Chapter 38

The Mortal World

With a “splash,” another figure leapt off the bridge.

At the moment of entering the water, all sounds in the mortal world became slow and distant.

Bubbles floated up from the bottom of the water, and Nan Yi saw the white robe.

Song Mu Chuan gave up struggling, his eyes closed as he sank toward the bottom. She swam desperately toward the corner of his robe.

...

Finally, she caught hold of it.

At the brink of death, Song Mu Chuan felt someone grasp his hand. He opened his eyes and saw the face of the young girl.

His heart, which had been like dead ashes, now seemed to stir with a trace of unwillingness and the will to survive. He had jumped into the river with the firm belief that he would die, even rejecting all past memories that flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern. Yet at this moment, a sudden surge of life entered his limbs.

He thought of the glory of seeing all of Chang’an’s flowers after passing the imperial exam, of carefree nights spent with two or three close friends composing poetry under the moon, and of the heavy snow outside Wen De Hall...

In the twenty-second year of Yongkang, seven days before the Spring Uprising.

His friend, Xie Chao’en, had died in a desperate battle in Youdu Prefecture, but the emperor wavered, hesitant to either surrender or negotiate with the Qi people, fearing their exorbitant demands. The urgent military dispatches requesting aid were buried beneath the emperor’s desk.

Warriors die in battle; scholars die in advising.

At that time, he was a civil official at the Imperial Censorate, kneeling outside Wen De Hall for seven days, urging the emperor to send more troops to Youdu Prefecture.

That winter was particularly long, with snow falling even near the spring equinox, and everything was lifeless.

In the end, the urgent hoofbeats of a messenger horse arrived, bringing the grim news of Xie Chao’en’s betrayal.

Everything fell into place, and nothing could be undone.

But he always thought that he hadn’t fulfilled his duty as a scholar. If only he had tried harder, if only he had persuaded the emperor to send troops, perhaps Xie Chao’en would not have been forced into such a dire situation.

Afterward, he was dismissed from office, rejected his family’s protection, and exiled himself, changing his name to “Yu Shu.”

Yu Shu, Yu Shu.

He didn’t know who was asking for forgiveness from whom.

He wandered for six years, but his family still sent aid, and he was not worried about food or clothing. His clothes remained neat and proper. During these six years, he devoted himself to Confucian texts, visited temples, and stayed at Taoist monasteries, learning countless spiritual teachings, but he was still a man unable to let go of his obsessions.

Finally, weary, he wished to return home. But on the way back to Tokyo, he learned that his country had fallen and his family was destroyed. His entire family had perished in the flames of war, and this unfilial son had not seen his parents for six years.

With a southern crown and a northern gaze, he looked around, but there was no home.

He wandered all the way to Lidou Prefecture, where he heard that Xie Que Shan had also arrived. The streets were filled with curses directed at the traitor, but he remained silent. He couldn’t bring himself to speak against him because he, too, bore some of the blame.

But he didn’t dare to acknowledge him; they were no longer on the same path.

He hid in the marketplace, muddling through life.

The family’s aid was cut off, and he fell from the clouds, experiencing hunger and hardship for the first time. His mind became disordered, but his pride could not be easily discarded. The Chancellor of the Secretariat sent a secret letter, asking him to take charge of the Lidou Prefecture candle office to help Prince Ling’an cross the river to the south.

He rejected it, feeling unworthy of such a position, lacking both virtue and talent to serve as an official.

Until one day, his ever-present attendant, Ah Qi, collapsed from hunger and cold, falling ill. He had no money for medicine and could not even afford a bowl of porridge. In desperation, he stole a bag of rice, abandoning all his moral teachings and the books he had studied.

He had resigned himself to fate; after all, he was a sinner who deserved to die.

But... she was there, reaching toward him, trying to pull him away from the dark, murky water. A ray of sunlight shone down on the surface of the water, and she was in the light.

When she tried to bring him toward that ray of sunlight, he suddenly realized: he didn’t want to die.

...

Nan Yi finally dragged Song Mu Chuan to the shore.

Fresh air rushed into their lungs as Song Mu Chuan coughed violently, expelling the water that had entered his lungs.

