Noche Eterna

Capítulo 5

My hero suddenly appeared before me in a moment of astonishment. As he took off his outer cloak and draped it over me, he revealed a brand-new Qing Dynasty outfit.

At that moment, I was so angry. I couldn't imagine that the respected scholar, the man who said that one should be loyal and righteous in life and would rather die than lose his reputation, had actually lived a life of dishonor and become a subject of the Qing Dynasty.

My beloved, my hero, died in that moment, and my heart shattered with him. My face was deathly pale, and my frail body swayed on the steps. He rushed to help me, but I pushed his hand away in disgust, took a step down the steps, lost my balance, and suddenly collapsed, dying silently. The peach blossom fan, a keepsake and a budding peach blossom, fell from my hand, as red as blood and as crimson as the sunset.

I died, and I saw him holding my body and weeping uncontrollably. I saw him build a blood-stained incense tomb for me with his ten fingers, and I saw him shave his head and become a monk.

I asked Meng Po, "Was I wrong in this life?"

"Alas," Meng Po said, "do you still have any lingering resentment?"

2. Past Events

The Tang Dynasty in its golden age.

The peach blossoms covering the hillside cast a pink glow on the simple thatched gate. Inside my embroidery room, I sewed swiftly, weaving a young girl's vibrant spring. Just then, a knocking sound came from outside. My parents were out, so I went to answer the door.

Outside the door stood a scholar in blue robes. He stared at me blankly for a long time before finally stammering, "I've come to ask for water."

In the clean blue-and-white porcelain bowl, I secretly placed rock sugar inside, half-concealing my face behind the door, and secretly watched his surprise.

He said his name was Cui Hu, and that he was going to the capital to take the imperial examination.

"Can you wait for me?" He smiled gently and said, "Wait until I pass the imperial examination."

His slender eyes were filled with adoration and longing.

I said softly, "Wait."

Peach blossoms have fallen, pear blossoms have fallen, and pear blossoms have faded. The shades of green, deep and light, grow thinner day by day in the autumn wind, as delicate and light as rice paper, just like my heart's white-washed thoughts.

Mother said that the newly appointed top scholar is going to marry the prime minister's daughter. Because of your excellent weaving skills, the prime minister wants you to come to his mansion to weave brocade.

The Prime Minister's residence had high walls and imposing gates. Crimson silk shawls hung from the stone lions. The cheerful faces of those coming and going made my simple clothes and plain hairpin appear so insignificant.

In the spacious embroidery room, a dozen or so weavers like me shuttled their needles day and night. The Prime Minister's daughter would occasionally come to inspect, her brocade robes concealing her wealth and dignity.

I heard that the new top scholar's surname is Cui.

A light cough splattered a splash of peach-red hue onto the brocade, which I hastily wove into peach blossoms with silk thread. The young lady exclaimed, "How beautiful! Just like the real thing!"

Ten taels of silver were exchanged for bloodshot eyes and scarred, delicate fingers.

I fell ill, and five doses of medicine cost me ten taels of silver.

The mother sighed, "A poor man was born with the body of a rich man."

On the day of the top scholar's wedding, the entire city of Chang'an resounded with the deafening clamor of suona horns and the continuous crackling of firecrackers. Even I, living outside the city, could hear it clearly, each sound like a death knell. I struggled to make one last palace fan, and then my life came to an end.

I am not reconciled, I am truly not reconciled. I escaped the ghost messengers who would claim my soul, and I wander through the peach grove every night.

I saw a peach tree growing on my grave, its buds slowly unfurling in the wind.

Then he arrived, still dressed in a simple blue robe, without a saddle or horse, and without any fine clothes. It turned out, the top scholar was not him.

Last year on this day, within this very gate, a face and peach blossoms reflected each other's rosy hue. But where has that face gone? The peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze.

Every word is filled with longing, every sigh with regret. To meet again, we are now separated by the divide between the living and the dead.

