Incapable de respirer

Chapitre 8

Gazing at the endless blue clouds, only sorrow remains. ...A beauty's laughter and chatter, like a lotus flower, fleeting yet enduring. (This is a line from a poem, possibly related to the poem "The Orchid.")

The sound of Pu's flute, the low murmur of the summer breeze.

The small, dusty hermitage was a place of breathtaking scenery, a place that could stir the soul.

Forty-nine days had passed in the blink of an eye. Lanpu was pondering to herself that day, what if her son hadn't returned for several days?

Where did it run off to? This little white fox is quite clever and mischievous, but Lanpu also dotes on it very much.

She loved it. Opening the temple gate, she saw a figure in pure white beneath a withered tree outside. "Lian Su!" Lan Pu exclaimed.

He couldn't help but take a step back.

The resentment in Lian Su's eyes was etched deep into Lan Pu's heart. Lan Pu paused for a moment, then said:

"Why have you come, little sister? Please come in and have a seat." Lian Su sneered without answering, only approaching Lan step by step.

Pu, Lanpu felt a chill run down her spine. "Sister..." "Don't call me sister!"

How cruel you are! Even if I possess Xia Lang's body, I can never have his heart! Fine, fine, fine! ...

I've come today to tell you that Xia Lang... he is dead!

Lan Pu swayed. Xia Lang... he's dead?! Then, who is it that comes to meet me every night?

Who is it?!

"On our wedding night, he lifted my veil and then disappeared, only returning after a whole night."

He looked haggard. Later, Xiangchen told me that he had gone to your building! After you cut your hair and left home...

He fell seriously ill and grew thinner day by day. Forty-nine days ago, he finally… On his deathbed, he actually…

"I'm calling your name! I've searched everywhere, just to tell you that you killed Xia Lang!" Lan

Pu's frail body trembled even more violently, like a withered leaf. She couldn't believe that Feng was so deeply affectionate.

The ghost of Ninghua came to meet her. Lian Su spoke frantically, completely oblivious to the changing look in Lan Pu's eyes.

She grabbed Lanpu's arms almost frantically, shaking her shoulders. A white shadow flashed by. Lian Su

With a scream, she released Lan Pu and took a few steps back in surprise and uncertainty. A small white fox was spitting out...

She glared at him. "Hmph, hmph..." Lian Su sneered a few times and turned to leave.

Lan Pu held Ruo'er tightly, waiting for Xia Feng's arrival. After all, she was Xia Feng's ghost.

They will come too. That night, a mournful wind swept across the wilderness, and in the distance, the cries of crows were mournful and desolate.

The leaves in the courtyard fell like raindrops. A bone-chilling cold seeped into my thin sleeves. "It's autumn..."

Lanpu murmured softly. The wooden door creaked open, and Lanpu knew without turning around that it was Feng.

They turned around, their two pairs of sorrowful eyes gazing at each other intently. "Xia Lang..." Then she couldn't utter another word.

Everything was conveyed in their eyes. Was it time to leave? Xia Feng gently pulled her arm around her slender waist:

"Let me draw your eyebrows again." Lan Pu silently buried her head in Xia Feng's arms. The window remained the same.

The moonlight was as clear as water, yet Ruo'er cried out uneasily. A gaze filled with deep hatred enveloped the two.

The figure turned, and outside the window was Lian Su, dressed in a snow-white dress, her face even paler than her clothes.

Eyes colder than ice, burning with intense hatred.

Lian Su burst into a hoarse, maniacal laugh: "Fine, so even as a ghost you can't forget her! I want you..."

Even as a ghost, you won't find peace!

---janeadam

Reply [15]: Five hundred years later, Lan Pu rushed into Xia Feng's arms, and tears finally streamed down her face.

On the Bridge of Helplessness, Lan Pu received the Meng Po soup, utterly despondent. Meng Po, with her kind and benevolent expression:

"What is your wish for the next life?!" Lanpu closed her eyes: "I only ask for the most ordinary appearance."

Let me live the most ordinary life. I tilted my head back and drank the large bowl of "forgetfulness water" mixed with tears in one gulp. The past...

Can we truly let bygones be bygones? But now, I realize, where does forgetting even begin?

Xia Feng held Lan Pu tightly in his arms. "I've waited five hundred years, just so that I can still..."

Heaven drew your eyebrows for you. It was Ruo'er who gave me a Soul-Gathering Pill, so even if I drank the Meng Po soup, I could...

No matter how many times he reincarnates within a hundred years, he will never forget his past life. That was something he exchanged for three hundred years of cultivation.

He's here. Therefore, he needs to cultivate for another three hundred years before he can take human form again. I've waited for you for five hundred years. Finally...

When we were both reincarnated, I finally saw you appear before me. I knew that in this life we were destined to be together.

If I hadn't met you, I would have lost my soul.

"I recognized you the moment I saw you in the Reception Hall of Huayan Temple, but you didn't..."

Recognize me. I know you can't remember the past, but I know you'll remember eventually.

of!"

Xia Feng didn't mention how, five hundred years ago, Ruo'er kept asking: "Do you really want to condense..."

Soul-Condensing Pill? You really want it? Do you know that the Soul-Condensing Pill allows you to instantly remember your past for five hundred years, and...

And within five hundred years, you may not find Lanpu, or Lanpu may no longer love you, and you will perish.

From this day forward, you'll be doomed forever; this will be your punishment for refusing to forget the past. Are you really willing to accept this?!

“

Five hundred years of past events cannot be forgotten, five hundred years of karmic ties are hard to sever; Lan Pu, thinking of this, could not help but feel deeply moved.

He trembled deeply. How could someone who could never forget the past endure five hundred years?

How to cope with the loneliness and longing that inevitably arise from the unforgettable events of the past five hundred years?

(End of article)