Киёми Цуки и его лиса

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Yu is gone, but Sang Shang continues to work diligently as a good doctor, his face still bearing the familiar, humble expression.

Three years later, Lan fell seriously ill. Before she passed away, she told Sang her story.

She said, "Sang Shang, do you know? When you were waiting on the Bridge of Helplessness, many female souls passed by you, absorbing your spirit and your love for the wind. You stubbornly refused to drink the Meng Po soup, yet you tormented yourself for a lifetime. Sang Shang, if I had known in college that you were that lonely girl waiting, I would have done anything to help you fulfill your wish." Lan's eyes were bright and unrestrained as she left.

Shortly after Lan's death, Sang Shang got married, and Lan's daughter was her bridesmaid.

The girl's eyes were no longer bright and unrestrained; she addressed Sang Shang respectfully as "Aunt Sang Shang."

The happiest person is the man who waited for Sang Shang for many years; he has found the one he loves.

Sang Shang retired very late. With her white hair, she often went to that familiar place with her husband to drink tea and liked to take walks in places with lots of plants.

Even in her old age, Sang Shang's eyes were as clear as autumn water, and everyone who saw her said, "This old lady must have been an absolute beauty when she was young."

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [31]: Let's join hands and make a pact to last a hundred years.

I was once moved by this sentence.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [32]: 1 Ah, it's really long. I read the first one and it was good, but I can't read the others. It's too damn long. ---sunkissmoon Reply [33]: I'll post my thoughts here: What does this story illustrate?

An ideal love, after waiting through cycles of reincarnation and being influenced by those cycles, has spread and affected many people. Although this love has reached a consensus as a whole, the male and female protagonists have lost their way and their destiny has been lost.

The word "Sang Shang" means "loss," referring to her loss of her lover; the word "Yu" means "forgotten," referring to his forgetting of his lover.

If there is a present life, why seek an afterlife?

The afterlife is so unpredictable, even "leaves and wind" are so, how can we hope for it?

Okay, let's look at it from a different angle!

The leaf waits on the Bridge of Helplessness, radiating its love and spirit, yet even after reincarnation, it still clearly knows who the wind is; but the wind? It doesn't radiate anything, yet it can no longer distinguish who the leaf is; what does this signify?

While waiting, Ye clung to only one thing: Who is the wind? Therefore, she inadvertently lost her spirit.

In his illness, the wind longed for only one thing: the spirit of the leaves! So, he inadvertently forgot the real leaves.

In Yu's eyes, there is only the talented and exceptionally beautiful Ye, and no ugly or stupid Ye. If Yu knew at first glance that Sang Shang was the person he had made a promise with, would he accept Sang Shang?

Or should he accept it?

Is this a faithful love or a betrayed love?

Yu has lost his way;

What about Sang Shang?

After Yu died, she got married;

There was no longer the promise of "Let's be together forever, for a hundred years, and if either of us dies at ninety-seven, we'll wait for three more years." There was no longer the waiting on the Bridge of Helplessness. It ended just like that, ending with the regret of "Why bother seeking the next life!"

This passage comes to mind:

If possible, I would say to her: I don't ask for a next life, nor for the future; at that moment, I truly, completely, and without regard for the consequences loved you! Perhaps in the future my soul will be corrupted, perhaps in the next life my consciousness will dissipate, but at that moment, let me say to you once more: I love you!

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [34]: Classic Story No. 4: The Scent of Meat

Author: Unknown (I only just realized how many unknowns there are. If anyone knows the original author, please tell me.) I obtained a thick stack of documents from a distant relative in the countryside. They are said to be relics left by an ancestor of our family from the Tang Dynasty. My relative repeatedly warned me not to damage them or lose them, otherwise the spirit of our ancestor in heaven would not forgive him.

I carefully opened the pile of paper, and a musty smell, accumulated over many years, assaulted my nostrils, making me nauseous. Judging from the paper's texture, it seemed to be hundreds of years old; the yellowish Xuan paper resembled the kind of paper used in rituals to burn the dead. The paper was brittle, as if it would crumble into powder at the slightest touch. I handled it with extreme care, and my entire room was enveloped in this ancient atmosphere.

It was all letters, one after another, written in the vertical, right-to-left regular script. The calligraphy was exquisite, unlike either Yan Zhenqing's or Liu Gongquan's styles; it was a style I'd never seen before, perhaps a style long lost. But this beautiful script seemed to be written by a girl. Could it be my ancestor, or perhaps his wife, or even his lover? No, upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn't. It was written by a man, a man in his thirties. His handwriting was both soft and elegant, but I could vaguely sense a strange atmosphere. Deep within his words, in every stroke, was a kind of fear.