On a moonlit night, I wept bitterly, my soul filled with resentment and hatred, lingering in the peach grove, refusing to leave. My struggle with the ox-headed and horse-faced demons alarmed Meng Po, the goddess of forgetfulness in the underworld.

My mother-in-law said, "In the next life, I'll make sure you and him are husband and wife."

3. This life

What if we become husband and wife?

Many of the days in my memory were beyond my control, like the grass on the wall whose direction of growth changed entirely depending on the direction of a gust of wind.

When a person is born, everyone laughs, but the person cries. When a person dies, everyone cries, but is the person laughing?

I told Meng Po that I didn't want to be reborn. I just wanted to be a ghost, to watch him cry, to watch him laugh, and to watch the peach blossoms fall year after year.

I hid inside the Peach Blossom Fan, and Meng Po helped me deceive Yama's ghostly eyes, allowing me to escape reincarnation.

In this life, I live in an antique shop run by Old Man Wu, a former Taoist priest. Every year, he visits antique markets, and any item that seems to have escaped the clutches of vengeful spirits cannot escape his discerning eye. Most antiques in reality are funerary objects from ancient times; almost every unearthed artifact bears the mark of death, carrying a heavy yin energy. Old Man Wu uses his Taoist magic to consecrate these ominous antiques, infusing them with yang energy and restoring their yin essence.

The reason I was able to escape the calamity was because Old Man Wu said that my time had not come yet and my resentment was too deep.

There was an incense burner in a prominent place in the shop, with wisps of incense burning all day long. Perhaps it was because of the influence of this incense that I gradually forgot my resentment.

That night was very cold. I woke up from the cold and stared aimlessly at the snowflakes outside the window, which were falling from the gray sky.

At that moment, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. Although I am a ghost, I still have a heart, and I know joy and sorrow, only my heart cannot be seen by others. Even from a great distance, I could sense him.

He arrived; in this life, his name was Bian Hao. He had drunk a little wine, and a stack of paintings was tucked under his arm. He saw an antique shop by the roadside, its lights on. The moment he reached out, the door opened, and amidst the swirling snowflakes, I saw his bewilderment and surprise. A woman in a light dress sat behind the counter, her bright, star-like eyes gazing gently at him. Her face was like a spring flower, her figure graceful and elegant. He forgot what to say, just staring blankly at me. Was I beautiful? I smiled, and he smiled back foolishly.

He handed me his painting, saying he wanted to consign it.

I opened it, looked at it, and said to him, "Could I exchange this antique fan for his paintings?" He looked at me doubtfully, so I gently moved the peach blossom fan I had been using to my face in front of him. His eyes suddenly lit up; he was clearly a connoisseur. It was a sandalwood palace fan, its surface, neither silk nor paper, painted with a peach blossom. Although ancient, it was exceptionally beautiful, captivating the eye, and the inscription on it was written in a flowing, elegant style, no less impressive than Xi Zhi's.

He laughed, looked up at me, and seeing that I was calm and not joking, he put the fan back in the fan box and said playfully, "Give me this one too?"

Yes, of course, you can have the fan, what would I need the box for?

Bian Hao, with a hint of disbelief, carried the peach blossom fan back to his dwelling. Oh, he really wasn't a diligent person; beer cans were scattered everywhere, scraps of paper were strewn about, and his clothes were unwashed. He nonchalantly flopped onto the bed, a strange smile playing on his lips, and held the fan box up to the light, then hugged it to his chest and rolled around a few times with a smug look. I know he likes me, likes my illusory form, likes the fan I reside in.

Before dawn, I swept the floor for him and soaked the pile of dirty clothes in a basin. I was able to do these things for him.

It was already broad daylight, but Bian Hao showed no signs of waking. I gently called his name. He frowned, finally waking up, and stared blankly for a while before looking around anxiously. Seeing the clothes drying on the balcony and the spotless house that made him feel uneasy, he became even more puzzled. He paced back and forth in the room, even pinching his own cheek. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Suddenly, he looked at me and smiled strangely. I was startled, thinking he had seen me, and quickly hid behind the peach blossom fan.

