Chapter 94 – Innocent
Green mountains stretched on endlessly, and white waters meandered.
It was a day in the third month, a riot of purples and reds.
Chou Bodeng opened his eyes.
Light filtered through the dancing leaves of the Fusang tree, as brilliant as shattered gold, though a bit too dazzling. He squinted, lazily raising a hand to shield his eyes. Perhaps because he had slept for too long, he was momentarily unsure how he had fallen asleep on the Fusang tree again, or what time it was.
“…The flutes dance, the mouth organs and drums sound,
The music is harmonious and played.
We entertain our great ancestors,
And with them perform the hundred rites…[1]”
A lively drumbeat came from beneath the tree.
He turned on his side on the ancient tree and looked down towards the sound.
A roaring bonfire burned at the base of the Fusang tree. A giant, multi-colored tiger chased its own tail, warriors with bronze pole-axes drank noisily, a blue-feathered girl danced amidst a flock of Vermilion Bird chicks, and a youth in black robes and a white crown lay draped over a wine jar, a tail dangling listlessly… The firelight illuminated faces beautiful and ugly, majestic and terrifying, each one wearing a joyous smile.
They were holding a sacrificial ceremony.
He vaguely remembered.
They had just used the Big Dipper to cleave open the wilderness miasma beyond Zhong Mountain and planted a seeking-wood tree there as the northern marker. The initial success of “establishing the four poles” had given hope to the vision of making the thick earth bright and clear… After returning to Yi Hills, they held a celebratory festival before forging the second great artifact to guard a cardinal direction.
…But who were “they”?
And who was he?
“Chirp! Chirp!”
A fluffy red ball of a Vermilion Bird chick, with its sharp eyes, spotted the white sleeve hanging from a branch and flapped its wings, chirping one call after another. The music was loud and boisterous, so only the blue-feathered girl dancing near the chick heard it. She looked up, spread her dark blue wings, and flew up through the flowing clouds.
“Divine Lord, what are you doing here? I think Yan Huo is looking for you.”
The girl folded her wings and knelt on a nearby branch. Her feathers were a dark, magnificent blue, and the seductive charm in her eyes had yet to fully blossom, still exceptionally innocent.
…Who was Yan Huo?
He was dazed for a moment, unable to recall who it was, yet the name felt incredibly familiar. His mouth, however, had already answered out of habit, “Have Mu Di try that fellow’s wine first. If it’s good, I’ll come down.”
And who was Mu Di?
The sunlight became even more piercing, causing the edges of everything to dissolve into a field of white brightness. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his surroundings were still blindingly bright.
He had no choice but to look down.
The little Vermilion Bird chicks at the base of the tree had yet to fully grow their wings. They would flap them to fly up, only to fall with a splat, trying and failing, failing and trying again. A drunken Patterned Tiger sauntered over, and with a flick of its tail, it swept away several of the fluffy red balls, which let out angry chirps.
“Zhu Li is going to beat up the Patterned Tiger again later,” the blue-feathered girl muttered, unsurprised. She turned her head and asked, “Divine Lord, are we building the eastern pole or the western pole next?”
“The eastern pole, I think.”
He heard his own voice speak.
“The Vicious Plow Earth-Mound has too much foul qi. If we don’t build the eastern pole first, it could easily turn into a filthy bog.”
“Once the eastern pole is established, my sister and I will go guard the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound,” the girl said shyly after a moment’s thought. “We are reborn every hundred years, so we’re not afraid of foul qi.”
Just as he was about to say something, he heard a lively shout from under the tree.
“Divine Lord! Divine Lord! Kuafu and the others have finished building the city on Zhong Mountain! He’s looking for you to give it a name…”
“That was fast.”
The blue-feathered girl looked at him happily.
“Divine Lord, shall we go down?”
…Kuafu built a city on Zhong Mountain? The same Kuafu who died chasing the sun? …The footprints of a long trek through the darkness, a towering figure wielding a giant axe to clear a path, the bronze axe like a dazzling sun in the air… Finally, he collapsed with a crash, his blood transforming into a peach grove that bloomed year-round. A dark, ape-like warrior stepped out from the ranks, breathing fire, taking Kuafu’s place…
He was among those advancing figures, moving forward together in the darkness.
But wasn’t Kuafu chasing the sun just a myth?
Fragmented images intertwined in his mind, overlapping and disjointed.