Yes, it took me a whole day to figure it out. This fear was deeply hidden. I didn't read the letter's contents at the time; I only gleaned its meaning from his handwriting. I could almost feel that he was filled with terror as he wrote the letter, emanating from his surroundings and from the depths of his heart. But his hand didn't tremble like an ordinary person's; his strokes remained strong, only a hint of coldness lurked at the tip of the brush—a chilling coldness that perhaps he himself didn't even realize.

This wasn't written by my ancestor; it's a letter from someone else to my ancestor. It's entirely in classical Chinese, and I've tried translating the first letter into modern vernacular. "Brother Jinde: It's been ten years since we parted in Chang'an. Please don't be offended that I'm only writing to you now. As you know, the court bestowed upon me a luxurious mansion in Chang'an, a thousand acres of fertile land in Guanzhong, and the official position of Jianghuai Jiedushi. But from day one, I resigned. I left the mansion and the land, returning alone to Kunzhou, residing in my former governor's residence. Ten years have passed in a flash, and I've wasted my life alone. I often recall the time when the An Lushan Rebellion was raging; I was the governor of Kunzhou..." "You, Prefect, served under me as a general. We defended Kunzhou for three years, preventing Shi Siming's tens of thousands of troops from capturing Kunzhou and advancing down the Yangtze and Huai Rivers. Finally, we received reinforcements and achieved a great feat. Brother Jinde, I miss you all more and more, and the officers and soldiers who fought alongside me. I'm writing to you this time to tell you something—my house is haunted." I never imagined that my ancestor, Jinde, was actually a general in the Tang Dynasty during the An Lushan Rebellion, defending Kunzhou alongside Prefect Duan Lu. But the problem is, my historical knowledge tells me that there was no such city as Kunzhou, and there was never any story of Duan Lu defending Kunzhou during the An Lushan Rebellion. I was puzzled, so I called another distant cousin of mine, the most learned person in our family, who is currently pursuing a master's degree in history.

He heard my question on the phone, then remained silent for a long time before slowly saying, "Yes, I also saw this stack of letters you're looking at a year ago. I was immediately and completely engrossed. I searched for all sorts of materials, and even conducted field investigations in northern Anhui and Jiangsu, but to my disappointment, there was nothing, absolutely nothing. Perhaps history has forgotten our ancestor for some time now. But I had experts authenticate them, and these letters are indeed genuine works from the Tang Dynasty, definitely not forgeries by later generations. Listen to me, don't look at them anymore, you'll get caught up in them too. These letters are terrifying, they contain blood, the blood of history. You'd better watch yourself. Goodbye."

I sat there for a long time, pondering the history graduate student's words. He had always been somewhat mysterious, fond of speaking in ways others couldn't understand. What historical bloodshed? I thought he was just being deliberately obscure. It was just a stack of ancient correspondence; could those long-deceased people possibly harm me? But I still had to be vigilant. I started planning to return the letters. But I couldn't stop myself, perhaps because of Duan Lu's last sentence: "My house is haunted."

I opened the second letter and translated it into vernacular Chinese.

"My dear brother Jinde: I was overjoyed to receive your letter. It turns out you've also long since retired from the military and returned to your hometown—that's wonderful. Last time I mentioned that my house was haunted, and yes, this ghost has been haunting me. I vaguely felt that this ghost had been lurking in this old house ever since I moved back to Kunzhou from Chang'an ten years ago, though I didn't realize it was a ghost then. But this year, it's been more and more active. Actually, I've never been afraid of ghosts, but this time I'm truly terrified. As you know, the former governor's mansion in Kunzhou was a very dilapidated old house. After the war, the new governor built a new mansion, while I..." I live alone in this old house. The house is very big and dilapidated. You don’t know, I don’t employ a single servant. In this huge house, there is only me. I live off the thousands of acres of fertile land I own in Guanzhong. Every month, my agent there brings me food and money. I’m used to living alone. My friends advised me to remarry, but I refused. Have you remarried? Oh God, now the ghost is here again. It’s tormenting me. I can’t write anymore. I’ll stop here. Duan Lu”---Fish and Shrimp replied [35]: This letter doesn’t contain anything new, but at least it tells me that my ancestors were widowers. The sunlight outside the window was unusually strong. I was thinking wildly at home. I thought of Kunzhou.

Kunzhou, a city I'd never heard of before, but I'd rather believe it existed, because history is full of examples like this, forgotten for various reasons. What I find hard to understand is how Duan Lu and my ancestor, Cai Jinde, managed to hold Kunzhou for three years, resisting Shi Siming's tens of thousands of troops. During the An Lushan Rebellion, Zhang Xun and Xu Yuan defended Suiyang to the death, only to have the city fall and them perish. Was Duan Lu more capable than Zhang Xun? This question troubled me, prompting me to open the third letter.