He carefully picked up the fan box, held it up to the sun as if in disbelief, then slowly opened it, and then, incredibly, kissed me passionately. Oh, a wave of dizziness washed over me—even ghosts can feel dizzy with happiness?!

He carried me around the room, looking me over to see where would be the best place to put me. His room was practically bare, except for that supposedly omnipotent computer.

Finally, he put me under the pillow, which wasn't good; it was a bit dark and stuffy. But I couldn't protest, because he kissed me again, and I fainted again. Sigh, I never thought that even after a hundred years, I still couldn't resist his kiss.

He left and didn't return all day. Until evening, a girl walked in, looking around strangely. She was a very trendy girl, with dyed blonde hair and young, delicate skin, which stirred in me a desire to bite her. I told myself I was a man-eating demon, I couldn't have such thoughts. The girl brought some food, placing it one by one on the table. Just then, Cui Hao returned. He actually smiled, patted the girl's face, and gently kissed it. My heart suddenly ached as if pierced by needles.

They finished their meal while playfully bickering, and the girl actually stayed overnight. I know Bian Hao is unmarried, so who is this girl to him?

I covered my ears in anguish. I never imagined he would be this kind of person in this life. He and that girl were doing it without any restraint in front of me—no, on me, under my pillow, being crushed by two rolling heads. The box creaked in pain. I knew it had been with me for so many years, and it felt the same way I did.

Finally, everything stopped, and Bian Hao gradually began to breathe evenly. He was asleep, and I struggled to float out of the box. Pain, from body to soul, the unbearable sorrow and agony completely overwhelmed me. I stood there, thin and frail, watching the two people embracing each other, and my fangs slowly emerged from my cherry lips, a bloodthirsty desire rising within me.

Why do you look so pale? Bian Hao asked the girl with heartache as he looked at her. I smiled smugly and gently licked my red lips.

Cui Hao was still worried, so he accompanied the girl to the hospital.

I was overjoyed. I knew that girl would soon become a ghost, just like me, unable to see the light of day.

Bian Hao returned home drunk, and he went on a rampage, smashing everything he could lift, including his beloved computer. I stared in shock and disbelief at his rage.

Why? Why? She was pregnant with his child, and she died—reportedly from postpartum hemorrhage after a miscarriage—without any chance of being saved!

Bian Hao didn't eat or drink for three days. The girl was cremated into a pile of ashes, her soul rushing to be reincarnated. As she passed away, she gave me a look filled with deep resentment. That look is something I can't let go of, something I can't forget.

I could only stay by Bian Hao's side, and I could feel his life force slowly waning. He gradually lost his senses and actually pulled out a sharp knife. The knife gleamed coldly, as bloodthirsty as I was. Bian Hao's blood dripped onto the white sheets, just like the peach blossoms that had fallen years ago.

I saw my old acquaintances, the Ox-Headed and Horse-Face, silently appear beside the bed; they were going to take Bian Hao away.

This time, I didn't run away. I stepped out of the fan and said, "Take me away. It's all my fault."

Meng Po brought over the potion of forgetfulness, shook her head, and said, "Just forget it."

Lovers who cannot be together are left with regrets. Even if they are together, they may not grow old together, which is called impermanence. A wish that you are doing better than me is only because the love has faded.

Old Man Wu said that only by letting go can one be free and at ease; if you want to avoid suffering, you must learn to let go.

I accepted Meng Po's soup, relinquishing the love and attachment of my past life. Will I be free from pain in this life?

[Ancient Era: 007 Piranha]

How could fish eat people? Fish are always killed and eaten by people. It's natural for people to eat fish. But for fish to eat people is against the natural order, it's horrifying. Aren't fish born to satisfy human appetites?

