruit he plucked from trees, insects he grabbed, and roots he dug out. This lasted several days, and, to Mei Nianqing’s frustration, he didn’t get sick even once. He knew what he was doing; he could recognize what was poisonous and what wasn’t, and it was annoying.
On the other hand, this gave the old immortal freedom to further ignore him. So he didn’t need babysitting? Good for him!
One morning, while he was in the middle of the first game of the day, Mei Nianqing got an alarm. One that meant that a very delicate and critical protection spell had been disturbed. Unless he did something about it quickly, it would bring Xie Lian, Hua Cheng, and the entire heavenly court to his door, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. He would never be in the mood for that, to be honest.
Grunting, he pushed his chair away from the table, upset enough that his game mates vanished and their cards scattered all over the floor. Having decided he would pick them up when he returned, he rushed to the entrance of the tunnel that led to Jun Wu’s actual imprisonment place.
Mei Nianqing’s former prince hadn’t woken up since that last announcement, but something like this could disturb him, and there was no way to know what would happen—Mei Nianqing didn’t have the time to cast divinations right now. Enough stories told of foolish mortals who somehow managed to wake up and free abominations from under their mountains. Some of them were cautionary tales, of course. But others were real.
The tunnel was covered with a wall made of rocks. All kinds of rocks: big, small, round, shapeless. At first glance, it was nearly impossible to distinguish from the rest of the mountain. Yet, if one spent enough time looking, the cracks began to appear. And who around here had enough free time to waste looking at a wall?
Exactly: Mei Nianqing’s unwanted visitor.
“What exactly do you think you are doing?”
He hadn’t used such an authoritative tone of voice in centuries. Yet, given the circumstances, it wasn’t difficult to reach the right pitch.
Startled, the man dropped the rock he held in his hands. The way he began to jump around after it landed on his foot would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been preceded by a crack. Mei Nianqing had been in enough battles and in enough training sessions, friendly and otherwise, to know just by the sound that the man had broken some of his toes.
While a clone set up a cot back at the cabin, Mei Nianqing passed his arm under the man’s shoulder to support him as they walked there. Or, in the man’s case, while he limped there.
“Uncle, it hurts!” the man whined.
“Of course it hurts, you—!” Mei Nianqing stopped himself before punctuating the phrase with some foul word. He sighed. “Sticking one’s nose where it doesn’t belong brings consequences. I hope you get that now.”
“Whatever it is you’re guarding is in there, right? It must be very important to have you all alone up here.”
“What did I just say?” Mei Nianqing muttered, although he didn’t dispute the accusations.
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have gone there. But now I do, so I will stay away, promise. Then again,” he added after a pause, “I don’t think I’ll be able to go many places until my foot gets better.”
He threw his head backward to laugh. But this time, his laughter didn’t last long. Inadvertently, he had put pressure on his bad foot, causing him to cry out in pain and hop on the good one. It was a jerking motion that almost made Mei Nianqing lose his balance. He managed to regain his footing, preventing them both from ending up face-first on the ground.
“Be serious!” Mei Nianqing exclaimed.
“I will! It hurt when I wasn’t!”
Mei Nianqing shook his head and hurried as much as possible without worsening the other party’s injury.
Once in the cabin, Mei Nianqing left the man on the cot and went to fetch the supplies to patch him up. As he did that, the man noticed a card on the floor near the entrance and picked it up.
“This will do!” he said, holding it at eye level while he grinned. “Look at how beautiful this card is! They will finally believe me if I—”
Mei Nianqing snatched the card away and put it inside his sleeve.
“No. This will not do. It’s mine. As is the rest of the deck and everything around us. Dare lay a finger on anything else and bid farewell to your hands.”
The man grumbled.
“That’s not fair.”
“That I won’t let you steal from me?”
“That you won’t grant me the chance to save face.”
Mei Nianqing humphed.
“As previously stated, your face is not my problem. Besides, to make foolish promises is to invite needless trouble. If it were only you, I wouldn’t care. But you had to go ahead and involve me.”
The man pouted.
Mei Nianqing held his gaze. Now that he allowed himself to pay attention to those big eyes that looked back at him, he saw the resemblance with the child who first showed up at his door.
How long ago had that been?
Mortal lives were so short…
But they were what they were, so Mei Nianqing shook his head again, chasing away those thoughts. Then, he cleaned the wound and began setting the bones in the man’s foot right. Engaging in such a task bothered him less than the realization that the man would have to stay in the cabin until he had healed.
“Uncle, tell you what,” the latter began, interrupting himself when Mei Nianqing touched a tender spot. Yet, not even that stopped him for long. He made a face and squealed before going back to it. “Uncle, tell you wha—!”
The second time, Mei Nianqing pressed the wound a little bit harder—on purpose.
“Not interested.”
“Just hear me out!”
“No.”
“Why are you so mean—?”
With a snap of Mei Nianqing’s fingers, one of the clean bandages flew from the table to wrap itself around the man’s mouth.
“Silence, the cloak of the sage, woven by the threads of prudence, conceals wisdom beyond mortal understanding.” As he recited the phrase he had just come up with, Mei Nianqing stood up with regal dignity and regarded the man with coldness. “If you think I’ve been mean thus far, it’s because you don’t know me. You’ll do penance with that gag on your mouth until I finish cleaning up. Afterward, if you don’t behave, it’ll come back for longer.”
As he tidied up in quiet bliss, Mei Nianqing realized there was a silver lining to this situation. Now that he had him within reach, it would be easier to send the mortal back to his home even if—
…Even if Mei Nianqing had to ask one of Hua Cheng’s ghostly followers to drag him to the foot of the mountain.
Satisfied with his conclusion, the immortal pulled a chair to sit down for a new game of cards. Before he could summon his clones, however, the man limped his way from his cot to sit in front of him. The five minutes were up, so he was free from the gag.
Mei Nianqing tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. A gesture that, on a good day, extracted long explanations from at least three powerful martial gods and a Ghost King.
However, the man just sat down and stared back at Mei Nianqing with a big smile on his face.
“It’s a bit difficult to play alone, don’t you think, uncle? Well, not anymore! I’ll do it. I’ll play with you!”
A wide range of answers appeared in Mei Nianqing’s mind, from scoffing to anger to indifference. Yet, what came out of his mouth was, “You don’t know this game.”
“Chances are that I do. I’m the best card player in my village and I’ve played with people from many places and learned many types of games. I’m sure I can make you sweat!”
Mei Nianqing scoffed, a corner of his mouth lifting in a derisive smile.
“The game I play is old. Very old. It used to be played in the court of an empire that is long gone. I’m not sure someone of your—era knows the rules.”
He was about to say ‘of your station,’ but he caught himself. So many things to mock this mortal for, and he refused to go for the lowliest one. Yet, Mei Nianqing couldn’t help a pang of nostalgia and loneliness. He hadn’t wanted to think about how the only other person who knew the rules of this game was in the middle of a decades-long sleep, and that he wouldn’t want to play anyway if he weren’t.
“Try me,” said the man, his expression unfaltering. “Worst case scenario, I’m a fast learner. You’ll see.”
Mei Nianqing stared at the deck of cards in his hands.
When was the last time he played with another human being?
He looked back up to the man and his shiny smile, who then went ahead and ruined the mood.
“Besides, uncle, if I win, you’ll have to give me that card so I can take it back to my house.”
Except for meals, Mei Nianqing kept the gag on for two days, until he felt the man had learned his lesson. He had spent that time on his cot, walking no more than the absolutely necessary, and he was on a fast track of recovery given his age. However, being on a fast track didn’t mean recovered, which in turn meant that Mei Nianqing still had to wait to kick him out.
However, the second Mei Nianqing sat down with his deck of cards, the man again limped his way to the table and took the seat in front of him.
“No bets this time, uncle!” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I just want to play, no strings attached. I’ve been watching you and those ghosts, so I think I’ve figured out the rules well enough.”
“They’re not ghosts.”
“Demons?”
“Not that either.”
“Whatever. The point is that they’re not humans, are they? I’ve never played cards with non-human beings, but I just know it can’t be the same!” He hit his chest while he laughed loudly again. “We’re better!”
