"It is said that Xingtian feeds on essence, blood, souls and spirits. Once the three souls and six spirits are eaten up, even the Golden Immortal will find it difficult to save them." By the Wangchuan River, a woman in a pale green dress smiled charmingly and stood by the river, letting the red spider lilies fall all over her shoulders. "If you are stabbed by Xingtian, you will die. If you pull out Xingtian, your soul will scatter..."
She rolled her green eyes, and her mocking smile reminded people of another ghost who also loved to mock people in this way: "The soul is scattered, which means death to others, but it is a glimmer of hope for you, the Lord of the Underworld, Kong Hua."
"But..." Her hair was wet and braided into a strand that dragged down to her chest. The ends of her hair were also green, reminiscent of the water plants growing at the bottom of the lake. "It's easy for souls to dissipate, but it's hard to collect them. Even if you can gather his three souls and six spirits together, it's still unknown whether he can wake up."
"Why insist? He defeated you last time, and this time, you still lose." She finally made her intention clear and stretched out her hand wrapped with circles of green beads. "He won't wake up." It sounded like a curse.
She looked into Kong Hua's eyes boldly. The ghost girl in the dazed and bright lake quickly jumped into the surging Wangchuan River before Kong Hua could make a move: "Do you know how he spent the past three hundred years? You don't know, but I do. There are many things you don't know, but... I saw them all."
The chilly wind whistled by, and the red flowers of the other shore were blown into the air. The kitten held Sang Mo's hanging hand tightly, raised his head, and saw the man's hard-lined face and his lips pursed into a line.
The underworld is located deep underground and has never seen sunlight. Even the blazing flames glowed with a strange green light. The kitten stumbled and picked a blood-red flower from outside the city and put it on Sang Mo's cheek. His bloodless face seemed to have a little bit of brilliance, even though it looked so faint under the green ghost fire.
Outside the window, under the cloudy sky, you can see night crows coming and going. If you fly closer, you can see that they are holding a bloodshot eyeball in their mouths, or holding a swollen arm tightly in their claws. The kitten buried his head in Sang Mo's neck, rubbing his face against his as he did before in the Prince Jin's mansion, but no one pulled him away by the collar anymore. The ghost closed his eyes, and there was no doting smile on his wooden face.
The kitten was a little disappointed. He ran to the window and lay on the window frame, counting the night crows flying from afar through the carved lattice window. The last time, when they counted to the ten thousandth, they found a bead shining with red light. The master said that this was the spiritual wisdom among the six souls of Sang Mo. Later, the last time, when they counted to twenty thousand, the night crow brought a white stone; when they counted to one hundred thousand, the master carefully placed a blue gem in a small box at the bedside... It was always a long, long time, and it seemed that the time interval was getting longer and longer. It had been a long time since I heard what they found.
The master is very busy. There are endless things to do in the Nether Palace. There are always night crows that fall from the sky halfway through their flight. They say that they are too tired and can't fly anymore. The master almost drives all the night crows in the underworld to search. He uses his magic power to drive the night crows day and night, so he is very tired every time he comes. He falls asleep while watching by the bed. In his sleep, his brows are still frowned. When he wakes up, he whispers in Sang Mo's ear, but no one knows what he said. He will open the brocade box that no one can open, and stare at the empty little man inside in a daze. That expression has also been seen on Sang Mo's face. When he was alone and curled up under the eaves of someone else's house on a rainy day, he must have had the same expression.
Night crows flew in one by one, and flew away one by one. Some of them suddenly fell down and disappeared into the River of Oblivion. Other night crows would continue to fly in their place. Then, they would bring back all kinds of things, corpses, internal organs, or the souls of the dead.
Sometimes, they would run to the Nether Palace with shouts, and then Kong Hua would return to the room with a stone shining with five colors and put it into the empty compartment of the brocade box. That day, he would hold Sang Mo for a long time and talk to him a lot. Sang Mo closed his eyes, with no expression on his numb face. He stroked his face with his hands and K!ssed him. He couldn't hear anything clearly. The kitten sitting next to him could only hear him calling: "Sang Mo, Sang Mo, Sang Mo..."