"Brother Jinde: In your letter you said you had already remarried and had three sons, which is truly commendable. Thinking of me, I may really be alone for the rest of my life. Yes, your guess in your letter was correct. I will never forget Yuexiang—her eyes, her smile, her body. Ten years ago she died in Kunzhou, right here in this room. I can never escape her, never. For the past ten years, although I've lived alone, I've kept many cats, more than twenty, including one with different colored eyes that a Persian merchant sold to me at a high price. These cats have been with me for ten years, like my lovers. Being with these twenty-odd cats, I feel like I have a harem. Yes, I love them; I consider them a group of beautiful women. But ever since my house was haunted, strange things have been happening. Yesterday, one of my white cats disappeared, and I couldn't find it anywhere. Later, I smelled the aroma of meat coming from my kitchen. I haven't eaten meat for ten years, since..." Since the war ended, I've become a vegetarian, living like a monk. I was utterly astonished; I'd never cooked meat before. I lifted the lid of the pot, and oh my god, inside was my missing cat. The cat had been butchered, its fur plucked, its entrails removed, and its flesh cooked. I immediately fainted. Although I had fought in Kunzhou for three years and witnessed countless bloody scenes, I had almost never seen blood in the past ten years, and my bond with the cat had deepened. Seeing such a gruesome sight, I wept as if my wife had died. I knew this must be the work of that ghost, because my residence used to be the governor's mansion, surrounded by very high walls, and because the rumors of my house being haunted were known throughout the city, no one dared to break in. I was in immense pain. "Jinde, this is retribution, retribution from ten years ago. You should understand what that means." "Duan Lu," I said, "what does 'retribution' mean? I can't understand it, and he said my ancestors understood too. What exactly happened?" I've never believed in ghosts, let alone a ghost killing and cooking a cat—that's pure fantasy. Perhaps Duan Lu suffered from schizophrenia and was hallucinating. Indeed, living alone in such a gloomy and terrifying old house for ten years would surely drive someone to a mental breakdown. He also mentioned "Yuexiang," clearly a woman, perhaps his former wife. It's certain he deeply loved Yuexiang, but he later lost her. So, to mourn his deceased wife, he lived in the room where she died, leading a vegetarian diet and abandoning wealth and status—truly a rare and devoted lover. The sun was already setting, its twilight light filling my room and staining these ancient letters with a blood-like hue. Knowing that sunlight can damage artifacts, I quickly moved the letters to a darker place. In the dim light, I opened the fourth letter. "Brother Jinde: In just ten days, six of my cats were killed and cooked. Although I moved all the firewood and pots from the kitchen and ate vegetarian meals at the temple in the city every day, that omnipresent ghost still managed to get firewood and pots from somewhere. I was terrified. Every night, I gathered all the cats on my bed to sleep with me. This bed was the one Yuexiang and I slept in ten years ago. It's very spacious, and I dream of her almost every night. She's still as young and beautiful as she was ten years ago, forever twenty years old. You surely haven't forgotten how much Yuexiang and I loved each other back then, becoming the envy of you generals and officers. Yes, Yuexiang was a talented woman; her poetic talent was no less than mine. Every night, she would light a candle for me, and I would compose a poem. Then I would light a candle for her, and she would compose another poem. Each time, her poem was better than mine. It's just a pity that she was born a..." Women, if Yuexiang were a man, she would surely become a prime minister if she were an official, and she would surely be remembered for generations if she were a scholar. But she also had all the virtues of a woman, beautiful and virtuous, and very considerate to me. Among all the families of officials in Kunzhou at that time, her needlework was the best. I clearly remember that, Brother Jinde, your wife once asked Yuexiang for tips on embroidering screens. Now, everything is over, they are no longer alive, and neither of us cares about politics anymore. Back then, a group of cats were sleeping in the spot where she slept. Although they were very restless at night, things are really unpredictable. I was really afraid that they would all be kidnapped by that ghost and made into cat meat soup. They were my last hope in life. Brother Jinde, what should I do? Please give me some guidance. Duan Lu---Fish and Shrimp replied [36]: I forgot to eat dinner. Although I was indeed hungry, I have to admit that I was deeply attracted by these letters. Duan Lu's words possess an irresistible magic, like a spell; once you open it, you can never close it. Through Duan Lu's writing, I seemed to see the woman named Yuexiang. If Duan Lu's description is true, then I truly regret being born in the 20th century instead of the 8th. I desperately want to meet Yuexiang. I realized I was obsessed; only then did I believe my cousin, a history graduate student. As dusk fell, I turned on the light and opened the fifth letter.

