Chapter 137 – When I Sing Drunk, You Harmonize; When I Fall Drunk, I Need You to Support Me
Shi Wuluo pressed a hand to his temple, his knuckles turning white. The Qionghua Mirror worn at his waist to suppress his soul pulsed, its mercury-like surface rippling. The spiritual energy accumulated over thousands of years of worship in the Yu Mountains of the Medicine Valley condensed into silver threads, which floated up like rain falling on a stone pool, returning to heaven and earth. His eyes flickered between pitch black and silver-gray.
Finally, they settled on silver-gray.
The bright red candied hawthorns rolled into the white snow.
Shi Wuluo stumbled to his feet.
He felt as if he were in the Great Wilderness one moment and the mortal realm the next, a state between reality and illusion. He saw flying flowers, white bones, fallen trees, and filth. He heard the wails of dead souls, the whispers of converging evils, and also the sound of rain, the sound of… someone tapping chopsticks and singing drunkenly.
“…I wish to pluck a flower and ask the wine, laughing at myself for seeking sorrow, my white hair has no return date.
Better to get drunk deep among the flowers…”
The song instantly pulled him from his trance back to Heavenly Lake Mountain.
Shi Wuluo stared fixedly at the youth sitting on the black rock, at his weathered appearance, his black hair dusted with snow, as if he had grown white-haired… The clouds of the primeval era and the snow of today overlapped, white robes and red robes intertwined, finally settling on the long, endless streets of Plum City. The streets were filled with flying dust and the clamor of voices, and the person he loved had weary eyes.
That trace of weariness became a thorn that could not be pulled out, dense and numerous, causing a bone-deep pain with every movement.
He remembered.
Zhunan, Yong Continent, Heaven Beyond Heavens, the Kui Dragon Bracelet… everything suddenly rushed back like a tide, nearly crushing him.
How is it still like this?
He thought blankly, silently mournful.
…The small alleys of Plum City, the drainage ditches filled with filth, the gray tiled walls that blocked out the sunlight… Why was his Divine Lord still so weathered? He wanted to return his Divine Lord to the clouds, so why was his Divine Lord now still struggling in the mud, together with a demonic obstacle like him who could no longer see the light?
You know, don’t you?
A voice asked from the bottom of his heart.
It was the long, condescending judgment of thousands of years. It judged his selfish desires, his paranoia, his arrogance. The snow in his eyes suddenly became scorching hot, burning, sharper than the obscure winds of the Great Wilderness, the fierce howls of the Netherworld, more like a net cast from heaven and earth… You know, don’t you?
You know who made him walk down from Incomplete Mountain, who made him enter the Great Wilderness three times, who made him destroy the City of Clouds with a single sword, imprisoning himself in a cage.
What was the use of destroying Heaven Beyond Heaven and rebuilding the City in the Clouds?
He had dragged the Divine Lord down into the mortal realm.
“…drunk and return to the one in white.”
The jade hairpin broke, the fine liquor shattered.
Shi Wuluo heard his own voice:
“I’m sorry.”
***
A chunk of snow piled on the eaves collapsed, hitting Lu Jing on the head. “Ouch,” Lu Jing yelped and jumped up. Monk Budu, who was dozing beside him, woke up with a start and asked him what was wrong. Lu Jing brushed the snow from the back of his neck and was about to answer when the God-Listening Jade Pendant used for communication lit up.
“Who is it, causing trouble at a time like this?”
Lu Jing grumbled and casually tossed the incoming message to Monk Budu, telling him to take a look first.
Monk Budu unfolded the message, and after just one glance, his expression instantly turned serious.
“Wh-what is it?” Lu Jing’s scalp tingled.
“Two pieces of news. One bad, one…”
“Let’s hear the bad one first, the bad one first,” Lu Jing said impatiently.
“Alright.” Monk Budu nodded. “The bad news is, the thirty flying boats from the Mountain Sea Pavilion transporting the materials for the star-chart anchors have been shot down. The boats were found near Desert City, but the whereabouts of the personnel and materials are unknown.”