One moment, it was a “myth” recorded on the pages of a book; the next, it was an absurd reality he seemed to have personally experienced.
His head was splitting.
Something was breaking free from its shackles.
Perhaps he had been dazed for too long this time, so long that the blue-feathered girl kneeling beside him noticed something was wrong and anxiously called out to him, “Divine Lord, Divine Lord, what’s wrong?”
Yes.
What was wrong with him?
Why was such a sharp emotion surging in his chest?
Chou Bodeng turned his head.
He saw terror on the girl’s face.
In those still-clear pupils, Chou Bodeng found the answer to her terror—the white robes on his own body were turning red, patch by patch, red as flowing fire. At the same time, Chou Bodeng’s pupils reflected the girl’s face… Time flowed across her innocent features, and the dark blue at the corners of her eyes spread rapidly, like indigo and brilliant purple smearing across Xuan paper, instantly becoming anciently beautiful.
“What’s wrong with you?”
…You’ve gone mad.
A crisp voice and a sharp voice overlapped.
One moment, she was an innocent, shy girl; the next, she was the seductive, venomous Moon Mother.
Chou Bodeng stood up and stumbled backward.
The trunk of the Fusang tree suddenly snapped. He fell from the sky, the air rushing past his ears. A piercing, sorrowful cry echoed through the heavens and the earth. The Golden Crow, dragging its chains, flew into the sky, and rolling flames fell from its wings. The Fu tree, which stretched to the Eight Extremes, burned in the great fire.
Black smoke billowed.
The process of falling became incredibly long, as if the distance to the ground had been stretched to an immense length, as if he weren’t falling from a tree but from a height of tens of thousands of feet.
He turned his head, and his pupils suddenly constricted.
Fire.
A raging, consuming fire.
The azure mountains were drowned in crimson, the wooden huts by the white water turned to ash, the pink, silver-blue, and pale-yellow flowers were no more… The giant tiger that once played with the Vermilion Bird chicks ran through the wilds, a cold iron arrow piercing its forehead; the now-grown Vermilion Birds fell one by one, their fiery feathers stained with mud; the youth in black robes and a white crown who once dozed by the wine jar left without a backward glance…
No more drumming.
No more joyful songs.
The figures that had gathered together were all gone.
—You have to give me, give us an answer!
Hateful laughter rang out from high above.
…Who hated him? Who resented him? Black miasma shot into the sky. Those blurry shadows, those distant departed souls, laughed wildly around him. Their laughter was filled with so much hatred, a hatred that formed a vortex that swallowed all hope. He was being tortured by a thousand cuts inside that vortex.
He remembered.
He remembered why he had to flee Zhunan at all costs.
He wanted to escape before being consumed by this vortex… This wasn’t the first time he’d had a similar dream, but ever since meeting that woman called “Moon Mother” in Zhunan, the dreams had become increasingly real. He had a faint premonition that if he didn’t escape soon, he would truly be completely devoured by the vortex of hatred.
But he couldn’t break out of this vortex on his own.
Piercing laughter, sorrowful cries, desolate songs…
They writhed like snakes at the ends of his nerves.
Chou Bodeng curled up as he fell, tightly covering his ears with his hands, not wanting to hear, not wanting to see. But it was useless; he couldn’t block out the voices… He didn’t want his sanity to be devoured by those voices, didn’t want to be completely consumed… didn’t want to become that deeply sinful, unforgivable madman again.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the resentful curses.
…I love you.
The voice was precious and solemn.
Over and over, it tore through the vortex.
A single lantern lit up in the darkness.
Chou Bodeng released his hands from his ears and reached for the only source of light.
He subconsciously called out a name:
“A Luo.”
Save me.
***
In the Xuan City teahouse, tables were overturned and people were sent flying.
“You dare say that again?”
Lu Jing raised his fist menacingly.
The plainly dressed scholar he had kicked out slammed against the wall, slid to the ground, then climbed back up, coughing, his face twisted in a hysterical laugh. “Why can’t I curse him! Why can’t I! My father is dead! My mother is dead! My sister is dead! My wife is dead! My son is dead! Hahaha! Hahaha! They’re all dead!”
Lu Jing’s fist, raised high in the air, froze.