"Brother Jinde: I am very grateful for your advice after reading your letter, but I'm afraid I can't do any of it. First, I won't leave Kunzhou, because Yuexiang and I spent the best and worst years of our lives there. I think if I left Kunzhou and this house, I would die immediately. Second, I won't invite any exorcist monks or Taoist priests. If I did, it would disturb Yuexiang's peace in heaven. So, I can only stay here and fight the ghosts to the end. Let me tell you, I only have five cats left now; the rest were killed by the ghosts. Brother Jinde, you won't understand, but the scent of Yuexiang lingers everywhere in this old house. Ten years have passed, and this scent has not only not dissipated but has become even stronger. I feel every moment that Yuexiang is not dead; she is by my side, accompanying me through ten years of life. I still write poems every night, poems in remembrance of her." Sometimes, the next morning, I would find an extra poem beneath my own, written in Yuexiang's handwriting, still so beautifully, corresponding to the one I had written. Yuexiang is right beside me, believe it or not, she's watching me. Yes, right now, I'm writing you a letter, and she's beside me, telling me how to write it—or rather, she's dictating it, and I'm writing it down. Ten years ago, she did die, but ten years later, she's truly alive again. Good heavens, how can I explain this? You certainly won't believe it. Furthermore, let me tell you something else: in Kunzhou City now, almost every household is haunted, and everyone lives in constant fear. Kunzhou City is like a small boat adrift on the sea, even more terrifying than when we were besieged for three years during the An Lushan Rebellion. Back then, the enemy was still human, but now Kunzhou's enemy is ghosts. "Duan Lu," I felt a fear surging forth from these ancient papers, clinging tightly to me. I seemed to see Yuexiang reading the letter beside me, just as I was reading it. I looked up and saw her face; she was beautiful. A fleshy fragrance emanated from her. Only then did I understand why Duan Lu had said Yuexiang's scent had lingered for ten years. It was this fleshy fragrance, a scent emanating from deep within her body. Yes, Yuexiang was the fragrance of flesh. In classical Chinese, "moon" and "flesh" have the same meaning; the characters for lung, liver, gallbladder, intestines, spleen, brain, and legs all have the "moon" radical. I didn't know if I had the courage to continue reading. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was my cousin, a history graduate student: "How many letters have you read? I know you're hesitant now. A year ago, I was just like you. I can smell the blood in your earpiece now. Really, since you've read so many, just finish them. Come to my research institute tomorrow morning. Goodbye."

I held the phone, saying nothing, listening to him talk for so long. After hanging up, I sensed something was off in the room. Suddenly, I felt like I was Duan Lu, living alone in a big room just like him. Really, I was Duan Lu, and Duan Lu was me. I wrote all these letters. Was that right? I asked myself, then shook my head frantically. I opened the sixth letter.

"My dear brother Jinde: I just finished reading your letter. You said that the twelve generals and officers who fought alongside me to the death in Kunzhou and were rewarded by the court all died unexpectedly this year. This truly breaks my heart. You said that General Liu drowned in the river in Chengdu while drunk. That's unbelievable. I clearly remember that General Liu was an excellent swimmer, a true master of the Yangtze River. And General Li hanged himself for no reason at his son's wedding. That's impossible too. With his cheerful and optimistic personality, why would he commit suicide, especially on such a joyous occasion? Even more shockingly, General Zhang was hacked to death by his family and made into human flesh buns, which they then boiled and ate. The deaths of the others are also very strange. They survived the carnage in Kunzhou back then, so how could they all die one after another now, almost in the same month? Jinde, I'm very worried about you. I hope you're alright. Now I also have some bad news for you: I only have one cat left, but it's doing very well. It's a beautiful Persian cat. I will protect it with my life, I swear."

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [37]: It was late at night, and I was sleepy, so I slowly fell asleep on the sofa with these letters in my hands. After sleeping for a while, I suddenly smelled a strange odor, a strong and sweet fragrance that seemed to be madly drilling into my nostrils. I couldn't stand it, so I followed the scent to my kitchen, where someone was lighting a large fire on the gas stove, burning a stainless steel pot. I lifted the lid, and inside was a pot of meat, or rather, meat broth. A thick layer of oil floated on the surface of the broth. I took a sip with a spoon, and it was a soup I had never tasted before. The taste was wonderful. The spoonful of soup slid from my tongue down my throat, into my esophagus, and finally into my stomach. My stomach was greedy and devoured all of this delicious soup. I hadn't eaten dinner yet, so I didn't care anymore. I picked up a piece of meat with my chopsticks and put it in my mouth, chewing it. The meat shreds were chewed up by my teeth, and my taste buds were stimulated again. Yes, I had never eaten such delicious meat in my life. Who cooked it? Soon, filled with questions, I devoured almost the entire pot of meat. Finally, I found something in the pot—fingers, human fingers.

I suddenly vomited, and then I woke up with a start. It turned out to be a dream.

I just fell asleep and had such a strange dream. My heart was pounding, and I was covered in cold sweat. All sleepiness vanished in an instant. It's already two in the morning, and I forced myself to open the seventh letter.

