WJ Chapter 125

Ru Fen (3)

Guan Wujue’s face revealed a trace of forlorn helplessness, and after a long moment he said in a very low voice, “Sect Leader makes things difficult for this subordinate. This subordinate truly… truly is unworthy.”

“In that case, we’ll do as we agreed from the beginning.” Yun Changliu seemed to have anticipated this sort of answer long ago. “Since you cannot think of anything, this lord will choose for you — have you taken your medicine this morning?”

“Brother Changliu?” Miss Chanjuan looked Guan Wujue up and down with curiosity. She rarely saw Yun Changliu show such care toward an outsider, and couldn’t help asking a few more questions. “Who is this person? Why are you even giving him your own robes to wear?”

Guan Wujue silently swept his gaze over Yun Chanjuan, then looked away, bowing his head toward Yun Changliu. “I have taken the medicine. I would not dare trouble the Sect Leader with worry.”

In truth, he had crossed paths with this pair of siblings when they were children, and had encountered Yun Danjing on more than one occasion. But time had passed — many years now — and his own appearance and bearing had changed far too much. Guan Wujue did not believe the siblings, who had been so young back then, could truly recognize him.

Sure enough, neither sibling noticed anything amiss about Guan Wujue. What they did find strange, however, was why Yun Changliu had lodged someone in Yangxin Hall. The Sect Leader had no wish to waste words on a detailed explanation, and with just a few brief sentences dismissed his younger brother and sister. He reminded Chanjuan about her studies and gave strict orders that the girl was not to indulge in excessive play. Only after he saw his little sister give her meek assent did he let the two of them withdraw.

Once Danjing and Chanjuan had left, Yun Changliu had no further interest in reviewing documents. He waved for Wen Feng to clear away the brushes, ink, paper and inkstone, then pointed to the seat on his right and said to Guan Wujue, “Sit.”

Guan Wujue hesitated for just a moment.

He had half a mind to decline, but in the end quietly went and sat down.

He had a quiet feeling that the Sect Leader was about to lay his cards on the table…

Ten days ago, he had once again failed to hold on long enough to make it back to Ghost Gate, and had collapsed outside Yangxin Hall — right into the Sect Leader’s arms. Illness had struck like a mountain crumbling; he had burned with fever in a daze of darkness, his mind wandering in confusion. It was only after two or three days, when he had improved slightly, that he found himself still lying in the side chamber of Yangxin Hall — and he had nearly tumbled off the bed in shock.

It was Yun Changliu who had insisted on keeping him here to recover, his determination terrifying in its resolve. Even when Guan Wujue had knelt and begged the Sect Leader to let him leave, it had been no use.

And that was not all. Two days later, the Sect Leader had walked to his bedside in person, shown him the red-stamped decree from Ghost Gate, and told him something like a thunderbolt from a clear sky —

He was no longer a Yin Ghost.

As for what he should do from now on — in the Sect Leader’s own words: Think about it yourself first. If you cannot think of anything, this lord will think for you.

In that moment, Guan Wujue had looked at the composed and unruffled Sect Leader and felt as though the sky itself were falling.

What a thing to say — of course it was impossible for him to think of anything. And so he had delayed again and again, somehow managing to while away a full ten days in Yangxin Hall…

Until today.

Yun Changliu shifted his posture and turned sideways to look at Guan Wujue. “Since you truly cannot think of anything, you will have to listen to this lord, won’t you?”

What other choice did Guan Wujue have? Even though the tone of Yun Changliu’s voice had already begun to make him uneasy, he could only press down the overwhelming sense of foreboding and say with some difficulty, “Yes… this subordinate ought to listen to the Sect Leader.”

Yun Changliu composed his expression. “Yesterday this lord went to ask Father about something. The Zhuyin Sect once had a position called the Four Directions Protector, who held authority over coordination and oversight, stood apart from the Two Gates, Two Halls, and Thirteen Branch Halls, and was bound by nothing — answering only to the Sect Leader’s commands. Regrettably, the position was abolished many years ago, as it was deemed to hold too much power…”

At first, as Guan Wujue listened, he thought Yun Changliu was joking.