More often, they shook their heads and said, it's a pity that it's not Sang Mo's. They spoke in a low voice, shirking the responsibility to each other, and no one was willing to go see Kong Hua. The kitten lay on the window frame, ran over to grab the things in their hands, then ran into the Nether Palace, all the way to Kong Hua's knees. Kong Hua took the things, held the kitten in his arms, and handed him a dewy red spider lily. The kitten suddenly withdrew his hand from his chest, and his palm was wet, as if it was the juice left after the red spider lily was crushed. The man on the throne maintained the cold majesty of the Lord of the Underworld, but something was quietly shattered in his ink-colored eyes.
Then, when the number of night crows in the sky became too numerous to count, and when an old man who had been seen coughing continuously last time changed his clothes and appeared in the Nether Palace again, a night crow with a broken wing fell into the flowers outside the city. The black blood that "cuckooed" from the crack in its wing stained the blood-red petals. They took out a colorful stone that was tightly held in its mouth.
The brocade box beside Sang Mo's bed was finally filled. Xiao Mao saw Kong Hua's hand trembling slightly as he held the box.
They quickly set up a barrier around Sang Mo's bed, and the ten kings of hell were guarding each side, uttering strange syllables. The kitten was pressed against the window and looked with wide eyes. Kong Hua stood by the bed and waved his hand. The black clothes moved automatically without wind like an inkstone pool being stirred. The colorful stones in the box were thrown into the air, hitting each other and spontaneously gathered in front of Sang Mo.
Kong Hua stood in the center of the barrier. The man in black tied his long hair up high with a black high crown. The dark cloud pattern on his sleeves flickered under the shadow of the jagged ghost fire. The colorful soul suddenly burst out with dazzling light, reflecting the man's pale face. The half-closed eyelids cast a faint shadow on his face.
Slowly, slowly, the colorful stones came closer and closer to Sang Mo, until they were already touching his still chest, and then... they disappeared...
The Lord of Hell's spell gradually slowed down, and his tone became lower. The light flowing in the barrier dimmed. Finally, the strange syllables could no longer be heard, and the ghosts in the underworld dispersed. There were fewer and fewer people in the room. In the end, only the kitten and the expressionless man with his eyes lowered were left.
The room was so quiet that one could hear the sound of an embroidery needle falling to the ground. Xiao Mao unconsciously slowed down his breathing and saw the man standing straight in front of the bed. Sang Mo, who was lying on the bed, had his eyes closed and a blank expression.
With a "pop" sound, the suffocating silence was broken. As the brocade box slipped, the man bent his knees and knelt straight down in front of the bed. He leaned over and hugged the person who might never wake up: "Sang Mo..."
The kitten saw his shoulders trembling, and his hands loosened. The red spider lily that he had been holding tightly fell to the ground, and the scattered petals looked like tears of blood.
Sang Mo showed no signs of waking up, so Kong Hua reached out to his chest, trying to find the movement of his souls. He turned around and met a pair of black and white eyes. The kitten pursed its lips and opened its arms to block him, with a stubborn look on its small face. Kong Hua squatted down and wanted to say something, but in the end, she just touched his face silently.
The kitten blinked the same dark eyes, put down its arms dejectedly, and lay quietly on the head of Sang Mo's bed.
The Netherworld Palace is always filled with the howling of countless vengeful spirits from the Forgotten River, some harming others or being harmed, some guilty or innocent, some unfaithful or infatuated... Every person who comes here has a long or complicated story, and they kneel weakly in front of the high steps, crying bitterly.
Kong Hua listened expressionlessly as the deceased prince talked about his life. Born in poverty, he fell in love with a rich girl, so he gave up his name and dignity and became her daughter-in-law. Then he had a successful career and rose rapidly to prominence. Then his father-in-law passed away, and his son took charge of the family. After enduring humiliation for many years, he finally got his chance to raise his head and take Concub!nes, hire prostitutes, and live a life of debauchery. In the end, he died from a bowl of lotus seed soup eaten by his wife. He said he hated his suspicious and jealous wife, his tyrannical father-in-law, and his poor family. He talked ramblingly for a long time, but suddenly he remembered the first time he saw her on the street in his early years. The peach blossoms were pink, the willows were green, and the red apricots were blooming on the branches. The spring breeze blew open the tasseled sedan curtain. She was wearing a light yellow spring dress and sitting in it properly, with her head slightly lowered and her ears drooping. She looked very much like the lady he had seen in the painting the day before.
