A single lantern wandered through Sisheng Peak, looking for that fragment of returned soul.
Once the Soul-Calling Lantern was lit, Mo Ran became invisible to the living.
It was as if he had also turned into half a ghost, as he climbed the bluestone steps and traversed the stoas and balconies, searching.
Red Lotus Pavilion, Frostsky Hall, Three-Lives Platform…
He had looked everywhere, but he couldn't find him.
Mo Ran couldn't help thinking that maybe Shizun had already grown weary in life, and no longer wished to see him in death.
The thought made his blood run cold. His footsteps picked up, the hem of his robes sweeping past the wild grass underfoot when suddenly he noticed a person standing at the end of Naihe Bridge, cold and aloof, woeful and forlorn.
The palms of his hands immediately began to sweat, and his heartbeats were loud like a drum in his ears as he ran toward that person.
"Shizun——" But the face that turned around belonged to a soul he didn't recognize,
probably a disciple that had perished during the Heavenly Rift that day. The half of his face that was visible was covered in blood, and the eyes that stared at Mo Ran were dull and confused.
"...Sorry, wrong person," Mo Ran stammered and hurried past him. That soul had lost its cognition, only stiffly watching Mo Ran pass by in front of him without making a single move. The corpse-pale body stood frozen in place, like a shell that had been shed and left behind in this world.
Mo Ran felt his chest tighten even more.
What should he do if Shizun's Human Soul was also like that, a walking corpse? Even if he were to find him, would he be able to watch over him until daybreak?
His heart beat like a frenzied stampede as his feet moved faster and faster.
He didn't know how he ended up here, but he looked up to find himself outside Mengpo Hall.
Mo Ran thought to himself that Shizun didn't particularly care for food, so his returned soul probably wouldn't come to this of all places.
He was just about to turn and leave when a soft sigh came from inside Mengpo Hall.
That voice was so, so quiet, but it sounded like an explosion of thunder in Mo Ran's head.
He practically stumbled through the doors, and his hand shook uncontrollably as he lifted the Soul-Calling Lantern. The light of that lantern was like a newly risen sun, warm yet mild, as it illuminated a white-robed figure.
His joints turned white as his nails dug into his palm.
Mo Ran murmured, "Shizun…" That fragment of Chu Wanning's soul stood all alone in the emptiness of the large kitchen. His silhouette looked a little washed out, like ink blanched by the passage of time, but it was definitely him.
He wore the same white robes made of frozen mist silk that he had when he died, its hems stained red with blood; the conspicuous vividness made his skin look even paler, almost see-through like the color of smoke and mist, looking as if he might disappear in a gust of wind.
With lantern in hand, Mo Ran gazed at the mirage before his eyes, like the image of flowers in a mirror, like the reflection of the moon in water.
He wanted to walk faster, afraid that he might leave if he delayed.
He wanted to walk slower, afraid that the dream might shatter if he rushed.
A thousand thoughts twisted together in his mind, regret and guilt flooded his chest, and the rims of his eyes grew faintly red. He felt only that he owed him far too much as his footsteps slowed to a stop in his vicinity, too ashamed to show his face.
The lantern swayed gently.
Now that he was closer, he could see that he was busying about, seeming a little anxious about something, but also rather clumsy.
What was Chu Wanning doing?
He moved to stand behind him, thinking to help the pitiful soul out, but what he saw struck him like lightning, and then, as the shock began to taper off, a burst of agonizing pain opened its bloody maw and tore viciously into his neck.
Mo Ran recoiled backward two steps, slowly shaking his head but unable to speak.
In that moment, even if his chest were to be torn open, and his heart ripped out, veins, flesh, and all, it could not hurt as much as this.
He saw Chu Wanning's hands—raw and bloody from crawling up more than three thousand steps carrying him when he was still alive, he saw those hands slowly feeling along the table.
On that table sat flour, seasoning, and mincemeat filling.
