Water droplets fell from her eyelashes.
Xing Shuishui couldn’t identify her emotions as she turned her head and spoke calmly: “Haven’t you all known who that cultivator was?”
The ghost officer smirked. It was deliberate.
How could such an expression appear on this dead thing’s face?
Xing Shuishui looked at He Liansheng and spoke hoarsely: “How many more things are you hiding from me?”
“Let’s go,” he said, avoiding her question.
He gently pulled at her sleeve, but she didn’t move, standing on their shadows as her sleeves waved in the wind.
He Liansheng spoke softly: “Being stubborn?”
Xing Shuishui raised her hand to wipe the dust from his face. “He Liansheng.”
Her face drew infinitely closer, her voice fading near his ear.
He Liansheng gripped her wrist and asked: “What do you want to say?”
Xing Shuishui lowered her brows and spoke softly: “He Liansheng—surname He Lian, given name Sheng, from Lingshan, likes Xing Shuishui. During all those years we spent together, I missed home, and I missed you too. So can we stay together from now on?”
He Liansheng’s pupils shifted as his fingertips touched her cheek. She blinked gently and stood on her tiptoes, bringing her face closer until their shadows overlapped.
Before her was the young man’s face—fair skin and dark eyes, with a prominent forehead mark like cinnabar. His fingers traced from her ear to her chin, his eyes full of possessiveness. His messy bangs pressed against her cheek as he said: “Shuishui, you’re wonderful.”
Then it was settled—they would stay together from now on.
Xing Shuishui smiled: “Will you kiss my cheek?”
He Liansheng suddenly withdrew his hand and said: “No.”
Xing Shuishui spoke without restraint: “You want to sleep with me, so why won’t you even kiss my face?”
“…”
He Liansheng suddenly lowered his hand. His lips moved, and looking at his eyes, Xing Shuishui remembered their only kiss when He Liansheng was under the Dream Cicada’s influence—a farewell kiss in the mirror illusion where she told him to quickly find his real self.
Was he afraid… something bad would happen again?
She tilted her head and asked carefully: “He Liansheng, then can I kiss you?”
“Let’s go to the Wangchuan River.”
Xing Shuishui froze.
He Liansheng’s shadow quickly pulled away from beneath her feet as the young man turned, walking several steps ahead of her.
The ghost officer’s paper lantern swayed.
Xing Shuishui counted his footsteps as she ran to grab his fingers, lowering her gaze.
They could kiss another time. She had never been to the Wangchuan River and was always curious about it, but when she finally saw it, it was just an ordinary river with overgrown weeds and flower lanterns floating on its surface.
Above the river was a bridge called Naihe.
Those who were reincarnating would cross it,
Drink Meng Po’s soup, forget love and hate, and sever their past ties.
Only the foolish remained, waiting for those who should return but never could.
It was a new life.
One could ask if there were regrets.
But perhaps no one could answer.
Xing Shuishui took out the City Lord’s token and explained their purpose to the old woman by the bridge. The old woman paused, then pointed to someone brewing tea by the riverside, saying: “That’s the real Immortal Meng.”
She turned to see a beautiful woman pouring tea. The teacups were empty, and there was no tea in the pot—it was quite peculiar. Immortal Meng was young, wearing neither black nor white, but rather a flowing, iridescent immortal robe. Like all divine officials, she was immortal and ageless.
Xing Shuishui approached and was about to speak politely when Immortal Meng turned her eyes and tapped the small teacup with her nail-painted fingers. Several stools and small teacups appeared before them.
“I know why you’ve come. Please sit.”
So everyone sat down. Now the teapot wasn’t empty, pouring out steaming tea, though no one dared to drink it—after all, this was the bank of the Wangchuan River, and they feared what drinking might do to them.
Li Guanhang carefully observed the river water: “I’ve read about it in Lingshan’s records, but I never imagined the Wangchuan River water would truly be black.”
Li Guanyu smiled: “Just look, don’t touch. This river water is dangerous.”
Xing Shuishui also stared at the Wangchuan River—black water with red flowers, no wind or waves, and no passing boats. As they say, the stillest waters are the most dangerous. The Wangchuan River had not even a ripple—was there something underneath?
Immortal Meng saw her confusion and said calmly: “There’s nothing below, just dead water. But if you fall in by accident, no one will help fish you out.”
Xing Shuishui turned her teacup in her fingers, thinking who would run into the Wangchuan River for no reason?
Immortal Meng looked at her: “I know who you are, little sister. You’ve come to the Wangchuan River to restore your sister’s past ties?”
She nodded, taking out the jade token from the City Lord. Unexpectedly, Immortal Meng didn’t even look at it, grabbing the City Lord’s token and throwing it into the river. The surface didn’t even ripple, making it even stranger. Xing Shuishui was also surprised. It seemed Immortal Meng didn’t have a good relationship with the City Lord.
Immortal Meng said: “The Wangchuan has a rule—all who reincarnate must drink Meng Po’s soup to forget their past ties. If they refuse, they must forcefully cross the Wangchuan River. If you want your sister to remember her past life, then you must cross the Wangchuan River yourself.”
Xing Shuishui asked: “Is crossing the river that simple?”
“Crossing the river is actually very difficult.”
As the tea cooled, Immortal Meng said: “You must cross alone, without aid of a boat. Those who cross will endure the suffering of tongue-pulling, scissors, iron trees, karma mirrors, steam cages, bronze pillars, blade mountains, ice, oil cauldrons, blood pools, and dismemberment…”
Xing Shuishui heard this and realized it was like experiencing all eighteen levels of hell at once. Her mouth fell open, nearly dropping her teacup: “Then surely no one can cross this river? Unless they’re a demon or the ghost of a dead cultivator.”
Immortal Meng used magic to catch the cup and replied: “There have been some. I remember one soul who was neither demon nor cultivator, but a mortal soul. He was a general in life, never married or had a family, and just kept waiting at the Naihe Bridge for someone for nearly a hundred years.
“I don’t know what happened to the person he was waiting for in the mortal realm, but their soul couldn’t return to Fengdu, so he went searching, forcefully crossing the Wangchuan River several times. At the time, the river water was stained red with his blood, moving several divine officials who thought about sparing him the suffering of crossing in his next reincarnation.
“Unfortunately, when he returned to the Naihe Bridge one last time, he didn’t try to cross the Wangchuan River again, but voluntarily drank Meng Po’s soup. Perhaps after searching for several lifetimes without finding them, he gave up.”
After speaking, she suddenly looked at He Liansheng. The young man held the Taoyuan sword, never touching his teacup. His headband and forehead cloth were both crimson, like the red flowers by the Wangchuan River, while his white clothes draped down from the stool, giving him the air of a noble warrior. His expression remained unchanged.
Hearing this tragedy, Xing Shuishui rested her chin in her hand, feeling somewhat sorry.
One could escape the prison of the Wangchuan.
But not the tomb of one’s own heart.
She wondered what feelings that ghost had when he finally drank that bowl of Meng Po’s soup—it must have been very painful.
He Liansheng didn’t care about what had happened here before, only asking: “Must this river be crossed?”
He raised his eyelids slightly, his gaze cool.
Xing Shuishui understood that with He Liansheng’s personality, he would least want her to endure such meaningless suffering.
Immortal Meng answered: “These past memories don’t have to be remembered. Isn’t that right?”
He Liansheng stood up and said softly: “I’ll cross in her place.”
Immortal Meng replied irritably: “Is that your sister or her sister?”
After a long silence.
He Liansheng still didn’t back down: “It’s her sister. But she’s afraid of water.”
He even remembered that.
Xing Shuishui was speechless. She took off the mirror hanging at her waist and gave it to Li Guanyu, then tightened the red string fixed to her braid’s end, shaking her head: “I’ll do it myself.”
Sensing He Liansheng’s expression change, she reached out and tapped his forehead mark, saying: “He Liansheng, stop always trying to take the lead for me. Seeing you hurt makes my heart ache too!”
He Liansheng cut his finger, and Xing Shuishui smelled blood as he patiently drew a water-repelling talisman on her forehead. She could tell he was still unhappy. He Liansheng, don’t worry, everything will be fine.
Although she was mentally prepared, when Xing Shuishui stepped barefoot into the Wangchuan River water, she still felt uneasy.
The river water was bone-chillingly cold, and even with the water-repelling talisman, the torment of eighteen hells could not be avoided.
She felt each of her meridians being plucked like strings, manipulated by the waves, as hot and cold sensations overwhelmed her body. The back of her neck instantly broke out in sweat, but Xing Shuishui still had to grit her teeth and swim forward. A white light flashed from the cloud pattern on her wrist, somewhat relieving the intense pain in her body.
In her hazy consciousness, she couldn’t help but think of the ghost who had crossed the Wangchuan River several times a hundred years ago, wondering what incredible determination that must have taken.
He Liansheng finally entered the Wangchuan River too, carrying her on his back as he slowly crossed.
“He Liansheng?”
“Don’t talk.”
The black water rippled, creating clear wave patterns. The flower lanterns floating on the river’s surface glowed dimly.
Xing Shuishui was completely soaked, her skirts floating on the water’s surface while half her body remained submerged. She held onto He Liansheng’s neck with half-opened eyes.
“How are you acting like nothing’s wrong?”
The young man’s expression remained indifferent, as if this wasn’t the Wangchuan River but just an ordinary river.
He Liansheng’s lips curved slightly: “Because I need to get you across.”
Long after his words fell, it began to rain. Even the Wangchuan River could have rain.
She held He Liansheng tighter: “Don’t do this again next time. You need to be kinder to yourself.”
He Liansheng said softly: “This is how it must be.”
Xing Shuishui froze, her arms around him turning pale: “I owe you so much—how can I ever repay you?”
“…”
He Liansheng’s lips moved, only saying: “You don’t owe me anything—”
Xing Shuishui interrupted, telling him very seriously: “Stop saying it’s because you’re willing. Love should be mutual, He Liansheng.”
She buried her head in his shoulder, saying: “If possible, I want to take you back to Jiangsu. I never lied to you—that place really exists, but unfortunately, it’s my homeland that I can’t return to.”
He asked: “Are you homesick again?”
Xing Shuishui shook her head. This was her home now.
He Liansheng suddenly asked: “About that story just now—don’t you think the person waiting at the Naihe Bridge was a bit foolish? Waiting for a mortal would be one thing, but what if it was a cultivator or demon? They live for tens of thousands of years.”
Xing Shuishui paused for a moment before answering: “I don’t think it was foolish. I just think it’s a pity. He Liansheng, if you were a mortal in this life, you would wait for me that long too. So I just hope they can meet again in their next life.”
He Liansheng didn’t speak for a long time.
Xing Shuishui just quietly lay on his back, lowering her eyes and thinking that he had waited five years for her in this life too.
Thinking of it this way made her feel a bit better.
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