The three, wearing ghost masks, infiltrated Fengdu.
Yu Xinghe didn't know why, but ever since he uttered that outrageous phrase "Master's wife," his junior brother seemed much better.
Usually, Mu Zhe was always impatient with him, but now his expression softened, looking incredibly gentle.
Yu Xinghe had initially thought he was going to get a beating and was terrified, but seeing Mu Zhe's reaction, he became even more frightened.
He trembled.
His junior brother really did have those kinds of feelings for their master, like in the novels.
Ugh.
He couldn't beat his junior brother, and he couldn't save their master.
Yu Xinghe hung his head dejectedly.
Mu Zhe, however, didn't notice anything amiss. He was gently holding Shen Gurong's hand, walking along the Lantern Ghost Street.
A phantom shrouded him; Shen Gurong could see nothing but Mu Zhe. In his eyes, Mu Zhe was leading him hand-in-hand through a desolate wasteland, surrounded by collapsed, charred ruins, their feet sinking into layers of decaying leaves.
A crescent moon hung in the sky, casting an eerie glow upon their surroundings.
After walking for a while, Shen Gurong asked curiously, "Aren't we going to see the lanterns?"
Mu Zhe paused, realizing that Shen Gurong couldn't even see this ghost street.
"Yes," Mu Zhe tightened his grip on his hand, coaxing him softly, "We'll be there soon."
Shen Gurong didn't know what lanterns could be seen in such ruins, but the sense of security Mu Zhe gave him was overwhelming. He could only nod and obediently follow.
The wind whistled past his ears, sounding like the wailing of ghosts.
Shen Gurong listened carefully, and in a daze, the sound seemed to be the echo of a bamboo flute, hollow and deep.
A bamboo flute?
Shen Gurong's eyes lit up.
"Sir!"
He turned around following the voice. In a flash, the path he had walked on, once a desolate wasteland, had transformed into a bustling, vibrant street. Thousands of lanterns illuminated the entire street of Huitang City, stretching all the way to the city gate.
Shen Gurong exclaimed "Ah!", his eyes flashing with joy.
"Brother!"
Hearing someone call him, Shen Gurong was startled. He looked down and saw Shen Xiwu holding his hand, blinking her eyes and smiling sweetly at him.
Shen Gurong asked blankly, "Xiwu?"
Shen Xiwu nodded her little head, holding a sugar figurine in her hand, and said worriedly, "What's wrong, brother? Why are you suddenly lost in thought?"
She tiptoed and handed the sugar figurine to her brother, smiling, "Brother, have a bite of Xiwu's sugar figurine."
Shen Gurong looked down at Shen Xiwu, who wore a warm yellow dress, and remained silent for a long time before slowly turning back.
Behind him, the endless, charred ruins remained.
Mu Zhe stood beside him, surprised, and asked, "Master?"
Shen Gurong suddenly seemed lost.
He felt as if he stood on a dividing line: to the left, the dilapidated, scorched city, with only Mu Zhe; to the right, a city ablaze with lanterns, a bustling mortal world.
Seeing Shen Gurong suddenly drift into a daze, Mu Zhe instinctively had a bad feeling. He gripped Shen Gurong's hand tightly, "Master..."
Shen Gurong looked at him blankly, his icy robe slowly drooping, his gray eyes reflecting Mu Zhe's image.
Mu Zhe suddenly felt an unprecedented panic, for he watched helplessly as his own image in Shen Gurong's eyes grew fainter and fainter.
"Master!"
He gripped Shen Gurong's shoulders, pinching his chin to force him to look at him.
“Master, look at me, it’s me, Mu Zhe. I… I’ll take you to see the lanterns right now, look at me!”
Shen Gurong seemed not to hear what he was saying at all; his light-colored eyes ultimately returned to a state of utter loneliness.
—He could no longer see anyone else.
In the instant his vision disappeared, Shen Gurong slightly parted his lips, as if saying something to Mu Zhe.
Mu Zhe stared at him in astonishment, his heart pounding, but he still clung tightly to Shen Gurong, refusing to let go.
Blinded by the spiritual barrier, Shen Gurong had no idea who was holding him. He struggled violently, prying his hand away inch by inch, slowly taking a half-step back like a puppet.
He chose the lantern he most wanted to see.
He wanted to go home.
In Shen Gurong’s world, he held Shen Xiwu’s hand tightly, running and laughing through the bustling lantern-lit street.
He saw the scholar who, along with him, always painted portraits of beautiful women; he passed the storyteller under the overpass, engrossed in recounting a tale of half-face makeup; the entire city of Huitang, filled with lanterns, brushed past him, illuminating his gray eyes.
Finally, he stopped by the river where lanterns were being released.
On the bluestone steps, a gentleman in a blue robe sat, his eyes slightly lowered, stroking the bamboo flute in his hands.
As the song ended, unmarried girls on the riverbank covered their blushing faces, secretly watching him.
Shen Gurong, holding Xiwu's hand, walked over, wanting to startle the gentleman, but before she could even get close on tiptoe, the gentleman sighed softly and said without turning his head, "Gurong, these are just children's games..."
Shen Gurong froze.
The teacher tilted his head slightly, his jade-like face exceptionally handsome. He said calmly, "Are you still a child?"
Shen Gurong, unfazed by being exposed, led Xiwu over and sat down next to the teacher, resting his chin on his hand and smiling, "Teach me to play the bamboo flute again, sir."
The teacher's handsome face stiffened slightly. He gently stroked the bamboo flute in his hand, his sleeve drooping slightly. Shen Gurong vaguely caught a whiff of sandalwood.
"Sir?"