“Brother Jinde: Kunzhou City has fallen into a great terror. People are dying strangely one after another, and there are new graves everywhere outside the city, all of them men. The whole city is filled with the stench of the dead, and monks and Taoists are busy performing rituals. But there is no evidence that Kunzhou is plagued by an epidemic; the only explanation is the work of ghosts. But I am still alive, and I still have my last cat. She is doing well, sleeping in my arms every night, just like Yuexiang. Over these days, I have gradually come to believe that Yuexiang is indeed still alive, living in this beautiful Persian cat. Yes, so now I can say that I have regained Yuexin, and she will never be separated from me. We will be together forever. The wind has risen, carrying the aura of death in Kunzhou City, through my room, sweeping over our bodies. Although it is the height of summer, I feel a chilling sensation. Retribution, this is cause and effect, and no one can escape it. Duan Lu.” As I read this, a gust of wind blew through my window and hit my forehead. I looked out the window, and the moon was particularly full in the second half of the night. I began to understand the meaning of retribution Duan Lu spoke of. I could imagine that Kunzhou City must have suffered some kind of disaster, a disaster caused by humanity itself. I've never believed in ghosts, but disasters certainly exist, just manifesting in some special way. This gave me the courage to continue reading. I opened the eighth letter.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [38]: "Brother Jinde: Today is July 10th. Do you still remember July 10th ten years ago? I believe that this day is unforgettable for both of us. Every year on July 10th, our hearts ache. I have said that retribution will come, and today is the day of retribution. Back then, we defended Kunzhou to the death. The whole city had only 5,000 soldiers and 20,000 civilians. We had prepared enough food, but we did not expect that the An Lushan rebels were even better prepared. Finally, two years passed, and we, surrounded by enemies, ate all the food, including all the rats, cats, dogs, and even warhorses." Everything edible is gone, and the entire city is starving. In less than ten days, Kunzhou will fall without a fight, and Suiyang has already fallen. If we perish, the rebels will advance unimpeded into the Jianghuai region, and the Tang Dynasty will be finished. We will never forget that day I cooked you a pot of meat. You were all surprised to find it. I didn't tell you, I just let you try it first. You ate it, you ate it with great relish, you said it was the best meat you had ever tasted in your lives. Finally, I told you it was Yuexiang's meat. You all vomited, and then you all cried. "Yes, you grown men are shedding tears like women." Yes, I killed Yuexiang with my own hands. The moonlight was bright that day, and Yuexiang was still beautiful and charming, even though she hadn't eaten a single grain of rice for three days. I held a knife in my hand, stood before her, looked at her for a long time, but ultimately lacked the courage. My knife fell to the ground. I gave up; I was determined to die with her. But the exceptionally intelligent Yuexiang saw through my intention in taking the knife. She softly said to me, "Kill me. Women are useless in war. Kill me, eat my flesh. I will give..." "I'd rather die at the hands of my lover than starve to death. Let my body enter yours, let me become a part of you, and from then on, we'll never be apart. Come on, do it, like a man. If you're still my husband, do it." No, I couldn't do it, but Yuexiang snatched the knife and plunged it into her own heart. She smiled, smiled at me as she died, the knife still in her chest. I was in excruciating pain then, wanting to end it all myself, but in the end, I couldn't control myself. I went mad, that night I truly went mad. I... Thinking of the Duan family's honor, thinking of the vow to defend Kunzhou to the death, I dismembered Yuexiang. I've said it before, I went mad that night. I loved her, so I dismembered her. That's the reason, a reason you'll never understand, because you don't have that kind of love that cuts to the bone. Yes, I dismembered her, completing the task she entrusted to me before she died. I chopped off her flesh; her flesh was full of fragrance, a natural fragrance. She was an unparalleled beauty, even as a pile of meat in a pot. When I did this, I felt no guilt or fear whatsoever. That night, I truly... I went mad; I just wanted to be with her forever. I cooked her flesh, several large pots. I ate one pot myself first; it tasted wonderful, though I was also in immense pain inside. Then, I shared the rest with you. There are many ways to love someone, but in that special situation, I think this was the most reasonable way. Brother Jinde, next was you. After you finished crying, you immediately went home and killed your wife and concubine, cooking them into a pot of meat. Then, all the generals and officers began eating the flesh of their own families. Later, we simply imprisoned all the women in the city, about ten thousand in total. We ate thirty women every day, and not a single man in the city objected. Some men watched their wives being eaten without a second thought, and they ate the most themselves. To feed these women, we even arranged for women to eat other women; of course, they didn't know they were eating human flesh and thought it was pork. So, we survived for almost a year by eating human flesh. That year, Kunzhou was a terrifying world. Finally, we received reinforcements, and Kunzhou was saved. Ten years have passed, and I have finally... The words were spoken. July 10th, today is July 10th, and I think this should be the last day of my life. Our sins are unforgivable. God, I saw Yuexiang, it really was her, she came smiling, she came to take me away from this world. Brother Jinde, if you receive this letter, it must be from Yuexiang. Please don't be afraid, take care, Jinde, beware—the revenge of the ghost. Duan Lu. This was the last letter. I read it with trembling hands. I couldn't believe it was true. Even in the Tang Dynasty, such a thing couldn't have happened. Duan Lu must have schizophrenia; it was all his imagination, like the legends of the Tang Dynasty, always full of unbelievable things. But I couldn't pull myself out of it. Although I didn't believe it, the aura emanating from this ancient paper and handwriting forced me to believe. I also vaguely noticed many light red spots on this last letter, very faint, but very dense. What were they? Bloodstains? Could it be Duan Lu's blood, preserved on this paper forever after more than a thousand years? Perhaps this is what my cousin meant by the blood of history?

