Chapter 122 – He is Mine, No One Can Touch
He took the deep black mask hanging from the silver screen, his fingertips slowly tracing the gold-lacquered carvings. Chou Bodeng felt a sense of disorientation. When had twelve years become as long as three thousand? If twelve years felt like this, how lonely and painful must a thousand, or ten thousand years be? Was this how his A Luo had fallen to a demon?
Chou Bodeng sighed softly.
He should have realized it sooner. In A Luo’s eyes, gods, humans, demons, ghosts, and even the grass, trees, insects, and beasts were all the same.
All were detestable.
How could he have been so stubborn?
…Whether it was freezing cold or scorching hot, the grace of falling flowers, the lushness of ancient trees, the joy of a bountiful harvest, or the quiet solemnity of the first snow. His intention was simply to show him the goodness and beauty of the mortal realm, to see the vibrancy and diversity of all things, so he wouldn’t truly remain a muddled Nether Spirit, ignorant of why he was born or why he would die.
He wanted to teach him love and beauty.
He never expected that in the end, he would teach him hatred and sorrow.
A clear breeze swept across the desk.
The stacked Xuan papers were rustled by the wind. Chou Bodeng used the gold-lacquered mask to hold down the pile, and a corner of the newly drawn star chart peeked out from under its edge.
The star chart was distant, revolving and turning. Ordinary people could only see the thirty-six brightest stars in the sky, but in truth, there were far more than thirty-six. For every city on earth, there was a star in the heavens. It was just that many cities were too small, so their corresponding stars were too dim to be seen.
After the Night of Dusk and Dawn’s Division, the Heaven Beyond Heavens ceased to exist, and with it, the Hundred Clans of Kongsang. But the sun, moon, and four seasons had to continue their cycles. The Heaven-Herding Rope had reverted to its original form as the Path of Return Guide and was currently being guarded and calibrated by the Taiyi Sect. However, even as the Little Martial Ancestor of Taiyi, he could hardly claim with a clear conscience that Taiyi excelled in arithmetic and calendar science…
Nine out of ten Taiyi disciples were saber or sword masters; those with intellectual prowess were a rare commodity.
Therefore, for the time being, he could only personally perform a major calibration of the celestial orbit once a year and leave behind detailed charts for the Taiyi disciples to follow.
But this was not a long-term solution.
Nor was it what he wanted.
In the beginning, in Kongsang, the heavenly gods who governed the sun, moon, and four seasons never intended to possess all things for themselves.
The Golden Crow carried the sun, the Black Rabbit held the moon, and the Celestial Rope guided the way because the mortal realm lacked vitality, and the circulating Qi could not sustain the sun and moon on its own. When the stars filled the sky, when the miasma cleared and the winds came, when the yin and yang of the earth circulated and attracted each other, the sun would rise and the moon would set in their own natural order, no longer needing anyone to bear and control them… But to control the rising of the sun and the setting of the moon, to control the life, death, prosperity, and decline of all living beings, was a power too terrifying.
It was more terrifying than any weapon in the world.
Taiyi was resolute, and might not become a second Heaven Beyond Heavens, a second Kongsang. But controlling the sun and moon was in itself too heavy a burden and too dangerous a test. Even if Taiyi could truly remain unchanged for thousands, tens of thousands of years, it would still have to face the constant speculation and suspicion of others.
Rumors and slander, the target of all criticism.
It was all too easy for jealousy and suspicion to destroy something.
All of this was not something that the young disciples who split bamboo and pasted lanterns should have to bear.
“A Luo, I’ll give you a Celestial Clock.”
Chou Bodeng smiled radiantly, playing with the red plum blossom petals that had fallen on the Xuan paper, arranging them one by one into a star-like dragon holding a candle.
“A clock that hangs high in the heavens.”
Using the stars as its markers, the sun and moon as its hands, and the four seasons as its gears.
“The sun and moon shine upon the thick earth to nourish the cities. The cities form stars with their qi to guide the sun and moon. The stars revolve to match the cycle of the four seasons. Sun, moon, and stars, in the heavens and on earth, mutually generate and attract each other.”
From then on, there would be sunrise and sunset without the Golden Crow and the Black Rabbit having to toil.
From then on, there would be wind coming and going without the need for lengthy celestial calculations and intersecting celestial ropes.
The unfinished business of the past, the uncompleted work.
He would pick it up today.
He should have continued calculating the positions on the star chart, but tonight, with the white moon, red plums, gentle breeze, and falling snow, was so beautiful it made one feel lazy.
A night like this was meant for sitting by the window and enjoying the scenery.
