Three Lives, Death Exists Not at the River of Oblivion

Bonus Story 1: We Part Though We Love

It was another quiet night in the capital.

The night-watchman struck the midnight hour yawningly as he went around the small alley behind the prime minister's estate.

Candlelight flickered on the other side of the short walls surrounding the prime minister's home. The watchman peered into the yard on tiptoe. The plum forest was still there. Now just past winter, the plum blossoms had fallen off and given way to a few sparse budding leaves. When the wind blew, only dry branches swayed desolately.

A simple house stood inside the plum forest, emitting a soft glow at this time. Rumors had it the prime minister did not care for luxury and that he slept in this modest residence every day.

Baloney! The watchman pursed his lips. What 'sleeping'? The prime minister obviously stayed up nearly every night. He had been a night-watchman for as long as His Excellency had lived here, and every night, he saw the light left on in the prime minister's room.

The watchman was even more curious compared to other people. What kind of person was this prime minister anyhow? He clearly had the power to topple the world, being the man who was under one person but over everyone else, yet he preferred to live in such an ordinary abode. Wasn't he worried someone would try to assassinate him? Or was he so sure of his upright posture that he wasn't afraid of having crooked shadows? Did he never need to sleep?

And yet, matters concerning the upperclassmen weren't something a night-watchman like him could fathom to understand. So he continued to yawn while speculating this and that before staggering away.

The watchman wasn't aware that after he left, the door on that simple log cabin squeaked open. A man hurriedly ran out as if he was chasing after something, but when he got to the empty yard, he suddenly paused in his tracks

He looked around into the emptiness.

His body was thinly built, his complexion showing a sickly paleness. He appeared to be in his thirties but half of his hair was already grayed. He would probably fall ill from a chilly night wind.

It was thus a surprise that this man who appeared to be so frail was no other than the prime minister who called all the shots in the imperial court.

Moxi sighed and laughed at himself. "Another dream!"

Spring evenings are cold. He had rushed out of the room dressed in only a thin garment. Standing in the courtyard, he silently gazed at the moon for a while, then all of a sudden softly said, "Why won't you let me finish my dream even when I'm only dreaming?"

He slowly walked to the plum forest behind the house. A small tombstone stood under a plum tree, on which the words "My wife Sansheng" were deeply engraved. He sat down next to the tombstone. Looking at the red plum blossoms that had fallen off of their branches, he whispered: "Why haven't you come back to see me? Don't you miss me? I miss you day and night."

"I have petitioned to the emperor for the general's entire clan to receive judgment. You don't have to be jealous of Shi Qianqian so foolishly anymore, nor do you have to be harassed by them. When I was little, you always said I was too softhearted. You just didn't know that I'm only softhearted with you. I only don't know what to do when it's you."

"Sansheng, won't you say something?"

The wind swept across his cheeks, chilling him to the bones.

"Sansheng," he pleaded, "stop playing hide and seek with Moxi. You know I'm most afraid of not finding you."

"I'm most afraid of not finding you..."

"How can you hide from me for so long?"

Of course no one was there to answer him, of course no one was there to suddenly jump out from behind the plum tree, and of course no one was there to stare fixedly at him, asking him to wed her.