Zhao Changsheng frowned as he picked up a bowl of pale, tender tofu. This wasn't ordinary tofu; it was goose brain tofu made from the brains of twenty-four white geese. The process of making this delicacy was said to be incredibly cruel: live geese were intoxicated with alcohol, and while they were unconscious, their skulls were cut off and they were cooked alive. He, who usually loved this dish, now felt no appetite at all facing the smooth, moist "goose brain tofu." He even felt waves of nausea rising within him. In his agitation, he imagined blood gushing from the brains, and the empty-headed geese stretching their necks to protest against him. He had been tormented by this inexplicable case for over half a month. And this case concerned his official position and his future—how could he not be troubled and confused?

Although Zhao Changsheng wasn't exactly a benevolent official who benefited the people, he had at least tried to counter the Jinyiwei's extortion and oppression, and considered himself to have done his duty to the people of Fengyang. However, only a year into his term, such a bizarre case occurred within his jurisdiction of Fengyang: several lively children died suddenly in the lake within half a month. Normally, a few drowning incidents would occur at this lake every year; because it was a common occurrence, it was nothing unusual, and apart from the relatives of the deceased crying out a few times, no one would even bother reporting it to the authorities. However, this year, the victims were all identical eight- or nine-year-old boys, all with their skulls pierced and their brains emptied, yet otherwise without any other injuries. The old fishermen in the lake spread rumors that a fish monster had appeared in the lake this year; this monster would cry like a baby at night, luring curious children into the water, then biting their heads and killing them.

He initially disbelieved the rumor, thinking there must be something fishy about it, but now he couldn't help but believe it. He couldn't help but regret sending the letter to his sect for help, fearing that his fellow disciples sent to assist him would clash with the Imperial Guards, causing him unnecessary trouble.

Lost in thought all night, he finally fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning, he had barely pushed aside his concubine Xiao Tao's smooth and tender body, and before he could even stand firmly on the footstool, a bailiff came from outside reporting: "My lord! My lord! Something terrible has happened! Another brainless child corpse has been found in Fengyang Lake!"

Upon hearing this terrible news, Zhao Changsheng was so shocked he nearly fainted. He hurriedly grabbed a garment from the rack and ran outside. When he reached the courtyard, he suddenly realized the garment was too small. Looking down, he was furious—it was Xiao Tao's light red dress! Turning back, he saw his own blue silk official robes still hanging on the rack. He threw the light red dress at Xiao Tao. Composing himself, he ordered her to get up immediately and help him change.

After this delay, when Zhao Changsheng arrived at the scene of the crime, the lakeside was already surrounded by layers upon layers of onlookers. Upon seeing the arrival of the Prefect of Fengyang, before the accompanying yamen runners could even raise their fire and water sticks, the people hurriedly parted to make way for their magistrate.

At a glance, a child's corpse lay soaking wet on the flagstone dock. Wrapped in tattered clothes, a hole had been ripped open in the center of the once-tied hair bun, revealing a gaping hole in the white skull, like canine teeth surrounding a black void. The hole was empty; the brain seemed to have been hollowed out by some ferocious creature, now resembling a broken eggshell. Zhao Changsheng closed his eyes, sighed inwardly, but when he looked up, his face was beaming with a smile. Opposite him, four menacing Imperial Guards wielding steel swords stood in a row, and in the middle, on a grand chair, sat the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards, Lord Wen, who was on patrol in his place. Zhao Changsheng quickly stepped forward and bowed respectfully.

Wen Zhenghe already harbored resentment towards the somewhat disobedient Fengyang prefect. Upon seeing Zhao Changsheng's late arrival, a mocking expression appeared on his gloomy, flat face. Although he did not speak harshly, he turned his head away indifferently, took a red clay teapot inlaid with gold from the servant in blue beside him, sipped a mouthful of tea to moisten his throat, and opened his slightly red lips to ask, "What's going on?"

"Your Honor, this body belongs to an eight-year-old boy. His skull is pierced, and his brain is missing. It seems that he died from having his brain devoured by some evil creature," said Ding Liu, the coroner of Fengyang Prefecture, kneeling on one knee after examining the body.

