Jade Shakes the Thousand Mountains - Chapter 4: Parents – We Will Be Together Forever and Ever

Chapter 4: Parents – We Will Be Together Forever and Ever

Peach Blossom Lake lost its water source, drying up to reveal skeletons that had been submerged in the lakebed mud for many years.

Among them were Lu Chanji’s parents.

“Merit fulfilled, souls return to heaven!”

“Since ancient times, flowers do not bloom forever, nor does the moon stay full.”

“Even with mountains of gold and jade, one cannot buy eternal life.”

Evening approached.

Outside Peach Blossom Lake on Qian Yue Island.

The old Taoist priest stood in the fading sunset, his back to the crowd, facing the piled bones in the lake. He held a coin sword, shook the Sanqing bell, and performed ritual steps. With each shake of the bell, he chanted:

“In the skies, one may find a millennium-old crane, but in this world, few live to a hundred years.”

“Life is rushed, death is hurried.”

“When to awaken? How to prolong life?”

He shook the bell again and continued:

“Floating clouds lock in the rain, needlessly lamenting the fickleness of life.”

“What use is fame and fortune? What pride in literary excellence?”

“Believe that in the end, all is illusion inevitably, life ends like a dream of yellow millet.”

Around them, mourners wept. Sobs, heart-wrenching cries, and the priest’s hoarse, desolate chanting intertwined:

“Father ”

“Mother ”

“My child ”

Lu Chanji stood among the crowd, her face numb as she listened to the chaotic sounds around her.

She was not the only one who had come to Qian Yue Island to identify bodies. Fifty-five others had been killed alongside her parents. Among them, those whose identities could be confirmed and whose relatives or friends were willing to come had gathered at this ritual to guide the souls of the departed.

Lu Chanji had thought she would weep uncontrollably before her parents’ remains. But when she arrived at Qian Yue Island, saw the dozens of skeletons piled like a small mountain in the lake, and heard the Taoist’s funeral chants, she felt dazed, as if transported to another world. Her mind went blank, and she forgot to cry.

The skeletons were disassembled bones scattered, making it impossible to distinguish whose skull, whose palm, whose shin bones belonged to whom.

Lu Wenshu stood beside her and said, “Decades ago, a soul demon lurked here. It understood human nature and excelled at creating illusions, conjuring mirage-like inns to lure travelers into staying. At night, it would drain their life force in their sleep, converting it into its own cultivation, then sink the drained bodies to the riverbed. Thirteen years ago, your parents fell victim to its deceit. The following year, twelve years ago, the demon was slain by a wandering cultivator’s sword, and no one has been harmed since. Recently, for some unknown reason, Peach Blossom Lake dried up, and these remains have only now seen the light of day again.”

Lu Chanji’s expression remained vacant.

Around her, mournful winds seemed to wail, overlapping with cries and shouts. Every few steps, mourners in white hemp clothes and hats knelt by the lakeside, weeping.

Some called for their sons, some for their daughters, some for their wives, and others recited the names of the deceased. White paper money was scattered everywhere.

Wherever she looked, everything was bleak and white; whatever she heard, each sound was filled with anguish.

In contrast, she stood in blue robes, starkly out of place among the mourners in white. She seemed not like someone who had come to collect her parents’ remains, but rather an unrelated passerby.

Lu Wenshu continued, “After death, bones turn to dust and ashes. When remains are mixed together, even the closest kin likely cannot distinguish which fragments belong to their loved ones. The island master invited the Taoist priest to perform rites to dispel foul energies, liberate the souls of the deceased, and ensure they enter the cycle of reincarnation for a peaceful and fortunate next life. After the rites, the priest will bury them together in a joint grave with a single memorial stone inscribed with the names of all identified deceased.”

“A-Chan, A-Chan.” Seeing Lu Chanji remain motionless, Lu Wenshu thought she wasn’t listening and softly called her name.

Lu Chanji suddenly snapped back to awareness, the corners of her eyes strikingly red. “Then my parents can properly enter reincarnation too, right?”

“Yes,” Lu Wenshu said. “The island master invited the priest to liberate their souls precisely so they may be at peace to be reborn and find a good destiny in their next life.”