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [39]: The sky gradually brightened, and I sat there blankly for a long time until the sunlight filled my room and dispelled the smell of the Tang Dynasty. I put all the letters away and rushed to the research institute where my cousin worked.

My cousin was already waiting for me. He looked at me with a strange expression: "You look terrible. Didn't you sleep all night? You must have read the whole letter, do you believe me?"

"I have no idea."

"But I know that I didn't tell you anything last night. I lied to you, and I didn't want you to continue reading. But now I have to tell you the truth. It's true. Kunzhou did exist. 'Qian' represents male and 'Kun' represents female. As the name suggests, Kunzhou was a city dominated by women. Ten years after the An Lushan Rebellion, a huge disaster suddenly struck the entire city. Almost all the men died, and the city became a dead city, abandoned. Now, only ruins remain in the fields. There are no records of it in historical books. It took me a whole year to research this. In fact, cannibalism in besieged cities is not a one-off occurrence in Chinese history."

"And what about our ancestor?"

"On the night he received the last letter from Duan Lu, this ancestor named Cai Jinde set himself on fire. No one knows why, but these letters were miraculously preserved."

"So, does that mean there really is a ghost?"

"No, there's no such thing as a ghost as the world believes. That was Duan Lu's delusion, the result of his long-term self-isolation. He had a strong sense of guilt, and he spent ten years in solitary repentance, his heart filled with pain and longing for his lover. This caused him to hallucinate. It's the result of a constant struggle deep within one's heart; he lost, he was defeated by his own soul. Therefore, his soul no longer belonged to him. The so-called ghost was actually himself, his other self, another self representing his lover. Because of his deep love, he and Yuexiang were one, both physically and spiritually. So, when he said Yuexiang was still alive beside him, it was actually himself—his other half. His spirit had split in two, the so-called dual personality. Everything originated from his heart, everything originated from his love for Yuexiang. He died after writing his last letter; the cause of death is unknown. But for him, it was the best release." "Then how did all his cats die? Were they also hallucinations? And what about his comrades, including our ancestor, and all the men of Kunzhou? Why did they die?"

"There is a mysterious force at work, but it's not the vengeful ghost we usually understand. Perhaps Duan Lu killed those cats himself, and his subconscious drove him to repeat that horrific act. This is a typical case of split personality; his normal personality when writing the letter was completely unaware of his actions. I've said before that all evil originates from within, and our ancestor must have gone through a similar psychological process to Duan Lu. Did you notice the word 'retribution' that's repeatedly mentioned in the letter? This isn't simply Buddhist karma, but their inner revenge on themselves. In this sense, they were doomed."

"Thank you, cousin."

Do you think what I just said is the standard answer? No, everyone has their own answer. I really shouldn't have said so much. Maybe your own understanding is better than mine?

I left my cousin's research institute, returned home, and returned the letters, as if I had thrown away a heavy burden.

That evening, Mom cooked me a pot of meat soup. She didn't notice the flicker of fear that crossed my brow. The meat smelled wonderful, truly wonderful.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [40]: Classic Story No. 5: Fate in Reincarnation

Author: Amy Qing

Many people don't understand because they don't know that reincarnation exists in this world ————————— Prologue 1, Introduction People say that after death, everything is empty, leaving no trace. In reality, many things continue to exist in different forms without fail, like cause and effect, ever-present, neither falling nor dying, neither born nor dying.

I am an elf in this world. Perhaps the title of elf is just a self-comforting illusion, a manifestation of my Ah Q mentality. In reality, I am merely a ghost soldier, a lowly lackey obeying the Lord of Hell's Reincarnation. I always feel that I am the lowest of all beings in the six realms of reincarnation, destined to live in boundless darkness, eternally without hope of liberation.