The window should be half-open, half-closed, leaving one pane for the moonlight and one for the flower shadows. If there were two of them, they should also wrap themselves in a thick cloak, one holding an umbrella, the other tucking their sleeves, and go out together to tread on the snow and cut a branch of plum blossoms. The umbrella had to be an oil-paper one, bright red, with no landscape paintings or pretentious calligraphy. The cloak had to have a thick, fluffy trim, not white or gray, but the deepest black embroidered with a circle of corner patterns.
He wanted to pick flowers, but there was no one to hold the umbrella.
He wanted to drink wine, but there was no one to tend the fire.
So he would be lazy.
Just for one night.
“A Luo, do you know that people are always writing me long and short poems, gifting me treasures and bright pearls?” As he toyed with the red plum blossom petals on the desk, Chou Bodeng’s lips curved slightly, a smile tinged with a hint of mischief touching his brow. “In a storybook, this would probably be the scene where someone takes advantage of a vulnerability.”
The chimes tinkled, their ethereal sound unceasing.
The plum tree by the Heavenly Lake was cold and clear, like a solitary, handsome figure.
He didn’t even have to think to know that if a certain person were here, he would already be sulking silently. He would then turn, draw his scarlet saber with a cold face, and give the audacious fellow a swift end… No, that wasn’t right. If a certain person were here, those people wouldn’t have had the chance to be so audacious. Back in Zhunan, when the sun rose and the sea gate opened, and a thousand boats came to greet them, a certain person had wrapped him tightly in a black cloak, and that wasn’t enough; he had to row the light boat faster than anything else.
The plum blossoms on the table spun without any wind.
Chou Bodeng hummed softly, picked up a red plum blossom petal, and sent it into the clear breeze, laughing and scolding, “Petty.”
The petal fell into the wind, spinning with the white snow. The crimson and the pure white were like lovers, clinging to each other.
“Alright, I won’t tease you anymore.”
Chou Bodeng tilted his head to watch the red plum and white snow dance in the wind. He lazily rested his chin on his intertwined fingers and admitted frankly to the pure white moon in the deep blue night sky.
“A Luo, I miss you.”
There was nothing to hide, nothing to deny.
Liking was liking, and missing was missing.
He was once the Divine Lord of the Clouds who pushed the stars and divined the moon, and he was also the willful Little Martial Ancestor of Taiyi. But a person in black robes had once touched his brow deep within the lotus flowers of the Pure Pond, and had softly yet stubbornly called him Jiao Jiao, even adding two more words, as if stamping a seal, saying, “Mine.”
It was quite amusing to think about. How could the dignified Heavenly Dao of the mortal realm be so childish?
Claiming who belonged to whom was something only children would say.
Grown-ups knew that hearts were fickle and affections could easily change. Everyone was a wandering, guarded soul; even when sharing a bed, they were often just two lonely people. Only children playing hopscotch under an old tree liked to mark everything with their own sign, declaring what belonged exclusively to them.
But he had agreed.
So all his past identities became like smoke and clouds. From then on, he belonged to only one person.
Childish, then. So be it.
Two people being childish together was better than one person going mad alone.
The red plum and white snow danced up and down, twirling and intertwining, swept by the wind past the rugged rocks and the railing of the small pavilion in the lake’s center, finally landing together on the thinly iced surface of the lake.
“I miss you.”
Chou Bodeng’s voice was barely audible. He slowly closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Pushing stars and calculating orbits, settling cities and defining veins, disputes between immortals and demons, the lives of mortals.
He was so tired.
***
The sea lapped against the shores of the West Continent’s Northwest Corner.
A sea-gazing tower stood on the reefs. Two disciples of the Beast Taming Sect, one tall and one short, were on watch. They huddled around a bonfire, breathing out white puffs of air. Their heads were close together as they read a scroll, completely focused, completely serious, arguing intensely from time to time.
“Look, look, the thirty-first one!” the shorter disciple exclaimed gleefully. “Hahaha, I told you! It would definitely be more than thirty! Sixth Senior Brother, pay up!”
The taller one cursed under his breath and took out his money pouch, utterly dejected.
“Are these people idiots? Everyone knows the Divine Lord loves to wear red. When they encounter a beauty in red, shouldn’t they be a little more cautious and figure out if he might be the Divine Lord?” Sixth Senior Brother watched with sorrow as his hard-earned money was snatched away, his heart breaking. The more he spoke, the angrier he got. “Are they pigs?! There have been so many precedents!”
The junior brother beamed.
He counted his money while shaking his head and sighing, “This is what they call being blinded by lust!”
