Chereads / Descension (BL Xianxia Fantasy Romance) / Chapter 98 - Final Farewell (Part 2)

Chapter 98 - Final Farewell (Part 2)

I stayed with Jinjing through the night, the bitter chill of dawn creeping into my bones as her lifeless form rested against me. Her pale face, once full of warmth and quiet determination, was now devoid of life, her features unnaturally still. The soft rustle of leaves and distant cries of night creatures filled the air, but my world was silent, consumed by grief.

As the first light of morning broke across the horizon, Ruan Yanjun approached, his presence as commanding as ever. "You should lay her down properly," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fix her position before her body stiffens."

My hands trembled as I obeyed, carefully arranging her as though she were simply sleeping. My movements were slow, deliberate. I didn't want to let her go, but I knew I had no choice.

When the sun climbed higher into the sky, Ruan Yanjun addressed Xiong Juan, who stood nearby with his hands clasped behind his back. "Return to Sindu," he commanded. His voice was calm but unyielding, the authority of his words absolute. "Inform them not to worry about their crown prince. He is under my custody now and will be guarded day and night."

Xiong Juan cupped his hands, bowing deeply to Ruan Yanjun. "Understood," he said, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air. Then, he turned to me and held out a small purse, its weight betraying the gold coins within.

"This belongs to her," Xiong Juan said. "I picked it up from the ground before I took her away."

The sight of it made my stomach churn. The purse—a trivial object—had been the cause of her death, the price of betrayal and desperation. My hand instinctively recoiled. "Keep it," I muttered bitterly, unable to bear its presence.

"She gave her life for this," Xiong Juan said evenly. "She earned it. If you don't want it, give it to her family."

Her family. The memory of Jinjing's son, small and innocent, flashed through my mind. Whatever her faults, she had been his mother, and he would need this. Even if she had earned it by selling me out, the coins were hers—rightfully his now.

I nodded stiffly, taking the purse from Xiong Juan's outstretched hand.

"And this," he added, producing a pair of delicate vials filled with a faintly glowing liquid. "Concentrated light energy. Take it if your dark core runs rampant again."

I hesitated, staring at the elixirs. The reminder of my earlier rampage and near collapse struck me like a blade to the chest. My dark energy had consumed me, raging uncontrollably, while my light energy had nearly faded away. That I was still alive was a testament to someone's intervention—likely Xiong Juan's.

"You balanced my cores," I said softly, realization dawning.

"It was necessary," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

I bowed my head, swallowing my pride. "Thank you."

With that, we exchanged brief farewells. Xiong Juan departed, leaving behind a void that was quickly filled by the sound of hooves on dirt. Two carriages approached, their sleek forms painted in muted colors. Huang Wen, his face etched with sorrow, dismounted and approached me.

"I've brought the carriages," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Priest Luo."

I nodded in acknowledgment, my voice caught in my throat. Together, we carried Jinjing's lifeless body into one of the carriages. Huang Wen handed me a clean sheet, which I used to cover her form. The fabric felt cold and impersonal against her, and my heart ached anew.

"I want to take her to the burial ground myself," I told Ruan Yanjun as he stood nearby, observing me with unreadable eyes. "I will dig her grave as my final act of devotion."

His gaze hardened, his expression a mixture of displeasure and restrained understanding. For a moment, I thought he might refuse, but he simply gestured toward the carriage. "Get in," he said curtly.

I climbed inside and sat beside Jinjing, the world outside slipping into irrelevance. As the carriage rolled forward, the rhythmic creak of its wheels underscored the silence between us. I stroked her hair with trembling fingers, committing every detail of her face to memory.

The journey stretched on, but I stayed by her side, wishing I could freeze this moment in time, even as I dreaded the inevitable—her final farewell to this world.

 

 

*****

 

RUAN YANJUN

 

I stood at a distance, arms behind my back, watching Luo Fan dig the grave as he had promised. His body trembled with exhaustion, the sweat on his brow catching the late afternoon light. Huang Wen had tried earlier to help, but Luo Fan had waved him off with a quiet yet firm insistence. He was determined to do this alone, even as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

I scowled, a storm of conflicting emotions twisting within me. I couldn't decide if I felt angry, irritated, or something far more difficult to name. Watching him pour the last remnants of his strength into this task, punishing himself as though it were penance, left a bitter taste in my mouth.

This woman—Jinjing—had betrayed him. She had sold him out to his enemies, and yet here he was, risking his health, perhaps even his life, to dig her grave. His devotion was absurd, maddening even. What kind of fool grieved so deeply for someone who had wronged him so completely?

This wasn't righteousness—it was madness.

The hollow sound of his shovel striking the dirt echoed in the air, each scrape grating against my already-frayed nerves. My hands curled into fists at my sides, but I forced myself to stay silent.

Finally, as the grave was finished, the funeral guild's carriage arrived, its wheels creaking as it came to a halt. Two attendants stepped out, carrying a coffin between them. Jinjing was already inside, her body washed and dressed in white ceremonial robes. She looked far more serene in death than she ever had in life.

Another carriage pulled up behind it, this one carrying a monk to perform the burial rites. As the monk descended, I let out a quiet sigh. Of all the places to find myself, standing at the edge of a burial for a woman who had been a prostitute and a traitor was not what I had anticipated.

Yet, here I was.

When the ceremony began, I took my place behind Luo Fan, the two of us standing before the coffin. The monk lit sticks of incense and chanted, his voice low and melodic, carrying words of release and peace to the heavens. I bowed my head and held the incense, going through the motions even as my mind wandered.

It had been decades since I last attended a burial. I hated them. I hadn't even gone to the burial of the late crown prince of Xianru, yet here I stood, enduring this for Luo Fan. The thought alone made my teeth clench.

But I endured it, because I needed him to fulfill his part of our bargain. After this, he would have no choice but to come with me without complaint. It was a means to an end, I reminded myself. Nothing more.

And yet, when Luo Fan opened the coffin and pressed a kiss to Jinjing's cold, lifeless forehead, I felt something shift inside me. My jaw tightened, and a heat I couldn't name flared in my chest.

Why did it bother me so much?

She was a corpse, her soul already gone. Yet, seeing the tenderness in his gesture, the way his grief poured from him in waves, filled me with an irrational envy I couldn't suppress.

The funeral guild staff helped lower the coffin into the grave, their movements careful and deliberate. As soon as it was in place, Luo Fan took the shovel and began filling the hole himself. Dirt cascaded down, each shovelful accompanied by the quiet murmur of the monk's final prayers.

When it was done, Luo Fan collapsed to the ground beside the freshly packed earth. He sat there, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. Dirt streaked his face and robes, and his hair clung to his damp forehead. He looked utterly spent, a man broken by his grief.

The attendants placed a bouquet of flowers and a simple marble marker over the grave before departing with the monk. Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the faint rustle of wind through the trees.

Luo Fan didn't move. He remained seated, staring at the grave as though his soul were buried with her.

I gave him a few moments, knowing he needed this closure, but my patience had its limits. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, and the last thing I wanted was to be caught in the wilderness after nightfall.

"We'll lose the light soon," I said as I approached. My voice was even, though I felt far from calm. "We have to go."

For a moment, he didn't respond, his stillness bordering on defiance. Then, slowly, he raised his head. His eyes, red-rimmed and haunted, didn't meet mine. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the grave one last time before standing.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the carriage, his steps heavy with exhaustion.

I watched him go, my chest tightening with emotions I refused to name. As much as I hated seeing him like this, a part of me couldn't deny the strange ache that lingered—a sharp pang of something dangerously close to jealousy.