“Has Fatty Zuo gone crazy with his stinginess? How could something like this happen!” Those star-chart anchors were the materials needed to set up the pillars corresponding to the celestial star charts on Heavenly Lake Mountain soon! Otherwise, why would the Divine Lord, who was in charge of the twelve continents, stay in Plum City for so long?
“The one in charge of the escort was Lou Jiang.”
Lou Jiang himself?
Lu Jing paused, immediately understanding why Monk Budu’s expression was so serious. Lou Jiang personally escorting them was, to some extent, equivalent to half of the Mountain Sea Pavilion Master being present. With Lou Jiang’s caution, it was absolutely impossible for him to be negligent.
“Someone… or some demon, doesn’t want things on Heavenly Lake Mountain to go smoothly.” Lu Jing sat down, frowning as he ran through all the recent troublemakers in his mind. There were too many suspects, and for a moment, he couldn’t confirm who it was, so he could only set it aside for now. “What’s the second piece of news?”
“The second…” Monk Budu turned to look at him. “The news has gotten out. In three days at most, the news of the Heavenly Dao’s fall to a demon will be known throughout the twelve continents.”
Lu Jing’s hand trembled, and he pulled out a strand of hair. He couldn’t be bothered to feel sorry for his hair and immediately cursed, “How the hell is that good news?”
“Who said it was good news?” Monk Budu closed the message, his face pale. “This is the worst of the worst news!”
***
Chou Bodeng sat on the black rock, his red robes trailing in the cold pool, flowing with the water. He still held the broken jade hairpin in his hand. The plum wine slid down the hairpin, dripping onto the stone surface with a soft sound, splashing up four or five bright droplets. For a moment, he seemed unaware of what he had seen or heard.
Reaching out, he wanted to touch those eyes that had turned silver-gray again.
But Shi Wuluo gently avoided his hand.
“A Luo?”
Chou Bodeng tilted his head, the moonlight casting a clear, jade-like glow on his face.
Shi Wuluo wanted to lean down, to embrace him with all his might, to possess him with the paranoid obsession of an evil ghost, to hold him in his arms, to hide him in his heart. The twelve years of separation between life and death had brewed the love and longing into a demon in the bottom of his heart, clamoring, roaring… But the voice in his heart calmly said:
You have harmed him, in the past, and now.
And there will be a future.
The myriad beings of the world, through birth, old age, sickness, and death, love, hate, and separation, no matter how they are ground down and trampled, no matter how difficult and painful it is, can always blame it on the whims of fate, the heartlessness of the Heavenly Dao. But he was fate, he was the Heavenly Dao. Who should he blame for his Divine Lord’s broken body and weathered sleeves?
Shi Wuluo wanted to say something, but nothing would come out. He was as tongue-tied as if he had returned to his ignorant beginnings, not knowing the meaning of words, unable to speak.
What did this even count as?
He wanted to ask, but there was nowhere to ask, and no way to ask.
He didn’t know the answer, only that it couldn’t go on like this.
“I’m sorry.”
Shi Wuluo avoided Chou Bodeng’s gaze and turned away in a panic.
A snowflake rolled off the edge of his sleeve. Chou Bodeng grabbed his wrist from behind.
Shi Wuluo stood rigidly in the snow.
“What are you sorry for? Tell me,” Chou Bodeng tightened his fingers.
His voice was hoarse. “I can’t…”
I can’t harm you anymore.
The remaining words were stuck in his throat, unable to come out. He had become a coward, a self-deceiving thief, wanting to monopolize a spark that should not belong to him. Shi Wuluo closed his eyes, suppressed countless chaotic desires, and pried Chou Bodeng’s fingers from his wrist.
As the last slender finger separated from his wrist, Chou Bodeng’s hand fell.
In the distant Northwest Corner, ice formed a hundred rivers, and the hundred rivers flowed south.
Here in Plum City, Budu and Lu Jing were running about.
A secret was spreading throughout the twelve continents, and an undercurrent was surging.
A storm was coming.
Shi Wuluo lowered his head, watching a corner of red clothing disappear from his sight.
Only a vast expanse of white snow remained.
