WJ Chapter 84.1

Ge Sheng (3.1)

Ten li south of Xifeng City stood a vermillion-red pavilion.

Yun Changliu had always rarely descended the mountain. In the past, whenever major affairs arose in the outside world that required someone from the sect to maintain appearances, it was mostly Guan Wujue, the Protector, who made these trips on his behalf. When the Four Directions Protector left the sect on business, he would often be gone for several months at a time. If his return happened to coincide with a time when the Sect Leader had leisure, Yun Changliu would wait here to welcome the Protector.

And Yun Changliu was clearly a Sect Leader who lived quite leisurely—days of “having nothing to do” made up the majority, and he would come here to receive the person almost every time.

After doing this many times, it became a habit. Later, even if he truly encountered busy days, the Sect Leader would inevitably squeeze out time to wait here specifically to personally receive the Protector back to the sect.

This time, Yun Changliu still decided to wait here for his Protector to return.

His mental state was very strange, seeming to exist in an interweaving of dazed confusion and calmness. He appeared to be awake, with his five senses clear, yet he had no reaction to things in the outside world and couldn’t hear Wen Feng’s attempts to persuade him to return.

He was squeezing out the very last bit of vitality from his entire body, using it solely to do this one thing.

He wanted to see, in this place—this place where he had countless times waited for Guan Wujue to return—to once again personally watch the red-robed Protector approach from afar, walk to a place within arm’s reach beside him, and smile at him.

That would be enough.

The sun gradually rose higher.

Everything around was bright; that winding mountain path was clearly visible.

The mountain path was silent—no sound of horse hooves, no one came.

Yun Changliu waited patiently. He had originally wanted to stand, but his physical strength was insufficient after all, so he could only sit.

Wen Feng felt both anxious and pained. Looking at the Sect Leader’s posture, it was as if he was certain that Guan Wujue would definitely return today and wouldn’t give up until he saw him. But the Protector… never mind whether he could return to the sect or not—they didn’t even know if the Protector was alive or dead right now!

At this moment, the attendant couldn’t care about propriety. He grasped Yun Changliu’s shoulders and made him look at himself. “Sect Leader, let’s go back… I beg you, you won’t be able to wait for him like this!”

Yun Changliu stared at Wen Feng for a long while before giving any response.

He stubbornly shook his head.

“Wen Feng will have people keep watch here. If the Protector returns, we’ll immediately have them report to Yangxin Hall…” Wen Feng said urgently. “Sect Leader, let’s go back. At worst, when the Protector truly arrives, you can come out to greet him then!”

Yun Changliu was silent for a long time again, then suddenly asked, “Go back to do what?”

He said listlessly, “Lie down and wait to die?”

Wen Feng’s throat choked up at once.

He pulled his lips into a forced smile, but his face showed a very sorrowful expression, as if he would cry in the next moment.

What could he say? During this time, he had personally watched how Yun Changliu suffered torture on the edge of life and death. He watched the Sect Leader remain unconscious for long periods, in such pain that he wished for death yet couldn’t die, drinking the most bitter medicine every day just to prolong his life, vomiting blood until he couldn’t breathe and would pass out.

But today the Sect Leader had energy—he could relax his brows and smile, he walked out from the medicine-scented sleeping quarters, walked to this pavilion fragrant with birdsong and flowers, gazing distantly at the green mountains. It seemed that just waiting for someone here made him joyful…

Wen Feng’s heart was full of bitterness. He had originally thought that if the Sect Leader stubbornly refused to listen to persuasion, he would knock him unconscious first and carry him back—he couldn’t allow the Sect Leader to torment himself with his own life like this.

But now, he could no longer bear to say another word.

……

Birds sang and chirped, a gentle breeze blew, carrying the fragrance of peach blossoms.

At this time, the peach blossoms at the foot of the mountain should already be in full bloom. But this place was high on the mountain—most of the peach blossoms by the vermillion pavilion had just begun to bud, with only a few early blossoms scattered on the branches.

The fragrance of peach blossoms wasn’t as rich and profound as plum blossoms, but rather light, containing a faint hint of sweetness.

Like the initial hazy and innocent feelings of a young person.

Yun Changliu quietly gazed at the peach branches, remembering how years ago he had pressed Wujue against the stone table here to kiss him.

The Sect Leader reminisced and began to drift off, silently thinking to himself: Back then, his Protector had been so beautiful.

The stone bench under the pavilion had no backrest. After sitting for a while he couldn’t maintain it, and could only support himself with both hands on the table corners, leaning his upper body forward to keep from falling.

He hadn’t been able to eat anything for several days now; even his hands and feet were ice-cold. Wen Feng brought over a bowl asking him to at least drink some hot water. The Sect Leader had just swallowed a few mouthfuls when he began to cough, and in the end vomited it all out along with blood.