And next to the table was a pot heating up water. The water was already boiling, but Chu Wanning, the dummy, didn't even know to lower the flames a little, and the thick covering of steam made everything look hazy and blurry…
Or perhaps it wasn't the steam blurring Mo Ran's vision at all, but the wetness in his eyes.
Chu Wanning's Human Soul was slowly folding wonton wrappers. His hands were originally nimble and dexterous, countless armaments having been crafted by those slender fingers, immense barriers having been conjured between those palms.
But right now those hands were torn and marred, trembling slightly as they carefully folded one full, plump wonton after another.
"..." Mo Ran lifted an arm and wiped his reddened eyes, but still couldn't force out so much as a single word.
Chu Wanning stood with his back facing him; he seemed to finally remember that the water had been boiling for quite a while already, and, worried that it would all boil off if left alone like that, went to look for the pot.
He felt around with his hands.
Yes, he felt around with his hands.
Mo Ran finally woke up from the anguish he had been drowning in, and went around to Shizun's side with hasty steps.
He could see clearly now.
When the three souls split, each loses something. Maybe memories, maybe cognition, or maybe parts of its body.
What this soul had lost was a part of its perception.
This portion of Chu Wanning's soul, returned from the Underworld, could see only blurriness. His hearing seemed to be faulty as well—when he knocked something off the table, he couldn't even tell where it landed. But even so, he still tried his best to make this bowl of ordinary, unremarkable wontons, as if this had been his favorite thing to do in life, as if he found comfort in this haze of steam.
Watching this, Mo Ran felt like his heart might burst from the pain, felt like the world was spinning dizzily around him, and for a moment he couldn't even think, only standing there frozen in place, watching the scene before his eyes.
Clang.
Due to the diminished vision, the soul really couldn't see too well, and accidentally knocked over Mengpo Hall's salt jar.
Chu Wanning seemed startled, silently drawing his hand back, an uneasy expression appearing on his bloodstained face.
"What do you need…?" A hoarse voice spoke from next to him, tight with choked back sobs,
shattered with guilt.
"Let me help you, okay?" Chu Wanning seemed a bit surprised, but maybe because his soul was incomplete and so his emotions couldn't be too turbulent, he soon settled back into an even calmness.
But every word Mo Ran forced past his lips was difficult and full of pleading.
"Shizun, let me help you, okay…?
Water boiled in the pot; in this kitchen, the dead was warm and lively, but the living was distraught and listless.
A long while passed before he finally heard Chu Wanning's familiar voice,
low and even like the shattering of jade and the crumbling of mountains.
"You're here?" "...Yes." "That's good. Just wait at the side for a bit. Once the wontons are done cooking, bring a bowl to Mo Ran." "...!" Mo Ran froze, not understanding what Chu Wanning was saying at all.
He watched as Chu Wanning, feeling around blindly, put the plump, snowwhite wontons one by one into the pot, his face losing its usual sternness in the haziness of steam, looking very gentle instead. He said, "I punished him too harshly yesterday, he probably hates me now. I heard Xue Meng say he's not eating anything, so when you go to deliver this to him, don't tell him I made it. He won't eat it if he knows." Mo Ran's head was a complete mess, as if some secret that had been sleeping for half a lifetime was beginning to stir, was just about to break out of the ground.
"Shizun...." Chu Wanning forced a smile, "I'm afraid I was too strict with him, but that rashness of his really should be tempered… nevermind, get a bowl for me, a thick one if you can. It's cold outside, have to keep the food warm." Just about to break out of the ground, just about to break out of the ground.
It was as if he could hear the faint sound of something shattering in his mind,
and a certain memory finally clawed through its shell, screeching like a ghost as it burst forth and hurtled toward him.
All of a sudden, everything went dark.
Wontons.
Shi Mei.
Shizun.
…...
That was the first time he'd had Shi Mei's wontons. That day, he had mistakenly plucked the precious flower Madam Wang had been growing, and gotten punished by Chu Wanning for it. Tianwen had whipped him bloody, and turned his heart into ash.