Time stood still, the wind ceased, and everything receded into the distance. Only the snow continued to fall. Shi Wuluo walked forward. No footprints were left on the snow, only a rolled-up candied hawthorn being gradually buried by the accumulating snow. One step, two steps, three steps… Chou Bodeng suddenly laughed behind him.
Shi Wuluo froze, wanting to turn back, but not daring to.
He was afraid that if he took one more look, he wouldn’t be able to bear to leave.
Bitterness and warmth mingled, unable to love, unwilling to part… After many years, the Heavenly Dao finally understood what the “hundred flavors” his Divine Lord had taught him really were.
“You won’t say it?” Chou Bodeng said from behind him. “Then I’ll say it for you.”
“You said you wouldn’t lie to me, but every word was a lie.”
“You said you would take me back to the Witch Clan, but you stopped at Yong Continent.”
“You said you wouldn’t leave me alone, but you left me alone in Chao City, and you made me leave in the Great Wilderness.”
“You said you wouldn’t get hurt again, but you ascended the Heavenly Steps alone to slay a heavenly god. How many injuries did you suffer… Do you want me to count them for you?”
Shi Wuluo stood with his back to Chou Bodeng, his eyelashes lowered, his fingers trembling slightly in his sleeves, desperately restraining the urge to turn back. He was awake now, yes, but how long could he stay clear-headed? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he would one day fall into being a true evil ghost thirsting for blood and flesh.
Snow fell on Shi Wuluo’s hair, and from behind, Chou Bodeng saw him as if his hair had turned white overnight.
“A Luo, when did I ever teach you…”
To be faithless?
The words stopped before they left his mouth.
He had indeed taught his A Luo what it meant to be faithless, taught A Luo how to deceive… From leaving Zhunan to ascending the Heavenly Steps alone, to descending into the Netherworld, the path A Luo had walked, step by step, completely overlapped with the one he had once walked. The Heavenly Steps he had ascended had flowed with A Luo’s blood, and the Netherworld where he had buried his soul had also become A Luo’s fated struggle.
…What was this?
Like master, like apprentice?
For the first time, Chou Bodeng discovered that A Luo had indeed learned from him completely.
“There are Wilderness Attendants active in both Plum City and Qianlai City. The master of Hundred Bows Manor was sent to test you. The news of my fall to a demon should have already spread,” Shi Wuluo said with his eyes lowered, watching the snow on the ground grow thicker. “If I stay in the mortal realm for too long, the twelve continents will become another Great Wilderness…”
“So you’re going back to the Great Wilderness?”
Chou Bodeng cut him off from behind.
“…”
Shi Wuluo was silent, not knowing how to answer.
He stared blankly at his fingertips.
For thousands of years before, there was no difference between flowers withering and flowers blooming, between trees dying and trees flourishing. The thousands of mountains were just thousands of mountains, and the ten thousand waters were just ten thousand waters. He could wait by recalling past images, and time would become both long and fleeting. Back then, he only understood what resentment was, but now it was completely different.
Of all the flavors in the mortal world, the most bitter is that which should not be had.
After a long time, Shi Wuluo lowered his head. The divine sense chain formed from black qi appeared on his and Chou Bodeng’s wrists. His fingertips trembled slightly as he undid it, one link at a time.
Chou Bodeng waited for a long while, only to see him undoing the divine sense chain. For a moment, he couldn’t even bring himself to call him an “idiot.”
…How had he never noticed before that this guy was so stubborn?
“Fine.”
Chou Bodeng ground his teeth, a smile that wasn’t a smile on his face.
He didn’t stop Shi Wuluo from undoing the chain, but instead lowered his head and found a storage ring that Lu Jing had previously used to collect storybooks. He rummaged through it, found a copy of the New Talks of the World Record, and flipped to the section with love poems in the main publication. Clearing his throat, he began to read without a change in expression:
“I Send to the Divine Lord… The iris grows by the Yuan River, my lord lives by the Li Mulberry. Before the heavenly snow falls, the river rots… I wish to cut a mountain orchid to gift to my lord, yet I fear the mountain orchid does not know me. I wish to cross the great river to pursue my lord, yet I fear the great river will not carry me…