After vomiting blood, Yun Changliu calmly used a handkerchief to wipe the corners of his lips clean, waving his hand to say forget it.

It wasn’t for any other reason—the Sect Leader was thinking: I might have to wait a whole day, and if I keep vomiting blood like this, what if I couldn’t hold on?

One day—just how long was one day?

That round sun slowly climbed from the east to overhead, then slowly turned westward.

Time flowed forward unhurriedly. This day was an ordinary day, no different from previous days.

By afternoon, Yun Changliu had already exhausted his physical strength in this boring, monotonous waiting.

His chest rose and fell weakly, his whole person slumped over the cold stone table, yet his spirits were still good, without the slightest impatience or anxiety.

The Sect Leader had a hint of a smile at the corners of his eyes, talking with Wen Feng in a weak voice with considerable interest. Sometimes he spoke of how years ago when he came here to receive the Protector, that person would mischievously tease him; other times he mentioned old matters from when Wujue first emerged from the Ghost Gate.

His words were confused and incoherent; sometimes even the attendant couldn’t quite understand what he was saying.

Seeing Yun Changliu like this, Wen Feng’s heart ached unbearably. He knew the Sect Leader’s consciousness was probably truly becoming unclear.

The sun set.

Yun Changliu’s whole body began to tremble uncontrollably. He only felt his eyelids were so heavy he couldn’t lift them. His long lashes fluttered down again and again; it seemed he was about to faint.

Wen Feng ran up from below the pavilion and tightly wrapped a newly fetched cloak around Yun Changliu’s thin shoulders.

He stared at the long, desolate shadow under the pavilion eaves. After holding back for a long while, he suddenly began to sob. “Sect Leader… I beg you to go back after all… If the Protector saw you like this he would go mad. Let’s go back, let’s go back…”

Yun Changliu shook his head, exhaling words with weak breath. “This lord must wait for the Protector to return… He will return today.”

“Sect Leader, please raise your head and look at the sky—the sun has already set,” Wen Feng tightly embraced the Sect Leader’s shoulders, his eyes revealing the color of grief as he said softly, “I beg you to be clearer—today has already passed…”

Yun Changliu still shook his head, saying firmly, “If the hour of Zi hasn’t passed, it doesn’t count.” 

(TL: 11:00 PM–1:00 AM)

He was terribly cold and couldn’t help pulling the cloak tighter.

Then he said to Wen Feng, “Light… a lantern for this lord.”

He felt he could hold on a bit longer, could wait a bit more. Perhaps if he waited just a moment longer, the person he longed for would return?

Night deepened.

Birds and beasts returned to the forest; there were even fewer people walking about.

On that silent mountain path, no one would come.

Under the vermillion pavilion, Yun Changliu kept watch over a paper lantern. He was still waiting. Under the lamplight, he focused intently on the distance, on the end of the mountain path, waiting for a person who would not return.

Viewed from afar, that single point of lamplight sank into the boundless night curtain, inevitably appearing desolate.

Midway through, Wen Feng carefully told the Sect Leader that the hour of Zi had passed.

The spring chill was sharp, especially heavy at night. At that time Yun Changliu was already nearly unable to bear the cold, yet he replied with difficulty that in any case, he must wait until dawn the next day—only then would it count as one day.

One day—just how short was one day?

The moon went from pale to bright, and from bright to pale again.

When the light of dawn pierced through the horizon, on the stone table, the candle in that paper lantern had long since gone out.

Day broke; this day had already passed.

Yun Changliu had actually truly gone without sleep or rest, without eating or drinking, and stubbornly sat in this pavilion waiting for an entire day.

But on that mountain path he had gazed at for an entire day, no one ever came.

Not until sunlight fell on Yun Changliu’s face, pale to the point of near transparency, did the Sect Leader gently sigh. “…Why do you deceive me again?”

He only said this one sentence. It seemed merely a regretful lament—he wasn’t particularly angry, nor particularly sad.

Then Yun Changliu supported himself with both hands on the stone table, struggling to try to stand up. He turned his head toward Wen Feng and said, “Forget it, let’s go back, go back…”

In the next moment, Yun Changliu’s feet suddenly swayed violently.

That merciless time seemed to freeze still in this instant.

He heard his internal organs making strange sounds—the sound of collapse and disintegration.

He seemed to see Wen Feng shouting in terror. However, in just an instant, darkness swept away all consciousness like a devastating force.

Yun Changliu finally wearily closed his eyes.

……Wujue.

Why haven’t you returned yet?

Wujue.

If you don’t come back soon, I fear…

I won’t be able to wait for you.

……

Yun Changliu repeatedly cycled between unconsciousness and waking.