Lu Chanji asked further, “Do I need to cry as hard as they are for my parents to be happy?”

She bit her lower lip tightly, her lips faintly trembling. Having left the human world for many years and lived in seclusion on Azure Peak, Lu Chanji knew little of human customs and traditions far less than Lu Wenshu, who occasionally descended the mountain to eliminate demons and was more familiar with human affairs.

Lu Wenshu sighed softly. “No.”

“Knowing you came, your father and mother will be happy. If you cannot cry, then don’t. There’s no need to force yourself.”

Tears suddenly fell from her eyes, and Lu Chanji began crying intensely.

After twelve years, upon seeing her parents’ remains, she had become an orphan once again.

This time, she was truly, irrevocably an orphan.

Not even the faintest hope of deceiving herself that they might still be alive somewhere in the world remained.

Seeing tears stream down Lu Chanji’s cheeks, Lu Wenshu was momentarily startled but quickly averted his gaze.

When he had rescued Lu Chanji from the Snow demon’s clutches, the barely alive girl hadn’t cried. Throughout these twelve years in the Sword Inheriting Sect, she had never shed a single tear. During this time, Lu Chanji would often occupy herself with her sword and puppets, and she always smiled when facing him, so he had never seen her tears nor realized that she could cry.

Two months earlier, when Lu Chanji mentioned that if her parents were still alive she would go live with them, Lu Wenshu had contemplated how he would handle the situation if her parents were indeed alive.

Almost without hesitation, Lu Wenshu had devised a plan.

Only by eliminating the root of the problem could future troubles be permanently prevented. This was the most thorough solution.

But for a fleeting moment, Lu Wenshu unexpectedly wondered: if he handled it his way, how would Lu Chanji react upon finding out?

He would never let Lu Chanji discover the truth, so it wasn’t worth pondering, and Lu Wenshu didn’t dwell on it further.

However, fate had already made the choice for him and provided the answer to what he deemed an unworthy question.

So, she would cry.

He sighed. “It’s good to have a thorough cry.”

Better than clinging to distracting thoughts.

After her crying subsided, Lu Chanji wiped away her tears. The funeral had concluded by then, with the new grave completed and the mourning affairs settled.

But Lu Chanji didn’t want to leave. She asked Lu Wenshu, “Can we stay in the human world a few more days?”

She said, “I want to spend more time with my parents.”

Lu Wenshu, as usual, did not refuse her: “Alright.”

–

The two rested at Tongfu Inn in Qianyue City.

Peach Blossom City was filled with peach trees, and the mortal realm’s seasons differed from those of Flame Province. In Qianyue City, it happened to be late spring in April, precisely the most beautiful time when peach blossoms were about to wither. The streets were carpeted with fallen petals, and when the wind swept through the alleys, it whirled up waves of pink and white blossoms.

After arriving at the inn, Lu Wenshu and Lu Chanji requested two separate rooms. Upon returning to his own room, Lu Wenshu unfolded Lu Chanji’s Star Ruin Fate Chart once more.

The stars in the parental palace had already dimmed, leaving only a single star shining brilliantly across the entire chart.

The discomfort he felt upon seeing Lu Chanji’s tears was completely suppressed. Just as Lu Wenshu was about to put away the Star Ruin Fate Chart, he noticed another star faintly beginning to glow.

The starlight was weak yet piercing.

Irritation rose within him again. Lu Wenshu immediately stored the Fate Chart and strode out of his room.

Sure enough, he found Lu Chanji who should have been resting in her room downstairs in the inn, conversing with a waiter.

Lu Wenshu descended the stairs briskly and quickly approached the pair.

“What are you discussing?” His tone was detached, his demeanor frosty. He inserted himself between them with assertive ease, yet his youthful features retained an ethereal jade-like quality. Bearing the noble elegance cultivated by the Sword Inheriting Sect, he appeared both distinguished and peerlessly noble making his abrupt interruption seem perfectly natural.

Though Lu Wenshu and Lu Chanji adopted mortal disguises while traveling the mortal realm, their transcendent aura remained undeniable. At a glance, both exuded an unworldly grace that marked them as extraordinary figures, enhanced by their sincerely charming youthful appearances. The waiter responded warmly: “We were discussing local customs here on Qianyue Island.”