My daily task was to patrol the Bridge of Helplessness, clearing this path that led to the endless cycle of life and death. It was a relatively leisurely job, because the process of collecting souls for reincarnation was always orderly; nothing could happen, and nothing would. I would always sit blankly by the Bridge of Helplessness, carrying my steel fork, watching the lonely souls come and go. Day after day, month after month, year after year, day after day, year after year. I can't remember which day in the Ghost Calendar it was, but the Lord of Reincarnation summoned me, saying that I had been loyal to my duty, because I had patrolled the Bridge of Helplessness for 500 years without making a single mistake. To ensure fair rewards and punishments, he made me a soul-collecting messenger.

This means I can go out and see the world.

Life in the underworld is indeed too boring for pawns like us who don't need to be busy every day. Sometimes having a busy job is a good way to pass the time. I've started to enjoy collecting souls, especially those that have been forgotten during the day, because that way I can clearly see the human world.

My arrival, in truth, signifies the end of earthly life, ushering in a new cycle of reincarnation for them. I tirelessly perform this task, diligently luring the souls of mortals. I have witnessed Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Chu, commit suicide at the Wujiang River; I have witnessed Yang Guifei's tragic end at Mawei Slope; I have witnessed Du Fu's death on the autumn river. But the human world is truly wonderful, like a dream compared to the darkness and despair of hell. I have begun to understand the wandering of those souls on the Bridge of Helplessness and their hesitation before the Meng Po soup.

I started to enjoy chatting with wandering spirits and ghosts, trying to find out as much as possible. At that time, I didn't realize that I had begun to experience joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness.

Time always flies, and 200 years have passed in a flash. The Lord of Reincarnation summoned me again, saying that I already have 700 years of cultivation. When I have 300 years of cultivation, I can go to the human world to reincarnate, or cultivate in the underworld and become an immortal.

For the first time, I felt happy. I look forward to my reincarnation, and I will choose to live in the human world without any regrets.

In the last 300 years, I continued to do my best to complete every task assigned to me by the Lord of Reincarnation. But I felt that these 300 years were longer than the original 700 years. I waited for my millennium to arrive, waiting for that day. When that day comes, I must go to reincarnation, to the human world... ---Fish and Shrimp replied [41]: xian shou cang ---ywq126 replied [42]: Support!! Continue!! Collect!! ? --Lisa767 replied [43]: II. Origin of a Thousand Years The Mid-Autumn Festival in the mortal world is a festival for family reunion. Perhaps it is the destiny of cause and effect that few people commit suicide on this day. I finished my work early and strolled to the familiar Bridge of Helplessness. A slight sob drifted from the darkness. I opened my ghost eyes and went over to take a look. It turned out to be a female ghost.

I asked her why she was crying there, and she said she had accidentally extinguished the lantern that illuminated the path of reincarnation. She was lost. When I'm in a good mood, I'm happy to help other ghosts, and since I was in a good mood then, I said I could take her to the Reincarnation Bureau.

She wiped away her tears and smiled sweetly at me: "Thank you."

I have never seen such a beautiful smile.

In that instant, it felt as if something had struck my chest violently; my mind was in turmoil… Upon arriving at the Department of Reincarnation, the head of the department ordered the judge to examine her records. The judge declared that she had died unjustly and could not be reincarnated; she could only reside in the City of the Unjustly Dead, awaiting the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha's deliverance. She burst into tears, and my heart softened instantly. I begged the head of the department to allow her to be reincarnated. The head of the department flew into a rage, hurling insults at me until I trembled uncontrollably. She was too frightened to cry any longer. Dejected, I led her to the City of the Unjustly Dead, not uttering a single word along the way. Upon arriving, I let her enter. She nodded and went inside. I watched her walk away, and then she turned back to look at me, saying again, “Thank you.” Her figure gradually disappeared, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded.

Days passed, and I was surprised to find that I still missed her. So, I would occasionally use my position to sneak off to the City of the Wrongfully Dead to see her. I noticed she often rushed to the Terrace of Longing for Home very early in the morning, spending the whole day there before leaving in tears. I don't know why, but every time I saw her cry, I wanted to cry too… That year, on Qingming Festival, I found her grave. Before a handful of yellow earth, a cup of wine, three kinds of fruit, and a weeping man, I stared blankly at the two of them, a sadness and loss I had never felt before lingering in my heart. I stayed there for a long time, drinking a cup of the offering wine at her grave. The wine was cheap and bitter, but I couldn't feel anything in my heart. Once, I casually asked the White Impermanence how those who died unjustly could be reincarnated. He said it required karma. I asked what karma was. He said karma was actually a price to pay. If someone gave up their chance to be reincarnated to someone who didn't have the chance, then they could be reincarnated. He added that even an idiot wouldn't be willing to give up that chance. Even if an idiot came to the underworld, he would have long been reincarnated into the animal realm.