“All dead! Dead!” the scholar laughed, looking up. “Hahaha, I saved money for ten years, ten years of copying books and writing letters for others without a single day of rest, not daring to waste a single tael of silver. I saved… I saved enough silver to buy a courtyard in Xuan City, I could finally bring them all over to enjoy life… I waited, just waited for the wilderness-trekking team to arrive, waited to take my wife to pick out a bronze mirror she’d like, to take my son to buy the osmanthus cakes he’d never tasted…”
“I waited…”
He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his face with his hands as tears streamed through his fingers.
“I specifically told them not to skimp on the money, to travel with a large wilderness-trekking team… Thinking about it again, I was afraid, afraid my parents would try to save money for me, so I ran all over Xuan City again, asking people to hire an old Expedition Master to bring them over… I gave thousands of instructions, begged the old Expedition Master to take care of my father, his leg is bad…”
“Ha! What’s the use of instructions? The celestial orbit has changed! They’re dead!”
Lu Jing stumbled back a step.
“Hahaha, all dead!” The scholar threw his head back and laughed madly, his face contorted. “Why can’t I curse him! I don’t care if the Taiyi Martial Ancestor is a good person or a bad person! I don’t care why he changed the heavens and the sun! My parents, my wife, my son are all dead! I have nothing left! Why can’t I hate him! Why!”
“Why!”
Lu Jing stumbled backward, knocking over a chair with a crash. As if struck on the head, he suddenly snapped to his senses, turned, and pushed through the crowd of onlookers, rushing out.
“Lu Shiyi! Shiyi!”
Monk Budu called after him, but he didn’t look back.
Who could they hate?
Who should they hate?
…His father, kneeling on the ground; his mother, covered in blood; a pale hand; a world of white mourning clothes… He had to keep running, keep running, to shake off the images chasing him, to shake off the resentment in his own heart.
Who could he hate?
Who should he hate?
Only through pain can one feel sorrow, can one know resentment.
Something tripped him, and Lu Jing fell heavily to the ground. He had even forgotten how to use his spiritual power, falling like an ordinary person, his face covered in blood. He didn’t care if he was disfigured; he scrambled up and was about to run again. Someone caught up from behind and grabbed him.
“Lu Jing!”
Monk Budu’s voice was like a sharp blow, faintly laced with Sanskrit as the Bodhi Clarity Beads in his hand glowed with golden light.
“Do not be deluded, do not be rash!”
Lu Jing froze, panting heavily. After a long moment, it was as if he had been suddenly pulled out of water. A moment later, his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the ground. Monk Budu released him. Seeing his deathly pale face and his dazed stare, he hesitated, then said no more, simply squatting down beside him.
The Xianyi River outside Xuan City flowed slowly by. On the reefs, Xuan Turtles, with their black bodies, bird heads, and snake tails, emerged from the shadows and climbed back onto the rocks to sunbathe.
“Monk, I feel so hypocritical.”
Lu Jing suddenly spoke.
Monk Budu scratched his head, not knowing how to respond to this out-of-the-blue statement.
“I want Chou Bodeng to be free and well. I’m afraid to see him ostracized after saving a city. I’m afraid to hear him be blamed and cursed after being willing to sacrifice his life to save people… But I don’t dare to go back to Medicine Valley, don’t dare to see my father,” Lu Jing’s voice was hoarse.
Monk Budu said nothing, slowly turning his Buddhist beads.
“The person he saved killed my mother.”
The turning beads stopped.
Monk Budu looked up at Lu Jing. Lu Jing’s eyes were downcast, staring at the ground.
The wife of the Medicine Valley Master had passed away a few years ago, rumored to have been killed by an assassin.
“A healer’s heart is benevolent; saving the dying and healing the wounded is the code Medicine Valley abides by… It wasn’t his fault. When he saved that person, he didn’t know what would happen later. He was just, just saving the dying and healing the wounded as usual… But, I still can’t help it… I can’t help but think, why did he have to save that person that day? If that person hadn’t been saved by him, would my mother not have died later?”
“I smashed his medicine cauldron.”
“Why did he have to save people?”
“I know what’s right and what’s wrong. I know the person I should resent isn’t him. But I just want my mother back. I want her to continue teaching me to read, to continue stroking my head and talking to me… He wanted to save people, to have a healer’s benevolent heart, but why did my mother have to be the one to fulfill his righteousness? Why?”
Monk Budu said nothing.
“I heard some of the elders in Medicine Valley laughing at him in private. He had miraculous healing hands, he practiced medicine to help the world, he had a healer’s benevolent heart, his reputation filled the world of medicine. But so what? In the end, his own wife died at the hands of someone he saved…” Lu Jing wiped his face messily. “I didn’t dare to listen, afraid that if I heard too much, I would hate him too.”
Monk Budu was silent.
“I’m afraid I would also think he’s an incorrigibly foolish do-gooder. I’m afraid I would also think he’s the root of all evil. But my mother taught me that’s not how it is.”
Lu Jing closed his eyes.
He could vaguely see the woman with her hair in a bun by the plain window, holding a brush and writing the characters for “good” and “evil”… He had to uphold justice, had to uphold all the good and beautiful things she had taught him.
“I don’t dare to go back.”
“I’m afraid I’ll hate him.”
The most virtuous and sagely of saints, the most sorrowful and tragic of relatives.
Resentment.
“I detest the Immortal Sects and Kongsang for intercepting Young Master Chou; I think they’re utterly despicable. I can’t bear to hear the refugees curse Young Master Chou; I feel they can’t see Chou Bodeng’s sacrifice at all… But even I resent my own father, I don’t dare to go back to Medicine Valley. What’s the difference between me and them?” A difficult smile appeared on Lu Jing’s face. “Monk, I’m so hypocritical.”
“Amitabha.”
Monk Budu patted him.
No one spoke again.
What was wrong? What was right? What was worth upholding? They couldn’t find an answer, only squatting side by side at the base of the wall like two stray dogs who had fled a disaster.
“Finally found you two! The altar for the turtle divination ceremony is on the southern ridge of Niuyang Mountain. When are we leaving?” Half-Diviner vaulted over the city wall, jumped down, and asked hurriedly, “Uh…”
After landing, he saw Lu Jing’s blood-streaked, disheveled face and froze.
“Wh-what happened?” he asked tentatively. “Did your brother beat you up?”
“No.”
Lu Jing wiped his face messily, stood up, and walked out quickly.
“Let’s go, let’s go.”
Half-Diviner looked at Monk Budu, who patted the dirt off his clothes and gave him a look. Half-Diviner didn’t press further and followed the slightly staggering Lu Jing.
The three of them walked side by side towards Niuyang Mountain.
In Xuan City, in the teahouses and taverns.
New arrivals, new gossip, new righteous indignation.
***
“Thus, the Taiyi Martial Ancestor Chou Bodeng, deviously disrupted the celestial orbit, stole and occupied the sun’s anchor, causing the four seasons to be in disarray, the four winds to be disorderly, the seasons to be mismatched, and the calendar and agriculture to be unsustainable. Famine and pestilence, calamities and disasters have arrived… The four continents of Yong, Qing, Cang, and Lan are deeply afflicted. Taiyi fails to investigate, colluding in evil, unworthy of being called an immortal sect…”
A “person” in black robes and a white crown sat on the Divine Fu Tree, slowly reading the words on a few sheets of paper.
“…Contemptuous of heaven and earth, blasphemous of time and seasons.”
Reading up to this point, the black-robed, white-crowned man with long, handsome eyebrows released his grip.
The Discourse on the Clear Sun, written by Mister Yuan Mu of Luoshui Scholarly Villa, spiraled down from the air.
“To sever the Heaven-Herding Rope at the risk of your divine soul shattering, to seek a path of survival for the Twelve Continents, and this is what you get in return—a long tirade, a list of heinous crimes. Was it worth it?… The common people you sought to protect hate you, the Kongsang you betrayed fears you, the immortal sects you placed your hopes in are wary of you… Resentful, cowardly, greedy, cruel, ungrateful, and insatiable—the human heart is a host of demons and monsters. After all these years, how do you still not understand this simple truth?”
The black-robed, white-crowned man looked down at the ancient tree.
The leaves of the ancient Fu tree were denser than before, having turned from silver to a jade-like color. The Golden Crow perched nearby, tilting its head to stare at him, as if looking at an acquaintance who was annoying but not worth fighting. The gray bark of the ancient tree had faint, dense golden runes—a spark of fire left behind long, long ago by that white-robed Divine Lord with all his might.
Not long ago, the one who left that spark had once again ignited the flame.
“I misspoke. You understand everything.”
“You’re just stupid.”
He suddenly clapped his hands and burst into laughter, laughing so hard he nearly fell backward.
Compassion is a crime, sincerity is a crime.
Greed is no crime, ambition is no crime.
Goodness is the most pathetic thing of all.