Until the Sect Leader spoke with a perfectly blank expression and delivered his verdict with finality. “Having heard all of this, this lord finds it excellent. That is what it shall be.”

“…”

Guan Wujue was struck dumb for several full breaths.

He was completely stunned — forgetting even the distinction between superior and subordinate — and stared blankly at Yun Changliu, looking at him again and again.

The Sect Leader’s expression was serious. He did not seem to be feigning.

Guan Wujue panicked at once, at a complete loss. “Surely the Sect Leader is not toying with this subordinate! This subordinate is of Yin Ghost origin — how… how could this be fitting?”

Yun Changliu said, “Why would it not be fitting? For a Yin Ghost to be promoted beyond their station is not unheard of.”

Guan Wujue said urgently, “But…!”

But no matter how exceptional the promotion, there was no precedent for a death warrior being elevated directly to the rank of Protector!

What baffled Guan Wujue even more was this: that Yun Changliu acted as he pleased was one thing — but how had Yun Guyan also given this a push? Shouldn’t the Old Sect Leader want him kept as far from the Sect Leader as possible?

Even Wen Feng at the side found it too extraordinary to fathom. “Sect Leader, this… forgive Wen Feng for speaking plainly — is this not too outrageous a promotion?”

He was certainly not questioning Guan Wujue’s abilities. The personal attendant was simply worried that this recklessness on the Sect Leader’s part would once again invite a collective uprising of opposition, and could not help advising. “Why must you be in such a hurry…?”

These words of Wen Feng’s happened, quite by accident, to hit very close to the truth.

Yun Changliu was indeed in a hurry. That stubborn man Wujue had far too little regard for his own life. If he were left to remain in Ghost Gate, he would be dead within a few months. The rank itself was a minor matter — what mattered was getting the person out of Ghost Gate first, stripping him of this identity as a death warrior. Everything else could wait and be dealt with slowly.

It was for precisely this reason that Yun Changliu had deliberately chosen to reinstate the Four Directions Protector — a position that had been abolished for many years.

It may have sounded like something trifling, but in truth he had already turned it over in his mind for many days. Since the Four Directions Protector was an abolished position, was not the matter of how much power it carried entirely for him, the current Sect Leader, to decide?

If Guan Wujue indeed had the ability, what would be wrong with granting him a position second only to the Sect Leader himself? And if he had been unlucky enough to misjudge the man, he could simply treat the Protector role as something akin to a personal guard — there would be no great harm in that either.

But going by his principle of saying as little as could be managed, Yun Changliu had no intention of explaining these careful deliberations to Wen Feng one by one. He simply held firm. “This lord’s mind is made up. There is no need for further words.”

Guan Wujue slid straight down from his chair and knelt rigidly at Yun Changliu’s feet. “Sect Leader, please reconsider!”

Yun Changliu was utterly exasperated. By now the Sect Leader had privately concluded that this man must be somewhat troubled in the head. Not daring to push too hard, he could only adopt a coaxing and patient tone to guide him gently:

“Have you not always said that living in this Yangxin Hall is against all propriety, and begged this lord every single day to let you leave? Accept the conferral sooner, and this lord can arrange proper lodgings for you.”

Guan Wujue weakly protested. “This subordinate… could return to Ghost Gate…”

“Return to Ghost Gate,” said Yun Changliu, his expression gentle, his tone unyielding. “Do not even think about it.”

“There is not enough time to build a new courtyard now. Changsheng Pavilion, where this lord lived as a child, has already been ordered renovated. You will make do there for the time being.”

Changsheng Pavilion…! The Sect Leader was actually going to give him even the Changsheng Pavilion where he had lived since childhood? Guan Wujue clenched his jaw and knelt there in agitated distress. “What virtue or ability does this subordinate possess… to truly bear such profound favour from the Sect Leader…”

“Oh?” Yun Changliu said, cool and distant. “Must this lord also seek others’ leave regarding whom to favour?”