He had lain in bed refusing to get up, brooding that he had plucked the flower because he wanted to give it to Shizun, only to get a round of merciless lashing instead. He thought that he must have been blind to have taken to Chu Wanning, that his heart must have been covered in lard to think that Chu Wanning was gentle, that Chu Wanning cared about him.
That was the day when Shi Mei had come to his room holding a bowl of steamy wontons in chili oil. That soft voice, that gentle tone, and that warm bowl of wontons turned all of his disappointment in Shizun into fondness for Shi Mei.
But who could've known…
But who could've known!!!!
That fragment of returned soul stood there next to him. Every deceased person's Human Soul is different when it returns—some are like Luo Xianxian,
coming back to see what happened after their death; some are like that person at Naihe Bridge earlier, without any lingering cares or worries, simply wandering around the place where they lived in a stupor.
Chu Wanning's Human Soul lost its vision, couldn't tell voices apart, and didn't even know which day it was.
He came back to the world of the living probably because he felt that he had done something wrong, made a mistake, and felt bad about it.
Wanted to make up for it.
And so, in the end, Chu Wanning made a decision different from that in life.
He scooped the wontons out and put them in the bowl. The chopped scallions were a jade green, the broth was milky white, and the chili oil poured on top, red and spicy.
He went to hand the bowl over to "Shi Mei", but paused suddenly at the last moment.
"I really was too unkind to him," Chu Wanning murmured.
A few moments passed in silence.
"Nevermind, you don't have to deliver it anymore. I'll go see him myself, and apologize to him." Mo Ran stared blankly, his face ghostly pale.
He had always thought that Shizun was too cold, cold like iron, so cold it froze his heart into ice. He never would have guessed that Shizun was actually kind to him…
That his lingering regret in the living world was him.
——And, to apologize to him.
The ice melted. Turned into water. Became an ocean.
Slowly, Mo Ran lifted his hands and buried his face in them.
His shoulders trembled slightly.
A heart like iron? A heart like iron?
That wasn't it...
Mo Ran's throat felt tight, and a sob escaped as he fell to the ground,
kneeling before the soul that couldn't see him. The Soul-Calling Lantern sat on the ground by his feet as he let out a broken wail, screamed himself hoarse as if he might cry blood, and finally, unable to hold it in any longer, he bawled, loudly and miserably.
He knelt before Chu Wanning.
That wasn't it...
He groveled in the dust, clutching at the hems of Chu Wanning's bloodstained robes.
It wasn't that your heart was cold and hard as iron, it wasn't that I was unyielding and immovable as a rock. It was just that I misjudged in the past,
misunderstood you too much… it was just that...
"Shizun, Shizun…" He wept, curling in on himself. "I'm sorry, I was wrong,
please… please come back with me…" "Shizun… please come back with me, I was wrong, it was my fault. I don't blame you, I don't hate you, it was my fault, always making you angry, if you hit me or scold me in the future, I definitely won't fight back, Shizun, if you just come back, I'll listen to everything you say… I'll respect you, I'll cherish you, I'll treat you right…" But Chu Wanning's robes were gossamer-thin, as if it might shatter at any moment in his hands.
Mo Ran wished he could cut open his own chest and give him his heart, just to hear his heartbeat again. He wished he could drain his own blood to fill his veins, just to see color on his face again.
He would do anything to make up for his mistakes.
"Shizun," his voice broke.
"Let's start over from the beginning, okay…?" In front of the Heaven-Piercing Tower, under that haitang tree.
The zongshi, gentle as a white cat, lifted his head, phoenix eyes widening slightly. The cicadas on the branches chirped two, three times, and the youth before him grinned brightly.
"Xianjun xianjun, I've been watching you for so long already, why won't you pay attention to me?" In the blink of an eye, it had been twenty years, two lifetimes.
All in the past already.
It was greedy and shameless, but he said it—— Shizun, let's start over from the beginning.
Okay?
Please, pay attention to me, won't you…
Author's Notes
Wonton-Jun has used a special method to come online, congratulations to those who guessed it right~
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Translator Notes 🥟 The wontons are 红油抄手 spicy wontons/chaoshou in chili oil, a Sichuan dish