Sometimes he seemed to be carried on Wen Feng’s back as he ran. The light of dawn gradually brightened with a kind of despair that made one want to weep. A breeze brushed past his face; a peach blossom petal drifted down before his eyes…

Suddenly he seemed to be running through the early spring mountains of Mount Shenlie again. A youth in green clothes pulled his hand. That child turned back to smile at him, but his features couldn’t be seen clearly.

…His memories became confused. He seemed to be lying in bed in Yangxin Hall, vomiting blood mouthful after mouthful, until the pillows and bedding were all soaked red.

But in just the time it took for his vision to dim, he seemed to be sitting leisurely under the corridor in deep winter. Not far away in the courtyard, the incomparably handsome red-robed Protector stood beneath the snow-covered cinnabar plum tree, elegant and unrestrained, also turning back to smile at him.

Yun Changliu vaguely understood this was a hallucination, and that death might be at the end. Another bout of dizziness; brief stupor once again cut off his consciousness. After another while, in his daze it seemed someone lifted him up, someone pried open his jaw to pour medicine down his throat.

Yun Changliu opened his eyes slightly. Before him was a blur of pale white—he couldn’t see anything, and his ears couldn’t hear sounds either. He could only close his eyes again powerlessly, sinking into unconscious sleep.

In his dreams, it seemed many familiar people came and went.

He saw his father and Uncle Huan walk past one after the other; behind them was Lin Wanxia—she stabbed at him with that habitually caustic gaze, but behind her two small heads popped out—Chanjuan and Danjing smiled cheerfully and waved this way; Wen Feng walked over, looking at him with tearful eyes and calling “Sect Leader”; Guan Muyan made improper faces, winking and gesturing, holding a needle in his hand as if to stick it in him…

Then many more people came, but he alone didn’t see his Protector.

He saw many bizarre and strange scenes, heard many incredible sounds. Some were very familiar, some very strange.

Finally, everything returned to silence.

……

When Yun Changliu woke again, he was lying on the soft bed in Yangxin Hall.

Outside, it seemed the sky’s light had just broken.

The curtains had been drawn up; faint morning light came through the window lattice.

Yun Changliu opened his eyes in confusion. He felt as if he had already walked through life and death once, and had now been reborn. He surprisingly didn’t feel the familiar pain in his body—only wave after wave of weak, feeble sensations.

But his mind was suddenly extremely clear.

Some scattered fragments began to piece together bit by bit in this clear, bright morning.

It seemed he had already been pondering intensely for who knows how long, enduring pain as he groped about in the darkness, trying to piece things together for so long.

Not until now, when the pain was driven away and the darkness dispelled, did those things gradually take form in his mind.

The antidote sacred medicine from Wanci Manor…

The familiar-looking youth in green on the painting scroll…

The Duanmu family’s Twelve-Point Acupoint Technique…

That exquisite acupoint skill Guan Wujue had used that day…

Entering the Ghost Gate severs all past ties…

Five years ago…

Ten years ago…

Eighteen years ago…

Nineteen years ago…

Duanmu Lin…

Ah Ku…

…Guan Wujue.

Yun Changliu opened his eyes, staring blankly at the void above for a long while. He only felt a chill freezing him from head to toe.

For some reason, Wen Feng wasn’t by his side at this moment. Watching over him were the pair of young maidservants Jin Lin and Yin Liang. Seeing the Sect Leader awake, they came forward with delight.

Yun Changliu was stunned for half a moment, then from somewhere found the strength to push the maidservants aside, actually wanting to get out of bed himself. But his whole body was powerless—he nearly pitched forward headfirst.

“Sect Leader… Sect Leader!” Jin Lin and Yin Liang were both frightened and hurried to help him lie back down. “Sect Leader, you absolutely cannot get up yet. If you want something, this servant will fetch it for you…”

“The study, fetch the old records for this lord…” Yun Changliu’s eyes were unfocused. He breathed rapidly, his brow tightly furrowed as he searched along the edges of memory. “Left red silk fifteen, black silk eight… right green silk six…”

The Sect Leader was cautious and steady. For those important letter hall files or records of major events, he always had the habit of keeping a backup copy in his own study, categorizing and storing them with silk ribbons of different colors. Jin Lin and Yin Liang looked at each other, not understanding his meaning, but at this moment didn’t dare to upset the Sect Leader further. One stayed to watch over Yun Changliu while the other hurried to the study and brought things back.

Yun Changliu’s face was frighteningly pale. Without further ado, he sent Jin Lin and Yin Liang away. Inside Yangxin Hall, only he remained.

He used trembling hands to untie the silk ribbons, unfolding those pages one by one to examine them carefully.

…Why would the Ah Ku registry that Hua Wan investigated contain errors?