"Hmm? Evil creature? In this bright and peaceful world, where would any evil creature come from?!" Lord Wen's originally fair and gentle face instantly turned chilling with this rebuke. When this chilling gaze swept over Zhao Changsheng's face, Zhao Changsheng couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat.

"My lord, according to our investigation, a fish monster has recently appeared in Fengyang Lake. The fish monster is pitch black all over, ten feet long, with a head as big as a bucket, and can make the cries of an infant. This child, this child must be the fish monster..." The coroner Ding Liuxia whispered a few words in Zhao Changsheng's ear with his back bent and trembling. Zhao Changsheng immediately bowed and reported back.

"Hmm." Wen Zhenghe glanced at him, with a mouthful of tea in his mouth, tilted his head back and gulped it down. With a "poof," he spat out the tea without even looking where it was coming from.

As Zhao Changsheng bowed his head to report, most of the tea, which reeked of decay, splashed onto his head and body. Glancing down at his soaked official robes, a glint of fire flashed in Zhao Changsheng's eyes. But as he looked up, his eyes narrowed into slits, and he still smiled as he said, "Sir, this tea is indeed extraordinary. It smells wonderfully fragrant. I wonder what kind of divine tea it is?"

Wen Zhenghe's sharp eyes swept over Zhao Changsheng's flower-like face for a moment, his expression softening slightly, yet still tinged with disdain and smugness. "Divine quality? Of course it's divine quality. This is Maitreya Tea from the Immortal Cliff of Laojun Mountain. Even the current emperor hasn't had the fortune to taste it. It's only thanks to the Nine Thousand Years that he managed to get the Dali Kingdom of Yunnan to offer up all of its annual harvest. It's only a small half-pound, but he rewarded me with an ounce. You're lucky to even smell it today. A fish monster that kills and devours brains? Hmm, let's leave it at that for now. Lord Zhao, I give you three days to capture that fish monster and bring it to justice. If you fail to do so... Hmph!..." Wen Zhenghe stood up, stretched, and after uttering those words, he left in a sedan chair, surrounded by the Imperial Guards.

Zhao Changsheng, still shaken, touched the official hat on his head. He stood up, about to order his men to carry the child's body back to the yamen to close the case, when suddenly a sallow-faced woman rushed out from the side, threw herself onto the brainless corpse, and wailed, crying out "My son! My son!" Her pitiful state was unbearable to hear. The local constable hurriedly stepped forward to report that the dead child was the posthumous child of the widow surnamed Li, whom she had painstakingly raised for eleven years. The poor child was malnourished from birth, and his family was impoverished; his small body looked like that of an eight or nine-year-old.

This was not the first child swallowed by Fengyang Lake. Since the beginning of summer, the sudden deaths of children one after another had made the yamen's autopsy room stink horribly. However, without closing the case, Zhao Changsheng dared not take it upon himself to return these maggot-infested corpses to the victims for burial, because with the Imperial Inspector Wen in charge, he dared not utter a single word without Wen's approval.

In the summer heat, corpses decompose quickly, and having been soaked in water, the thin layer of skin held only foul-smelling bodily fluids; there was no flesh or blood left. This stench emanated from the low, thatched hut, making it unbearable for miles around. Fortunately, no one lived nearby. This was thanks to Zhao Changsheng, who, upon taking office a year ago, disliked the morgue's foul odor and ordered his men to move it from the government office to this location, merely borrowing a dilapidated earth god temple halfway up the mountain for minor renovations, barely enough to shelter from the wind and rain.

As night deepened, the mountains were shrouded in a deep, inky blue, as if unseen demons and monsters were writhing from the trees and bushes, their forms condensed from the thick fog, slowly approaching the mortuary. Coroner Ding Liu, carrying a white paper lantern, wandered into the thatched hut like a lonely ghost, enveloped in the dense fog.

His thin fingers touched each of the children's corpses' heads. If it weren't for the wine-soaked burlap covering their mouths and noses, his thoughtful expression would have made it seem as if he were looking at sleeping children lying on the wooden planks.