Guan Wujue was left speechless. At this moment he almost wanted to speak plainly to Yun Changliu — to tell him that he had been reduced to a broken ghost for good reason, that the damage to his body was too severe, that he had no prospect of living much longer, and was not worth the Sect Leader’s careful attention.

But the words reached the tip of his tongue, and he swallowed them back down.

All of a sudden, he felt unwilling. A deep unwillingness — the kind that felt as though every organ in his chest were being wrung tight with something sharp and sour.

He wasn’t truly finished yet. He could still hold a sword. Even if it were only half a year, a year at most — he still wanted to do what little he could for the Sect Leader.

If serving as this Four Directions Protector could better share the Sect Leader’s burdens…

“…Yes.” Guan Wujue finally reined in his expression of helpless distress. He settled his turbulent thoughts, and slowly bowed down in a deep prostration. “This subordinate… thanks the Sect Leader for this great grace.”

“Very good. There is no rush to offer thanks,” said Yun Changliu, a trace of pleasure crossing his face. He waved for him to rise from the courtesy. “This lord still has something to give you. Wen Feng — go and fetch them.”

The personal attendant went into the inner chamber and returned shortly carrying two boxes. One was slightly larger and long and slender; the other slightly smaller and square. Yun Changliu gestured for Wen Feng to set them before Guan Wujue, and said gravely, “Wujue.”

“Tomorrow this lord intends to hold the Investiture Ceremony for you. After the ceremony, you will be the Four Directions Protector of the Zhuyin Sect.”

“These two items are this lord’s rewards to you in advance. Do not fail this lord’s great expectations.”

“Open them and look.”

Guan Wujue answered in assent, drew a deep breath, and raised the longer box carefully with both hands first.

It was extraordinarily heavy to the touch. He lifted the lid slowly — and at once a flash of stunning, brilliant light spilled forth from the box. A pair of exquisite dark-gold twin swords lay quietly within.

Yun Changliu said, “These two swords are a matched yin-and-yang pair. The left-hand yin sword is named Pixing, and the right-hand yang sword is named Daiyue — perfectly suited to you.”

What the Sect Leader did not say was that these swords had been forged by a descendant of the renowned bladesmithing Hu family, and had been the most precious single piece of spoils among the ransoms sent by the Three Sects and Five Orders. The moment he had laid eyes on them the day before, he had had Wen Feng intercept them midway and bring them to Yangxin Hall to be sealed away, waiting precisely for today to give them as a gift.

But just because Yun Changliu did not say it did not mean Guan Wujue lacked the eye to recognize their worth. He was still staring, transfixed, at the pair of treasured swords — worrying about what he would do if he were to die somewhere out there one day and lose something so precious — when he heard Yun Changliu speak again:

“There is still one more. Open it as well.”

Guan Wujue set aside his thoughts for now and lifted the lid of the smaller square box.

He had thought to himself that this time, whatever earth-shattering thing lay inside, he would not be surprised.

But what was inside this small box was not something earth-shattering. It could not even compare to the pair of dark-gold twin swords from before.

It was only a robe.

The silk was smooth and lustrous, its colour a rich, true crimson, with jet-black thread tracing the slanting branches of winter plum. It was an exquisitely beautiful robe of ink-dark plum and red.

That vivid crimson surged into his eyes like a wave of fire. In an instant, Guan Wujue felt a deafening roar fill his ears. Some emotion, vast and surging as a great tide, overturned every faculty of his mind.

Red…

The Sect Leader was giving him red robes…!?

All composure shattered, all steadiness gone, Guan Wujue felt as though he had fallen into a dream, and as though bewitched he stroked that red robe gently, over and over. Fair pale fingers against deep crimson silk — like a painting of white snow and red plum.

In his mind, it seemed as though something burst open in a shower of brilliant colour.

A blaze of fire-trees and silver flowers.

— “Lin’er, let us be wed!”

He had thought he had forgotten.

— “Go home today and tell Father, and tomorrow we can hold the wedding. We will also wear red together, bow to heaven and earth, drink the wedding cup, and be together for the rest of our lives!”

He had thought he could forget.

— “I want to be close to you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.”