“When one lacks understanding, it's best to maintain silence.”
“Please, uncle. Try me. Just one game. If you don’t like it, we won’t do it again and I won’t insist anymore.”
“Fine,” said Mei Nianqing in the end. “If only to shut you up.”
He began dealing the cards, adjusting the amount for one player.
As expected, the man lost, and he lost fast. It was obvious he had learned by watching and not by doing.
But he had learned. Worse yet, he brought a new perspective to the game. One could even call it fresh. Therefore, Mei Nianqing had to accept despite himself that he hadn’t hated that first game. Not out loud, though. Instead, he criticized the man’s game while dealing cards again. The man got the hint and resumed playing with enthusiasm.
“Don’t stick your tongue out. You’re giving your strategy away,” Mei Nianqing said.
“The way you twitch your eyebrows gives away yours,” the man answered with a grin.
“My eyebrows?”
Mei Nianqing furrowed them. To be honest, he had suspected as much. So many years playing with his clones and no one else had made him sloppy. From then on, Mei Nianqing became more thoughtful, repressing his expressions, eventually avoiding the eyebrow twitching altogether while the man stopped sticking out his tongue.
The man kept openly laughing at anything, celebrating every time he got a smile out of Mei Nianqing even when he lost. The latter shook his head and went back to scoffing. However, little by little, he realized that, despite vanishing from his face, those smiles remained with him, warming his heart.
When the man’s toe healed, he didn’t go back to his village. He didn’t say anything, he just stayed and kept playing. Mei Nianqing kept playing too without commenting on it. So they played again and again and again, for a long time.
One day, the man didn’t wake up anymore. Mei Nianqing didn’t comment on that either. This time, because there was no one to comment it to. He could have called someone—that bleeding heart that was his former student, maybe—, but he didn’t feel like it. Instead, in silence and with solemnity, he took care of the rites.
Afterward, he sat on the table. Out of habit, he grabbed the deck of cards, and found himself surprised when he didn’t hear the laughter he had grown accustomed to. Immediately, he scolded himself.
Mortals’ lives are short and limited, and they vanished in the blink of an eye without really understanding what they had done. Mei Nianqing knew that already.
It was time to summon his clones again.
However, when he raised his head, he saw a little ghostly flame floating on the chair across from him.
“That’s not right,” Mei Nianqing said, pressing the deck of cards against the table. “What could you possibly regret?”
“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” the ghost fire answered, although his tone of voice hinted at him being more amused than regretful.
Mei Nianqing’s face softened and this time he didn’t bother hiding it.
“Well, you’ve done it now, so…”
The ghost shook quickly, and Mei Nianqing could picture him when he was alive, shaking his head.
“Also, I want to play some more games.”
“That’s—”
Mei Nianqing was about to protest, to say that it would be more proper for him—for anyone in his position—to move on to the next great adventure. But then, the way he had felt the past few hours hit him on the chest.
“I suppose… one or two centuries would scarcely alter matters for anyone.”
The ghost fire shivered again, now more excited.
Mei Nianqing smiled and got ready to deal the cards. He stopped at the last second, though.
“Wait. How do you expect to play if you don’t have hands? You’re too new a ghost. It will be some time before you can shapeshift.”
The ghost fire spun around Mei Nianqing’s head.
“I know, I know! But I’ve thought of a solution.” Then, he got closer so he could whisper, “So, how much power did you say the name of your former student has?”
Not much later, the ghost fire whispered instructions on the ear of one of the Wraths that patrolled the mountain. The kind of Wrath that would do anything to gain the favor of the Red Ghost King, and playing cards seemed an easy enough way.
“There is something that’s been bothering me lately,” Mei Nianqing said between rounds. ‘Lately’ here meant ‘the past few years,’ but the newly made ghost didn’t have to know. “I never asked your name.”
The ghost fire laughed.
“Has that ever mattered between us, uncle?”
“No, I guess not. Regardless, I would like to know. Answer truly, you little rascal. I have your ashes.”
The ghost fire’s laughter grew louder right before he answered, and Mei Nianqing forgot about being lonely forevermore.