He broke free from his anger and looked ferocious, and shed two lines of turbid tears: "Is it she who ruined me, or am I the one who ruined her?"
He raised his head and looked at Kong Hua blankly with his cloudy eyes. Kong Hua sat indifferently in the depths of the hall, and heard the Lord of Hell from an unknown hall say, "She will be here later. She owes you a life, and there is a way to repay it. You owe her a lifetime of love, and there is also a way to repay it. When gratitude and resentment are offset, the cause and effect will be eliminated."
This is love and hate. When love reaches its extreme, there is hate. When hate reaches its extreme, there is desire. But in the end, desire is nothing more than love.
The person kneeling at the bottom of the stairs shook his head and kept muttering questions: "Is it she who made me successful, am I the one who destroyed her, or is it she who destroyed me? Who made whom successful, and who destroyed whom?"
Sang Mo, what about you and me? Who saved whom, and who destroyed whom?
The heart that was as still as a mountain began to feel strange because of the sharp ghost cries that kept echoing in the ears. I quietly moved my hand to my heart, and it hurt slightly. On the body that was not afraid of any sharp blade in the mortal world, the marks left by the S3xy ghost never faded. Every time I unbuttoned my clothes and lowered my head, I could see a thin and long bright red line, which was so dazzling that it seemed to bleed at any time. I pressed hard with my fingers, and my fingertips dug into it through the clothes. The dull pain slowly turned into a sharp pain. The scar was torn open, and my fingers touched some wet and sticky liquid, and the pain had spread to the whole body, paralyzing all the senses. The Lord of the Underworld can be indifferent, gloomy, and compassionate, but he cannot be confused or sentimental.
Another person slowly walked down the steps, wearing the usual shroud, clean and peaceful, with a calm expression, it seems that he died of old age. The King of Hell beside him flipped through the Book of Life and Death to find his life, when he was born, what kind of person he was, why he died. He did not cry or make a fuss, but turned his head to listen with a smile, occasionally answering a few words, his tone was neither humble nor arrogant, and he was calm and elegant.
Kong Hua leaned over to look at his face. He seemed to sense it and boldly raised his head to look, with a little doubt in his eyes. Kong Hua said nothing, looked at him a few more times, took the Book of Life and Death from the Lord of Hell, and turned it straight to the era that almost no one remembered. At the beginning was his name at that time. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was indeed him. He died miserably in that life, and the peace and happiness in the future was compensation.
"Do you still remember Sang Mo?" the man in black asked softly.
He was listening to Yan Jun's words with his head tilted to one side. When he heard the words, he turned his head away, still with doubt in his eyes: "Who is that?"
He didn't remember. Such a long time had passed, and countless strokes had been added to the book of life and death. How could he still remember the love and hate entanglements of the past?
Kong Hua asked again: "Do you still remember Chu Zeming?"
He looked puzzled.
He dug his nails into his chest a little further, and a sticky liquid flowed down his fingers. The expressionless Lord of the Underworld seemed to feel no pain, and looked down at him: "He turned to ashes, there is no afterlife, no past."
Silently, a line of tears slowly slid down her face, which had always been as peaceful as a monk. The man at the bottom of the stairs stared at the wetness on his fingertips in shock, "What...what happened to me?"
Kong Hua just looked at him, and in his ears was the Lord of Hell's cold and unchanging judgment: "You have made many good friends in this life and accumulated countless merits. You will be rewarded with great blessings in the next life. You should take care of yourself."
The ghost soldier stepped forward to take him away. He staggered a few steps and turned back suddenly: "Who is Chu Zeming?" His face was already in tears.
"You can forget it if you want." To everyone's surprise, the Lord of the Underworld, who had been as still as a mountain for thousands of years, stood up and left his seat for the first time in the middle of the trial. Only a red spider lily was left on the bluestone seat. "Someone asked me to say something to you. I'm sorry."
"Sang Mo, I saw Zixi, Yuan Zixi, the Yuan Zixi you always miss."
Sang Mo closed his eyes and said nothing. Kong Hua leaned over and held him in his arms, letting him lean on his shoulders: "He doesn't remember. You, Chu Zeming, Chu Zeyun, Chu Zexin... He doesn't remember anything."