A sudden cry of a bird or beast startled Ding Liu, causing the lantern in his hand to fall to the ground and go out with a thud. Faint wolf howls echoed from all around, and eerie blue phosphorescent flames leaped from the cracks in the floor of the mortuary. Ding Liu wasn't afraid of ghosts, but he was afraid of wild beasts. He fumbled around on the ground for a while, finally finding the lantern and about to relight it with tinder when the half-closed, dilapidated door was suddenly pushed open from the outside.

Ding Liu hurriedly hid under the nearest scaffold of corpses. He saw a dark figure, lurking in the darkness with a faint blue light, slip in like a cat. As soon as the figure entered the room, it lit a torch and shone it on the child corpse's head. Just like Ding Liu, it ran its fingers over the holes in the skull. Ding Liu struggled to make out the person's face in the dim firelight, only to find that the person's face was covered by a black cloth, with only their eyes shining brightly in the firelight. However, judging from their tightly tied long hair and slender figure, the person was clearly a woman.

Ding Liu desperately wanted the masked woman to leave quickly. Although there was a wooden board between them, the stench of the corpse had completely overwhelmed him, and even some of the corpse's fluids dripping from the cracks in the board had seeped into his neck. If he lingered any longer, he worried that he would be poisoned by the corpse.

The woman finally headed towards the door, her toes almost touching the threshold, when she bumped into a man. The man was imposing, carrying a sword. Facing the veiled woman, he thrust his sword forward without a word. The woman, unarmed, seemed unfazed by the gleaming blade, meeting the attack head-on. The two fought silently, each moment surprised by the exchange.

Unexpectedly, such a top-tier master was hidden in the mere city of Fengyang. The sword was the Bodhidharma Sword, the fingers the Guanyin Finger—both embodying great compassion and expansive power, their movements advancing and retreating, each strike a gesture of salvation. One masculine, the other feminine, yet their clash sparked with lightning speed. The swordsman was astonished by the woman's finger techniques, sharp as a knife, swift as an arrow, and accompanied by a faint fragrance of lotus blossoms. The woman, in turn, was amazed by the man's swordsmanship. "Illusory Gold Splitting," "Crossing the River," she uttered in a low voice, reciting his sword routine. In the instant her nimble lotus-like fingers flicked away the sword tip, she moved like a crane soaring through clouds, her sharp fingertips slicing directly towards the sword-wielding wrist.

Seeing the woman's mysterious finger techniques, the swordsman became even more certain of his suspicions. It turned out he was actually Zhao Changsheng's junior brother, Daoyan. The seemingly mediocre Zhao Changsheng was actually a lay disciple of Shaolin. For some reason, this good-for-nothing disciple had recently caught the attention of the Shaolin abbot, who had sent his junior brother Daoyan to help solve the case. Although they were fellow disciples, Zhao Changsheng's skills were only superficial. It was only because his father, Zhao Yuanwai, was so generous, donating large sums of money to the temple every year, and pleading so earnestly, that the abbot accepted the mediocre Zhao Changsheng as a disciple. Daoyan, on the other hand, had received the true teachings of the Shaolin Dharma Sword. If it weren't for the strict temple rules, he would already be one of the top martial arts masters in the world.

Upon arriving, Dao Yan meticulously examined the bizarrely deceased children's corpses. He discovered that the damage to each child's head was caused by someone using martial arts techniques like the Mighty Vajra Claw to rip off their skull. Consuming brain marrow to cultivate demonic arts? This was Dao Yan's first impression after ruling out piranhas as the culprits. However, he didn't tell Zhao Changsheng about these findings; he didn't want to reveal his identity prematurely without conclusive evidence.

Although the woman opposite him wasn't using the Vajra Claw, her finger strength was enough to easily shatter a person's skull. He had been waiting around the dilapidated house for a long time, and upon seeing such an evil finger technique, he immediately became certain of his suspicions. His swordplay became fierce, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice.