Rumors say that one might see their lives flash before their eyes at the moment of death.
It was for that reason that Liu Sumeng did not react when his consciousness separated from his body and he found himself standing in a familiar hall.
His uncle sat dutifully at his desk, stoic and imposing as he had been in life. Liu Sumeng allowed nostalgia to wash over him while he listened to his uncle ramble on, stroking the long beard as he observed Liu Sumeng keenly.
"You are to go down Wangyun Peak and meet your fiancée. This is an important task, not only for yourself but for our honorable Heavenly Sword Sect as well. I expect you to be on your best behavior, Liu Sumeng."
For the leader of the cultivation world's top three sects, Liu Fumao's study was modestly decorated. He had a few prized items; like the rack of magical swords he kept on display, or the painted screen crafted by his favorite artisan. There was an ever-present scent of rosewood and chrysanthemum tea.
How long had it been since Liu Sumeng last set foot in this place? He had spent the final years of his life far away, in the imperial palace's cold, unkind walls. How often had he dreamed of returning home? But even if he had wished to return to Wangyun Peak, there wouldn't be anything there awaiting him there. The manor had been razed to the ground.
Liu Sumeng basked in nostalgia, saying nothing.
This displeased Liu Fumao. "Are you listening?"
Liu Sumeng flinched. He blinked, confused, realizing belated that this wasn't just a passive illusion. Luckily, he was born with a stone-like face, one that didn't show his emotions easily. After a moment, he replied, "Yes, Uncle."
Liu Fumao narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing his nephew. Silence settled between them, but the old sect leader was long used to Liu Sumeng's awkwardness. With a sigh, he shook his head lightly.
"Never mind," the older Liu forwent the usual scolding. "Make sure to take Xu Hexian with you. Do not dally, and show the Chen Princess good hospitality."
"Of course," Liu Sumeng replied stiffly. With a curt bow, he excused himself from his uncle's study, missing the way that Liu Fumao sighed deeply after his departure.
Liu Sumeng was utterly unaware of the frustration he had just caused his dear uncle.
It was understandable, for he had just died, and was expecting to be greeted by the underworld. He wasn't prepared to navigate a strange illusion of the past.
How long would the illusion remain? Liu Sumeng wondered if it might disappear in a blink of an eye. Or maybe shatter like a delicate piece of glass if he handled it roughly.
He was so distraught, that the next thing he knew he was already strolling out of the manor gate, ready to descend the mountain all by himself.
Where was he going again?
A loud voice snapped him out of his stupor. "-xiong! Meng-xiong!"
The nostalgia that flared within his chest was so sharp that it became difficult to breathe. Liu Sumeng stopped in his tracks. When he turned, he saw another ghost.
Xu Hexian panted heavily as he rushed toward the gate, waving frantically as if in an attempt to catch Liu Sumeng's attention. "Where are you going, Meng-xiong!? Didn't Sect Leader tell you that I was coming along too?"
This Xu Hexian was much younger than the man that Liu Sumeng had slain with his own two hands. A bitter feeling welled in his heart. He wanted to say sorry but had no idea how to form the right words.
Xu Hexian was unbothered by Liu Sumeng's silence, beaming when he finally caught up to his shixiong. "I know you're excited to meet your goddess-level fiancée, but try not to forget about your shidi, okay?"
"I didn't forget," Liu Sumeng said stiffly. The uncertainty of the entire situation permeated his thoughts. For some reason, it only dawned on him then that this was the day he met his wife.
More importantly, this was the day that he would meet the boy that would later grow into the tyrannical emperor of Yang Country. The same man who later tore the world to shreds.
Liu Sumeng's entire body went numb, his scalp tingling.
"C'mon, let's hurry!" Xu Hexian skipped toward the mountain path, only to pause when he realized that his shixiong wasn't following. "Meng-xiong?'
Liu Sumeng stood amid the gusting autumn wind. His white brocade robes billowed while fallen leaves were left sewn on the ground. His expression was unreadable, head slightly bowed. Xu Hexian blinked, raptured in his awe. Liu Sumeng's appearance was tragic, like a painting of an immortal hero that mourned the loss of his beloved. It only added to his allure. Even if Xu Hexian had the chance to see Liu Sumeng every single day, there were times he would be taken aback by this person's ethereal beauty. Liu Sumeng suited the name Baijiansheng very well.
Xu Hexian cleared his throat and tore his eyes away. "It's rare to see you so flustered, Shixiong."
Liu Sumeng nodded in agreement, an action which confused Xu Hexian further. Liu Sumeng was secretly a person with a very thin face and did not like admitting to his embarrassments.
"Are you feeling alright?" Xu Hexian asked with a tilt of his head.
Bless his heart, Liu Sumeng thought quietly. Xu Hexian was always attentive to others, the polar opposite of Liu Sumeng's frosty demeanor. It was no wonder why Liu Fumao had sent him along, in case Liu Sumeng would fumble over first impressions.
Liu Sumeng, having already lived in this scenario once, understood his uncle's sentiments. Liu Sumeng would inevitably give a bad first impression. With a small shake of his head, he wordlessly walked forward, leaving behind a clueless Xu Hexian.
"Huh? Meng-xiong? Wait up!"
In the end, what Liu Sumeng did not matter. After all, he was already dead. If he might chance upon a young Yuan Xuelan once more, then Liu Sumeng wasn't going to complain. Even if it was just an illusion, he wouldn't complain.
Strangely, his heart began to stir with unsung excitement. Liu Sumeng quickened his steps, eager to meet his emperor. He felt a little sorry for his future wife. But who would blame him? He had recently died by fire holding Yuan Xuelan's cooling corpse. Of course, his feelings towards Yuan Xuelan were riper, brighter, and closer than the lukewarm grief he held towards his long-dead wife.
Liu Sumeng prayed desperately for this illusion to last just a little longer.
He thanked the gods for this final chance to see Yuan Xuelan. No matter how brief, or false he would cherish it.
"Wait for me."
"Hm?" Xu Hexian perked up, "Did you say something?" The younger boy struggled a little to keep up, cursing Liu Sumeng under his breath. Something about superior height for being able to take wider strides, but Liu Sumeng wasn't really paying attention.
Liu Sumeng was enraptured by his thoughts and paid his companion little mind. The sun was bright in the sky and the winds gentle. If Liu Sumeng pretended hard enough then he might be able to believe that his death never happened in the first place. He might be able to pretend that Yuan Xuelan never became the infamous tyrant he was later known to be, and that none of the evils have yet to taint the lands.
He could pretend that they never died. And that all his loved ones were still living peacefully, like this lovely illusion of a long-forgotten past.