He had thought he had truly severed himself from all that came before.

Yun Changliu’s voice drifted to him, now near, now far:

“Now that you are to be this lord’s Protector, you can hardly go on dressing like a Yin Ghost. This lord privately thought you would look well in red — and as it happened, there were still a few bolts of vermilion Zhuque silk in the stores, so a few days ago I had someone make up this outer robe…”

He had spent five full years of cruel time sealing away those old memories, had built an iron wall around his heart, holding blood in, enduring pain.

“Put away that black armour and stop using the Armor Wound-Lock Technique. Do you hear me?”

He could exchange wounds for blood without hesitation. He could kneel and speak the self-debasing words he had once most despised. He had never felt aggrieved, never harboured resentment at the memory of what had been, never suffered from the enormity of all that had changed…

And so he had truly believed he had let it all go.

But why then? All those scars branded in Ghost Gate, those countless sleepless nights of pain with no light in sight, all those vows he had spoken to himself, one by one…

As it turned out, all it took was this single split-second of lightning — and everything came crashing down, reduced to nothing.

…

The next day, the golden sun blazed with splendour, and ten thousand li of sky were clear of clouds.

That day, the mountain wind of Mount Shenlie swept through the whole of Xifeng City.

Yun Changliu, who had once not even bothered to prepare a proper inauguration ceremony for his own succession, once again broke precedent against all expectation — he raised the Candle Dragon banner for this investiture.

Guan Wujue chose his red robe with great care, bound his hair beneath a golden crown, and finally draped that ink-dark plum-patterned crimson robe around his shoulders, ascending the long stone steps of Yangxin Hall one by one.

When the newly invested Protector in red lifted his gaze, he saw his own reflection clearly mirrored in Yun Changliu’s bright, clear eyes.

He thought quietly to himself:

Young Sect Leader — Ah Ku has put on red for you.

This gravely wounded body cannot last long. I cannot accompany you for a lifetime. But at the very least — for however many days I am still alive, I will wear red for you for every one of them.

Young Sect Leader, do not blame Ah Ku. Do not blame me for deceiving you then, and for breaking my promise after — I clearly came back to find you. It was you who would not have me. It was you who forgot me.

But it was not that Ah Ku was unwilling to wed you. Please do not blame me.

From now on I will no longer make medicine for you. I will be your Protector and kill on your behalf. I do not ask you to dote on me or shelter me, do not ask you to hold me dear. I want nothing. I ask only that you live well…

When the Sect Leader pronounced the investiture with his own lips, Guan Wujue went down on one knee, bowing his head deeply before Yun Changliu, his oath of loyalty ringing out with solemn and devout resolve.

The light breeze stirred the hem of his red robe — rising, then falling.

…

That day, the newly invested Four Directions Protector moved into his new lodgings.

The Changsheng Pavilion of former days. Now named Qingjue Residence.

That night, Guan Wujue lit a candle alone and sat before the table, staring at his own shadow stretched long across the wall. His face held neither sorrow nor joy.

The surroundings were utterly silent. He rose slowly, stood up, and went outside.

A short while later, when he returned, Guan Wujue was carrying a jug of wine and a wine cup.

And so, by the dim candlelight, he poured for himself and drank alone.

Not much — only a small single cup.

After that, Guan Wujue seemed as though he had fulfilled some long-held wish. With a contented smile on his lips, he blew out the candle.

He stood up, felt his way in the darkness to tidy away the wine things, hung the Pixing and Daiyue twin swords at the head of the bed, then carefully folded the ink-plum crimson robe, climbed into bed, closed his eyes, and slept.

Guan Wujue did not sleep very soundly, yet he did not toss and turn. Only at the third watch of the night he shifted his head slightly on the pillow, and with a faint, uncomfortable furrow of his brow, let out a quiet sigh in his sleep.

Deep into the night, stars and moon had retreated into hiding.

Of all those solemn vows made in those days, in the end only one person remained.

One person’s red robe.

One person’s bow.

One person’s wine — with no cup exchanged.

One person. The long, long night. A solitary pillow. Sleeping alone.