Lu Wenshu followed up: “What customs?”

Lu Chanji pointed toward the street outside.

Every household along the street hung pale yellow lanterns at their doors, resembling rows of miniature moons from a distance a neat arrangement suggesting some ritual was underway.

Lu Wenshu observed for a moment before venturing uncertainly: “Is this… a festival?”

The waiter shook his head: “Not at all, honored guest. This isn’t a festival, but a ritual we call ‘Spirit Seeing-Off’ here on Qianyue Island.”

He explained: “We worship the Moon Goddess on Qianyue Island, believing souls ascend to the Moon Palace after death. But we must light moon lanterns to guide their way, lest they lose their path. Most of the fifty-seven bodies recovered from the lake died far from home truly pitiable. Our hundred-plus households are each lighting a moon lantern so together, over a hundred lights will ensure all lost souls reach the Moon Palace without being left behind.”

He then cast a sympathetic glance toward Lu Chanji: “Earlier, your sister mentioned your parents were among them. My deepest condolences. Qianyue Island also has a Moon Wall for lighting soul lanterns to pray for the departed. I thought to take her there to light one for your parents, but since you two siblings are traveling together, perhaps you’d prefer to go yourselves?”

Lu Wenshu did not correct the waiter’s mistaken assumption about their relationship. He merely glanced at Lu Chanji, waiting to hear her intentions.

Cultivators of the Great Ocean Ten Continents had no custom of praying to gods or worshipping Buddhas.

Since Pangu separated heaven and earth, after the innate celestial-born deities fell one by one to their tribulations, no true gods had manifested in the world at most, a few remnant souls lingered. The Great Ocean Ten Continents was already the closest place to the immortal realm in the mortal sense.

During her years living in the Sword Inheriting Sect, Lu Chanji had never lit a single stick of incense to pray to gods or Buddhas.

But she gradually realized that life in the mortal world was very different from that in the Sword Inheriting Sect.

She wanted to take this opportunity of descending the mountain to experience more of mortal life. This way, when she returned to the mortal world from the Sword Inheriting Sect, she could live like an ordinary, normal mortal and wouldn’t stand out as conspicuously as she did in the sect, becoming an oddity.

Her parents had passed away; she no longer had a place to return to. It was time to consider her own destination.

“May I?” Lu Chanji asked.

“Let’s go.” Lu Wenshu could see the anticipation in Lu Chanji’s eyes. If he hadn’t been there to accompany her, even the inn attendant would have done so Lu Wenshu had no choice but to agree.

They soon followed the route pointed out by the inn attendant and arrived at the Moon Wall.

The so-called Moon Wall was an enclosure formed by four walls, each embedded with a circular glass window in the middle.

This glass was as thin as a cicada’s wing, allowing the lanterns lit inside to shine through, resembling the moon in the sky from a distance. The residents of Thousand Moon Island thus called it the Moon Wall.

By the time the two arrived, the lanterns inside the Moon Wall were already brightly lit, their flickering flames casting the silhouettes of the lamp-lighters clearly onto the glass windows.

After buying an oil lamp from the lamp-keeper, Lu Chanji walked toward the Moon Wall.

She asked Lu Wenshu to wait for her outside the Moon Wall. As she held the oil lamp, she couldn’t help but wonder: a hundred years from now, when she lay buried in a sunless place like her parents, her bones turned to dust, and a century felt like the snap of a finger to Lu Wenshu, would he come to light a moon lamp for her, guiding her soul to the moon palace to reunite with her parents?

Lu Chanji lost herself in these thoughts for a moment.

Watching Lu Chanji’s receding figure, Lu Wenshu felt an inexplicable stir in his heart.

On Lu Chanji’s Star Ruin Fate Chart, the parental palace had already extinguished.

This meant her last earthly bond was severed, her ties to the mortal world completely cut. Yet, as he watched her figure grow farther away, Lu Wenshu felt a vague, inexplicable unease.

He couldn’t help but call out her name, “A-Chan.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Lu Wenshu said. “I will stay with you, and you with me. We will be together forever and ever.”

Lu Chanji paused slightly but did not turn back. She continued walking, her figure gradually disappearing into the Moon Wall.