A thousand years have passed, and it's finally my turn to reincarnate. The Lord of Reincarnation summoned me, saying I had accumulated 1000 years of cultivation. He asked what my choice was. I said I was willing to be reincarnated. The Lord of Reincarnation asked where I wanted to go, offering me the choice of a wealthy and noble life in the mortal realm. I said I was willing to let her be reincarnated. The Lord stared at me wide-eyed, and the Judge was so astonished that he dropped his soul-summoning pen. The cycle of reincarnation cannot be reversed, and the Lord could not force me, but he told me that if I gave up my thousand years of cultivation, I would be reborn as a lowly ghost, never to be promoted. I said, "I am willing to do so."... On the day she left, I secretly watched her until she drank Meng Po's tea and ascended the Wheel of Reincarnation. In the distance, I could no longer see her. I couldn't help but emerge from my hiding place and gaze towards the distant place where she had gone to reincarnate. Granny Meng looked at me calmly, sighed slowly, and continued to tend to her tea... I became a ghost soldier again, a bored and lonely ghost soldier still carrying a steel fork, still responsible for patrolling. I waited at the Bridge of Helplessness every day, believing that one day I would see her again.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [44]: Days passed one after another, and I waited by the bridge day after day. There were so many days that I lost count. But she did not appear.

The Lord of Reincarnation summoned me for questioning, saying I had patrolled for a thousand years and could choose my future path again. He urged me to cherish this opportunity. I was bewildered. Another thousand years had passed. For these thousand years, I had guarded the bridge every day, but I had never seen her return… In a daze, I returned to the Bridge of Helplessness. I sat on this bridge for a thousand years, I waited on this bridge for a thousand years. A thousand years of worldly changes, the cycle of ghosts and gods in the underworld, even my steel fork was covered in rust. But I did not wait for her return… Later, the Black Impermanence kindly told me that when a person is reincarnated, heaven knows what they will become, whether they are male or female. Even if they return, you will not be able to recognize them.

The world spun around me, and I suddenly realized how foolish and naive I had been. Why did things have to turn out this way? For the first time, tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't know if a ghost's tears were any different from a human's, but I knew for sure that these were my tears of sorrow.

I once again gave up my desire to be reincarnated. I was afraid to see the alluring mortal world again... afraid to see that unforgettable smile again. The Lord of Reincarnation sighed, saying that a ghost like me, entangled in worldly sins, could never become an immortal. I still sit by the Bridge of Helplessness, a ghost soldier, waiting for the unpredictable cycle of reincarnation.

Sitting on the bridge again, I watched the ghosts crossing. Each of their faces seemed to tell a story, their empty eyes recounting moments from the past. Seeing their bewilderment, I felt grateful for my own conscious awareness, yet also resentful that I still possessed worldly consciousness.

I have returned to days without joy, hope, or sorrow—days of a ghost.

Days continued to pass, and I walked along the bridge day after day. Though I no longer hoped, I couldn't help but glance over whenever a spirit passed by, hoping to see if my unforgettable shadow was on the other side. Each time, I felt foolish and cursed myself inwardly, but whenever I was in that place, I would do this stupid thing. I even went to the City of the Wrongfully Dead, hoping to see if the soul weeping on the Terrace of Longing for Home was still there. In the days that followed, I began to regret: why I didn't say a final word to her when she left; why I hid and didn't see her one last time; why I left... Fortunately, the world has memory, able to remember the colors of the world; sadly, the world has memory, able to remember the darkness of the world. The magic of time overlaps color and black and white, tears it apart, scatters it... leaving behind countless pieces of paper for me to chase and piece together... for what I should forget, for what I cannot forget, for what I cannot forget, everything.

It's hard to meet, easy to part; and once again, the jade pavilion is adorned with blossoms like snow...

Long, long, long...

That day, I met Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva. Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva is the highest deity in hell, and also the most compassionate and kind. Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva's wise eyes instantly saw through the confusion and hesitation that had accumulated in my heart for a thousand years. He was astonished that a ghost could have such worries. He sighed, "Sentient beings in the sea of suffering, turn back and you will find the shore." But I still couldn't understand his words. I couldn't help but tell the Bodhisattva everything that had been weighing on my heart. The Bodhisattva asked me, "What is karma?" I couldn't answer. The Bodhisattva then asked me, "What is love?" I didn't understand at all. Finally, the Bodhisattva asked me, "What is your wish?" I could no longer restrain myself and wept bitterly, begging the Bodhisattva to let me be reborn as a human, to let me and her form a karmic bond. The Bodhisattva agreed, agreeing to exchange my thousand years of cultivation for one more reincarnation as a human with her. Finally, the Bodhisattva said to me, "Let everything be as it is, don't be attached." I nodded, seemingly understanding.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [45]: III. A Thousand Years of Silent Extinction

On this day, I was finally reborn as a human.