The room was empty. The kitten had gone somewhere. Only the ghost fire on the wall was still crackling, illuminating Sang Mo's fair face and a faint shadow under his eyelids. Kong Hua lowered her eyes to look at him. He was still asleep. Rarely, there was no sarcasm or mockery on his face. There was no hysterical resentment or calculation. He was as gentle as the most reserved student in front of a saint, secretly taking a nap on his desk while the teacher was away.
"It is early spring now. I remember you loved to look at the weeping willows by the lake." The man was still a man of few words. After a long silence, he said something irrelevant, "Sang Mo, it was also early spring when I first saw you."
At that time, across the high vermilion threshold, I was dressed in black, and you were dressed in white, mourning clothes, to irritate your mean and unfeeling stepmother. Behind you, your father was walking away, and you refused to look back, smiling and telling me your name, with tears in your eyes. We both had mothers who died young and whose faces were blurred, and fathers who were nothing. I held the dagger that Ze Xin had asked the emperor for with my right hand, and stretched out my left hand to pull you in, palm to palm. From then on, we were no longer empty-handed.
Sangmo, Sangmo, Sangmo, thinking of this name reminds me of the poem "Mulberry on the Road", where the arrogant envoy flirts with the beautiful mulberry picker. Under the big tree in the courtyard, I rolled up the book to hook your chin, forced you to the root of the tree, and watched your face slowly turn red like the sunset: "Would you rather ride with me?"
You raised your eyebrows like a cat, pouted your lips and mocked me: "Don't even mention my husband with black hair tied in a ponytail and a golden horse headband, can you compare to that arrogant envoy?"
I can't compare to them. I'm not my brothers. The prince who lost his father's favor is not as good as the eunuchs with a little power in the palace. But you came to hug me and patted my back gently: "It's okay, it's okay, I'm the same as you." Even the scars on my body left by fighting with others are the same.
The black sleeves rested on his pale cheeks, and the cloud patterns on the sleeves shimmered and glowed. Kong Hua hugged Sang Mo tighter. "You heard that spring is the shortest season in the mortal world. In two or three months, it will be midsummer."
Ze Xin ascended the throne in the summer. In the bright sunny weather, a sudden gust of wind broke the thick flagpole, and the flag seemed to be torn into pieces, and the hem of the clothes rustled. On the high altar, Ze Xin panicked, his pair of black and white eyes were still clear as if he was a child. I reached out to support him, and looked back to see a resentful look. Sang Mo, you hate me, I thought I could not care, but later I realized that I was too naive at the time.
Today, let alone the ponytail and golden horse headband, even the wine pool and meat forest of King Zhou, the Star-Picking Tower, as long as Zexin is willing, I can build it for him in a grand manner the next day. What is morality? What is life? What is the world? That was my third brother who was so far away from me. I could feel the warmth of my father by touching his palm. I helped him to the dragon throne that I had plundered with great effort. Zexin, my gentle and elegant third brother who seemed like a banished immortal, when he smiled and stretched out his hand to me, he could never have imagined what kind of sinful desires were growing in my heart.
I could finally hold him in my arms openly. He opened his eyes wide with horror and accused me of killing his brother and father. I laughed and hugged him tight, tight, and tighter.
At first it was admiration, then desire, then love, and finally even love was distorted by desire and turned into an unattainable delusion. Sang Mo, as you said, my love is so pathetic.
"Then... it was autumn..." What happened in autumn? The man frowned and thought, and it seemed like a long time had passed. He slowly lowered his head and put his face close to Sang Mo's. "Your father died in autumn."
Ze Xin hated me. After I poisoned his queen, my gentle and kind third brother never smiled at me again. In his eyes, I was no longer his innocent "royal brother". He was a puppet emperor who was imprisoned, and I was the regent who had the final say. The royal family was so cruel. I was not the initiator of this fratricide.
Ze Xin gathered his officials to punish me. Before they did it, Sang Mo, you bribed his attendants with a box of jewels and asked me to find out the time and place of their spy. It shows that you have wise officials under your command. Under my tyranny, only villains can come out. There are only a few officials who can obey Ze Xin's orders. I noticed that you have been looking elsewhere. It turns out that your father and brother are the leaders.