The teacher said calmly, "The bamboo flute cannot be learned overnight. Gurong will need more patience."
Shen Gurong pouted, "I'm already very patient."
I was very patient when I was being punished by copying.
The teacher didn't speak.
Shen Gurong glanced around at the girls who still hadn't dispersed, leaned forward, and whispered his true purpose in the teacher's ear: "Every time you play the bamboo flute, those girls look at you. I want the girls to look at me too."
The teacher suddenly smiled.
Shen Gurong puffed out his cheeks: "I'm telling the truth."
The teacher still smiled.
Shen Xiwu, who had been obediently finishing her sugar figurine, chimed in to her brother: "What brother said is true. Every time he sees his elder brother and sister-in-law being affectionate, he also wants to find a beautiful woman to marry."
Shen Gurong's face immediately turned red, and he whispered, "Xiwu, don't expose your brother. I don't want to get married, I just want to see beautiful women."
Shen Xiwu nodded, seemingly understanding: "Then brother must find many, many beautiful women to marry."
Shen Gurong: "..."
Noticing the teacher's "Gurong, are you a beast?" gaze, Shen Gurong's face turned even redder.
"Sigh." The teacher sighed, raised his hand to pat Shen Gurong's head, and said helplessly, "What other tune do you want to hear?"
Shen Gurong's eyes lit up, and he quickly said, "The Little Widow Visits the Grave."
The teacher: "..."
The teacher almost coughed, turning his head to glare at him.
Shen Gurong laughed uncontrollably, "I won't tease you anymore, sir. Then Gurong will sing 'The Ballad of White Hair'."
The master's temper was too good; if it were someone else here, they would definitely have beaten him on the head with a bamboo flute, making him sing "The Ballad of White Hair."
Shen Gurong smiled, resting his chin on his hand, watching the master place the bamboo flute to his lips. Suddenly, a searing heat came from behind him, followed by a piercing scream.
Shen Gurong froze, turning around in astonishment.
The bustling, vibrant lantern street was now a sea of fire.
Shen Gurong's pupils contracted, instinctively turning back to look at the master, only to find Shen Feng Xue sitting beside him.
The master was nowhere to be seen.
Shen Feng Xue seemed oblivious to the fire behind him, his eyes lowered as he rubbed the bamboo flute in his hand.
Shen Gurong looked at him, bewildered.
Shen Feng Xue held the bamboo flute nostalgically for a long time before rising and walking up the steps, looking down at Shen Gurong sitting on the lowest step.
"Shen Gurong."
Shen Gurong stood up blankly as well, his expression dazed as he climbed the steps, seemingly wanting to stand beside him.
But just before stepping onto the last step, Shen Gurong stopped him.
"Think carefully before you come up."
Shen Feng Xue said calmly, "If you take one step forward, it will be your escape from a hundred years of purgatory."
Shen Gurong paused, falling a step behind, looking up at Shen Feng Xue.
Shen Feng Xue raised his hands, slowly opening his palms to reveal two things.
In his left hand was the spiritual fruit given by the Human-Faced Tree in the Gu Hong Secret Realm, capable of fusing with inner demons; in his right hand was the Soul Separation Technique, which Lou Bugui had researched for a hundred years to barely create, capable of completely separating the inner demon Shen Feng Xue from his spirit.
Shen Gurong was puzzled.
Shen Feng Xue said calmly, "Your memories of the past hundred years are all here with me. If you want to accept reality, choose the Spirit Fruit; if you want to live on in this muddled and ignorant state, use the Soul Separation Technique."
Shen Gurong's pupils contracted, his chaotic thoughts instantly clearing.
Shen Feng Xue said, "Choose." Shen Gurong tilted his head back, staring at the two items for a long, long time before tentatively reaching for the Soul Separation Technique.
If he could remove Shen Feng Xue, this inner demon, then he… would still be the young master Shen Gurong from a hundred years ago, and he would forget all those sufferings.
But forgetting doesn't mean they never happened.
Shen Gurong's hand hesitated.
After a long while, he moved his hand towards the Spirit Fruit.
No matter which Shen Gurong chose, Shen Feng Xue's expression remained unchanged, as if being merged or separated made no difference to him.
He seemed like a compassionate god, looking at Shen Gurong, caught in a dilemma, with a mixture of pity and mockery in his eyes.
After an unknown amount of time, Shen Gurong suddenly withdrew his hand.
He murmured, "Something's not right."
Shen Feng Xue asked calmly, "What's wrong?"
Shen Gurong simply shook his head.
Shen Feng Xue asked again, "What's wrong?"
Shen Gurong said blankly, "I'm not right."
"What?"
"My memories are wrong." Shen Gurong took a step back, lowered his eyes, and said softly, "I shouldn't be that kind of person."
Shen Feng Xue, who had been waiting high above for Shen Gurong to choose, now stepped down the steps, looking intently at him, and whispered, "What kind of person?"
Shen Gurong's fingers trembled. He stammered, "That kind of person... who, because of hatred, because they can't accept reality, willingly shuts themselves off."
Shen Feng Xue remained silent.
Shen Gurong raised his hand, looked at his slender hands, and said softly, "When Mu... Mu Zhe was six years old, I mistakenly thought I was sixteen, mistaking the real world for a mirage in a book. That means I closed myself off from the time of the Lantern Festival... But that's not right, it can't be."
As he spoke, he slowly raised his eyes, a glint of blood flashing in his originally gray pupils, exactly like that of his inner demon, Shen Feng Xue.
Shen Gurong said expressionlessly, "My memories weren't sealed a hundred years ago, but fifteen years ago for certain reasons..."
He stared coldly at Shen Feng Xue.
"You stole them."
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