The Northwest Corner was nothing but sea and rocks, cold and boring. In private, the disciples loved to make bets for fun. Last month, they had bet on how many fools like the lord of Hundred Bows Manor would be so overcome by beauty as to make a fearless spectacle of themselves by the time of the first snow this year…
Yes, that’s right. The lord of Hundred Bows Manor was not the only joke.
Since the Divine Lord re-entered the mortal realm twelve years ago, after the Night of Dusk and Dawn’s Division.
His features were lush and beautiful, his appearance that of a youth. His movements were unpredictable, unrestrained, and free. He went everywhere, from teahouses and taverns to lonely mountains and vast waters. Some people never expected the supremely noble Divine Lord to appear in such remote places. Others didn’t even think about it; upon seeing such beauty, they lost their souls, throwing all thoughts of divine lords and cautionary tales to the wind, their minds filled with only one thought: “You are so beautiful, I wish to marry you”…
Well, one had to admit, they had courage.
Sixth Senior Brother cursed as he turned the page, his movements exceptionally careful.
Even though this thing had cost him his monthly allowance, he had braved the wind and snow, flying his sword for a thousand miles round trip, and had waited three days just to get his hands on it!
The book was titled New Talks of the World Record, compiled and published by the Literature Workshop of the Mountain Sea Pavilion. It was a monthly publication, and it was said that before printing, it had to be personally reviewed by the Pavilion Master. Unlike other omniscient records compiled by the Mountain Sea Pavilion, this new record didn’t talk about major events in the martial world or changes in cities and states. It specialized in collecting amusing anecdotes, interesting tales, and new romantic verses… well, basically, “gossip” about famous figures.
As soon as this record was released, countless scholars and students cursed the Mountain Sea Pavilion for “spreading nonsense and misleading the world, how dare they publish such trivial matters?”
However, once New Talks of the World Record was released, it immediately became a sensation across the Twelve Continents, topping the charts of every bookstore and literary villa.
It was clear that everyone loved gossip.
Well, the new meaning of the word “gossip” came from the great Pavilion Master Zuo, who had made a fortune from it.
It was said that the old-fashioned fortune-tellers from Ghost Valley nearly went to fight the Mountain Sea Pavilion over this, but they were stopped by their young Valley Master. The young Valley Master said that times change, and Ghost Valley needed to have a sense of humor. The new meaning of “gossip” was a source of amusement for the martial world and was harmless…
Most importantly, it was good for recruiting disciples for Ghost Valley.
The art of divination was too difficult, and its deterrent effect was excellent.
Over the years, Ghost Valley’s recruitment had always been exceptionally difficult, its position at the bottom of the immortal sects unshakable. But after the word “gossip” was given a new meaning, many uninformed newcomers mistakenly thought that joining Ghost Valley would put them on the front lines of the latest news… For the first time in twelve years, the number of new disciples in Ghost Valley ranked second to last.
“Hey,” Sixth Senior Brother suddenly patted his junior brother’s shoulder. “Look at this poem… ‘Like a red plum, clearly falling on the tip of the snow’… this must be another one for the Divine Lord.”
“Let me see, let me see.”
The junior brother quickly leaned over.
There were actually many who admired the Divine Lord, but those “fearless” ones like the lord of Hundred Bows Manor were, after all, a minority. Most people were more reserved, too shy or too scared to express it openly, so they used various pseudonyms to write poems and essays to convey their admiration… In the past twelve years, the quantity and quality of one-sided love poems in the Twelve Continents had risen by more than one level.
“The style of this poem feels a bit like that person from Listening to Snow Villa…”
The junior brother speculated.
“…Can be admired but not longed for, can be longed for but not spoken of.” Sixth Senior Brother nodded. “This sour tone does indeed sound very similar.”
The two of them were analyzing with great enthusiasm, but they didn’t notice that beyond the Northwest Corner, where the Nether Sea and the Great Wilderness met, the boundary line was fluctuating, and the chill between heaven and earth was growing ever stronger.
***
In a darkness of unknown distance and depth.
In the dim and murky gloom, formless and vast, a muddled and chaotic aura clashed and ground against the surrounding foul, obscure, and evil miasma, struggling between being assimilated and devouring in return. As if faintly hearing the many whispers of the mortal realm, the aura suddenly became violent and fierce, like someone’s undying, stubborn obsession.
You can’t…
In the muddle, many things, many memories were suppressed, all in chaos.
Only the stubbornness remained, only the obsession was unquenchable.
…He is mine.
He promised. He is his alone.
No one else can touch him.
“Mine…” In the muddle, a single, undying speck of a Nether Spirit thought with all its might, he is mine… he promised, he is mine, and mine alone…
“Jiao Jiao.”