“Madam, why did you save me?”

He looked at her, his tone filled with self-reproach but also a trace of hope. He was pleading for a word of compassion, for her to say, “You don’t have to die,” or “You’re not so worthless,” or “You deserve to live.”

Nan Yi quickly wrung out the water from her clothes, her face tense with effort, and her movements were far from graceful. She looked up at him, her expression calm but angry.

“I saved you to ask: why do scholars like you look down on those who prefer to live, no matter how disgraceful their lives may be?”

“...It’s not like that.”

But Song Mu Chuan knew his defense was feeble. Wasn’t it because he couldn’t bear a moment of shame that he had tried to end his life?

If he could accept living, no matter how disgraceful, he wouldn’t have done such a thing.

“Why can’t I live this way? Who are you looking down on?”

Song Mu Chuan stared at her, as if he understood something.

She saved him, perhaps because they were both in similar predicaments, yet made different choices. And his choice was a sharp rebuke to her.

“Do you know? If you’re going to die, then many people in this world are not worthy of living.”

He mistakenly thought he saw tears on her face, but they were both drenched in water, and it was hard to tell if they were tears.

“Those who are humiliated by the world, they should all die.”

He stood up, towering over her by half a head, but he looked like a child who had made a mistake, standing there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

“But why? Living is harder than dying. If you can’t do it, just give up, but don’t look down on those who are still struggling.”

“Madam, it’s not like that—”

“I’m done talking. If you still want to die, go find a place where no one will see you and jump into the river.”

With that, Nan Yi turned to leave. Suddenly realizing something, she reached into her sleeve but found that the embroidered box containing the inkstone was missing.

She stood frozen for a moment and glanced at the river.

It must have fallen into the water.

The inkstone that Sister Qiu had given her, after all the twists and turns, had finally been lost.

She patted her waist and felt that the pouch with the silver was still there, the silver she had just pawned. She, who was so obsessed with money, didn’t know why at this moment, she felt that worldly matters were nothing important and not worth worrying about.

With a swift motion, she tore off the pouch and tossed it to Song Mu Chuan.

“This world is at fault.”

She left those final words behind and walked away, feeling light as a feather.

Song Mu Chuan stood there, staring at her retreating figure.

“Reciting three thousand volumes of scriptures, but one word from Cao Xi is enough to ruin it.”

For all these years, he had thought it was his fault. He had been trapped in his own small world, holding on to those insignificant mistakes, punishing himself day and night, but forgetting to lift his head and look at the world around him.

He had been protected too well, his clothes untouched by dust, holding on to useless pride, speaking of harsh principles, and ultimately becoming a useless man.

“To kill and burn, gold belt in hand; to repair bridges and roads, no corpses to be found.” What he needed to change was this world.

“Heaven does not save me, but I can save the world.”

Returning to the straw hut, Song Mu Chuan used the silver Nan Yi had left to buy food and medicine for Ah Qi. Then, he rummaged through his bags and pulled out a letter.

Ah Qi, feeling a little better, looked at Song Mu Chuan in confusion.

“Master, what are you planning to do?”

With a swift motion, she tore off the pouch and tossed it to Song Mu Chuan.

“It’s clearly the fault of this world.”

She left those final words behind and walked away, feeling light as a feather.

Song Mu Chuan stood there, staring at her retreating figure.

“Reciting three thousand volumes of scriptures, but one word from Cao Xi is enough to ruin everything.”

For all these years, he had thought it was his fault. He had been trapped within a small world, holding on to those insignificant mistakes, punishing himself day and night, but forgetting to look up and see the larger world around him.

He had been protected too well, his clothes untainted by dust, standing with useless pride, speaking of harsh principles, yet he had become a worthless man.

“To kill and burn with a gold belt, to repair bridges and roads without a corpse.” What he needed to change was the world itself.

“Heaven does not save me, but I can save the world.”

Returning to the straw hut, Song Mu Chuan used the silver Nan Yi had left to buy food and medicine for Ah Qi. Then, he rummaged through his belongings and found a letter.

Ah Qi, feeling a little better, looked at Song Mu Chuan in confusion.

“Master, what are you planning to do?”