That night I hugged you. Our intercourse actually started long before. There was never any conversation or gentle foreplay. If you had a choice, you always let me enter from behind so that you could bury your face in the quilt and I couldn't see your expression. This was the first time, I let you lie on your back on the couch, teasing you along the scars on your body, forcing you to beg me. Pulling down your arms, your eyes were red and tears oozed from the corners of your eyes.
Sang Mo, I haven't seen you cry for a long time, ever since I carried you out of my second brother's Wei Palace with wounds all over your body. I changed the sentence of exile for Sang and his son, and never tortured them. It seemed to be the most merciful one, but your father committed suicide in prison. The Sang family was thus destroyed.
Sang Mo, you said, this is retribution. At that time, I hugged you, and you forcefully pushed me away. Before leaving, you looked back at me with a cold expression, and there seemed to be a trace of smile at the corner of your mouth, as poisonous as a ghost.
"That's when I realized..." The calm tone suddenly paused. Kong Hua leaned against Sang Mo's face, slowly turned his head, and K!ssed him on the lips, "It was me who ruined you."
Even they themselves don't know when they started to change. In the process of pursuing power, they spared no effort, suppressing their conscience, morals and even the basic things that a person should have. Gradually, no one is the same anymore, and the dependence on each other in the cold palace seems like an empty dream.
No longer sharing hearts, no longer talking, no longer caring, they keep fighting back when the other party is forcing them, provoking each other, confronting each other, using all means to attack each other, and taking pleasure in touching the other party's bottom line. It is clear that they can no longer bear it, but no one is willing to give up, because whoever quits first will mean defeat.
"Actually, what if I lose?" Kong Hua's voice trembled a little. He touched Sang Mo's face, his eyebrows, eyes, nose bridge... his fingertips gently drew them one by one. In the past, I just used a book to draw the chin, and this pretty face would turn red like the sunset. I never told you that it's not that I like to tease you, but I really can't get tired of seeing this expression of yours.
"I only found out later..." In the empty room, the green will-o'-the-wisp kept jumping. Kong Hua closed his eyes and hugged the person in his arms tighter, as if to embed him into his chest. "Losing means that I care."
That winter, the last snow fell, but you didn't come back. I stayed by Zexin's bedside, and inexplicably thought of the story of Kuafu chasing the sun. Zexin was the sun, and I was Kuafu who could never catch up with the sun. I was obsessed with it, and finally I was trapped in it and couldn't get out.
Later, Ze Xin died, and his beloved Concub!ne committed suicide in front of his bed. I ordered that they be buried together.
Later, the snow melted and they found your body under the snow, but I didn't go to see it. I moved back to the cold palace, and often looked at the palace door with paint peeling off, thinking that when the door opened, Sang Mo would stand in front of me, just like the first time we met that year, in the early spring, with willows swaying by the lake.
"Sang Mo, you've already won." The man whispered in Sang Mo's ear, his attitude intimate, from a distance it looked like a couple sharing a secret, "You didn't hear wrongly that night, I... want to start over with you."
Saving Ze Xin was the last thing I did for him. When Ze Xin recovered, I wanted to return the kingship to him, and we would leave the capital and go anywhere, friends, brothers, or just strangers, it didn't matter as long as we were together.
But you abandoned me.
According to historical records, that year, Emperor Huai of Chu died, and his Concub!ne committed suicide on her bed. It was rumored that the treacherous minister Sang Mo died in the wilderness. One night, a fire suddenly broke out in the palace of the Chu family. The fire started from the cold palace and lasted for a long time. The regent Chu Zeyun died.
Sang Mo, Sang Mo, Sang Mo... So this is what Buddha calls love and hate. Ze Xin is what I cannot get, but you are what I cannot let go of. Not getting what I want is heart-wrenching and uneasy. Not letting go of something, if I force myself to let it go, I will be devastated and even risk my life.
"He hasn't woken up yet?" The enchanting and mysterious woman in green boldly broke into his underworld. Kong Hua waved away the green-faced and fanged ghosts. She calmly arranged the beads on her wrist, her green eyebrows and eyes filled with a strange smile, "I said, he won't wake up."
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